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summercourtship · 2 years ago

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stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter four: thirteen floors [part II]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content | word count: 5443 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one | previous part

Psychology of Fear, two days later with no acknowledgement from Dr. Crane. Another rainy Wednesday in Gotham, snow still cluttering up the city’s curbs and draining into the gutter, dripping off of buildings in wet chunks. You were waiting for students to start arriving to class, scrolling on your phone when you came across a video in your recommended feed. A think piece video essay, it seemed, but it wasn’t the genre that made you stop scrolling, fingers shaking as you lingered over the video.

It was the thumbnail, the Riddler against a sharp contrasting background with the word HERO? scrawled across the image. The title of the video was, a bit obnoxiously, GOTHAM’S RECKONING: A RIDDLER RETROSPECTIVE.

And you knew, being a media literate college student, that this was just clickbait designed to rile you up, to get an emotional response of some kind. That the video itself was probably just an overview of his crimes, brief background on his life (not that much had been released to the public and he had been very good at scrubbing his internet presence prior to his crime spree), and maybe a few comments on what his crimes meant in the greater scheme of Gotham, what is meant for Gotham’s future. Lukewarm takes, most likely. Nothing you hadn’t heard before.

But still your stomach churned at the callousness of it. People died. Not even just corrupt public officials but people who hadn’t gotten out of the way in time that day in City Hall, or people who weren’t lucky enough to be saved by Batman’s intervention in Gotham Square Garden.

You clicked on the channel that posted the video, scrolling to their about section. And there, next to the location was Great Britain. Scoffing, you went back to their videos. They weren’t even from the city that the Riddler’s crimes affected, let alone the same country. It was easy to say that he did something good when you were an ocean away and not in the same room as his lackeys.

You were sorely tempted to click on the video and write a comment about how you really felt. But instead you simply hit the ‘Please Don’t Show Me This’ button. Someone else will comment what you had wanted to say anyway (and plenty of others will comment that “he had a point” or “he was doing good work” or something silly like that, and you really didn’t need to see that).

Changing apps entirely, you opened your news app. You didn’t much care for world news at the moment, only staying updated with Gotham news was hard enough on your mental health. At least it directly affected you, even if you did check it constantly to self sabotage.

Who or What is the Scarecrow?

Not necessarily news, you think to yourself, but you’re intrigued and click on the article anyway. You’d put off learning about the newest criminal on Gotham’s streets since you’d heard about him on the news.

But the article said little more than what you’d heard on the news, the implication being that unlike the Riddler, the Scarecrow wasn’t a public facing criminal. His crimes were not to be broadcast, the news only even knew about him from CCTV footage and word-of-mouth (you assumed that those reports were from the thugs who hired themselves out to the bigger criminals.)

The door slammed shut, forcing you to look up from your phone. The freshman girl who was always first in class had arrived, her dark red hair tucked under a beanie, her face in a grimace at the unexpectedly large sound her entrance had made.

“Sorry.” She muttered, tucking her hair behind her ear only for it to fall in her face again two seconds later. You watched her, unable to stop the sudden and inexplicable fear of her becoming your replacement. You could see it clearly. In a year, Dr. Crane would ask her to be his TA and she’d obviously agree with no hesitation. She’d be the best TA ever and he would never mention you again, not even in passing. He’d take her to the same sponsorship gala and they’d have amazing sex in the bathroom and then they’d get married-

You took a deep breath, correctly telling yourself that you were overreacting and working yourself up about nothing. He has shown no interest in the girl, not like he’s shown you. He’s just in a weird spot now.

Once again, when Dr. Crane entered the classroom, he didn’t look at you.

Once again, he left immediately after he finished his lecture, leaving you to answer student’s questions (thankfully not as many as last time, which had really been a fluke because most students never stayed after to ask questions. Typically, they emailed you before approaching Dr. Crane).

When you’d answered the final question, this one about the next writing assignment (due the day before spring break in two weeks, which seemed too soon), you grabbed your bag

“Hey, are you okay?”

It was the freshman girl. Your fictional replacement.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” You tried to make your voice sound reassuring but it wasn’t, instead coming out like you were perturbed that she even approached you.

“You just seem distracted! I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay…” You tried to remember her name but it was escaping you so you just trailed off, staring into an empty space over her shoulder. “I’m good.”

“Alright… take it easy!” Even though she initiated the conversation, she now seemed perfectly content to leave it.

You watched after her as she left, only moving to leave yourself once she’d been out of the classroom for a few minutes.

Weird.

The next morning, you vomited up your breakfast cereal, your stomach in knots as your phone continued in its stubborn silence.

You were walking to leave the building you were currently in to head to Dr. Crane’s office hours- because that was a part of your job that you had agreed upon and you would still do your job to the best of your abilities even if he was ignoring you- when your phone chimed in your hand, a text appeared on your phone. From Dr. Crane himself, the man who had been avoiding you all week.

You blinked, unsure you were seeing his name correctly. But no, it was him.

No need to come to office hours this week.

And before you even finished reading the text, you were pissed.

First he was going to feel you up in the hallway of a formal, black-tie event and then he was going to ignore you for the week after? And the first time he reaches out to you, in any capacity, for the first time in days is to tell you not to see him?

Yeah, no. Ain’t gonna happen.

You were done with feeling lost and confused by him ignoring you.

With renewed purpose, you shoved your phone in your bag and made a beeline across campus to the building his office was in.

You stormed into the building, almost running in your haste to get to his office. You wondered if he could feel you coming, if your anger was so palpable that he could sense it from two floors away.

If he didn’t feel you coming, he sure knew you were here when you entered his office like a storm, not even knocking as you threw Dr. Crane’s door open. It banged against the opposite wall and he slowly looked up at you. Not surprised at all but like he had been expecting you to do this, which just pissed you off even more. How dare he act like he knew you.

“Are you angry with me?” The door had barely shut behind you when you spit the words out, crossing the small office in four steps to stand in front of him, only separated by his desk.

“No.”

“Then why the cold shoulder all week?” You put your hands on the edge of his desk, leaning towards him. “And telling me there’s no need for me to come to office hours today?”

He didn’t respond, leaning back in his chair watching you with narrowed eyes.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” He started. “I’ve been busy.”

“Are you kidding me?! Too busy to respond to a text letting me know that you’re alive? Too busy to say, hey, glad to hear you’re okay after that awful thing happened to you at the event I dragged you to!” You interrupted, leaning over the desk to make up for the space he just gave you, too fired up to be brought back down by his soft intonation or hypnotizing eyes. “Besides that, I’m here to help you when you’re busy, to assist you. It’s my job! I can’t do that if you push me away like a stubborn teenager!”

He cocked his head to the side, rapidly blinking for a second, a miniscule movement in his jaw clueing you in on his actual emotional state. Were you annoying him? Frustrating him? Angering him?

Good.

“Fucking hell, Jonathan.” You pushed yourself backwards away from the desk, running a hand through your hair, a small laugh escaping you at the sheer insanity of the moment, of the amount of unrecognized emotions in your body. You don’t know if you’ve ever been this angry with one person before and you barely registered that you had called him by his first name- that in some way, he was no longer just Dr. Crane to you. Your relationship, whether he liked it or not, had advanced past that point. “I can’t do this. I… I quit- I don’t actually know if I can quit, but I am. I’m sorry that the gala was kind of a nightmare-” He moved from around the desk, coming towards you but you were on a roll and couldn’t be stopped, no matter what he was about to say to try and bring you back down, you were going to make him listen to you, “-but that’s not my fault. I can’t control when people try to rob places and I can’t control if I happen to be the unlucky lady to be taken hostage. If you are angry because I didn’t let you fuck me in a hallway, then you need to grow up and realize that-”

And then.

Well.

And then, he was kissing you.

Which was, in that moment, probably the most effective way to shut you up. ,

You tensed up against him, placing your hands on his chest to push him away, not ready to be finished with being angry at him. But he just grabbed your wrists from his chest, prying them off of him with ease and holding them above your head with one hand. With his other hand, he held the back of your neck, bringing you further into him.

And you, finally, melted into him. Let him push you backwards until your back hit the wall, returning the kiss with equal ferocity. He let go of your wrists and instead of keeping them above your head they immediately tangled themselves in his dark hair, threading strands through your fingers like it was a new texture you’d never felt before.

“I don’t want to forgive you yet.” You whispered into the space between you, examining his face- flushed, lips wet, eyes dilated- as you tried to catch your breath.

“Then don’t.” He growled, nipping at your bottom lip before connecting you again, devouring you like a man starved.

His knee parted your legs, shifting your body to further accommodate his. But he didn’t press it upwards or push you onto him, simply adjusting how you were standing so he could press closer like he was trying to meld your bodies together.

Time was in a stasis, like the world had stopped to watch you crash into one another after circling closer but not daring to touch for months.

The two of you parted once again, breathing heavily against one another’s mouth. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and gravelly. If he had asked you to do anything at that moment, you were certain you would have agreed.

His thumb swiped under your jaw, stroking your skin as you continued to pant like you’d run across campus.

“Why don’t you come over to my place later, I can make dinner. It can be a… Valentine’s Day thing.”

Oh right. It was almost Valentine’s Day, wasn’t it? It had completely slipped your mind in between the mixed signals from Dr. Crane, being saved by Batman (again), and your normal college schedule underneath all of that mess. You hadn't really had time for mundane holidays you couldn’t even celebrate as a single person.

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds good.” You breathed against him, not wanting to leave this proximity with him. Not even when you fully register that he had essentially asked you over to his place for a date, something that would usually send you into heart palpitations with antsy feet. “What’re you thinking… like spaghetti or….” You blinked at him, forgetting all other foods that existed, “...Chicken…”

“Stop talking.”

Then kiss me again, you bit your lip, slowly moving your eyes down his face to his own lips. He followed the movement of your gaze with his own, licking his lips once you returned to his eyes.

But he didn’t kiss you again, only remaining with you for a few more moments before he stepped away from you.

“I have work to do, but you’re free to stay.”

So you stayed.

Just how much effort, you thought to yourself as you stared at the entirety of your closet strewn about your bedroom, were you supposed to put into an occasion like this?

It was not explicitly a date, but it was also brought up after a heated first kiss, and it’s also dinner for Valentine’s Day. Which he was making in his apartment.

Should you wear jeans and a nice shirt? A dress?

Oh god. Should you put on lingerie, just in case? You’re not sure if you even have anything that could be considered close to lingerie.

Eventually, you settled on a casual dress with a floral pattern. It’s nice but there is no implication that you expect something special from the night. Just a nice dress that you would wear on any excursion outside of your apartment. You think you remembered wearing it to the Gotham Botanical Gardens two years ago with your friends for a picnic.

You’d told Dr. Crane that you could find your own way to his apartment, wanting to give yourself as much time away from him before you were surrounded by his personal belongings and literally in his private space. His address was burning a hole in your pocket, hidden on your phone in your conversation with him.

You’d ordered a taxi- feeling brave tonight, are you?, a voice had whispered in your head but you shook it off. Plenty of people used taxis in the city and survived. You’d be fine.

You smoothed the dress over your body, examining your reflection before sighing and deciding it was good enough. Dr. Crane saw what you looked like on one of your worst days ever and still asked you to be his TA, you didn’t need to trick him into liking you. With a final spritz of perfume behind your ear, you grabbed your purse and slipped on your shoes.

Your phone pinged with an alert informing you that the taxi was waiting outside your building.

You didn’t speak to the taxi driver, instead keeping your gaze fixed outside of the window and your finger hovering over the call button on Dr. Crane’s contact information. Just in case.

When you had decided that you would call Dr. Crane before calling the police in an emergency, you weren’t sure.

But you didn’t need it, because the driver wordlessly pulled up to the building Dr. Crane had sent and let you out of his car, no words exchanged between you but a brief greeting and thanks. You weren’t sure how you were going to get back home (part of your mind figured that if the night went well, you wouldn’t have to think about it until at least tomorrow morning. Wouldn’t that be nice? But you weren’t sure if you were ready to go that far with Dr. Crane yet. Sure, you’d thought about it a lot but when faced with the actual reality of it happening you were reluctant to let it just... happen.)

Turning around to face his building, you found yourself craning your head backwards to look up at it, a newer apartment building with windows covering every inch of its surface, reflecting the setting sun back at itself.

Oh boy.

This was much different than what you’d been expecting. You’d even looked it up when he’d first sent the address but apparently that did nothing to prepare you for how nice his building looked, for how insecure you were when picturing him seeing the building you lived in for the first time. The floors probably don’t creak, the elevator probably works (seeing how tall it was, you hoped it did), and the residents probably wouldn't steal each other’s mail if it was left out for more than two hours.

The hallways probably don’t even smell like old cheese either.

Hand shaking, you pressed the call box for his apartment. You told yourself that it was shaking because of the cold, not nerves. But who were you kidding?

“Hey, it’s me. I’m here.” A bit obvious, but what else were you supposed to say? Your apartment building didn’t even have a key to get into the building and half the time the door was propped wide open. You weren’t used to the luxury of call-boxes.

“Come up.”

Sure enough, when the door buzzed open and you stepped through them, you were in a decidedly nice lobby. Not overly fancy like some luxury hotel but it was clear that some money had been spent on maintaining the building’s common areas.

Hitting the button for the 13th floor- not without briefly hesitating when you remembered that many buildings don’t have 13th floors, at least not labeled as such, something about bad luck- your stomach swooped again when the elevator began to ascend at a decent speed.

You only knocked once on the door before Dr. Crane opened it, leaning against the doorway as you stood, fidgeting and trying not to play with the hem of your dress.

“Welcome.”

He stepped back, allowing you to pass by him into the apartment.

Into the belly of the beast, as it were.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’m almost done.”

Dr. Crane’s apartment was… nice. Much nicer than anything you’d even looked at in your search for an apartment.

You moved through the main room, examining the living area which separated from the kitchen area with a half wall. Large windows overlooked the city, lights shimmering against buildings, giving it that metallic glow. The moon was covered by a thick layer of dark clouds, rain dripping out like they were wrung out washcloths. It was easy, when you looked at Gotham from so far above, to forget that on the ground was a cesspool of crime and corruption. Up here, it looked like any other city, with high rises and a river glittering in the distance.

You didn’t need to think about the people who wanted to flood the streets with said glittering river. You could just… enjoy being in Dr. Crane’s personal world, basking in the warm scent that you could only define as his.

You turned away from the window, pulling the cardigan you’d thrown on tighter around yourself. Dr. Crane (or had you decided to start thinking of him as Jonathan now?) stood with his back to you in his kitchen, the open floor plan of his apartment allowing you to watch him from a distance. Watching as his back muscles flexed under his shirt, the fabric shifting with every movement as he chopped something up and slid it into the pot bubbling on the stove. Watching his arms- his sleeves rolled to the sleeve and you had to wonder if he knew what he looked like when he did that, what it did to you- as he gripped the knife, wiping it on a dish towel.

He turned around, catching you staring. But you didn’t look away, content for him to know that you were watching him. Your conversation so far had been light, with his need to tend to the food cooking keeping you from really talking.

He smiled before turning back to the food.

It looked like he was almost done with cooking. It’s just pasta, it can’t be that complicated. A few more minutes passed before he turned back to you.

“Dinner-” He smiled, tense like he was well aware he was being stereotypical and couldn’t decide if he enjoyed or loathed it, “is served.”

You crossed to the table, where he was placing two plates with a generous serving of pasta and full wine glasses, the red so deep it almost looked black.

He gestured for you to sit down, waiting until you did to sit down himself.

If you were bolder, you would get up and circle around the table, place your hand on his shoulder, situate yourself in his lap and slowly lean forward- You cleared your throat, taking a generous sip of the wine he had poured. It was almost bitter on your tongue, the taste unfamiliar to the wines you’d had before in your life.

“That’s your only drink tonight.” He said, watching your hand fiddling with the stem of the wine glass.

“Fine by me.” Though secondary to the other pains in your body after the gala, your hangover from the amount of alcohol you’d consumed that night hadn’t been an experience you would like to relive anytime soon. His insistence that you only drink one glass of wine was reassurance that he wasn’t the kind of man to try something with you when you weren’t in control of your senses.

Maybe he hadn’t realized just how drunk you were at the gala, maybe he thought you were just slightly tipsy and bubbly rather than truly inebriated. (Maybe you were just kidding yourself.)

You looked down from your wine to the plate of pasta, debating asking him if he was going to explain why he’d ignored you for a week.

But you didn’t, instead choosing to ask him if he’d read any good books lately. And the conversation continued with lame small talk being set as the topic, one of which you both seemed bored of as soon as it had begun. He asked you how you enjoyed the pasta- good, it’s good- and how your classes were going.

Neither of you brought up the gala or his behavior for the past week.

You almost wanted to believe that you’d made the entire thing up.

Finally, after a brief silence where you both seemed content to just eat, you broke your silence.

“Can I ask you what was going on this past week?”

He put his fork down and it took everything in you not to flinch. It wasn’t a threatening move at all, but you were on edge.

“Would you believe me if I said I was embarrassed?”

“Why?”

“I invited you to the damn thing and then you were taken hostage.” He shrugged. “I put the blame on myself.”

You nodded in understanding, but a part of you didn’t believe him. Embarrassed? You couldn’t imagine the man in front of you embarrassed. You didn’t think he had that emotion in his body. If something humiliating happened to him, you imagined he’d just laugh or become angry. Not wallow in self pity.

But you had no way to express this.

“It’s not your fault.”

It was the only thing you could say. Because it wasn’t his fault, that was a fact, even if in your anger you had said as much. Just because he had invited you to the event didn’t mean he was responsible for every little thing that happened at it. It wasn’t like he hired the men to rob the place and take you hostage.

You made a move to reach across the table, but at the last minute decided against it. Let him make the first move, let him do it so you don’t embarrass yourself by misreading signs.

After that, the small talk returned. You, eating your pretty decent pasta, did your best to ask questions that would elicit some response from him so you could get to know him better.

And then, towards the end of your meal, he threw you a curveball.

“Would you ever be interested in visiting Arkham?”

You paused in the middle of bringing your fork to your mouth, noodles sliding off the cutlery and plopping back onto the pile with a pathetic plick.

Oh no, he’s planning on admitting me.

“...The asylum?” As if there was any other Arkham.

“Technically it’s a mental hospital.”

“And you want me to visit it?”

“I’d like to show you around.”

“Around the asylum?”

He sighed, exasperation flitting across his face. Immediately you were ridden with guilt for how obtuse you were being but the suggestion had come straight out of left field. He just wants to show you his other work, that makes sense, right?

You don’t think you’ve ever questioned yourself this much since you’ve started hanging around him.

“I just… don’t know about it, that’s all.” You took another sip of your wine, wincing when you saw how little was left in your glass. “Are you even allowed to bring visitors? It’s a hospital. With criminals.”

“As long as you know the right person, have the right clearances… Yes, you can visit.” The unspoken implication being, of course, that Jonathan was the right person to know, the person to obtain the right clearances for you. “You would be completely safe with me.”

“I guess…” You allowed yourself to picture being one of the few non-staff who wasn’t a patient allowed inside the hospital’s walls. The history the building held in its walls, the secrets it would be able to tell if it could, the piles upon piles of records probably gathering dust… “I guess it would be a cool opportunity, right?”

Everything he offered you seemed to be a good opportunity. A unique opportunity. A cool one.

“I could take you down tomorrow-”

“We live on opposite sides of the city. I don’t want you to have to drive me back to my place only to pick me up again and then take me all the way to Arkham Island.” You rolled your eyes, finally popping your fork in your mouth. You waited until you finished chewing to speak again. “Another day would be best.”

Also, you had classes tomorrow but that wasn’t really important, not in the grand scheme of the universe (which, right now, entirely revolved around Dr. Jonathan Crane. Everything else was secondary, an afterthought.)

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to fight you on this point but then decided against it, nodding towards you.

“Alright. I’ll take you down another day.”

“Alright.” You repeated, smiling. “I look forward to it.”

It was partially a lie, but you also didn’t want to give up any opportunity to spend more time with him.

With a deep swig, you finished your glass of wine, grimacing as the last remnants of the surprisingly bitter liquid slipped down your throat.

“Is it okay?”

“Yeah, I’m probably just not used to this kind of wine.” You laughed. “I don’t know if you know this, but college kids have really bad taste in alcohol.”

“I was a college student once, you know.”

You laughed at the mental image of him as an undergrad, before you remembered something from a few days ago, from right before the gala.

“Wait. I thought you said you didn’t drink.”

“No, I said that I don’t need to drink to have fun.” With that, he took a slow sip from his- still mostly full- drink. You hummed, taking a final bite of pasta.

As Jonathan- there was still a novel giddiness in calling him that, even if it was just in your mind- cleaned up after dinner (which you had offered to help with but he was resolute in doing it on his own and you wouldn’t fight him on it), you moved back into his living space.

Now what? You’d done what you’d come here to do- eat food- and now that it’s done, what was the plan? You wrapped yourself with your cardigan again, situating yourself on the couch in the middle of the room. Or maybe more like awkwardly perching yourself on the edge, like a bird about to take off into flight.

Jonathan paused in the archway separating the living space and kitchen, observing you as you sat on his couch.

“Do you mind if I come to sit with you?”

“Of course not.”

You watched as he came closer and instead of sitting on one of the armchairs sat next to you on the couch. On the opposite site, but what did the distance of a few inches matter? You spared a glance his way out of the corner of your eye, catching him watching you.

God. It was awkward, right? How awkward does something have to be for it to completely turn the other person off of you forever?

“Um.”

Your heart was pounding in your ears, loud enough that you’re sure he could hear it.

“Look at me.”

He was so close to you.

“Are you afraid, right now?” His voice was quiet but you were so honed in that it was deafening in the silence of his apartment.

“Of you?”

“Of me.”

Yes.

"A little bit.” How could you admit to the force of nature in front of you that you were afraid of him?

And maybe it was your imagination but for a moment, you were convinced he smiled and said good.

You’re not sure when the two of you moved from staring into each other’s eyes into making out. It felt like you’d been laying on the couch with him perched above you for hours, drinking the other in like you’d been abandoned at sea for months. At some point he’d pulled your cardigan off of your body, throwing it over the armchair across the room, running his cold hands over your now bare arms.

His finger brushed your stiffened nipple but instead of the jolt of pleasure one would have expected to feel at such a movement, you were suddenly and inexplicably gripped by a wave of anxiety, butterflies swarming in your stomach. But as quickly as it had washed over you, it was gone, though a certain uneasiness lingered in your veins.

You pulled away from him, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, I’m feeling…” Mentally, you scanned your body for the feeling, trying to locate exactly where it was originating but it was like a thrumming energy, moving around while somehow staying in the same places, lingering in your veins, something that was just… “off.”

You waited for his expression to fall, for disappointment or even anger to morph his face but it didn’t. He simply nodded, sliding off of you and allowing you to sit up fully. You adjusted your dress, covering yourself again as he watched. He handed you your water, which you took eagerly.

“Anxious?” His hand hadn’t left your thigh, rubbing calming circles on your skin, grounding you to the current moment.

“A little bit, yeah.” Always getting to the crux of the issue, he was.

“If you don’t want to do anything, I’m perfectly okay with that.”

“Really?” You shouldn’t be surprised that he wasn’t going to make you do anything you didn’t want to do.

“Of course.” He smiled. “What do you need?”

“I think I just want to go to sleep.” You paused, before looking at him again, afraid that you were being too vague and leading him on. “At my apartment. I don’t think I’m r-”

“Don’t worry about it. Let me take you back to your place.” He flashed you another smile and maybe it was your anxiety or the low lighting of his room but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

But instead of worrying about it, you leaned towards him and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Thank you.”

chapter five

#stbotdi #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #batman x reader #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne x reader #my writing #my fic

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iskeai-needs-more-dykes · 2 years ago

Note

Hi, sorry to jump onto your blog and reference a personal vent post you made, but since it is venting, I thought I’d clarify something in terms of the nuance attached to the issue: basically, manhua is Chinese while manhwa is Korean, and the images you included in your post show it’s actually a Korean manhwa (via the action words on the panel).

Obviously East Asian countries overall tend to have some not great beauty standards and China isn’t necessarily more innocent than Korea in terms of fatphobia, but I do personally think both countries sometimes engage with beauty standards in different ways. For example, there’s not a lot of focus on transforming fat people into skinny beauty queens in Chinese media, so that’s why, as a person of Chinese descent and also a manhua fan, it felt off-putting seeing the misdirected hatred.

Again, sorry to just burst in with this random ask about the matter. I just see manhua and manhwa lumped together a lot, and while it’s kind of understandable, Chinese media is a lot more underrated than Korean media and gets a lot more undeserved hate due to sinophobia, so seeing more misdirected frustration can be a little discouraging.

But of course, your posts aren’t about that or for me, and I know that. I understand I’m just a stranger on the Internet, but I hope though that someday you can find a manhwa that meets your standards nonetheless! The lack of representation in any media for people who fall outside the standard beauty mold—where any representation can even end up feeling malicious—truly sucks. 😔

oh sorry!! yea i know the comic was korean - and no matter how much i complain about stuff just know that its never directed to entire cultures. thats hypocritical and just as bad as the people who excuse awful behavior by generalizing by race. fatphobia, racism, sexism are all issues prevelant in every form of media regardless of Where they come from.

as for the manhua vs manhwa. honestly that is a true mistake on my part, i knew there was a difference but i got the terms mixed up and didnt bother looking up to see if i was right. but i am aware that most of what i read is korean! ill be more careful from now on to use the correct term, thank you for that.

but yes of course regardless of if the comic is chinese, korean, or even japanese since this is an issue with a lot of manga i find as well! i criticize obvious fatphobia and the common trends i see. thats not to say in any sense there ARENT any manhwa [or manhua] that dont handle these issues well, in fact ive read a few in that regard though its more background stuff. its just a frustrating issue and i know id be feeling the exact same way in regards to western media.

anyway i hope i make sense in this and thank you for being civil and correcting me! while my posts may just be vents i dont mind others talking or fixing anything i say wrong. i have some issues so im not the best in the way of saying? putting words together and all if that makes sense. but thank you anyway and i hope you have a good day ^_^

#i 100% get your way of thinking with the sinophobia since. Yea God its bad.#and i feel like it Is important to talk abt that stuff cause i actually have seen people say manhua is significantly worse than other types #of comics. which is a bold fucking claim since its generalizing an entire genre - from one of the biggest countries in the world. like eugh #i should get more into them though since i can already pretty much generalize the villainess isekai genre in manga vs manhwa in terms of.#common tropes and the likes. but i dont read as much for manhua. ill set on that after i go through my current to read list ^_^#also already said this but im happy you explained the difference in the terms cause i have tried searching stuff up but things are easier #when ppl directly explain to me the difference. sticks in the mind more. so ill be sure to remember from now on

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years ago

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Hiiii! I absolutely love your writing. Could you do an imagine based off of your pregnancy one shot? Since H is incredibly private, would the couple be able to hide her pregnancy from the public and then announce it similar to like Kylie Jenner’s video diary of the whole experience? Thanks!!

A/N: Ok I was OBSESSED with this request, but for some reason I found it very difficult to write, so I’m so sorry if it’s shit. Hope you like it <3

Word Count: 2,698

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

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CLICK HERE TO READ OTHER COMPLETED STORIES

Friendly reminder to please like and/or reblog. It helps more than you think :)

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Is Forever Enough?

From the moment Harry found out he and Y/N were expecting their first child, he knew he wanted to document everything. He had been in the habit of capturing moments throughout their relationship, mainly of big events, but from this moment on, he wanted to capture it all. Little clips of every doctor’s appointment, every craving his wife had, every heartbeat, and every little kick. He wanted video documentation of the life growing inside his wife’s belly and everything that happened during that time. They had waited so long for this moment, and now that it was finally here, he wanted to make sure they would never forget a single second of it. From telling their closest friends and family members, designing the nursery, their tiny baby shower, attended by the select few that were lucky enough to know their secret.

At first, keeping silent was a way to protect themselves in case Y/N’s pregnancy didn’t stick like their fertility doctor had warned them was a possibility. It took them nearly two years to conceive, and the thought of going through a miscarriage in front of millions of watchful eyes was terrifying. But by the time they became aware that they weren’t going to miscarry, they had gone so long without announcing it that there wasn’t a point to do it. Why ruin something that was so well hidden?

The decision not to announce their pregnancy to the public wasn’t a hard decision to make. Harry was private, anyway, and everyone knew that. He was rarely on social media and didn’t talk about his private life to many people, and those who he did talk to were very loyal and trusting. They just wanted to enjoy being pregnant without the prying eyes of strangers and it was fairly easy keeping it under wraps considering how private they were, to begin with.

The timing of Y/N’s pregnancy helped, too. The early part of her pregnancy was during the summer, so they could enjoy tropical holidays together without worrying about being seen because she simply wasn’t showing yet. But, towards the end, it got harder to conceal, like during award season in the fall when an oversized shirt or puffy dress couldn’t conceal the roundness of her bump and plumpness of her cheeks and lips. It was the first award season she hadn’t accompanied Harry to in years and people began to get suspicious.

That’s when the rumors of her possible pregnancy started. Of course, no one could prove anything. But that, along with the lack of sightings of Y/N was enough proof for some. Luckily, nothing more came of it other than whispers. Harry had stopped doing interviews when he first got wind of the rumors, so no one could catch him off guard in uncomfortable positions or having to lie to protect his wife, and he began to focus his attention back on his music, halting his pursuance of on-screen work for the time being until after their baby boy’s arrival. Instead, he was the man behind the camera.

For the most part.

There were times when certain family members or friends would pick up their camera and film some things for them, capturing little intimate moments of the parents-to-be. They even enlisted the help of Harry’s on-tour photographer, Helene Pambrun, to help film the birth of their baby. Though she focused mainly on photography, her knowledge of videography and style of filming fit exactly with what the couple wanted, and Helene was all too honored to be a part of the day.

And although the birth of their child was, albeit, a bit traumatic, they couldn’t have asked for a sweeter baby boy. Born on a frigid Friday evening on March eighteenth after twenty hours of active labor and an onslaught of chaos, Paxton Robin Styles was born, tiny, healthy, and beautiful, surrounded by family that already loved him so dearly.

The hospital staff was wonderful in keeping their attendance private, no one having a clue that they were even there. No news articles or whispers were heard of their newest addition to which they were grateful to be allowed to enjoy their first week home, getting acclimated to being new parents. They had fallen in love with him.

“Y/N!” Harry exclaimed, bouncing into the nursery on a Monday afternoon as his wife fed their son, his phone in hand, and a bright smile on his face.

Y/N looked up, surprised and slightly offended, “Don’t ever call me by my name again,” she joked, stroking their son’s cheek.

Harry laughed, “Sorry, love. But, look! It’s here!”

He held his phone in front of her face, playing the edited version of their pregnancy and birth journey in video form one of Harry’s editor friends kindly put together for them after the birth of their son. The five minute and fifty-one-second video filled with shortened clips of the last nearly ten months of their lives in becoming first-time parents. They watched it together, occasionally glancing down at their baby that had fallen asleep while eating in Y/N’s arms, in awe that this was their life.

Tears were streaming down both of their faces, and Y/N giggled, wiping her husband’s cheek with her free hand. He was an emotional being, she knew that, but she had no idea what the effect of fatherhood would be on her Harry. She couldn’t have picked a better partner to raise a child with.

“I think we should post it,” Harry said, causing Y/N’s eyes to go wide.

“Post it? Like...social media?”

Harry nodded, “Well, we can’t keep him a secret forever. People are already starting to talk. I’d rather announce it on our own terms than on someone else’s. We can still stay as private as possible, I’ve already talked to Jeffrey and my publicist about it. I just...he makes me so proud and I feel like I need to show people that.”

Y/N smiles sweetly at her husband, taking his hand that rested on the arm to the nursing chair and pulling it up to her lips, kissing it gently. “Okay. We can post it.”

Later that evening, the internet was in an uproar and their phones were blowing up like crazy, for on both of their Instagrams they posted a grey-scale picture of a name tag sticker that read “Hello, I’m: P”, captioned ‘link in bio’, where they were directed to a youtube link posted under Harry’s account.

As soon as the video began, Harry’s soft voice was heard, singing his version of ‘Lullaby’ by the Dixie Chicks in the background as unseen footage of their wedding a few years prior had fizzled into view, video of their first dance as husband and wife played while the tail end of a speech made by Harry’s mom, Anne, was heard over everything else.

“We are so incredibly grateful to have Y/N now an official part of our family and I wish you both years of love, health, and happiness….and giving me tons and tons of grandchildren,” earning laughter from the attendees, “I love you both to pieces. Congratulations.”

The video slowly changed to little snippets. Y/N running towards the beach, holding her hat tight on her head with one hand while the other was holding onto Harry’s hand that was at the bottom of the screen as the breeze whipped at Y/N’s hair and sarong, cut to a clip of the camera propped on the beach overlooking the two of them sitting in the sand, looking out into the ocean, Y/N’s head falling on Harry’s shoulder and him kissing the top of her head as the sun set.

Next was a scene during one of Harry’s tour where someone filmed Y/N at the front of the stage in a VIP area beside a few of their friends, dancing and singing along with Harry who stood in front of her, smiling and singing at her.

The next images were upsetting. When they first started trying, they recorded videos of themselves awaiting the results of their tests, hoping to capture the moment they found out on film. One after another, the video showed negative test upon negative test, wanting to document the struggle they faced in fertility, one of the main reasons they decided to post this video. If it helped just one person who struggled with infertility and gave them a bit of hope, they needed to show it.

They showed clips of Harry holding an emotional Y/N in his arms, her eyes filled with tears and a quivering lip as he kissed her forehead and stroked her hair. Until the next clip showed. A shaky still of a screen that read ‘Pregnant’ that panned up to show a reflection of Harry and his wife in the mirror, Y/N pulling the test up to her face with a smile while Harry looked down at his wife in pride, softly touching her flat belly.

Clips of an ultrasound showed, Y/N stomach looking more bloated than anything as the doctor slid the wand around on her belly, Harry filming while squeezing his wife’s hand. His voice could barely be heard over the music of the video as he cooed, “Is that it, right there? So little…”

They included a few announcements they made to family members. How they told Anne while on an end of summer family vacation with a little jewelry box that opened up to two little birds and an egg in a birds nest with a note that said ‘A little birdy told me you are going to be a Nana.’ making Anne burst into tears, hugging them. And when they told Y/N’s best friend by giving her an orange and saying, “That’s how big our baby is right now,” which caused confusion before the screaming.

Y/N had filmed mirror clips of her growing belly in the floor-length mirror that stood in the corner of their room and had gotten clips of Harry laying beside her bump, his hands rubbing her stomach, clasped on either side as he sang, or talked, or read stories.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” he could be heard saying before kissing the top of her bump, looking up and past the camera to his wife, smiling lovingly.

There were images of Christmas, Gemma having caught an intimate moment between the two of them, Y/N sat in between Harry’s legs on the floor, mugs of hot chocolate in her hands and still in their Christmas Pajamas, Harry’s cheek pressed against hers as he held up a blue Gucci baby suit in front of them, smiling and gushing about how small it was.

The couple’s silhouette could be seen in the dark light sky as they stood in the middle of the field, illuminated by the New Years’ fireworks that went off in the distance, Y/N’s belly pressed against Harry’s stomach as they kissed intimately amongst their friends.

A small baby shower inside one of their London country homes was next, littered with a few familiar faces along with some that were likely family members. Harry still sang in the background as the two of them opened gifts, smiling and laughing with each other, genuine happiness and love could be seen on everyone’s faces and a few people popped onto the screen to say a few words for the unborn baby.

“You have wonderful parents,” Y/N’s parents grinned, her mom getting teary-eyed. “I can’t wait to see the person you become.”

Anne’s bright, shining smile was next, “You’re going to do amazing things. You are so loved.”

“Hi, my sweet nephew! It’s Auntie Gemma,” she grinned, waving at the camera, “I can’t wait to meet you and snuggle you! I hope you grow up to be just as kind and loving as your parents. We are so lucky to have you in our lives.”

Harry and Y/N were seen in the background, Y/N eating a slice of cake while Harry casually kissed her cheek before stealing a bite of her food, earning a smile from his pregnant wife

Video panned over their newly renovated nursery, mostly designed to be gender-neutral with little hints of outer space; moon lights, a solar system mobile hanging above the cot, with a star blanket draped over the nursing chair. Harry moved the camera to Y/N who was hanging some onesies in the nursery closet, smiling and waving at the camera.

Next, they were laying in bed. It was dark and, but a glow from a nightstand shone and Y/N’s belly was visible, round and very pregnant, a few freckles near her navel, and the faintest linea nigra could be seen running from her belly button down towards the bottom of her belly. Their voices were barely audible over the music still sung by Harry. A little ripple on her belly cast from left to right and then her belly distorted a little as their baby boy kicked and pressed against the center of her bump, making the couple laugh and Harry’s hand appeared, softly rubbing where his son’s foot would be.

It changed. They were in a hospital now, Y/N in a grey and white spotted hospital gown. The camera was propped on a table filming Y/N who sat on the edge of her bed, moving her hips from side to side as she breathed heavily, moaning, while Harry kneeled on the floor in front of her, his hands on her hips and squeezing to relieve some pressure. They were talking to each other, concern, and empathy clear on Harry’s face.

In the next clip, Y/N was laying back in her hospital bed, sucking on gas and air. Harry was filming this time, and his Anne could be seen this time, sitting on Y/N’s other side holding her daughter-in-law’s free hand. Y/N put the gas and air down, gave a thumbs-up, and smiled, “We’re having a baby today!” as her mother-in-law smiled brightly.

The footage faded to black before it flashed to Y/N looking at someone just out of view as the disembodied voice said, “Whenever you feel the urge to push, let us know. You’ll be meeting your son soon.”

It faded to black again, Harry’s singing more evident in these moments, louder, as the footage flashed back into focus. The camera was, once again, being propped up on a table. At Y/N’s head on either side stood Anne who was still holding her daughter-in-law’s hand, while Harry stood, back to the camera, mostly blocking the view of his wife as one hand stroked her hair and the other held her hand. The doctors could be heard saying, “Deep breath” before Y/N took a deep breath in, bringing her legs to her chest with the help of a few nurses that could hardly be seen, bearing down and pushing as the nurses counted and Harry said, “Great job, love. Keep going. You’re so strong.”

The screen went black. A doctor’s voice was heard saying, “One more big push.” Y/N could be heard taking a deep breath, and a little exasperated yelp before gasping from both Harry and Anne followed by the beautiful, gurgling cry of their baby. Harry’s sweet singing voice in the background of the video got louder and finally, the video came back into view of a little name card on the bassinet that read:

Name: P, Styles.

DOB: March 18th

Weight: 6 lbs 12 oz

Height: 20 inches

Time: 8:39 PM

The camera panned down to the top of a blue baby cap with a white embroidered ‘P’ in the center, moving as their son wiggled in his bassinet, the hushed reassuring whispers of his parents heard just behind the camera as little lip-smacking and coos could be heard from the baby.

The screen went blank as the song started to end and white words appeared on the screen.

“Welcome to the world, Baby P. We love you to the ends of the earth.

Love,

Mummy and Daddy”

------------------------------------

Taglist:

@odetostep , @thurhomish

#Harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles blurb #harry styles dad #dad!harry #pregnant #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles smut #harry #one direction #1d

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yannowhatigiveup · 4 years ago

Text

My One And Only - Chapter 9

Previous | Next

So this chapter is longer than chapter 8 and I think from next chapter, they got longer. As we get closer to the chapter I’m currently writing, the frequent updates will unfortunately die. Just letting you know so you won’t be too disappointed! Oh and my Wattpad name is the same, ‘yannowhatigiveup’. If you know any way I can improve my writing please do tell me!

Gabriel Agreste stood in his observatory after recently detransforming. 'She can control her emotions well but when she's angry, it's incredibly strong. This girl could be one of the strongest in Paris, she could be one that senses auras. I must find a way. I will use her to eliminate all of heroes. All I need is time'.

————————————————————

The bluenette sat in her uncle Jagged's hotel room, tapping a pen against her lips while watching the conversation, well it was more like an argument, between Jagged and his manager Bob Roth. Bob was stating that they should leave the song writing to the professionals while Jagged protested, saying that his niece was overflowing with talent and that she could do it no problem. Penny was on the phone with someone but Marinette didn't eavesdrop in her conversation. She stated at the blank notebook in front of her, eyeing it suspiciously. Then she got an idea and began scribbling down the lyrics she had in mind, not knowing that she had unintentionally gained the attention of everyone in the room. She managed to write the whole song in one sitting which was very impressive even for professional song writers at the time. "Did it" she said putting the pen down. Penny then came over to take the notebook and read what the bluenette had written. 'I hope it's ok'

"Wow Mari, this is great!" Penny said her mouth agape. She passed it to Jagged but Bob had snatched it out of his hands, only to give it back when Fang looked at him hungrily.

"Yeah, this is rock'n roll Nettie!" He praised her while giving his manager a 'I told you so' look.

"Yes this is exactly what we needed, a little change in the album. Thank you for this Marinette. We shall produce the song while you can sing the lyrics-"

"If that's alright will you of course" Jagged said, interrupting his manager.

Marinette nodded hesitantly. "I can give it a shot" she murmured.

Marinette walked home after visiting Jagged and showing Damian the designs she had in plan for his brothers, without showing the design she made for him. She was careful not to shake her purse too much as Tikki was sleeping, it was a busy day for the kwami as Marinette had let her go visit Plagg for some 'Kwami business'. Marinette didn't press for answers though. Soon she entered her parents bakery to find them already there, waiting for her.

"Maman, Papa what is it?" She asked.

"Your father and I are discussing if we should open a second bakery" Sabine answered enthusiastically.

"There's a few spots available in Marseille, we already booked a flight and a hotel to stay at" Tom answered, maybe even more excited than his wife.

"That's great! But isn't Marseille far away? It's closer to Italy than Paris" Marinette answered.

"Well surprisingly, we're already well known there" Tom replied.

"Oh cool! When will you be leaving?"

"On Saturday at 2 am" Her mother replied. "It's late but it was the next available flight. We'll be gone for a week maybe longer depending on all the paper work"

"Well you better start packing then!" Marinette said happy for both her parents. "I'll be going to bed now. Good night!" She hugged both her parents before going upstairs to change and finishing up her designs.

~~~

Adrien sat in front of his computer early before school, looking through all of Kagami's recent posts and he liked the photo that she posted yesterday, the photo was of when they went for ice cream earlier today. Alya and Nino were also in the picture, smiling for the camera but Adrien noticed someone else in the background. 'Marinette...' She was eating her ice cream, unbeknownst to the picture being taken, with the spoon still in her mouth. Adrien felt distracted by the way the sun reflected off her hair. He loved Kagami truly but his new love for Marinette shadowed it. "Plagg" Adrien said. "I think I have a thing for bluenettes".

"So your type is blue-haired girls? What makes you say that?" The kwami replied, not really enjoying the conversation.

"Well I like Ladybug, Kagami and Marinette and they all have one thing in common. They all have blue hair" Adrien sighed. "The last thing I need is another blue-haired girl to come into my life"

"Ughhh this is too cheesy, I much prefer actual cheese" Plagg groaned while looking around for Camembert.

Adrien sighed, smiling while going back to think of the girls he liked. He liked Ladybug for her quick, sly and smart nature. Kagami was incredibly skilled and very easy to relate to. And Marinette had a kind personality as well as unmatchable beauty. He couldn't decide which one he liked most as all the options were as great as the others. Then a notification on his computer distracted him from his thoughts. It was a notification that Jagged Stone had posted something. 'Huh, I wonder what it could be'

~~~

Jason was flicking through the channels on the TV, looking for something interesting to watch when a notification appeared on his phone. 'What's this?' He then realised that it was a trending post from Jagged Stone and went to view it. "HOLY SH-"

"Master Jason, language"Alfred reminded him.

"Oh yeah sorry" he whispered before shouting again. "HOLY MOTHER OF UM SOMETHING!"

Dick and Tim then entered the room, wondering what Jason was talking about. "What?" Dick asked.

Jason then connected his phone to the TV and showed the post he was talking about.

@official_jaggedstone

(Photo of a blue-haired girl with a medium long braid and her back facing the camera, writing on something)

Wonder what MDC is writing up for the bonus track? 🤔🤔🤔🤔

All three of the boys then fanboyed over finally being able to see what their favourite designer, and idol, looked like. Alfred then sighed while exiting the room.

"She's pretty!"

"She looks smart!"

"What's she writing?"

"I'm gonna call Damian, that room looks similar to the room he's staying in"

"Yes do, I want to pester him"

Dick then dialed a number on his phone. After a few rings, the phone finally answered.

"Tt, Yes?" A stern voice came through on the other side.

"HAVE YOU SEEN JAGGED'S RECENT POST!?" Tim shouted into the microphone.

~~~

Damian had already seen Jagged's post, he smiled to himself. He was about to go back to reading his book when his phone rang. He would've picked it up straight away if he hadn't see the name, it was Dick. He let the phone ring for a little while before answering.

"Tt, Yes?" He said in a stern voice.

"HAVE YOU SEEN JAGGED'S RECENT POST!?" Luckily Damian had the phone further away from his ear otherwise Tim would've exploded his eardrums.

"What about it?"

"He posted an image of MDC, the very first one ever on the internet!" Dick answered excitedly. "There aren't any pictures of her anywhere".

Damian smiled to himself knowing that he had seen MDC before his brothers, he had seen her smile. "There aren't?"

"Yeah! Weird right? She doesn't even show up to Jagged's live performances!" It was Jason's turn to speak now.

"Well I'm sure she goes to the performances, she's just never seen" Tim told his brother in a matter-of-fact way.

Damian rolled his eyes. "Tt, bye now" he said, immediately turning his phone off not allowing any of his brothers to protest. He then texted Marinette.

Me: Just got off the phone with my brothers, they were fanboying over you.

Surprisingly Marinette replied straight away.

Angel: They are too? Everyone is fangirling over MDC

Me: Because of Jagged's post, he posted a picture of you. The back of your head specifically

Angel: Oh hah I see it now, I guess that has to be my signature hairstyle as MDC now.

Me: It looks great on you though

Angel: You really think so?

Me: Mhm

Angel: Aw, thanks

~~~

Marinette had blushed when Damian said she looked good in that hairstyle. She really liked him. Then Marinette looked at the time, she was early for once. She decided to make use of this and get ready for school. She had finished getting ready quickly and she was able to walk instead of run to school like she usually did. When she entered, she noticed that there was barely anyone here. 'Perfect! I can work on my designs' that was until a familiar face showed up.

"Hey girl! You're here early wow!" The sound of her best friend made Marinette laugh until her facial expression changed from surprised to smug. Marinette was about to ask but Alya had brought her to the locker room where they were alone. "So girl, spill"

"What?"

"Do you like Chat Noir?"

Marinette giggled but she saw her best friend's face. "Oh you're not joking"

"Nope, now you can tell me so that I can get you both on a date." She blushed profusely. "And I ain't backing down, I've spent too much time on trying to find out who he is. Don't think I haven't noticed how you're jumping at anytime to be with this boy." She said the last statement with a soft voice.

Marinette sighed, grateful of her best friend but hesitant to tell her without Damian's permission as he never seemed like one for social interaction. "I'll ask" she said while taking her phone out.

Me: Shaytan, my best friend found out that I've been sneaking off to go see you.

Shaytan: Césaire?

Me: Yeah

Shaytan: You said she wanted to be a reporter right? Well then I guess this is expected, she did a good job.

Me: So should I tell her your name?

Shaytan: That's up to you

Me: Ok thanks!

Marinette put her phone away and looked at her best friend.

"So?" Alya asked. "Can you tell me?"

Marinette nodded. "So um, his name is D-Damian"

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets, @jjmjjktth, @genderfluidmoma, @starlit-dreaming, @icerosecrystal

#daminette #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc

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twelvedaysinaugust · 2 years ago

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Hiii I just want to come here and share some of my thoughts on Saved by a Stranger, and on the new album maybe. I agree with the interpretation about references to the collective influence of fans, or to a certain person. They are all possible and interesting explanations! But I want to say that, oddly, when I first heard the demo, the melody, the lyrics as well as how he chooses to sing the song in a very clear, genuine way (but maybe bcs it’s merely a demo but I think depending on the concept the final version might not make it too loud either) all remind me at once of Oasis, and specifically about one song, Talk Tonight.

I am a big fan of music documentaries. I think it’s an abundant resource for someone who wants create something to find inspiration and personal growth. Also sometimes, watching other artists’ struggles and how they over come them really gives on strength and faith. This is important because and I believe Louis likes to watch them, too. In some of the latest interviews he mentioned a few times how he loves to know about how bands are made and how they have grown. Somewhere in an interview during his Australien leg (i guess?), he also mentioned Pistol (2022), a documentary/tv series about Sex Pistols, which surprised me because I haven’t seen a log of people in my life or on the internet talking about it. And I’m really glad he would dig out those information as an artist who is also growing and learning. And I’m guessing this passion may even date back to early days of one direction. When they were repeatedly compared to Beatles when they first came to America, all the boys may have watched Beatles’ documentaries together, which Louis, Harry and Liam all mentioned in interviews.

Now, back to Talk Tonight. It was said on one of the Oasis documentary that their first American tour was horrible, and he and Liam got into a big fight, before he stormed away, leaving one note and not telling anyone where he went. He actually went to a small town? Or San Francisco? I don’t remember exactly where. There he stayed with a girl he had befriended during a previous show. She talked a distraught Noel off the ledge and took him to the park where she had played as a child. Many details in the song are allegedly about her. But after that Noel said they never met again. The song lyrics also convey the concept of being saved by someone, the state of mind after the storm, thanks to this someone who dragged him out of there.

Sorry about all the rambling about oasis :> Anyway, after making this connection I think there’s a possibility that Louis might get the concept of Saved by a Stranger from here, from watching all those documentaries about his favorite bands. Or there might actually be someone, but he also had this background story of Talk Tonight at the back of his mind. This doesn’t make the writing less personal. In fact, this might be an extreme personal artist revelation.

What I want to say most importantly is that, let’s now look at Louis the artist, singer/songwriter more seriously, in a bigger picture. In this way we may better acknowledge him as a creative human being who also has his highs and lows, strengths and flaws. I don’t mean that all the interpretations of his writings according to his relationships are wrong or not serious, but they are not all. An artist is shaped by so many things they encounter each day, so is a song text that has been worked out throughout a long period of time, under the hands of several artists together. And I think how Louis handled this start season of promotion, how he started it from the afhf with all the newly introduced bands, how he invites people to discuss about his writing choices… all theses are exactly aimed at building his identity more as a young artist in growth than as a former member of a pop band — I’m here speaking of the stereotypical image from the vast majority out of the fandom, I love one direction and I think some of their work has been under appreciated.

Sorry this got too long.. I’m just very happy and excited for lt2 era and for louis:)

Thanks for sharing, nonnie. I've seen a few people mention the parallels between "Talk Tonight" and "Saved by a Stranger." Thanks for the added context.

#saved by a stranger

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tailiacprod · 2 years ago

Text

“Fazbear Frights: Graphic Novel Collection Vol. 1″ Early Review.

[REVIEW BASED OF THE EARLY REVIEW “WIP” COPY THAT WAS SENT TO ME BY SCHOLASTIC AFTER APPROVAL OF MY REQUEST]

(Proof. Reddit Post: https://www.reddit.com/r/fivenightsatfreddys/comments/wuqlw8/fazbear_frights_graphic_novel_collection_vol_1/)

“Fazbear Frights: Graphic Novel Collection Vol. 1” is the fourth Graphic Novel in the Five Nights at Freddy’s franchise, this time adapting certain stories from the first Anthology series, and it is quite an interesting mixed bag. I’m going to go over each story one by one, from “Into The Pit” (ITP), to “To Be Beautiful” (TBB) and finally to “Out Of Stock” (OOS), and then the overall book. Considering that I ended up receiving a Work-in-Progress version of the book, that mainly consists of the line-art, and the Final version of the book has already been out in some stores since Late July, I’ll also be talking about some comparisons between the WIP version and the final book, as well as the coloring.

ITP is one of the most disappointing (and infuriating) adaptations in the franchise so far, and for a lot of reasons. Didi Esmeralda simply didn’t care enough about this book, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she agreed to make this story purely for a quick buck. A common problem with the FNaF GNs is the lack of backgrounds in a lot of shots, a problem that has been less and less present in the original Graphic Novel Trilogy the further it went (with “The Fourth Closet” being the best), but ITP has barely any scenery. Almost all of the shots are just the characters doing one pose, then another, then again, with almost no consistency nor “motion” (lack of proper “motion blur” effect or dynamic movements). The art style for ITP simply does not fit well, and looks rather kiddie-ish, especially next to TBB and OOS. It looks cartoonish, bland, and frankly boring and uninteresting. But the worst part, is easily how Didi handled the main antagonist, ITP Bonnie. Bonnie’s design is incredibly inconsistent the entire time, from his proportions to his magic eyebrows that appears for one panel, to his eyes and mouth and joints: it’s a mess. The worst part, however, as a FNaF Fan, is that some of the shots of him are clearly traced from Fan-Made content. There’s an image going around on the internet of a comparison, which shows a panel of him standing with two kids near him, staring at Oswald (the main protagonist), and here he’s traced from a frame of a popular music video done by the Youtuber Dawko. That means that there’s a shot of Bonnie that’s traced from a fan made model, from a random frame from a fan made music video. It’s genuinely embarrassing, especially after the huge backlash that had occurred when the first cover for the book was released, and it too ended up being traced (from a render of an official Plushtrap model). And that old cover was drawn by Didi too. Considering how Bonnie looks like in other shots, with his very inconsistent design, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of those shots are also traced from fan made content. In terms of the positives, the adaptation-side-of-things (as in, how well the story translated in comic form), it does work pretty decently, and is a nice, accurate version of the original story. The only thing that was annoying were the first few pages, where all of Oswald’s thoughts in the original story are said out loud in the adaptation, and it doesn’t really fit well. As for the coloring, it is just as bland as the line-art. Done by Eva de la Cruz, it makes the story even less interesting, and less good. The lack of “proper” shadows and lighting really makes it look like it was done by a kid who barely cared about the book and just wanted to have a paycheck. Didi Esmeralda was not a good pick for the book, and I’m afraid that her adaptation of “Fetch” for Volume 2 will be just as bad, if not worse. I’m sorry for being quite harsh, but as a fan who’s always wanted to enjoy these books and give them my support, I can’t force myself to support a bland, boring, traced, inconsistent mess like ITP. That doesn’t mean that the other two stories are bad, though.

TBB is already a huge improvement in a lot of ways. It’s clear right from the start that Anthony Morris Jr. cared about this adaptation, and put a lot of effort in it. Almost little-to-no rushing, a lot of detailed and well-drawn backgrounds that helps with the scenery of the story, and consistency. The adaptation of the story is pretty much on-point, and I’d say better than the original in some scenes (such as the opening, and the delightfully creepy ending). This book’s antagonist, Eleanor, has a design pretty close to the first official design we had for her, but with improvements on the face and other. It’s a great design that works with the story, and allows for some pretty great panels (and one good jump-scare!). Although, in the final version, her outfit sometimes switches colors for no reason. It’s an issue that happens sometimes in these books: in “The Fourth Closet”, one of the characters, a kid called Elizabeth, switches from Blonde hair to Brown hair for no reasons. It happens, unfortunately, but other than that, Eleanor is well done, and has pretty much zero inconsistencies (compared to ITP Bonnie). Now, the WIP version of the story works well enough. It does look slightly bland, but the art-style is charming but can get creatively creepy, especially at the end. But I need to mention the final version’s coloring, done by Ben Sawyer: it is excellent. The shadows and lighting are literally the best we’ve got in any of the FNaF Graphic Novels, they are stunning and definitely improve the line-art. Anthony Morris Jr. and Ben Sawyer are a fantastic duo together, and I hope they stay for future books, because TBB is a stand-out in the Graphic Novel Franchise. To recap, overall: from consistent artworks to great designs, plus an accurate (and better) adaptation of the story mixed with the best coloring, lighting and shadows in the series, I’m willing to say that TBB is definitely my favorite adaptation in the franchise, right next to “The Fourth Closet”. Highly recommend this one. It’s biggest flaws are simply from the original story in its case, with some weird (somewhat gross) scenes that got adapted because, well, they kind of have to. But other than that, a great surprise, and it’s also pretty sweet to see some gore in a FNaF Graphic Novel for once. The closest we had to gore was Springtrap in “The Twisted Ones”, and some scenes in “The Fourth Closet”, and, as a perfect transition, also in OOS.

The third and final story, OOS, is without a doubt the most unique adaptation we’ve ever got so far. Andi Santagata brings a unique art-style to the franchise, with a monstrous antagonist and cartoonish humans. The thing is, it works really well! OOS is one of the most beloved stories in the franchise, and one of the reasons why is because of its antagonist: Plushtrap Chaser, who acts like a raging dog throughout the story, with his unique design features and gruesome mouth. Andi absolutely respected this antagonist, with a great scenery and an amazing design that, while it may get some used to at first, absolutely delivers a unique and horrifyingly fun experience. Plushtrap Chaser is nasty, disgusting and horrifying in all the right ways. Definitely the biggest stand-out of the book. It is a bit unfortunate, however, that the WIP version does have the whiskers, but the Final version removed them. The whiskers were part of his original description of the story, so that’s a tiny bit disappointing. The bib is a lovely touch though. As for the human art-style, I had to get used to them a bit. They’re not entirely exaggerated, like Plushtrap, but they’re not your typical cartoonish characters like you could see in “The Silver Eyes” or ITP for example. Their expressions are clear, humorous and fits very well into the experience. It’s fast paced, intense, and ultimately a faithful adaptation to the original story. With that said, it is not really for everyone. The art-style is very experimental, which could throw some fans off, and the monstrous little demon that Plushtrap Chaser is in this book could disappoint some people. Speaking of, I find it quite unfortunate that the cover art was drawn by LadyFiszi, and not Andi. Don’t get me wrong, the final cover art is pretty good and works fine, but it is not a good representation of the story, nor Plushtrap Chaser. Andi could have done an amazing cover, that I’m sure would have attracted even more fans to the book, those who would be intrigued to see this unique yet accurate take on the character and the story. I don’t have a lot of complaints about this adaptation, really. From what I’ve seen of the coloring, it’s pretty simple, not in the same level as TBB, but works pretty well with Andi’s exaggerated line-art. The gore on Plushtrap Chaser and at the end are welcomingly gruesome. And, well, considering that OOS is, again, a fan-favorite story, this adaptation definitely does it justice. In my personal opinion, I still prefer TBB, but OOS is definitely going to be a lot of people’s favorite. It’s literally what the fans wanted from these books: gruesome, well drawn, brutal yet great adaptations of the stories from the original series.

Overall thoughts. Going story-by-story had gone pretty smoothly, but when it comes to talking about the book as a whole, that’s where things gets a little messy. Because, on one hand, you have two really great adaptations, both unique and stand-outs, with great designs and accuracy. But on the other, you have a traced, bland pile of laziness. So, it’s really hard for me to recommend the book. I’d say that it’s worth it for TBB and OOS, but I’m still extremely disappointed and infuriated about ITP. “Fazbear Frights Graphic Novels” have a ton of potential, and TBB and OOS absolutely proves that, but Scholastic needs to make the right choices and decisions about them. Seeing what’s coming for Volume 2, with the current previews, I’m getting concerned that they’re not putting correct deadlines, and doing some things wrong. So, to Scholastic: you have a ton of potential in your hands. A selection of 33 stories to adapt, with illustrators who can do magnificent work. I can see Anthony Morris Jr. work on other body-horror-type of stories, such as Gumdrop Angel, Sea Bonnies, Together Forever (though that one might be too brutal), and others that are more paranoiac-ish, like 1:35 A.M. Dance With Me and What We Found. As long as he still has Ben Sawyer for the coloring. And for Andi Santagata, he can absolutely do gruesome horror and I’d love to see him do more horror work for the series. Stories like Bunny Call and Blackbird are really good picks for him. Keep Didi Esmeralda away from the series after Volume 2: she clearly does not care and, again, has a serious issue with tracing. And, I think the previous artists from the Graphic Novels could also do some stories. Diana Camero for example, why not? All of that to say that: “Fazbear Frights Graphic Novel” has the potential to be a great series with unique, gruesome stories. It just needs to be done right, with the right choices, right artists and right deadlines. I’m concerned about Volume 2, but seeing as the chances for a third and fourth volume to see the light of day are quite high, I hope Scholastic knows what they’re doing, and that my feedback could have been useful. Volume 1 was a mixed bag, mainly due to ITP, but it showed the potential that Fazbear Frights adaptations had to offer. I do recommend the book in the end, but mainly for TBB and OOS. They’re easily some of the best adaptations in the franchise so far, and I’d love to see more of Anthony and Andi’s work.

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frogs-memoirs · 3 years ago

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Interview: Azazel, the Moon Presence

[image id: azazel is pictured from the waist up, with his hands clasped on top of a cane. his nails look more like black claws. he has whitish-grey hair with bangs, tanned skin, and strange white eyes. he is making eye contact with the ‘camera’. there is intense scarring over both eyes, and a barely-visible scar across his throat. he has pointed ears and several piercings. he is wearing a poofy-sleeved buttoned shirt underneath a matronly looking, sleeveless black dress. he is back lit by a purple background, with a neon-purple rectangle of light overlayed on top of the background.]

hello folks! I finally got the chance to interview Azazel after dinner. It was nice to interview someone without having to focus on keeping the compulsion up, and even nicer to sit down and talk with my brother after so long. He’s about as dramatic as I remember him being before. But way more cryptic. I’m half-convinced he’s being this difficult on purpose. He gave me a good contact to follow up on, and plenty of leads on the rifts around the City. While I’m no stranger to avatar threats, the state of the City is concerning. Azazel implied it’s been split up into different districts, which might make my travel through the City difficult, even without the flooding.

Full transcript of the interview (and a bonus alternate version of the photo) found under the cut.

TRANSCRIPT AS FOLLOWS

F: --aaand now it’s on.

A: Are you sure you don’t want to do this by hand like you usually do?

F: Oh, I’ll still be writing it down! But this is for my blog. The one I told you about.

A: I see. You’re going to share my interview with all of your strange internet friends?

F: Well, yeah. It’s okay, they’ll love you.

F: Alright, I had my list of questions here somewhere…

F: Here they are! Okay. [sound of pages turning] Are you ready to answer my questions as honestly as possible and to share nothing except what you know to be true?

A: You don’t really have to do this pact thing with me every time, do you? F: Sorry bro, it’s in the rules.

A: Fine, yes, I swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth.

F: Don’t be a drama queen, I won’t ask you anything that’ll get you in trouble.

A: I’ll hold you to that.

F: First question. Well, sort of question. Can you please state your name, occupation, and role in the city? Mythos, too, since sleepers won’t be able to find my blog, anyways.

A: My name is Azazel Jeán, and I run the Black Sheep’s Inn in our lovely Downtown. I help maintain most of the remaining shops and cafes in our corner of the Downtown, as many folks find it hard to stay in business with all the flooding. My mythos is the Moon Presence, though I hardly have time to really indulge it lately, what with all the repair work I’ve had to tend to.

F: Can you tell me more about the flooding?

A: Sure. The flooding started about… hmm. Maybe five months ago? It started small, with little earthquakes followed by intense rain. Eventually the rain stopped, er, stopping, and the river overflowed. The Downtown isn’t built to withstand rising waters-- it hasn’t happened in centuries. But the storms haven’t let up, and the earthquakes still roll through and cause the ocean to contribute to the floods too. The entire coast has been swallowed up by the tide, too. Some people swear that the water rises a little further every day. I wouldn’t be surprised.

F: That’s… terrifying. When I hitched a ride to the hotel, I noticed something weird about the waters. The Mist is pretty thick in the areas that are completely submerged. Did a rift cause the flooding?

A: Did?-- Yes. I’m surprised you didn’t see him. A few of my employees refer to him as the ‘Siren’. Some young guy, with a head full of tentacles and a nice singing voice. A lot of people see him walking on the water in the flooded streets.

F: Is he… aggressive?

A: Not that I know of. But, I think he’s been seen with the Phantom. You’ll want to stay away from him. Nasty bastard to tango with.

F: Has anyone ever told you that you say the weirdest shit?

A: Yes actually-- wait, dammit Frog, lay off the compulsion.

F: Oh, fuck, sorry, habit. [clears throat] You mentioned someone called the Phantom? A: Yeah, a bit of a Bogeyman. Haunts the residential zones, but once he singles you out, he’ll follow you into any district. It’s better to respect his space and hope you never attract his attention.

F: That’s so fucking creepy, Azzy, why would you say it like that?

A: Because I know you. You’re going to poke around and you’re probably going to run into him. You shouldn’t.

F: I won’t get into anything over my head, Az. Promise.

A: Uh-huh. Did you have any other questions?

F: Hmm. Is there anyone you know who could tell me more about the Siren? I’d love to get some more information. Maybe a few pictures.

A: I don’t know about the Siren, but I think you should consider asking around about the Dragon. If you’re going to be in the City for long, you’ll have to pass through the Old Quarter, and you’ll need to know the Dragon’s rules.

F: How the hell is this place still standing? It sounds like a nightmare.

A: [short laugh] Don’t ask me. I just run an inn. Here, I’ll give you the number of one of my acquaintances. He’ll be able to tell you about the Dragon.

F: You’re lucky I write all this down. This was way more intel than I thought I’d be getting.

A: You’re the one who asked the questions.

F: Bastard. Thanks so much. I’ll let you get to your evening rituals. I might do a follow-up interview with you later.

A: Just let me know when you need me. Breakfast is at 8. Have a good night, Frog.

F: Goodnight, Azazel. Interview closed.

[image id: same image as before, except the neon purple overlay is now the topmost layer, giving a front-lit effect as opposed to a backlit one.]

#City Of Mist #city of mist oc #ttrpg #ttrpg oc #ttrpg character #dnd #storytelling #worldbuilding #original character #rp blog #frogs memoirs #interview #azazel

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missymurphy1985 · 4 years ago

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The Umbrella Girl (part 6)

The Aftermath of your night with Cillian...

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy

Warnings - language, mentions of baby loss, smut (this got long... Sorry!!)

The morning after your night with Cillian had gone incredibly well, considering. Your mum was surprised to see him the following morning, but she was one of the most liberal people you knew - and she adored Cillian too, especially after the cooked breakfast he'd knocked up. Emily had arrived home with Steph later that day and Steph pulled you to one side to talk to you alone.

"Lisa's gone crazy y/n.. she's already contacted the Sun, the story's going live tomorrow morning... It's all over social media.." You took a deep breath and Steph hugged you tight. The sound of Cillian's phone in the background interrupted you, you had a feeling you knew who it was. He came into the living room to join the two of you so Emily and your mum didn't overhear anything in the kitchen. Steph left the two of you alone.

"All you have is one side of the story Mr Grayson.... No I'm not prepared to give a statement yet..... Yes I'm aware of the implications... Again, I'm not interested in giving a statement... Call me again and I'll have your job Grayson, delete my number!" You could see the anger rising in his eyes and you swiftly took the phone from him before he said something he'd regret and ended the call, turning his phone off. He wrapped his arms round you and held you tight, you could feel the emotion rising in him.

"It's okay. It'll be okay... I promise..." Suddenly two little arms wrapped round you both, Emily looked up at the two of you sadly.

"Cillian crying?" She whispered, and he lifted her up into his arms to give her a big hug. Your heart lurched watching your child wrap her arms round his neck tight.

"I'm better now I've had that hug Emily... Thank you." He kissed her cheek affectionately and smiled at you, nodding. He was okay. For now.

"I'm gonna head home y/n... I have a feeling my publicist will want a word or two. I'll call you later, okay?" He kissed you, still holding Emily who giggled at him as he tickled under her ribs. "You gonna take care of your mama?" She nodded and he placed her back on the floor letting her run back into the kitchen. Saying a quick goodbye to your mum and Steph, he kissed you again before opening the front door. He quickly came back inside and closed it again.

"Fucking press are out there y/n... There's dozens of them... The fuck do I do?"

"Shit... Did they see you?"

"I think so.." he ran his fingers through his hair and leaned against the wall.

"Stay here. Call your publicist from my room upstairs, tell him EVERYTHING. He needs to know before it comes out tomorrow.. he'll know what to do?" Cillian nodded, and headed upstairs, turning his phone back on.

CILLIAN MURPHY IN BABY SCANDAL!!

Former Peaky Blinders Personal Assistant Lisa Tyler reveals she lost her and Cillian's baby as a result of the stress caused when he refused to have anything to do with their baby... even going as far as to claim she wasn't even pregnant. Their affair began six months before Murphy's wife, Cassie, left him, speculating she found out about the affair which led to their divorce last year. Murphy is yet to make a formal statement, however he did threaten to have our entertainment reporter, Len Grayson, fired yesterday when we contacted him. His temper clearly something he needs to keep in check.

Cillian's head sank into his hands, he couldn't read the rest. The front page even had a blurred out screenshot of the sex tape Lisa had made, next to a photo of Lisa holding a baby scan photo - not her scan, clearly, she was only 2 weeks pregnant when the miscarriage happened, but for the purposes of the story the image just added to the drama.

There were reports the tape was now all over the internet - the date mark clearly photoshopped to make it look like it had been filmed months before it actually was, but the untrained eye wouldn't spot that. She'd given the Sun all of the details - nothing left out. His publicist had gone ballistic the day before when Cillian told him. Even his ex wife had called him to berate him. His family didn't believe a word of it - they of course knew the truth and were standing by him unconditionally.

You sat next to him on your bed and held his hand. He hadn't left your house since Friday night, too worried about facing the paparazzi outside, but he needed a change of clothes - he had to face them today whether he liked it or not.

"Want me to come with you?" You asked him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"No.. I can't drag you into this any more than I already have y/n.. this isn't fair.. you don't deserve this. Emily doesn't deserve this..."

"Don't you dare Cillian... Don't you dare push me away now!" He looked into your eyes and put his hands either side of your face.

"I couldn't push you away now if I tried.. please don't leave me y/n?"

"I told you, I'm not going anywhere! Come on. We need to do this sooner or later... Hand in hand, remember?" You stood up, taking his hand and led him down the stairs. Your mum with Emily in the living room. You both walked in hand in hand, and Emily rushed to Cillian. The two of them had spent the weekend playing tea parties and dolls, they'd become thick as thieves. He'd charmed your mum all weekend, cooking meals and helping with the cleaning - you were worried your mum loved him more than you did, because that's exactly how you felt. You wanted him completely, and had fallen for him hard.

He put Emily down and looked to you.

"You sure you want to do this?"

"Shut up, Murphy." He laughed, and kissed your hand, leaning in to kiss your cheek. Leaving your mum and daughter in the living room you both made your way outside to the waiting reporters, statement ready. You wouldn't speak, simply hold his hand for support and let him do it.

Approaching the cameras, Cillian took a breath and told his side. Essentially repeating everything he'd told you that day in Sophie's trailer, but with less emotion. His publicist had warned him not to get emotional - the papers would simply rip him apart even more. You stood to the side, hand in his, squeezing it now and then, as he came to the end of his speech.

"This lady has completely bowled me over. Without her, I couldn't have faced you today," he looked back at you and cleared his throat. "I'd ask, politely, that you give us space. Respect the privacy I've always requested in good faith. Allow us to deal with this privately and together. What's been said about me isn't all true. I was never unfaithful to my wife of 21 years.

I have made mistakes. Show me a man who hasn't? I have hurt people. I have disappointed people. I have let people down. What happened with Lisa and the baby was tragic... It was a tragic accident. Yes, I was angry. Yes, I doubted the baby was mine, and no, I'm not proud of my actions. I've nothing else to say on the matter, and I repeat, respectfully, that I'd appreciate privacy for myself and my family now. Thank you." You both made your way to his car, ignoring the barrage of questions from the paparazzi, and Cillian kissed your cheek before getting in and driving away. You walked back into the house, closed the door and fell into your mum's waiting arms, finally letting out the tears you'd been holding all weekend.

That week's filming was, fortunately, smooth sailing. Not a single person on Peaky believed the venom Lisa had been spouting in the media, and even Cillian's ex wife had been convinced of his innocence over a course of phone calls and texts. Anto had instructed that you cancel any media interviews Cillian had planned in order for him to keep as low a profile as possible. For the most part, it was business as usual. You were all meant to have a week's break, but with the situation as it was, it was agreed across the cast and crew that the sooner you all finished filming the better so the week off was cancelled. As disappointed as Cillian was not to be going home to Dublin for a week, it meant an extra week with you, so he wasn't complaining too much.

You were sat in Cillian's trailer, a cold, miserable Friday morning. The story had been out for nearly a week and the media circus was showing no signs of calming down. There were even random women sharing 'kiss and tell' stories now that were completely false, Cillian had never even met these women, never mind had sex with them. His head was laid back on the sofa cushions his hands over his eyes rubbing them tightly. He hadn't slept properly since Sunday. You made your way over to sit across his knees and pulled his upper body into your own, holding him tight to your chest as you stroked his hair gently.

"You need sleep Cill, you're not doing yourself any favours. Plus, Steph is sick of wasting her expensive eye cream on you covering those suitcases under your eyes," you chuckled, making him laugh a little under you. He ran his hands softly up your back making you shudder. You hadn't slept together since Sunday either - his mind too preoccupied.

His hands soon snaked underneath your t-shirt, making you arch you hips slightly closer to his. He lifted you off him, and sat you on the sofa next to him. You were about to ask what he was doing, before his body was hovering over yours, his lips attacking your neck. Your fingers began unbuckling his belt and jeans, pulling them down to his ankles allowing his hard cock to spring in front of you. Without missing a beat, you took him into your mouth, his hands gripping the back of the sofa behind you as you licked slowly up his shaft. Pumping the base of his cock with one hand and taking the tip into your mouth, bobbing your head over him quickly. This was not going to be your usual slow, sensual session, but neither of you wanted that right now.

"I'm not coming in your mouth y/n... Turn around..." he pulled you up and bent you over the sofa, your skirt now hitched up over your waist and your underwear pulled down to your ankles. He ran his tongue slowly against your slit, his hands squeezing your thighs. You were already wet for him after days of no physical contact.

"I need you inside me Cillian, please...." You raised your hips up, he groaned as pushed himself inside you until you felt him flush against your thighs. His thrusts quickly becoming hard and fast, pounding into you as you gripped onto the sofa, panting his name.

"Stop... Wanna ride you... Sit down..." He spun the two of you round, never leaving your warm core as he sat on the sofa, you were now on top of him with your back pushed forwards. You held onto the table in front of you for leverage and moved your hips in circles over his thick length, buried deep inside you. He pulled you back into his chest, his hand now between your legs rubbing your clit as he thrust up into you sharp, hard, and fast. The new angle hitting your sweet spot inside with a new level of intensity.

"Fuck... I'm gonna come Cillian... Don't stop..." Your walls clenched around him as you came harder than ever, your juices flowing from you onto the sofa underneath, his release following quickly with a deep, gutteral groan. He rested his head on your shoulder, and you felt his breathing becoming shallow, before his eyes closed softly into a deep sleep. You eased yourself off him slowly and cleaned yourself up, before laying him down on the sofa with a cushion under his head and a blanket over his half naked body. He barely made a sound as he slept. Kissing him gently on the head, you straighted out your clothes before heading out of the trailer. Luckily he wasn't due on any scenes for a couple of hours at least.

Your phone pinged with a group message to you and Cillian from his sister, Orla, you could see 4 missed calls from her too. Opening the message, you nearly dropped your phone in shock.. a video of Cillian's house in Dublin... Surrounded by fire engines and police cars, smoke bellowing from a window downstairs...

The scream from the trailer behind you could've woken the dead...

#cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy

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otp-holic · 4 years ago

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Stucky Week: Fluff & Domestic

This is a very very short drabble/social media fic with pictures inside. I had SO MUCH FUN making this one after all the inspiration drama...

So I (barely) made it to the end of the line, thank you @stucky-week for setting this up!!

I already edited this... one of the images was... not it order! Yay me *dies*

GREAT COFFEE COMES WITH A PRICE (AO3)

Bucky goes to fetch their coffee as he usually does since Steve is still hiding... but the coffee run doesn't end up being just like every other day's

700 words. Kinda Social media drabble. With some pictures.

DAY 0: Paper Plane Coffe. Brooklyn. 08:18 a.m

The smell of coffee is amazing. No wonder Steve always chooses this place when he asks Bucky to go on a coffee run.

And Bucky? He surely is the best partner in the world coming here before hipster rush hour to provide them with a huge amount of caffeine and boring plain classic cookies for breakfast.

There’s nobody waiting in line, so after he orders and pays with his phone, stays there leaning on the counter while small talking a bit with the new barista.

He takes the drinks and starts walking home, a perfect and domestic morning… until a brief tiny detail appears on his mind. He buries it. No way, he was an international spy. Not possible.

DAY 0: Steve and Bucky’s home. Brooklyn. 08:18 a.m

“Hey Steve, Saturday coffee delivery of your favorite coffee shop is here! With an extra cookie”, Bucky announces his arrival, maybe a little bit too cheerfully.

Steves is texting on the couch and looks up with a smile… that witters when he sees Bucky’s face. Being that transparent to him shouldn’t come as a surprise, but somehow it does.

“What did you do?”, Steve is not moving.

“Nothing!”, he exclaims, but that’s not the whole truth. “Or maybe a big thing… It’s either one or the other, I think we’ll just have to wait a few hours.”

Steve is not convinced, but he gets up and walks towards him, his phone left on the coffee table.

“Are we in potential mortal peril?”, he looks straight into his eyes, searching for lies.

“No!”

“Ok. Fair. Is the universe? Do I have to start training to come out of retirement?”

Bucky is so taken aback by the question that Steve is about to panic.

“No! No out of retirement, no,” he gets to say.

“Ok, gimme the coffee and the cookie. They smell too good.”

Bucky smiles, hands them to him with a kiss, and follows him into the couch, slow music coming in through an open window.

Maybe they won’t have to talk about it.

DAY 0: Paperplane Coffee Brooklyn. 08:25-09:15 a.m

DAY 0: Paperplane Coffee Brooklyn. 09:25-09:34 a.m

DAY 0: All Over the Internet. 10:00-10:20 a.m

DAY 0: Steve and Bucky’s home. Brooklyn. 10:21 a.m

Bucky has been avoiding his phone for a few hours now and has somehow distracted Steve from his, too: Cooking and post-coffee sex have been really really enjoyable, but he has to know. And when he checks it,... well, it’s not nothing.

Shit, it’s worst than he thought. And there’s a fucking viral drawing.

“Steve!”, he shouts towards the bedroom. “May I remind you of how I’ve loved you for like ninety years now? And that you like me too most of the time?”

Steve comes out straight from the shower wearing just a towel and dripping water all over the apartment.

“Please, please… tell me.”

Bucky doesn’t know where to start, so he just takes his phone, locks it, and shows it to Steve who, of course, does not understand.

“Remember how I took this picture of you last week when I was mushy, sexed-up, full of paint, and very much in love that I decided it was a great idea to capture you naked as my background picture?”

Steve smiles despite himself. It is certainly a great memory.

“I’m so sorry, Steve… I left the phone on the Coffe Shop counter after paying with it. I was tired, and talking to the barista and I didn’t realize the screen was lighted up to… that. And now...”

“It’s a good pic,” Steve says, smiling. “Wish I had the counter shot. Sadly it lives only in my mind.”

Bucky wants to kiss him silly: not a single moment of worry, of anger… Steve is not an idiot and knows the cat is out of the bag but he is not even interested in how gone.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how bad is it?”

Steve smiles again and kisses him on the lips.

“It doesn’t really matter. You fought hipsters to bring me my favorite coffee.”

DAY 1: Steve and Bucky’s home & The Internet. Brooklyn. 10:21 a.m

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dustofbrokenheart · 4 years ago

Text

The Covenant: Tech Guy

Reid Garwin x Reader

Word Count: 3,826

Summary: After renting a laptop from your campus library, you run into a download problem. A call to Library Tech Services for help introduces you to Tech Guy. Good at his job, but with questionable people skills, you learn to work with him. It certainly helps that he has an attractive voice.

This was not good, not good at all. It was less than an hour to midnight, the sun long since having set, and time seemed to pas faster, not slower, the later it got.

Now, you considered yourself to be pretty good with technology, perhaps not a computer genius but good enough to be able to troubleshoot most of your problems. It was pure bad luck that the night your capabilities failed was the night before you had an assignment due in Graphic Design.

Your own laptop had been ruined after an accident in the library had left the screen nothing more than a web of shattered fragments, but thankfully the library also carried laptops for checkout which saved you from having to fork out money that you didn’t have to buy a new one. You thought that checking out a laptop would be a quick fix to your problem, but you underestimated how high their demand was.

The librarian you spoke with at the circulation desk put you on a waiting list much to your disappointment and you left the building empty handed, unsure when one would become available.

The answer was six days later, the night before you had something due.

When they left a voicemail on your cell phone around seven o’clock to tell you that it was ready for pick-up, you immediately hopped on a bus bound for the library. The anxiety should have been somewhat alleviated because you could actually start to work on it now but when you got back to your dorm room and opened it up, another problem presented itself: the program you needed wasn’t installed.

Bad luck 1 – You 0.

Every time you tried to install it a message would pop up prompting you to enter an admin username and password in order to start the process. You had never seen that message before and innocently tried your own username and password. When that didn’t work, you tried three more times just to be sure.

Next stop was the internet, everyone’s favorite place to ask questions. You ran a quick search describing the problem and read through a couple of chat room threads. Disappointingly, nothing really applied to the situation at hand.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have spent so much time trying to fix it because all that came of it was a lot of wasted time and you still hadn’t installed the program. You really didn’t want to take another trip to the library tonight if you could help it.

Frustrated and stuck you opened up the library’s webpage to see if there were any answers to be found. They didn’t but you did find the phone number for Library Tech Services, which was miraculously open even this late in the night.

Punching in the numbers you dialed and waited for someone to answer and when they did, it was short and to the point. “Library Tech.”

“Umm, hi… my name is y/n and I’m having an issue installing a program on my laptop rental.”

“Hmm. What’s the problem?” Again, not much to go on but the you could admit that tech guy’s voice sounded attractive.

“Well. I clicked on the install button, but as soon as I did a message telling me that I needed admin permission to continue flashed on my screen.”

“Did you try your university username and password?”

“Yes.”

“Did you double check that you typed everything correctly?”

“Yes.”

“Did you try Google?”

“Of course, I did,” you answered with exasperation. He snickered and you felt your hackles rise. You called the number to get helped, not to get laughed at. Attractive voice be damned.

“I promise I exhausted every trick I know, I’m not stupid. But I do have something to finish tonight so if you can help me out here, that’d be great.”

For a split second you felt bad for being short with him but the aggravation was quick to return. He was the one providing terrible customer service… why should you feel bad calling him out on it?

He must’ve gotten the hint because he cleared his throat and started being serious. “The library puts restrictions on its laptops because they don’t want people downloading stuff willy nilly. What do you need to install?”

“Just Adobe Illustrator.”

You heard him typing on a keyboard in the background. “Sounds okay to me. I’ll just give you the admin credentials so you don’t have to make a trip over here tonight.”

You started to say thanks until you processed the end of that sentence. “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

“Normally we require people to come in person to fill out a form. Once the request is approved, a person is supposed to enter in the admin stuff, but I’m going to give it out over the phone to save you some time.”

His words left you speechless. You had no idea there was a whole process to do something so simple as install a program; you should’ve asked more questions before you walked out with it. It was a good thing to remember for next time. And the earlier guilt returned, too. He was being so nice now, bending the rules so you didn’t have to make another trek on the bus, which was quite frankly a gamble after dark.

You thanked him profusely, the tension draining from your shoulders. Once you told him the laptops id number and he was able to confirm that it was rented out to your account, he shared the username and password with you.

With baited breath, you typed in exactly what he told you to and couldn’t help the happy noise that escaped you when it worked. It was impossible that tech guy saw your chair dance through the phone but he laughed again, making you question if he somehow knew anyway.

“Thanks, you’re a life saver!”

He cleared his throat and said “Glad to be of service.” Then he hung up without another word.

You pulled the phone away from your ear and looked at it blankly. What the heck was that about? Thinking back on the conversation left you feeling very confused but you threw yourself into getting your images drawn up on Illustrator and soon lost yourself in the work.

You ended up staying up late well past your normal bedtime but the deadline was enough motivation for you to push through the drowsiness and yawns. Around 3:30 you finally finished and emailed it to the professor so you wouldn’t have to worry about it in the morning.

Sleep came easy that night and you vaguely remembered dreaming about tech guy’s voice which was utterly ridiculous. He hadn’t even mentioned his name, for goodness sakes! Plus, he was so hard to read, bouncing between jerk and nice on a whim. Nope. You were not going to stoop to finding out who he was. Not a chance.

After yesterday’s incident, your first course of the new day was to go grab a cup of coffee. You weren’t an easy riser on a good day, even less so after being up until the wee hours of the morning and caffeine was going to be essential for powering you through your classes.

Your go-to place was a campus coffee shop two blocks down from your dorm. It was still winter but you found that as long as you bundled up, the walk over went quickly and the cold air worked wonders for organizing your thoughts. But the real reason it was your favorite was not its closeness, it wasn’t even for the coffee; it was because of the heavenly pastries they made daily. The croissants, the eclairs, the danishes… they were all excellent. None was above their banana chocolate chip muffins.

A little bell chimed as you opened the door and the blast of heat from inside the shop felt nice against your chilled cheeks. The familiar worker at the register looked up and smiled when they saw you. “Hey, y/n! Should I start working on your cappuccino order?”

“Yes, please!” You approached the counter, removing your gloves to make it easier to take out your card from your wallet. A gleaming dessert case also caught your eye and you tried to glance over discreetly. As subtle as you tried to be, the cashier knew you too well after serving you for the past couple of years.

“Oh, sorry. We’re out those again.”

“Again?” you questioned sorrowfully.

He gave you a sympathetic shrug. “They’re very popular, they always go fast.”

It used to be that you could get your hands on a banana chocolate chip muffin whenever you wanted one but the secret must’ve gotten out to the rest of campus because you’d struck out for the past weeks. With a dramatic sigh, you settled for a chocolate croissant. It was no muffin but it was something to tide over your stomach until lunch.

“You know,” you started conspiratorially, “How can someone be so talented yet stupid simultaneously? If that no-good-baker bothered to make more of them knowing how fast they sell, this wouldn’t happen.”

You had never actually met the baker that was the source of the yummy pastries. In fact, you’d never even seen him and only knew that he was good at what he did and that he never came out to the front of the shop. There was really no reason why you ragged on him that morning other than you had major plans for that muffin that now had to be put on hold.

The cashier chuckled as he rang you up and looked back at the door to the kitchen for a moment. “I’ll pass along the message.” He slipped the croissant in a brown paper bag and handed it, along with the travel coffee cup, over to you. “Have a good day. See you next time.”

You accepted it with a “You, too,” and were out the door to catch the next bus to your class.

***

Later that week, you ran into a familiar problem with the laptop. This time you needed to add Photoshop but figured that it shouldn’t be an issue now that you knew the password. So when you typed in the exact same thing as last time and the computer told you it was incorrect, you dragged a hand down your face and groaned. Well, you weren’t going to make the same mistake twice.

Swiveling around in your chair you grabbed your phone and called the Tech Services line again. The only thing that would make this even better would be if tech guy answered again, that’s how your luck was going that week. And sure enough, “Library Tech Services.”

You refrained from groaning again. Out loud anyway. “Hi, it’s y/n again. I was the one who called about the admin credentials Monday night?”

“What’s up?”

“I’m trying to install Photoshop right now and it’s telling me the username/password is incorrect, which is impossible because it’s what I used the last time.”

“Right. We had to change the password for our monthly maintenance, it’s a security thing.”

“You’re kidding,” you said surprise coloring your voice. “Any chance you can share the new one with me?”

“Technically, I wasn’t supposed to give that to you last time.”

It was time to turn on the charm and convince him like you managed to previously. As you pleaded with him to do you this favor he interrupted you.

“How bad do you need it?”

What was wrong with you that hearing him say that put your mind in the gutter? He definitely hadn’t meant it that way when he said it! He was much chattier this time around so you were able to appreciate his voice better and his voice just did it for you.

You cleared your throat. “It’s not an emergency this time, no impending next-day deadlines, but I do want to get working on this new assignment…”

“Okay, okay. You’re lucky I like you.” That was news to you because you didn’t get that vibe based on the last call. It was nice to hear though. Some clicks sounded from the other end of the line and you waited silently for a few moments before he was ready to say the new password.

“Whew, we’re good to go,” you updated him as the Photoshop installation started. Another moment of silence passed.

Finally, he said a quick, “Good.”

You weren’t caught off guard when you heard the click that signaled he had hung up. Unlike the last call, he hadn’t seemed rude and he did mention that he liked you. Maybe he was just an awkward sort of guy, despite his killer voice. That might explain why he worked an IT job, weren’t those kinds of guys supposed to have terrible people skills?

You worked with Photoshop for a bit and when you reached a good stopping point, you got ready for bed. That night you laid awake for a while, unable to drift off to sleep. Instead, you replayed the conversation with tech guy over and over in your mind.

He was very helpful when he wasn’t giving an attitude and he this was the second time he had bent the rules for you. That pesky word ‘like’ kept rattling in your brain and you started to wonder if that nice voice belonged to a nice face. Furthermore, was there a chance that he found your voice attractive as well?

***

Sunday morning on a college campus seemed like a smart time to visit the coffee given that most of campus wasn’t up yet, which increased the chances of you getting your hands on a banana chocolate chip muffin. Maybe even two or three if you were honest, to make up for the past several failed attempts.

The sun hadn’t been up long when you opened the door, the little jingling bell announcing your presence. A barrage of delicious aromas caressed your nose and to your extreme delight, one of the scents you detected was a banana-chocolate combination.

You walked up to the counter and the cashier smiled as he told you good morning.

“So… can I get three banana chocolate chip muffins?”

He merely smiled and started working on your cappuccino. “Of course. Reid just finished them so they still in the kitchen, piping hot.”

Reid must be the baker that was responsible for the muffins as well as responsible for never making enough. “Finally! This is a long time coming for me.”

“I passed him your message, I think he took it to heart.” He handed over the drink and turned to go to the kitchen. “I’ll be back with the muffins.”

He pushed the door open and for a split second you caught a glimpse of a side profile belonging to a blonde guy. He was too far away to distinctly make out any facial features but he had nice shoulders framed by his black tee and obvious blonde hair that was hard to miss. He looked cute to you, at least from a distance.

Those two details were the only things you took note of before the door closed, effectively blocking you from more staring. Too bad. It was totally ridiculous to think about but tech guy’s voice would be a good combination with baker guy’s looks.

You picked at the lid of the coffee cup while you waited for the rest of your order already anticipating how they would taste. Your plan was to only eat one this morning and to ration the rest, but you were honest enough with yourself to know that you might enter a feeding frenzy and have all three finished by lunch.

When the door opened up again your eyes searched for the seemingly cute baker but there was no sign of him. There wasn’t a chance to get down about it, however, because a smile lit up your face as soon as you saw the medium sized brown paper bag that held the muffins.

“Reid says these are especially for you,” the cashier said as he lifted the bag over the register.

You were quick to raise your hands to take it from him and made sure to thank him as you left, not questioning why Reid, a person you’d never met, would make a comment like that, figuring that he was referring to how you complained that the muffins were always sold out.

The morning air was especially cold as you trekked back to your dorm, your breath condensing into a fleeting, frozen cloud around your face and the only thing keeping your hands warm was the cappuccino you held between gloved hands. Still, the trip to the coffee shop was definitely worth it and you were hoping that it was a good omen to start the day off with.

***

Perhaps you were still experiencing the high of the morning victory at the coffee shop, but later on that night while you were working on homework once again, you started thinking about tech guy again. There wasn’t any need to call him; you now had both Illustrator and Photoshop on the laptop and there wasn’t anything else that you needed to install.

Still, you debated calling him. Not because you needed to but because you wanted to. Which was weird, even to you, but you had missed him the past couple of days, bad people skills and all. After the second call, you felt even more confident that he wasn’t as condescending a guy as you had first thought him to be. And you wouldn’t mind getting to know that awkward version of him better.

The hard part was you literally knew nothing about him other than he worked the night shift at the library. You didn’t have a name, a face, not even a work schedule to confirm whether he was working tonight or not. Reid must’ve been serious when he told the cashier those muffins were made especially for you because there had to have been a secret dose of recklessness mixed in there. How else would you explain this strange, and potentially creepy, call you were about to make?

The dial tone rang and you took a deep breath, not sure how this would turn out. On the fifth ring, someone finally picked up. “Library Tech Services.”

You laughed in relief. Tech guy was the on the other end of the phone. “Hey.”

“Hey, y/n. Having another crisis?” On one hand you felt a little embarrassed that you no longer had to say your name for him to recognize your voice but on the other, the possibility that he enjoyed talking with you, too.

“It may come as a surprise but I can get through a day without having a tech issue that needs solving.”

“Oh, really?”

“I swear.” You crossed your heart even though he couldn’t see you.

“Well, what do you want then?”

Time to be brave. “Actually, I called for you.”

“I would hope so, I’m the only who works this shift meaning I’m your only option.”

“No, um, I meant I wanted to tell you thanks for helping me out with installing that stuff on the laptop. You were a lifesaver.”

“I try.”

“Seriously! I definitely would’ve missed one graphic design deadline, potentially two if you hadn’t come to the rescue.”

That seemed to get his attention. “Is that your major? Graphic Design?”

“Yep. Don’t I give off bumbling artist vibes?”

“Hmm you seem pretty confident to me but there’s nothing wrong with that. My grandma was—” He started that sentence but abruptly cut off and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you saying I remind you of your grandma?”

“Shit,” he grumbled. “My friends told me to stop bringing her up when talking to hot people.”

“Don’t sweat it, she sounds like she was awesome so I’m honored. But back to the part where I’m hot… do you really think so?”

“Obviously. Do you think I hand out library secrets to every person who calls? Your voice is strong and you sound super smart so I tried my best to be cool with you.”

“Okay but future tip: hanging up on people and not telling them your name is rude, not cool.”

His embarrassment was tangible through the phone and you let him sweat momentarily before speaking. “Luckily for you, I like dorks such as yourself and am willing to look past it as long as I get your name.”

“It’s Reid. Reid Garwin,” he rushed to say.

Now that was interesting. You fell back on your bed, your brain trying to make connections. The name while not super common, wasn’t rare either and what were the chances that you met two of them on the same day. If Reid with the nice body and tech guy, er, Reid with the nice voice were one in the same, you wouldn’t be upset. Quite the contrary.

“Reid as in Reid who bakes my favorite sugar fixes on campus?”

“One in the same. You seen me there before?”

“Only once,” you reveal. “When I went to pick up some muffins this today.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Wait. Are you saying that you’re that customer who called me stupid the other day?”

“…Maybe.”

“They don’t let me out front cause I’m ‘too much’ for people but rest assured that the door isn’t that thick. I feel like an idiot for not recognizing that it was you though.”

The revelation that Reid was baking a tech hero, a winning mix by the way, thrilled you all the way from your head to your toes. At the moment you didn’t even care that he heard you calling him names at the coffee shop although you were sure the mortification would set in later.

“Would you like to go out sometime—”

“You do want to go out with me sometime—”

The two of you spoke at the same time and when you realized that the other had read your mind, you both giggled.

“After you,” you assured him.

“Shit, would you like to go out sometime? There’s a restaurant downtown that’s really good and I promise not to bring up grandma Garwin again.”

The plan was to pretend to think about it but your excitement overrode your brain and you said, “Deal as long as you promise to tell me more about her, not less.”

He started to answer you but stopped suddenly and you could vaguely hear him getting scolded by someone, reminding you that technically he was still on the clock.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, “The librarian on duty told me to stop flirting and get back to work. Stop by the coffee shop tomorrow though and we can talk more.”

You said your good-byes and rolled around your bed, the comforter thoroughly rumpled by the time you stopped. It seemed that your luck may be turning around for the better.

_______________

Thanks for reading my most self-indulgent piece to date. Also my longest! Reid may consider himself to be mister cool, but he is also an awkward bean who would make a great tech guy. It's also my first time experimenting with moodboards, let me know what you think :)

#the covenant #reid garwin #reid garwin x reader #imagines

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hellroots · 3 years ago

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『 MOBILE FRIENDLY RULES 』

— here you will find my rules or can also find them on my gdocs as well once i’m done with it. please like this if you read it, but otherwise don’t interact with this post, thank you. rest assured that i always read my moots rules before following and that i fully expect the same courtesy. i tried not to let them get too long but feel free to ask me anything you wanna know about them if it’s not clear ok?

『 THE MUN』

NOXTROMUN, THEY/THEM, 21+, BRAZILIAN

shy but friendly ! i don't follow for follow, if i follow you that means i've read your rules and want to write with you. i have no triggers nor squicks of my own except drama in the dash, for that reason i do not engage in callouts/witch hunts and if you do it on a constant basis i might have to hard block you for my own peace of mind. although i may come off too strong/harsh, i am always up to talking things out privately. as long as you are civil, so am i. any form of hate will be deleted and blocked - sometimes mocked, if i’m feeling cocky…

『 THE BLOG』

HELLROOTS, INDIE ( POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING AND NOT MINOR FRIENDLY ), HIGHLY SELECTIVE & PRIVATE MULTIFANDOM MULTIMUSE

primarily run on a low activity \ effort and with a slow speed.. my muselist changes a lot, depends a lot on what i’m watching lately so bear with me please. this is a drama free zone, therefore do realise that mun ≠ muses and (obviously) writing ≠ condoning !! as a quick note, do keep in mind that my blog is my safe space, just as your blog is yours - you are responsible for your own internet experience just as i am responsible for mine. should anything in my blog annoy/trigger/squick you, i strongly encourage you to block me & not write with me - your mental health is far more important ( for me, and hopefully for you as well ) than rp. on that note, please do not softblock me - that’s annoying, just hardblock please.

『 THE TRIGGERS』

TRIGGER HEAVY, PROPERLY TAGGED AND TAKING NO CRAP

i usually tend to write for trigger heavy fandoms (such as asoiaf, kingdom and others) and may incorporate some of it into my writing, muses' backgrounds and overall characterization. if you're bothered \ squicked \ triggered by that, i kindly encourage you to reconsider and not follow me. no amount of rp fun is worth your mental health. i try to tag everything accordingly and i fully expect the same courtesy for our followers' sakes. be aware that there may be mentions of death, gore, violence, consanguinamory \ endogamy (especially when it comes to the lannisters and kekkei genkai clans), rape ( kingdom, though it will only be mentioned on the character’s backstory ) and cannibalism ( hannibal and kingdom ) , as well as unhealthy relationships and dynamics alongside with powerplay, and otherwise bad behaviours. for all that is sacred, please, do note that i, the mun, do not approve, support or condone any of these actions or behaviours !! i simply am capable of separating fiction from reality. as long as everything is properly tagged, with mutual consent and there are no minors involved (muse and especially not muns), . i support the right of a consenting adult to explore these awful dark topics in a safe fictional environment with other like minded consenting adults, people shouldn’t have to share their traumas to strangers on the internet to explain why they write what they write, be considerate. if that notion bothers you perhaps you might not want to interact with me, for both of ours sakes. fair warning, most of my graphics and aesthetics might trigger those who have xylophobia/hylophobia (phobia of trees or wooded areas), and considering it is a main theme here i will not be tagging it, i'm sorry. but its too many. however, if you want me to create a special tag for you, there's no issue! it will be either "[your mun name] don't look!" or "[your url] don't look!", whichever you prefer. QUICK EDIT/ADDITION: i do not believe that aging up fictional characters is inherently a bad thing - from what i understand, the whole appeal of aging up a character is that while you like their personality but you do not want them to be kids (for whatever reason) but insteasd adults. if you are one of those who think that aging up a character is automatically something bad (without even knowing why it was done in the first place) don’t bother following me because i do think that opinion is quite silly.

『 THE INTERACTIONS』

OC, DUPLICATE, MULTIMUSE AND CANON DIVERGENT FRIENDLY

my tagging system is simple, i tag triggers as "tw; x" and . images that may be sensitive or triggering as "cw; x". you can further see how my tags work by taking a look at my tag dump post, just search ‘tag dump’ on my blog and you will find the most recent one i’m using. i shitpost and talk oocly on the dash constantly but you can easily blacklist my tag if it bothers you. here's something you should know about me: when i'm doing drafts i usually don't feel like chatting much, so please do not spam me because i won't be able to reply, i love to talk with my moots but sometimes it overwhelms me. on that note, please don't pester me for replies ic or ooc, i am slow and chances are that if you try to guilt trip me or just nag me about it i'll leave as the ones i'll get to in the later end on purpose, just out of spite. yes, i be like that. please be patient - i’ll never pressure you and expect the same in return. plotting wise: i prefer to just wing it with just a faint idea of where to take the thread but honestly i'm cool with anything. please be considerate when formatting your replies, i have a bad eyesight & if i can't read it, i won't bother with it. my own formatting is simple and clean. on a smaller note, please bear with me and my muses as my muses ramble a lot but you don't have to match the length, just give me something to work with. if we write together, the chances of me making edits/tagging you in stuff are really big, just lmk if you don’t like that though !

『 THE FLEET』

MOSTLY BI/PAN MUSES, MULTISHIP AND MULTIVERSE, SMUT FRIENDLY

i love shipping but i like my ships to be devices to move the plot/dynamics/muses forward, every once in a while though i partake in some much loved self indulgent shipping. just because i ship a certain pairing don't presume that my characters are approaching yours with second intentions, please. most of the time i like to reblog those relationship memes, so if you’re interested in a ship the best way (other than sending me a message ofc) to let me know is by sending ones. there will be some triggering ships here ( like the lannisters, both cersei x jaime and joanna x tywin are my otps, and potential inter clan ships, like with the hyugas - i mean how the hell you think they keep the byakugan in their family?? ) that may either be played with trusted friends or be mentioned/reblogged sometimes, all properly tagged so you can easily blocklist/avoid it. most of my muses are either bi or pan, those who are not will be specified. don't be afraid to reach out to me for shipping right off the bat - i'd rather have you to be open and honest with me about the interactions you want than lying to me, just know that there will be needed some plotting and threading first to see if your muses match. as an adult, my blog is smut friendly, i partake in sexual sunday a lot because some of my muses are very lewd in nature, you can blacklist my tag if that bothers you as well.

『 THE FINAL NOTES』

GENERAL RP ETIQUETTE APPLIES, CREDITS, THANK YOU FOR READING MY RULES

lastly but not least, general rp etiquette applies on my blog: no godmodding, forced ships, etc. there’s only ONE thing that truly makes me go apeshit crazy, and it’s when people don’t read my rules. i ALWAYS find out and it’s not pretty; i block it like it’s hot, ♪ ♫ ♬ block it like it’s hot ♪ ♫ ♬. i strongly assure you that i always read your rules before both following you and also before sending memes, just in case. on a much smaller note, i’m not so hot on single shipping and i really feel weirded out about people forcing me to pic who i’m going to interact with due to theirs DNI’s. while i get DNI’s when it comes to actual predators, when it’s something seemingly random chances are that i’ll softblock you because it weirds me out how volatile some can be when it comes to a hobby. i have some trigger heavy hcs ( for example, the one about jiraiya’s hypersexuality being rooted in trauma that he suffered at a young age ) that i share with only a few muns that are closer with me, so i’ll be mentioning them every once in a while but won’t share them, please don’t insist. i don’t really like most of the main characters of the franchises i write for, and when it comes to certain characters i reserve the right to decline an rp for my own comfort. for further info on what i use to make my graphics please check my “CREDITS.” tag. most of my stuff is made by me, i’ve got a lowkey rph in case you wanna check it out it’s @brazucahelps, however if you want a custom content i can see if i get a free time to come up with something :D

IF YOU READ THIS FAR, THANK YOU SO MUCH — JUST ONE LAST THING, COULD YOU PLS LIKE THIS SO I KNOW YOU’VE READ IT? <3 THANKS!

#RULES.

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