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boopershnooper · 4 months ago

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Kiribaku Headcannon

Hope you guys enjoy this whilst i read a Rezero book my friend gave me (my best friend put cute lil notes in it as well)

Thinking about polyamorous KiriBaku x reader and obviously the reader likes both but they give more affection towards Kirishima. It all takes place before the relationship is even established, the whole having a crush on both of your very cute and hot close friends. Both of the boys have a crush on you and I haven’t decided yet on if they have told each other or if they’ve kept it to themselves since they know that the other likes you but no both if that makes sense. Anyways you interact more flirtatiously and affectionately with Kirishima because he is more approachable and you don’t think that Bakugo even likes you enough to even put up with that. You also didn’t want to make him uncomfortable because he barely likes to be touched or let alone talked to most of the time. However, you couldn’t be more wrong. The boy was so touch starved that he practically savored and cherished every moment where you or Kirishima had decided cuddle up him during squad movie night or hugged him when you two were excited. Maybe the grumbling (and the usual Bakugo styled yelling because he got flustered) was a wrong step on his part. It wasn’t his fault that the both of you made him feel things. Especially as of lately! The stupid pinging feeling that keeps popping up every time he sees you two close together without him, it was getting annoying to say the least. It got so annoying that every time he saw the two of you so close together he would either leave the room or be more of a grumpy Pomeranian than usual.

This makes you and Kirishima have a conversation. He comes up with the idea that all of you should hang out in his place. Just the three of you since you’ve all have been busy and usually just hang out whenever the squad meets up lately. It sounded like a great idea. Were you nervous? Yeah. You had a crush on both of them and now you were all gonna be alone together. Which meant no Mina for you to go to or a Sero for you to use an excuse to go out on the balcony to ‘smoke’. You didn’t. It was mostly you venting to a high Sero about your conflicted feelings of liking two guys at the same time and him just shaking his head and giving you one of his smirks as he tells you to just, “live the best of both worlds”. Apparently, he liked quoting Hannah Montana when he was high. You two brought the idea up with Bakugo and who was he to resist the cutest fucking faces just standing there begging for him to be with him. Though, of course he wouldn’t let that show and put on a charade, acting displeased at first before reluctantly giving in.

You all got to Kiri’s place which was fairly cleaned, surprisingly. You’d have thought differently with the way that he usually left yours or Bakugou’s place when you all used to hang out more often. You could tell that Bakugo was thinking the same when he let out a pleased grumble as you walked in. As the gracious host he was, Kiri offered the two of you some tea and your favorite snacks. It kind of made you giddy that he remembered your favorites since it showed that he paid attention to you and what you said. A simple thing that anyone would do but it still meant something to you. Bakugo let’s out a short huff and says, “Yeah whatever let’s just get this day over with and whatever you two have schemed up.” Which makes you and Kirishima share a look between one another. First in shock but then transitioning into guilt. Of course he knew the two of you were planning something. He wasn’t an idiot and he probably figured that this would have happened the moment you two had bombarded him with the same idea of hanging out alone.

You sat next to Bakugo, turning to him in a criss cross position. You sigh and reach out your hand to put on his but then recoil as you realized his discomfort of people touching him. Bakugo noticed and then scoffed when you pulled away. The thoughts of you and Kirishima instantly consuming his mind, turning his mood more sour than when he came in.

“I’m sorry- we’re sorry. We just wanted to know what was going on. You’ve been more…grumpy and mean than usual.” You point out in a soft voice so as to not make him any more mad than he already seems to have become for so reason unknown to you. He crosses his arms and looks between the two of you, Kirishima finally coming out with the tea. He rolls his eyes and then suddenly stands up.

“Where are you going Bakugo?” Kirishima asked sternly, a bit of frustration seemed to have been etched in his voice. It was shocking for you to hear the mellow sweetheart talk that way. It only emphasized how much more serious he was. Bakugo turned back around and gave him a look. It was a hesitant one and you could see that he wanted to say something but he didn’t. “Look, man it’s not fair that you are treating us this way and we just want to know what’s wrong. If you aren’t going to tell me at the very least you could tell her,” The redhead looks over at you, his face softening for a quick second before he goes back to snaring at Bakugo. “You owe her that much.”

And it seems like the two of them exchange words without even speaking. It made you wonder what was going on.

Bakugo glances between the two of you and curses under his breath. “It’s just not fair.” He grumbles and looks away. You and Kirishima look at each other with raised brows, sharing genuine confusion from his words. “What’s not fair?” You ask softly even though you genuinely wanted to smack him for being so vague and not straight to the point like he usually is.

You see a light blush dance across his cheeks which was probably THE most cutest thing that you have ever seen. He lets out a huff and finally admits, “You always give this idiot all of the affection and literally recoil at the mere THOUGHT of me. And I’m NOT supposed to be upset?” He shouted, his chest heaving up and down, his nostrils flaring and his face almost as red Kirishima’s ends. You couldn’t help but to laugh a little as he reminded you of a child throwing a tantrum and it seems Kirishima is thinking the same when he laughs at the same time. “The fuck is so funny dumbasses?!” He berates trying to look intimidating but it was impossible at this point to try and make that move on the two of you.

You shake your head and try to calm down to come back to the very serious topic. “Bakugo you could have just said so but I do apologize for assuming so…even though you have gotten a little upset whenever I did in the past.” You muttered the last sentence, earning a scowl from the blonde.

Then that’s when he finally gets what he’s been YEARNING for. Physical affection from the two people that he deniably has a crush on. The two of you give him a big hug AND a smooch on the cheek which makes THE Bakugo Katsuki silent. Frozen. SPEECHLESS. It was a sight to see and definitely not the last 👀

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 1 year ago

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5 times you and Miguel walked away from each other and 1 time you didn't

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader notes: brother'sbestfriend!Miguel, soccerplayer!Miguel, college au, slow burn, somewhat mutual pining but written from reader's perspective more exclusively, SFW - only slightly suggestive (worst thing is probably a boner), fem reader (pretty neutral though), saying soccer instead of football felt so dirty but oh well, thank you for reading!! word count: 5.9k

You’re having your first lazy day in forever. It’s the first day in recent memory that you didn’t have something to do or somewhere to be. You’re just going to hang out in your apartment and watch your favorite shows or read for fun for once or whatever else you feel like doing. Because you don’t have to go anywhere, you don’t even take a shower, opting to stay in your comfy pajamas, not bothering with any makeup or hair effort, as you lounge around.

You have the place to yourself now, but you share it with your twin brother Alex, the two of you lucky enough to go to the same university.

When you eventually hear his keys scratching at the door, you’re sprawled on the couch reading a novel you’d left half-finished for ages despite actually really enjoying it. School really had a way of making you not read. Or at least never full books.

As Alex opens the door, you’re surprised to hear him talking to someone else. You see his unexpected guest a moment later from your spot on the couch, your college apartment rather small after all. And you’re mortified. Miguel. Alex’s best friend, university soccer team superstar, ridiculously attractive Miguel.

God, why did Alex not warn you he was bringing someone over? All it took was a quick message, for fuck’s sake. And Miguel of all people? Ugh. Well, it wasn’t like you could tell him. “Hey, brother dear, I have a huge crush on your best friend, so can I please get a warning next time he’ll be around? You know, especially so I’m not looking like a total mess when he shows up?”

He’d been coming over a lot recently actually. He and Alex were both on the soccer team and happened to share a few classes too, so their schedules really lined up. Usually, it was nice to get to see him. It’s not like either of them paid that much attention to you when they were hanging out, but Miguel was nice to look at. Even now, they seemed like they were coming back from a casual soccer match or something, and he still looked amazing. His thick, dark hair was messy in the way that made you want to run your hands through it; his t-shirt hugged his unreasonably broad chest and shoulders perfectly, and his sweatpants — fuck, his sweatpants — his ass looked miraculous as he turned to put his gym bag down.

Miguel’s looking at you as he and Alex step into the living room. “It’s Saturday, Y/N, and the weather’s finally fucking nice. Why’re you reading a book? You’re such a nerd,” Alex snaps as he plops onto the couch next you, pushing your legs off to make room.

“I’m a nerd because I’m reading a book? Am I am tomboy because I’m not wearing a dress, too, or are we keeping it to one stupid superficial stereotype?”

Miguel chuckles as he sits on Alex’s other side. “Cut him some slack, Y/N, he took a soccer ball to the head today. Might be making him even more of an idiot than usual.”

You can’t help but worry; you love the idiot after all.

“You okay? Was it bad?” you’re asking as you run your hand over his head looking for bumps. “I’m fine, mom,” he mocks, pushing you away. “And you? You asshole,” he accuses Miguel playfully. “‘Took a ball to the head’?” he repeats, then turning to you adds, “It was him that kicked it!” Miguel starts laughing.

“It was the perfect setup, man. Not my fault you were distracted.” “Whatever,” Alex says as he reaches for the video game remotes. Knowing them, it was time for FIFA.

You’re eager to hide with how you look right now anyway, so you get up to head into your room. “We didn’t mean to kick you out,” Miguel starts kindly. “ You don’t have to go; you were clearly comfortable here.” “Clearly comfortable”? God that sounded bad in your head. He was “super hot”; you were “clearly comfortable.”

“Thanks, Miguel. It’s fine. I was going to —“ but you don’t finish your excuse as you trip on the remote’s charging wire as you step across, falling unceremoniously to your face right in front of them.

“Mierda!” Miguel yells.

Alex immediately asks, “You okay?,” but it’s Miguel who’s up and over you in the same instant.

“You alright?” he asks softly as his hands grab your hips to help you up.

His hands on you were the last thing you needed right now. So much for composure. “Fine. Really,” you say, your breath shaky. You’re kneeling on your living room floor; Miguel’s squatting in front of you, close; his hands haven’t left your body even though you’re no longer prone. He just watches you closely, eyes beautiful and concerned. You stare back into them, and after a couple more shaky breaths finally manage to stand up and step away, looking anywhere but at him. “‘M fine,” you repeat. You turn away hurriedly and go the few steps to your room. Once safely behind closed doors, your face scrunches and your stomach sinks at the sheer embarrassment.

It’s been days since Miguel was at your apartment, and part of you is happy for the lack of pressure but another part of you still gets a funky feeling in her gut at the idea that the last memory of you he had was of a clumsy mess. He and Alex have a game today, and pretending to convince yourself that you just felt like it today, you make yourself up more than usual for it. You’re actually pretty happy with your look as you head out to meet some friends at the match.

They win. Miguel scores. Twice. Alex’s defense is probably the main reason for their clean sheet.

So, hyped up on adrenaline and victory, they’re laughing and messing around with their teammates as a bunch of people approach the sidelines to congratulate them. Alex spots you and makes a goofy face, always so playful when he’s happy. He jogs over to you and gives you a huge hug.

“Stop, you’re so sweaty!” you squeal. He just holds you tighter and rubs his sweaty hair on you, laughing. When he finally pulls away, Miguel is standing right next to him, smiling at the two of you. “Do I get a hug too?” he teases. “I scored two more goals than he did!”

You’re not sure if he’s kidding, and you’re sure the chuckle you give in response is somewhat tense.

But, stepping toward him, you just say, “Congratulations,” and wrap your arms around his shoulders without getting too close. Damn, they were like boulders. Miguel wraps his arms around your waist and closes the distance you’d maintained, giving you a surprisingly intimate embrace. You’re struck by the feeling of him around you. He’s sweaty, too, and you can smell his musk, but instead of off-putting, you find it incredibly arousing. You can feel the rise and fall of his breathing where your chest is flush with his. He’s so warm, and you just want to breathe him in and trace every ridge of his body. But the hug is already lingering too long to be normal, and you pull back a bit awkwardly. Miguel is still looking at you, a subtle smile on his face.

He seems about to say something when a high pitched squeal right next to you startles you.

“Miguel!” a very pretty girl yells at him as she approaches, unabashedly jumping onto his back. She’s in a cheer uniform. “Oh my god, you were so good!” Miguel’s so sturdy, her jumping on him didn’t throw him off physically, but his face looks a little flustered. “Uh, thanks,” he says politely, putting her down. She just giggles and grabs his arm as she compliments him again.

You feel so awkward watching this, so you just turn around and walk away. You don’t see Miguel looking after you.

You’re at the after party with a couple of your friends. The soccer team was quite popular, and the victory parties tended to be good. You’re mostly having fun, but you can’t help but keep looking over to where Miguel is. Man of the match and man with that face, he was obviously the center of attention. People were coming up to congratulate him left and right. He handled it all so graciously. It shocked you how there was no arrogance in his demeanor; he was just the easygoing life of the party.

You wanted to go talk to him too, but you’d already congratulated him and didn’t know what else you would say. The last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself again. You could go talk to your brother, who was right next to him, but he was busy flirting, and you didn’t want to ruin it for him.

A bunch of people are dancing in the open space between you and Miguel, and the chaos lets you sneak long looks at him without his noticing. But when your friend leans over and asks, “Who do you keep looking at?,” you realize you have to be less obvious. “No one, just curious who Alex is flirting with,” you lie, proud of how quick you were with it.

“You a jealous, protective sister type?” she laughs.

“No, just curious.” “Is he?” “What?” “Protective?”

“Um, sometimes, depends. Why?”

“Because that guy over there keeps checking you out.” She nods toward an okay-looking guy chatting with someone on the edge of the dance floor. A second later, he was indeed looking over at you. “You should go talk to him!” “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not so interested.” “Why not? He’s hot! I’m pretty sure he’s on the team too. You don’t have to marry him, Y/N, just go dance! You’ve been weirdly tense all night.”

You look over again, and your eyes meet. Before you can do anything else, he makes the decision for you, walking over to you.

“Hey.” “Um, hi.” You exchange names and pleasantries, and he asks you if you want to dance. Without thinking about it, you glance toward the person you really wish you were dancing with. To your surprise, Miguel is already looking toward you. He looks less happy than before. You look back at this guy quickly, hoping neither of them noticed.

You feel slightly bad thinking this, using this guy you weren’t super interested in, but you couldn’t help but feel it’d be nice if Miguel saw a side of you that might make him think of you differently, not just as Alex’s sister. It’s just a dance anyway, so, you accept the offer and head to the dance floor.

You fall into a rhythm with the music, with the guy. The dancing is fun; the guy is fine. Your back is to Miguel, and you can’t resist spinning to catch another glimpse, doing it seamlessly as you keep dancing. Your breath catches when your eyes meet his.

Miguel watching you from across the room is doing much more to turn you on than anything your current dance partner is doing, but you channel your new energy into your movements. It’s not a well thought out decision, though in the back of your mind you know who it’s for, but you start moving a bit more suggestively. You let your hips follow the music, let your hands come up to your hair as your body rolls rhythmically. Feeling especially bold, you even manage to meander closer to where Miguel is, giving him a better view.

Unbeknownst to you, this unfortunately also makes Alex, now unoccupied, notice you for the first time. You don’t hear him leaning over to Miguel and saying, “Gross. I hate seeing my sister with random guys. Let’s go get more drinks.” He drags him away, and Miguel, unable to come up with a good reason not to follow, does.

The next time you spin, all you catch is the backs of their heads.

The following week, you’re coming home from classes, and all you can think about is eating. You’d had to skip lunch to finish an assignment and couldn’t wait for dinner.

When you enter your apartment, you find Miguel sitting on your couch.

“Hey,” he greets. “Hi.” He’s sitting on the edge of the sofa closest to you, and he adorably shifts over to make room, as if you couldn’t just go around. You weren’t planning on sitting anyway, but now that he’s wordlessly extended an invitation, you do. “Where’s Alex?”

“Went to take a shower. We’re gonna play a couple games when he’s done.” He gestures toward the video game console. “Are the remotes charged?” you joke. “I hear it’s a hazard to have the wires across the living room floor.” Miguel chuckles lightly at your self-deprecating humor. He’s turned toward you, sitting in the middle of the couch, his elbow on the backrest as he occasionally messes with his luscious hair. “I felt so bad that day. Taking over your space and tripping you. When you looked so peaceful when we got here.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you laugh, amused but also masking your stirring feelings at the fact that he had thought about it at all. “I was just a mess that day. And I wouldn’t call my pyjamas peaceful, just comfortable. In my defense, though, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“I liked your pyjamas,” he teases, and you roll your eyes. “What? I did! I’m all for comfy clothing; have you not noticed 90% of my wardrobe is gym clothes?”

“Yes, well, you can get away with it. You’re a guy, and you look like that,” you say, gesturing at his body before you really realize what you’re saying. You tense as soon as you do. It just slipped out, the conversation getting weirdly easy and comfortable with him. “Like what?” he asks, but he’s smirking, knowing what you meant. You just roll your eyes again. “No, c’mon, chula, like what?” He lifts his eyebrows in challenge, mirth in his eyes. You’re too busy reeling from the pet name to have mental energy to come up with a retort. You’re grateful for what would’ve otherwise been embarrassing: your stomach grumbling. Miguel looks at your stomach and giggles. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” you say, taking the escape route and walking to the adjoining kitchen. He follows. “You can get away with it too, you know,” he says nonchalantly. You think you know what he means but look back at him questioningly. “The clothes. You always look good.”

You’re glad you’re not facing him, your expression probably revealing your excitement. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” He leans on your counter. “So what are you having?” “I don’t know, whatever we have. Haven’t had time to go to the store.” You’re rummaging through your cabinets. “I can make you something,” he offers. You stop and look at him. “What? I’m a great cook,” he shrugs defensively. “Have you never had my tamales?”

“It’s not about you being good or not,” you giggle. “There’s no reason you should have to cook when you’re just here to hang out.”

He just shrugs again, but there’s a tinge of shyness in his typically confident facade.

You turn to open your fridge, and he comes up right next to you. “Oh shit, you guys have jarritos. Can I steal one?”

“Yeah, of course,” you laugh. “Grab whatever you want.”

You didn’t think he would immediately… As you bend over to grab something from the drawers, Miguel reaches up to grab the soda, leaning forward. Both of you moving simultaneously, your ass presses firmly against his crotch. You both freeze in panic, prolonging the position, before you jump up at the accidental contact. His and your “sorry”’s and “I didn’t mean to”’s get jumbled together in the colossally awkward moment. Miguel looks down, then back up again looking startled. He scurries around to the other side of the counter, it now separating you. “Jesus, Miguel, I didn’t do it on purpose! You don’t have to put a barricade between us; it’s not like I’m gonna jump you!” “No, no, it’s not that! Fuck, it’s, uh, fuck…” He looks lost for words. His hand comes to his face, covering it in resigned embarrassment. His voice is a mumble through his obstructing hand, “I’ve a bd’ve uh sitch-ation.”

“What?” He uncovers his face with an exasperated sigh. “I have… a bit of a… situation,” he whispers, looking down.

“Oh… oh!” you say, realization hitting you. Probably largely because of the awkward tension, at least partially at the idea of you giving Miguel O’Hara a boner, you start cracking up. He just stares at you, deadpan, his hands coming to his hips. “It’s not funny.” “It’s a little funny.” His glare cracks the tiniest bit.

“Okay, maybe it’s a little funny. But it’s your fault!”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“Didn’t mean to what?” Alex asks nonchalantly, coming out of his room, lazily drying his hair.

“Nothing!” you and Miguel say simultaneously.

“Okay… should I just pretend that wasn’t really suspicious?”

“Yes,” you tell him. “It’s nothing, really. Just me being clumsy again.”

His eyes are still skeptical, but Alex just chuckles and nods, letting it go at the look on your face. He heads to the couch with an easy “C’mon, man” at Miguel. Miguel follows, giving you a sideways glance and tense smile. When he sits, he immediately puts a cushion on his lap. You grab the first thing that looks edible in your fridge and head to your room.

Two weekends later finds you at another soccer team party. They’d lost this time, 2-1. Miguel scored their sole goal, and the other team’s second had been a sketchy penalty. If the victory parties were good, the defeat ones were wild. Most of the players, Miguel and Alex among them, were drowning their sorrows, especially after such a disheartening defeat.

You weren’t a player, but you had your own sorrows to drown, and you weren’t stopping yourself from doing just that. You’d hardly seen Miguel in almost two weeks, and the few times you had, he’d been cold, keeping interactions mainly to greetings and goodbyes. You didn’t know if you’d done something wrong, if he was still caught up with your little awkward encounter, or if you were just making it up, your feelings for him needing some outlet. Making up stories by constantly obsessing about him was as good as outlet as you could get sometimes. Alcohol was a better one now.

A while into the party, you’re at the bar for your… you lost count… numberth tequila shot. You down it, lick the salt off your hand, and stick the lime in your mouth, cringing.

Your eyes are still closed when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You open them and see Miguel standing beside you. “Maybe switch to water, huh, guapa?” he tells you.

“Why? M’fine,” you slur.

“Maybe, but you won’t be if you keep this pace up.” “And how would you know?”

“Just noticed,” he shrugs.

You squint your eyes accusingly at him. You didn’t know what you’d feel next time you talked to him, but you hadn’t expected to feel this angry.

“You notice me enough to watch how much I drink but not to say more than two words at a time to me for weeks?” He looks surprised. “Y/N…”

You cross your arms and lift your eyebrows in an implied “what?”

When he doesn’t say anything, you just walk past him. You end up walking through the dance floor, and though it wasn’t your plan, you kind of like moving to the music. You’re drunk enough to the lack the inhibitions to just dance alone. You’re enjoying yourself, not even bothering to look back and see if Miguel was still there. A bit later though, you startle as you feel a hand on your ass. You turn and find a random guy you’ve never met before, smiling at you disgustingly drunkenly. You’re taken aback, your mind already a bit slow from the alcohol, so you haven’t decided yet how to tell him to fuck off by the time Miguel is in front of you shoving him away. He’s not overly aggressive but, even drunk, easily moves the guy away from you with an angry “What the hell, man?”

The other guy looks seriously scared and just lifts his hands with a pathetic “sorry, Miguel.”

“Fucking better be, what the hell is wrong with you?” The other guy stumbles away. Miguel turns towards you, and his expression melts from frightening anger to warm concern in two seconds. “You okay?” he asks, his hands carefully grazing your shoulders. You nod and lean into him. At your seeming comfortable, he lets his arms come around you.

“Thanks,” you whisper in his ear.

“Of course,” he whispers in yours, and it sends a shiver down your entire body. You stare into his eyes, your hands resting on his chest.

“Miguel?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna dance with me?”

They don’t call it “liquid courage” for nothing.

Miguel considers you for a moment, but a soft smirk is whispered across is sharp features. He nods slowly, and his hands move slightly further down your back. You close your eyes at the sensation of his hands running along your body. You run your hands up his chest slowly and wrap your arms around his neck. When you open your eyes, you see his crimson ones boring into you.

You start moving a bit more as you focus on the music to relieve some of the tension you’re feeling. He follows your lead, and soon you’re dancing together much more easily. As a couple of songs go by, you’re both moving freely, staying close to each other the whole time.

You’re so exhilarated, and he seems as enveloped in you as you are in him, so the next time the beat calls for it, you let your body twist rhythmically in his grasp. Your back is now flush with his chest, your ass on his crotch, your hand reaching behind you on his neck, in his hair. His hands are firm on your hips, and when you roll them against him, you hear his whispered “Fuck, mami” in your ear and feel his arm come around your middle, pulling you into him. His hips move in rhythm with yours. You’ve probably never been so turned on in your entire life. You keep this up for a delicious while. You can feel Miguel is hard through his jeans, but he makes no sign of being embarrassed, just continuing to dance with you with expert hip movements that make your imagination go wild. Of course he’d be an amazing dancer. Of course you’d imagine what else his hips could do.

You twist back in his embrace, coming to face him. He holds you close, and you bring a hand to his face. He leans into your touch. You move your face up slightly, and he seems to be following, moving his down. You’re so close, even think you feel your lips graze his, when someone bumps up against you, making you stumble.

Miguel’s strong arms catch you, but the moment is gone, and a second later, he looks startled.

“You okay?” he asks, stepping back a bit, speaking loudly to keep his distance. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you assure, but he seems off.

“Let’s get some air, huh?”

You follow him outside, the sudden change in ambience making your head spin a little. You lean against the wall, and he puts his hand on your shoulder.

“Sure you’re okay?” You nod but don’t say anything, maybe a bit drunker than you thought, trying to ground yourself. He leans on the wall next to you. His body is warm where it grazes your side. You can feel his gaze intermittently on you. You get a little dizzy again, and you lean onto his shoulder. He just lets you, and you stand like that for a while.

His fingers graze the back of your hand.

“Want me to take you home?”

You nod into his body. He wraps a firm arm around your shoulders and leads you away from the party.

You’re home before you know it, the whole journey a blur dominated by his warmth by your side. When you reach your front door, you lean on it and look up at him. His subtle smile elicits your full one. “Thanks,” you whisper. “’S no problem,” he shrugs. “You’ll be okay?” “Yeah,” you nod. You’re already sobering up. “You?”

He chuckles and nods.

“I wasn’t the one downing tequila shots like water,” he teases. Your cheeks warm, and you look down as you chuckle.

“Wasn’t that many…”

He laughs.

“It was, cariño.” Again with the pet names.

“I’m still surprised you noticed.” “I always notice you,” he responds without missing a beat. Your eyes snap up to his, and you see the longing there.

You stare at each other for a heavy moment, then, drunk more on the sensations of your earlier almost-kiss than on alcohol, chasing that feeling, you lean up to try again. Your lips are a breath away from his when he looks down, effectively rejecting your advance. You pull away, mortified.

“Sorry, I… sorry,” you stutter as you scramble for your keys. You turn to your door. “Y/N,” he whispers, his hand holding your wrist softly. “It’s okay,” you say, looking back him, wiping tears from your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything; sorry I misunderstood.”

You quickly go inside and close the door. You lean on it, crying. Miguel, eyes closed, fists clenched, rests his forehead on the opposite side.

Miguel doesn’t come around for a while. Even as days pass, you can’t stop thinking about your night together. Confusion, sadness, embarrassment — all mixing together into a terrible cocktail.

Another match day rolls around, and you can’t stomach the idea of watching Miguel play, of potentially having to talk to him after. You tell Alex you’re really sorry to not support him this time, but that you’re not feeling well. He worries over you a while, unhelpfully but adorably emptying your medicine cabinet onto the kitchen counter, looking through stuff, suggesting this and that, telling you to text him anything you needed that he could bring you after.

A while later, you’ve just slumped down onto the couch, when your stomach sinks at the sight you’re met with. There, at the corner of the room, lie his cleats. He’d been cleaning them the night before and had clearly forgotten to put them back in his gym bag.

“Fuck.”

You lift yourself up, grab them, and head over to the stadium.

When you get there, you pound at the locker room door, and it opens — of course, you couldn’t catch a fucking break — to Miguel O’Hara’s gorgeous face. Though he looks at you intently, you can’t quite read his expression. Then he yells over his shoulder, “Ale!”

Alex jogs over and, upon seeing you, lets out the biggest sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank God. I fucking love you.” He reaches for the cleats you’re holding up to him and gives you a bear hug. “Saved my fucking life, Y/N/N. Thank you.” He kisses your forehead. “You don’t look as sick. You’ll be okay?” He’s clearly in a rush to get back but wants to make sure you’re alright.

You nod and playfully shove his chest, pushing him back into the locker room. “You’re the best!” he yells over his shoulder as he saunters back. Miguel is still just standing there, all geared up for the match. It crosses your sick mind how good the uniform looks on him.

“You’re sick?” he asks.

“Nothing I won’t get over.” You offer him a weak smile. He’s nodding slowly, considering.

“Stay for the match?”

“Miguel, I —“ “Please.” You’ve never heard him plead before. You’re head is nodding before your mind can catch up. He just nods too. “I’ll find you after.” And with that, he jogs back into the locker room.

You’d never known ninety minutes could drag on for eternity, with a half-time’s worth of eternity in between. You’re sure you’re heartbeat was elevated the entire time, your mind and emotions reeling. What was Miguel going to say to you after the match? You had absolutely no read on him during your short interaction before. Then again, apparently you weren’t always great at reading him.

Minute after minute trickles by. At the end of the second half, your team up a goal (yes, Miguel’s), the ref announces an unusually large number of minutes. You moan with everyone else, for your own reasons. What was a potential leveler compared to the leveling of your heart?

Slowly, the minutes pass. The other team builds a mounting attack; they get a good attempt; they miss. The whistle blows; the crowd cheers, and you, you’re frozen in place.

You thaw yourself slowly as the players shake hands, go to their respective huddles. By the time they’re roaming the sidelines freely, you’ve only just managed to leave your seat.

As you descend the bleachers stairs, you catch sight of Miguel. He’s obviously searching, halfheartedly ignoring the congratulations coming from all sides. His eyes eventually meet yours, and as soon as they do, he’s running over to you, meeting you much closer to the bleachers than the field.

He comes to a stop right in front of you and just watches you. You just watch him. “Congratulations,” you say. He chuckles, lightly shaking his head.

“Thanks.”

He takes a step closer to you. “Y/N…” “Yeah?” “I…” “Miguel!” you’re interrupted. “Congratulations! Way to pull it out!” “Thanks, yeah, thank you,” he says hurriedly, looking back over to you. “Listen, I just, I wanted to clear things up after how we left them.” You nod, worrying your bottom lip, your arms wrapping around you defensively.

“I didn’t want you to think that —“

“Congratulations, Miguel! Did it again, man!” And a slap on the back.

“Uh-huh, yeah, thank you,” Miguel responds, turning away, approaching rudeness. “For fuck’s sake,” he says, much more softly. “C’mere.” He grabs your arm and drags you around the bleachers, stopping when you have a semblance of cover. He’s looking around to make sure no one else is about to talk to him, and his worried looks right after he’s just won makes you laugh. The sound draws his attention fully back to you. He smiles at seeing you smiling.

“Where can a guy get a little privacy, huh?” he jokes. “Probably not still by the field where he just scored the winning goal, I’m guessing,” you tease. He chuckles. Then he takes a deep, sobering breath. “Listen, Y/N…”

His tone sounds apologetic, and it makes you immediately think the worst. He probably just didn’t want you to be embarrassed. Wanted to fix things so they wouldn’t be awkward if he hung around, which he’d obviously want to do given Alex was his best friend.

Already fighting back tears, wanting to beat him to the punch to save face in whatever way you could at this point, you cut him off. “Miguel, you don’t have to explain anything or anything. I’m sorry I made more out of a good time than I should have. Please don’t let me keep you from hanging out with my brother even if I’m around, and I hope we can still be friends.” “What? No, that’s not… This isn’t about Alex. I mean, well it is a little bit.” He’s looking unsure. “Just keep things how they were before. It’s all fine.” “Is that what you want?” He looks serious. “What do you mean?” “Is that what you want? To keep things how they were before? To still be friends?”

“I… well… it’s what you want, isn’t it?” “I never said that.” “You didn’t have to. I tried to kiss you, and you pretty much said no to that. Twice.”

“I didn’t. Well, once, yeah I did, but it was only because I was worried you were too drunk. I didn’t want to take advantage of you. And, also, maybe a little bit because I panicked, okay?” He sounds more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard him yet. “I was worried it’d be weird with Alex or that I’d fuck it up with you, and I just, I don’t know, I panicked. And the other time wasn’t my fault. I was going to kiss you if you hadn’t stumbled.” “Someone bumped into me!” “I’m not blaming you! I just, it just, it made me remember you were drunk, and I didn’t want to be like that idiot guy I’d had to push away a while earlier.” “You’re nothing like that guy,” you say sternly. “I…” He’s started to look frustrated, unable to find the words. He runs his hand over his face, takes another deep breath. “What if you try now?” “What?” “I don’t know how to tell you. So maybe I can just show you. Try again, and no one will bump into you. I won’t panic, and I won’t think of all the things that could go wrong. I’ll think of how I’ve been feeling since that night. Absolutely fucking miserable. It’s been eating away at me; all I could think about was making it right with you, but I didn’t know how, didn’t know if I should. But I can’t take it anymore, and if you feel the same way, then, fuck, let’s just stop getting in our own way.”

“Miguel…” “Yeah?” “That was pretty good for not knowing how to tell me.” Your face forms the slightest teasing smirk, your eyes lighting up at the realization of what he’s telling you. “Shut up and kiss me already,” he says, rolling his eyes, unable to help his bright smile, pulling your body to his and bringing his lips onto yours.

You pull him into you, reciprocating eagerly. He moans into your mouth, and you feel his towering body sink onto yours. His arms are tight around you, one hand cupping your head, bringing you close. His kiss is fervent, desperate but concentrated.

You run your hands in his hair, and he chuckles gruffly, the sound muffled by your chasing mouth. You lose yourself in his embrace. You grip him tightly, breaching into his mouth, wanting to kiss him as much as wanting to be kissed by him. You could feel the beginning of a beautiful push and pull as your mouths move together, your bodies mold into each other’s.

You want to kiss him forever, but some loud cheering nearby startles you slightly apart. Miguel is looking deeply into your eyes. He kisses you again, lets his forehead rest on yours when he pulls back. You’re smiling when you say, “You should probably get back. I’m sure people are looking for you.” He groans dramatically and hides in the crook of your neck. He kisses it before saying, “I just want to be with you.”

You giggle, nuzzling his face with yours, holding him close, your hand in his hair.

“Yeah, me too.” He hums into your neck. He plants another kiss there, and one on your cheek on his way up, as he lifts his head again. His rough hands caress your face tenderly.

“This is good,” he says simply. You laugh and nod. “Fuck ‘em. I’ll go over there at some point. Let’s just stay here a little while longer.”

“Okay,” you smile.

Miguel leans back into you, kissing you and kissing you and kissing you.

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara angst #across the spiderverse #spiderman #atsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman fanfiction #slow burn #mutual pining #bbf!miguel #soccerplayer!miguel

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psy--conic · 5 months ago

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Reading the Iliad, Book 19 thoughts

This is my first time ever reading it and I know next to nothing abt greek mythology so if I interpret anything wrong by all means pls correct me

Im reading the Robert Fagles translation

Achilles and Agamemnon were acting really damn lame in this book

Thetis meets up with Achilles and lays his new armor at his feet. Achilles is face down still crying over Patroclus's body.

"He's gone bro 😐 get up" - Thetis

This armor is so divine and shit mortal men can't look at it for too long be it glistens so bright

So now Achilles is all set to head into battle

but Achilles doesn't want to leave Pat's body bc he fears that worms, and flies, and all that will defile his corpse

Thetis tells her son, to not worry about that bc she will make sure no decomposition sets in and Pat could lie there for a year and his body would still be fresh

Achilles calls a meeting between the men in the camp

All the important ppl show up. They're like all injured tho

Achilles starts talking to Agamemnon abt how their fight was really stupid and how he wishes Artemis had struck Briseis down with an arrow the day he stormed Lyrnessus.....

Just die already, Achilles.

Because it was so obviously her fault and not the actions of the childish men who now control her entire life😀

Achilles you got an arrow coming your way too my friend

So Agamemnon (Yk the one who really started it all and later took responsibility for to) says "Yeah the gods really robbed us of our senses for a moment there😕."

FOR 19 BOOKS????

LITERALLY BLAMING EVERYONE BUT THEMSELVES

JOJO HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING?

And he STILL gives Achilles all the shit he offered him in book 9

Odysseus gets up in front of everyone and pitches to the idea that Agamemnon swear an oath to the gods and to everyone else that he never raped Briseis.

Odysseus, I would think you would fucking hate oaths considering the last oath you suggested everyone make

Achilles really wants to go fuck up the Trojans like NOW so he basically says "No one eats until we avenge Patroclus😡"

But Ody tells Achilles that they all should eat so they can have the energy to fight in the first place and runs off to grab Achilles' gifts

One gift being Briseis herself

Agamemnon swears the oath. (His ass was probably lying)

The meeting ends and everyone goes back to their tents

Once Achilles and Birseis enter his tent, Birseis see that Patroclus dropped like a fucking fly

She begins to cry and beat at her chest. Somewhere in the middle of all that she says "Patroclus, you never let me mourn my husband and brothers when Achilles murdered them and you promised to make Achilles marry me. You were always so kind🥺."

I GUESS NO ONE TOLD HER??

Anyway girl don't cry, one of your oppressors is dead. Celebrate.

Agamemnon, Nestor, Menelaus, Odysseus, Idomeneus, and Phoenix are still trying to get Achilles to eat be he refuses out of mourning for Patroclus.

Achilles laments that Patroclus would always serve them a meal but now he can't anymore.

oh....😭

Achilles has such a way of making you hate him all the while feeling bad for him.

He says that even should he learn of his own father's death (Peleus), the pain would still not compare to what he feels for Patroclus's death

THEN Achilles says that Patroclus was supposed to get Neoptolemus and bring him back to Achilles' homeland and show him all his wealth.

Achilles literally had a whole life planned out for his loved ones after he was gone.

How much time did he spend preparing Patroclus for a life without him only for Pat to die first😭

Cut to Athena and Zeus. He asks "Hello? don't you like Achilles or whatever🤨 why are you letting him suffer?"

Athena goes down and instills nector and ambrosia within him to stave off the hunger.

I shit you not the fucking horses start talking.

As Achilles is preparing for battle he starts talking to the damn horses.

"Ok, you guys really dropped the ball last time. You need to make sure your charioteer actually comes back alive this time. Remember how you left Patroclus?" - Achilles

LMAOOO the blame game just won't fucking stop.

And to horse go "Achilles ur going to die soon by the way."

Achilles is no phased and just says that he already knows all of that.

They go into battle.

The end

#I try i like Achilles for what he is but damn #the iliad #reading the iliad #greek mythology #achilles #thetis #agamemnon #tagamemnon

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holmesianlove · 7 months ago

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Chapter 14 - Proposal

John came trudging down the stairs, hair scruffy, face contorted from the light which instantly hurt his sorry head. He was getting too old to go out late at night and drink like that.

Sherlock was sitting in his leather chair, reading. “How are you feeling, John?”

“A bit rough. Sorry about that,” John moaned in reply. He walked over and flopped into his comfortable chair opposite.

“Not your fault,” Sherlock replied, not even looking up from his book. “I may have moved too quickly.”

John sat staring at his friend. Did he mean the drinks or something else? It was an odd turn of phrase to use. Last night had been peculiar to say the least. John hadn’t consumed so much beer in a short space of time in… well he couldn’t think how long it had been. Certainly never on an empty stomach, in any case, and he was incredibly embarrassed with his behaviour. Had he… sniffed Sherlock’s coat? He’d definitely said something stupid, or a few things, although the memory of it was very foggy. The combination of being found in his underwear and then getting drunk on a few beers and… god they danced? They bloody danced. What kind of a messed up night was that? He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to gain some semblance of sanity, to wake up a bit and then finally looked at Sherlock properly.

He was fully dressed. He looked showered and dressed, in fact. One of his nice black suits and a crisp white shirt, just open enough to show off his collar bones and suddenly John’s eyes couldn’t look anywhere else and it startled him. He blinked a few times, taking in his flatmate. His hair looked particularly good and he just looked healthy and relaxed in general. Refreshed even.

“You look very put together,” he heard himself say, before he could stop the words tumbling out.

Sherlock closed his book and placed it on his lap, sitting a little straighter.

“I have a proposal, John. For you.”

“A what?!” John nearly swallowed his own tongue. His eyes had blown wide and he was very confused.

“There’s a new case. My brother wants me to look into something and I’d like you to come with me.” Sherlock was watching John carefully.

John let out a heavy sigh of relief. God, he needed coffee. His brain wasn’t alert enough yet to wade through Sherlock’s cryptic ways. The word proposal had most definitely terrified him instantly. “Another one? We only just had a break,” John said as he sighed heavily.

“What’s that expression? When it rains it pours?” Sherlock offered with a smirk.

“Right. Why do you look nervous then? You never look nervous when there’s a case on,” John asked, eyeing him suspiciously. When Sherlock didn’t respond, John continued on. “I usually come with you. Don’t I? Why is this one any different?”

“It’s in Belgium,” he said carefully.

“Belgium?!” John was surprised. They rarely travelled outside the country.

“Yes. An old friend of Mycroft’s had a theft from his estate in Brussels and asked for me to come. I have a suspicion it’s not as interesting as they’ve led me to believe but they booked us a first class train fare themselves so I thought a couple of days in Brussels wouldn’t be so terrible.”

“And you want me to come - even though you’ve already surmised it’s not worth your time?” John’s senses tingled. Something wasn’t right.

“Well, I’d be lost without my blogger,” he teased. “Might as well pass the time with company.”

“I see.” John didn’t really see. This was all highly irregular. “What’s Mycroft holding over you then?”

Sherlock gasped, a dramatic overreaction to John’s words with an open mouthed gape.

“I can’t see why you would give this the time of day otherwise,” John added in explanation.

“Boredom is a cruel mistress, John. All my poorest decisions have come about thanks to boredom. We have no other cases waiting. I thought it might be… fun?” He tried the word out and then frowned.

“Fun?” John looked confused by that word passing Sherlock’s lips too.

Sherlock stood up, lifting the book from his lap and taking it over to return it to his shelves. Even John knew it was a diversionary tactic. Sherlock never said the wrong thing. He was very deliberate in his communications - be they kind or biting. He always meant it. Fun, was a word John had never heard as justification for Sherlock Holmes doing anything. And Sherlock knew it too. John felt responsible for the slightly awkward mood between them, so he tried to think of a way to reassure his friend. They were supposed to be moving on from yesterday.

“What time do we leave?” he asked.

Sherlock turned from the bookshelf, looking grateful for the redirect.

“Eleven.”

“Right then,” John said, slapping the arms of his chair before standing up. “Coffee is going to be required and a shower.”

Sherlock looked a bit uncertain. “Are you… really okay with this?”

“The game is on, Sherlock Holmes. And I follow where you go,” he said brightly, straightening his shoulders. “I’ll go up and throw a few things together and have a shower. If you make me a strong coffee and some toast? So we aren’t late?” John suggested.

Sherlock smiled ever so slightly. “Those terms are acceptable.”

“Good. I’ll meet you in the kitchen shortly,” he said with a nod and took himself back up to his room. He had an overnight bag for just these types of occasions in the top of his cupboard. It was common for them to head to the far north or the south just for a day or two. John had a standard few outfits he threw in for such occasions, he was predictable like that. Boring, John. You’re boring. Sherlock hates predictable. Maybe you should throw in a curve ball? Something new. He looked through his wardrobe and smiled, adding something different to the mix. He added a pair of nice shoes too. He even had a toiletries bag set up with what he needed already waiting in his cupboard so he grabbed that as well and he threw his coat on top of it all.

Then, he grabbed something comfortable to wear for the train and brought himself down to the bathroom. As he passed the kitchen, Sherlock was happily sorting the toast and coffee, and he was humming away to himself. Humming? John was struck by it. He wasn’t sure he’d heard Sherlock hum before. Occasionally when he was playing his violin, or writing music as he played, making adjustments. But humming for the sake of humming - while doing other tasks? Never. Despite all of the mess of yesterday, Sherlock was in good spirits. John wished he could let things go that easily, and just enjoy each day as a fresh, new start. He had never been good at that.

He showered quickly, and dressed, eager to get to the coffee, but also to get out to Sherlock which surprised him. It felt like something had shifted last night, and John wasn’t even sure what that might be, but he was eager to be close to him, to hear about the case, to tease out more information from his flatmate.

When he finally came out, Sherlock was seated at the kitchen table. He had actually scrambled some eggs as well and had a whole pot of the fancy filtered coffee brewed in the middle of the table. He was reading the newspaper, the pages sprawled across half the table, and was nibbling on a piece of toast, seemingly oblivious to John’s arrival.

“Wow. Eggs as well. And… you’re eating?” he asked, looking surprised.

“Occasionally I’ve been known to,” he quipped without registering John at all, continuing to read, or at least pretending to read.

John sat down and poured himself a coffee. “Well, in any case, thank you. I certainly need this and I didn’t have the energy.”

“My pleasure. I’m not always the difficult flatmate,” he commented.

John stopped with his mug halfway to his mouth and put it down again. “Sherlock.” He tilted his head in disapproval. “I don’t think that.”

Sherlock still remained focused on the paper so John reached out and put his hand on the paper, flattening it to the table and leaning forward to catch his eye. “I don’t think that,” he repeated. Sherlock maintained his gaze for a moment before returning his piece of toast to the plate and grabbing his knife and fork to eat, busying himself so he didn’t have to make a fuss.

John watched him for a moment before grabbing his own cutlery. “I know I don’t say it. But… living here… with you, Sherlock. It’s the greatest privilege. Getting to be your offsider on the cases, having a… a friend in my life I can rely on. It’s… well, it means a great deal more to me than I probably have the words to explain to you. At least, to do it justice,” he admitted. “I should tell you more often and I regret the things I said last night. You’re my friend. You’re my best friend. And you’re not difficult.” He paused, letting the words settle in the air between them. Sherlock had paused his cutlery and was staring at his plate, unmoving. The words had caught him by surprise and even John hadn’t expected them to come out.

“I had no idea I could be so poetic with a hangover,” he finally joked, to break the tension.

Sherlock, scoffed and continued to focus on his eggs in silence. After a few more minutes eating silently he finally looked up at John. “Thank you,” he said, surprising John. He also looked up and they held each other’s attention for a moment.

“Not a problem,” John said. “We don’t need fanfares, Sherlock. We just are. We’re Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.” He smiled and Sherlock’s face changed to an odd expression that John couldn’t read all of a sudden. He opened his mouth to say something and then reverted back to eating.

John watched him a bit longer, in case the thought came back, but he didn’t come back to it, so they remained in silence for a time.

Eventually, Sherlock, obviously feeling like it was the time for meaningful conversation, looked up at John. “Why do you…” He hesitated and grabbed his coffee, to sip at it nervously. “Last night. The man on the street that bothered you… Why do you always engage with that nonsense?”

“Why don’t you?” John asked, watching Sherlock closely.

“They don’t know us. They know nothing about us. What they think of us matters not to me, John. The only opinions I care about, are yours and… Well, that’s pretty much it, actually. Perhaps Mrs Hudson, depending on the moment. My parents, obviously, but they often misunderstand me, as does my brother. So long as I keep your good opinion, I can carry on with most things,” Sherlock said simply. As if that should be obvious. As if saying it meant nothing.

“Well,” John sighed in disbelief. “I feel the same.”

“Exactly. So what point is there arguing with some stranger who knows nothing about what I’ve been through in my life, or you in yours, or what we go through collectively together in our work and our day to day lives? You always have to correct people. Even people close to us, who know perfectly well we aren’t a couple and are only teasing. You never miss a moment correcting them, though. Don’t you think it only draw attention to the very thing you are trying to push away.”

John’s brow furrowed. “It bothers you? That I correct people, when they’re wrong?” John asked. “You love to correct people, Sherlock. I didn’t realise it would bother you.”

Sherlock stood to collect up their plates. “I just wondered why you felt the need. That’s all.”

“Well, because, it isn’t true. I’m not your boyfriend. We’re not… you know… it’s just incorrect information.” John was slightly put out that he was justifying something which made sense in his own head. “You’re a public figure.”

“And?” Sherlock asked.

“And, they should get their information right,” John said with a self-satisfied nod, finishing his coffee.

“You have an issue, John. With homosexuals,” Sherlock stated, placing the dishes in the sink and keeping his back to John, so he could say what he wanted to say.

“No, I don’t.” John was offended by the statement, and he sat up straighter, his hackles up immediately.

“I think you do. Between all of that correcting, and all the anger you seem to have over this last case,” he commented.

“What do you mean?” John was suddenly very perturbed by this line of conversation. Sherlock turned around at the sink. “You’ve been having feelings, opinions about this victim - the fact that he married a man. It bothered you. Why?”

John stood up, to bring his mug over, and to get rid of the nervous energy now coursing through him from Sherlock’s questions. “I… It’s just…”

“When we met,” Sherlock jumped in to say, “and you grilled me about my person circumstances—“

“Would we call that a grilling? When you didn’t answer anything properly?”

“I certainly would. You had a lot of questions for a first day together.”

“You were being awfully mysterious.”

“I don’t like to share.”

“And I have trust issues. I’m sure your brother passed on his reports. I need to know things.”

“But why was my… sexual proclivities… relevant to your living arrangement?”

“I just wanted to know if… you know, you would be coming and going with partners, or if… I don’t know really. I was making conversation, just curious?” he offered.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “And at the time you said it was all okay. That everything was fine. But what if I had said I was… gay? What if I had confirmed that for you?”

John shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “Well, then I’d have known. And…”

“And you… never actually reciprocated. You didn’t tell me anything about yourself,” Sherlock pointed out.

“It’s only reciprocating if you provide an answer too, isn’t it?”

“John.” Sherlock warned him. He wasn’t letting this go. And John was being deliberately stubborn.

“Well you said so yourself. I’m not gay. I spend a lot of time telling people I’m not gay.”

“You really do. What’s that thing Queen Gertrude says in Hamlet: methinks the lady doth protest too much?”

“You think I’m gay?” John scoffed, slightly horrified.

“No. I’m just… asking,” Sherlock said gently. “Just as you tried to.”

John frowned and looked at his watch nervously. “I don’t really see why this is so important right now.”

“I’m just… making conversation with my flatmate, as were you. There’s nothing strange about that, is there? Or so you say. You’re a very closed book, John.”

John sighed and leaned back against the counter now as well, rubbing a hand over his face. He kept a safe distance from Sherlock, but felt very acutely that his flatmate was trying to gleen information, and perhaps repair some of the mess of the day before. “Look, I just don’t… feel comfortable. With any of it, okay?” he finally admitted. “I come from a catholic upbringing, and I had two very conservative parents who tortured my sister into running away because she brought a girl home one day and mum caught them kissing. It was like they had found out she murdered a bloody priest. Honest to god. And back then… you know, things weren’t as free and open as they are now. I just learned to keep my business to myself. Am I gay? No. That is accurate. It doesn’t describe me. When I say that, it is accurate,” John sighed. He already felt a blush rising up his neck as the words were coming out of him. “But have I been with men? Yes, casually. I don’t believe anyone is just so black and white are they? There’s grey areas for most people. The Kinsey scale and all that? I have some grey areas, okay? But I don’t like to talk about it. And it’s nobody’s business but my own. I choose not to make it public. And now, living with you, apparently people can’t handle two grown men living together without it being sexual. It irritates the hell out of me. I don’t want you thinking at any moment I’m planning to jump you. You’re my friend and I don’t want anything to ruin that. It’s the first time in my life I’ve had a proper friend. So yes, I’m jumpy about it. I don’t want you thinking it’s true.” He sighed and paced the kitchen floor to get rid of the adrenaline after all that confessing. “And as for the married man? The dead married man?” He stopped pacing to look at Sherlock. “I suppose, I’m a bit… jealous.”

“Jealous?” Sherlock was genuinely surprised by that answer.

“Yes. He just… did that. He wanted to marry a woman so he did and then he decided to also marry a man and so he did. And it was legal - aside from the whole polygamy part, but in essence he was allowed to marry that man. And growing up, that wasn’t even an option.” “John, homosexuality has been legal since the 1960s here,” Sherlock said calmly.

“But marriage, Sherlock, marriage hasn’t been, until so recently. It’s something I just decided was not happening and it made me angry that not only was he allowed to do it, but he flaunted it by also marrying three woman and just ruining all of their lives. It’s infuriating. Think of all the men who had been desperate to marry and haven’t been able to.” John’s voice wavered. “One of my very good friends from my time in Afghanistan lost his partner before marriage was decriminalised and it… still enrages me.”

“Oh. John, I had… I had no idea. I’m sorry. I most definitely misunderstood your thoughts on this.” Sherlock seemed genuine. “You were so uncomfortable in the club. Last night. I thought….”

“What? You mean, seeing my very best friend, who has never explicitly explained to me where he falls on that line, took me to a gay club and for all intents and purposes flirted with a very young barman, in front of me, and then behaved in a very confusing manner all round. You’re wondering why I was a bit uncomfortable?”

Sherlock sighed. “Perhaps I could have handled that better.”

“Sherlock, I’m proud to be your friend. I should be so lucky to be able to date someone like you, if I ever felt comfortable enough to do so in public. You’re the most fantastic human I know.” He turned to look at Sherlock, square on. “Those emotions, those issues you’re picking up on? They aren’t about you. They aren’t about me discriminating about you. They are wholly about my upbringing and my issues with my own identity. I’m not ready to be all public and confident - whether it’s real or imagined.” John reached out and touched Sherlock’s arm. “You’re my best friend. The very best.”

Sherlock gave a half smile and looked at his feet uncomfortably. “Thank you. For telling me all of that.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been upsetting you, by keeping it to myself. It wasn’t my intention. Some days I’m just trying to get from start to finish and I don’t think about it, but other days it’s an all consuming mess in my head.”

“You still seeing your therapist?” Sherlock asked gently.

“I am.”

“Good.”

“Are we… okay?” John asked, suddenly feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

“Yes. Of course.” Sherlock gave him a reassuring nod. They stood together awkwardly in silence for a moment, though.

“Shall I… call for a cab?” John suggested.

“Please,” Sherlock said with a smile. “Half an hour? I’ll just clean these dishes up and grab my things.”

“Okay.” John left the kitchen and grabbed his phone, walking up to collect his bag. He sat on the bed and let out a huge long sigh. God, that was a mess. What was that about?

Sherlock, meanwhile, stood in the kitchen, staring at the floor for the longest time. This just got far messier than I had even predicted.

——-

The two of them sat in the cab in complete silence. The awkward moments between them apparently a new and uncomfortable part of their friendship which John was not thrilled about. This time, John didn’t try to make conversation. And Sherlock didn’t have anything to utter either. John’s mind was working overtime though. All of the thoughts that had bothered him all week, in his own head, in his own stupid brain… and now Sherlock had called out most of them. Out loud. In the bloody kitchen over breakfast clean up, no less. Things John never wanted to say aloud. In a way, he felt better that he had said them. Maybe Sherlock could understand him better. For what purpose, he had no idea. He couldn’t understand how it would help, but Sherlock had seemed slightly relieved? Or at least less annoyed.

“Got the tickets?” John asked suddenly, out of habit. He was annoyed that he had been the one to break the standoff. Probably too late to check anyway, if Sherlock had forgotten them. But Sherlock never forgot them. He never forgot anything. That bloody mind palace. One of the very reasons John kept some of his opinions and thoughts to himself - certainly the more personal ones. No matter, now Sherlock could lock some nice personal new information into that mind palace to bring up later at a time that would embarrass John appropriately, for sure.

“Mmmm,” was all Sherlock replied to him with.

John nodded and went back to observing the scenery.

When they arrived at the station, Sherlock paid the cab and jumped out without a word, already starting his big strides towards St Pancras. John, as usual, had to leg it around the back of the cab and jog up the steps to keep up. But he didn’t argue. He didn’t shout. He just followed. John always followed Sherlock, wherever the detective led. And therein lay the danger.

——

Sorry these have been a bit late the last couple of days! I’m still making it before the end of the day at my end - just!!! I’m impressed with myself that I am still going. Thank you everyone for the lovely comments - it spurs me on to write the next chapter for you all!!

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear

@starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78

@kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes

@battledress @kholkate @randomquadballpun @little-owls-things @daltongraham

@sillygirlsmindpalace @oetkb12 @odditiesandeverything @johnlockficclub @rainstarboii @bheadhe

@hospitableasacactus @wssh13 @br-nz @solarmama-plantsareneat @givemesherbet-blog-blog

@dw91165 @pileofstardust2106 @moonkeller @surprisinglyokay @r4venlyn

@therealalexisamess-blog @e-b1838 @rhasima @salmonsown @tropelovingpainter

@westandforships @fuck-off-watson-rp @notjustamumj @marta-bee @melodious-me

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rishiimaa · 1 year ago

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HI HI! I was the person who requested the “jjk with a child who’s tooth was growing or lost a tooth” which was 😮‍💨🤌. Then I had another thought where jjk characters child/children first start crawling/walking 🤔(I’m having a baby fever rn) please lmk if these requests are bothering you 😭😭

Nope! Requests’ll never bother me, and if they do, it’s not your fault, I’d just turn the requests off, so please, do more requests! I love it when people give me attention anyways!

Anywho… onto the fanfic!

Fluff

Yuji, Megumi, Gojo, Geto

Yuji

——————————————————————

Yuji would be the reason your son walk, he’d be watching football and cheering on, and he’d feel a bump on his leg, only to find out his son was standing!

——————————————————————————————

“Wh— God damn it! How do you fucking fumble that?!” Yuji yelled at the top of his lungs, earning a glare at you from the kitchen.

“Watch your mouth in front of C/N and stop yelling, I don’t want his first words to be that.” you narrowed your eyes at Yuji, easily making him shrink in size as he scratches his neck.

“Sorry, babe, it’s just I can’t understand why my team is fumbling so many balls! Especially the easier ones…I could totally catch that…”

You roll your eyes before getting back to your cooking, and you let out a breathy laugh, it was absolutely impossible to stay mad at Yuji, he’s just too sweet for his own good…so sweet that you even feel bad for scolding him.

Yuji laid back onto the couch in a pout, this game was totally scripted…all these years of rooting this stupid team just to lose again…so annoying.

While Yuji was having his temper tantrum, C/N, required his father’s attention, he tried reaching for him, throwing toys, making random babble noises, and even throwing toys at him! (Which never really makes it that far…But it’s worth a try!)

But nothing gained Yuji’s attention, his focus was on the game and only the game, which made C/N mad.

Suddenly…C/N made an attempt to stand by himself, by placing his feet on the floor and allowing to push himself up, just like his daddy does!

C/N began to finally wobble towards Yuji, slowly, but surely, C/N made it to Yuji’s leg, and began to punch it softly, this caught his attention, so when he looks down to his knees, he saw a very close standing wide-eyed C/N.

The silence grew…and both stared at eachother for a while, before Yuji finally realized what was going on.

“HOLY SHIT—!”

“Yuji!”

Megumi

——————————————————————

When C/N finally learns how to crawl, it took everything in Megumi not to cry, because if he did, he’d never hear the end of it from you…of course he ends up crying anyway…

——————————————————————————————

It was a normal day with the family, since it was the weekend, everyone was off work…So the Fushiguro family was stuck at home, Megumi was reading a book, you were watching TV (and a bit of baby clothes shopping), and little C/N was just laying on her belly on a blanket on the floor full of toys.

You continued to show Megumi the baby clothes you “scrolled” upon, but Megumi could never be irritated, he loved to hear you talk.

“Megumi! Look! This one has cute little sheep on it! You can also match with her—“

“Pass.”

Megumi groans, avoiding eye contact, you seethed at him with the sudden interruption.

“Pardon me? What gives you the right to say no to me? I pushed out C/N for two hours straight, and you can even match with her?”

Megumi groaned once again before pulling you on top his lap and giving you a light peck on your cheek.

“I meant with the sheep one, do the wolf one, that one’s cooler.” Megumi points at the screen, you let out a snort.

“What—“

“You’re so cute Megs, who knew i’d be married and have a baby with the cutest man in the world.”

“Could you not call me cute? That’s embarrassing…”

While you and Megumi were gushing, the ball that C/N was playing with rolled away, she tried to reach for it instead.

She made a sound, to alert her parents, but to no avail, no one responded. She pouted before lifting herself off the ground and deciding to crawl by herself to get the ball.

“Megumi, where’s C/N?”

Megumi looked over at the empty pile of blankets, both of you quickly went to your feet, but as you both stood up, you see a little C/N reaching for a small red ball.

You squealed with joy and you ran to your daughter and picked her up, simply out of pure excitement, you didn’t even let her finish crawling, but Megumi simply just stood there in silence.

then suddenly…you hear sniffs over your squealing, you look over at Megumi, covering his face, as the room fell silent.

“Megumi…Megumi are you crying over—“

“Shut up…”

Megumi said, wiping his tears but of course, knowing you, you didn’t shut up.

“Aww!! Look C/N, see how much your papa loves you? All those times he’s been mean doesn’t mean anything after all!” You tightly hug C/N, before she asks to be put down.

You put her down, when you do, C/B begins to crawl to her Papa, making happy baby noises as she reaches for Megumi for carrying. This definitely snaps Megumi as he lifts her up, hugging C/N once again with small sniffles sounding off…except this time it’s a bit louder…

You snap a picture, once again.

“I am definitely hanging this up.”

Gojo

——————————————————————

It takes Gojo so many attempts to get C/N to walk, and when she does…Hysterical, absolutely an abomination of tears and a camera roll full of pictures that he puts in his wallet.

——————————————————————

“Come on sweet pea…! I know you can do it! Walk to daddy, I got you!” Gojo said in a whiney tone, reaching out for his daughter, only for her to crawl to him and give him a sweet hug.

“It’s adorable that you did this, but I’d rather you’d walk…”

Gojo said sadly as C/N blew bubbles. He sighs of defeat before grabbing the remote and deciding to put it on spongebob, during that time it was C/N’s favorite show.

“Satoru, you know C/N’s not gonna walk when you ask her to, it’s gonna have to come natural.” You sigh, sitting on the couch after getting out the shower.

“I told you to let me get in the shower first! You take all the hot water!”

“Hm…well guess what, I’m a full grown woman! Should’ve been mature and went in yourself!”

Gojo pouts, before continuing to fidget with the spongebob plushy that C/N loves so much.

It makes sense that C/N would love spongebob, who wouldn’t, first of all, and second, her dad is Satoru Gojo, maybe it’s just genetic…

“Ugh…I can’t understand why you like this episode C/N, this one sucked.”

Gojo said, as if C/N could understand.

She acts like she does, because she looks at her dad and tilted her head, Gojo simply just looked at her with a pouty expression.

C/N furrowed her eyebrows, she took the insinuation that her dad was sad! And she couldn’t have that.

And so when Gojo wasn’t looking, she took the chance to walkover to him to comfort, with a little bit of struggling, she finally began to walk to her dad, you noticed this and pointed it out right away.

“Toru, Toru! Look! C/N in walking!” you pointed at C/N, but you always pull pranks on Gojo like this, so he simply tirelessly looked at her, not believing you at first

“Ohh yeah…and I’m the weakest man on—“ Gojo stops mid-sentence when he sees C/N slowly waddling towards him, in an instant, Gojo opens his arms so C/N could fall in them, she then places her chubby hand on Gojo’s cheek, and made a blabble that sounded like ‘there, there.’

You counted down from thee till the waterworks come…

Three

Two

one..

Sniff

hell yeah! right on queue!

i “You’re so adorable, C/N, I love you so much, never grow up and stay this age forever…” Gojo tightly holds C/N before he whips out his phone and takes a picture of his now standing daughter and a tearful Gojo.

Y/N thinks that those tears will never stop.

Geto

——————————————————————

Geto was obviously the calmest out of everyone in this list, but this time, you were the reason the twins walked, they were going through that phase when they only wanted their mother.

——————————————————————————————

Geto was currently giving both the twins a bath, he was struggling, as G/C/N was squirming around and is avoiding getting scrubbed, but of course B/C/N was being compliant.

“G/C/N…please…at least let me clean your butt, you literally just took a shit.” Geto sighed of defeat, you walked to the bathroom with a basket full of laundry.

“Any luck, Sugu?” You said, half-joking, Geto just shook his head and sighed

“G/C/N is refusing to take a wash…the most she’s done was get in the water” Geto almost lets out a whine. Before you let out a chuckle.

“It’s okay, Sugu, G/C/N is just stubborn like that, I’ll put your clothes in the washer, ‘kay?”

Geto gave a sound of approval, before trying again with G/C/N, she dodges the wash cloth once again while B/C/N was playing with a toy boat.

B/CN accidentally threw the toy out of the bath (don’t ask how), causing him to whine, Geto sighs, getting up to go and get the boat.

G/C/N took this opportunity to make a run for it after seeing her mom walk by, she crawled out of the tub, and stood on her feet, her naked body standing proudly, B/C/N said a “woah” noise, following his sister, just a bit more clumsily.

As if it wasn’t their first time walking, they both dashed out of the bathroom, following their mother.

“What the hell—? Y/N! Catch the twins! They’re making a run for it!”

Geto said in a panic, it would be easy to catch up to them, but they were small, so it was hard to grab them.

“Making a run for it—on my goddd!!” You said in a panic, running over at the door of the laundry the laundry room as both naked twins jumped on their mother laughing out loud, Geto sighed a breath of relief when he finally makes it to the twins, he couldn’t chose between being happy that they finally walked, or he should be pissed that not only did they wet the carpets, but they ran around the house naked.

“Well…who knew this’ll be their first walk…”

Geto ran his hand through his soft locks, sighing as he bent down to their level.

“Sugu, it seems they won’t take one unless I’m there, how about we all just take a bath together?”

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godihatethiswebsite · 1 year ago

Text

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part 2 - Cultivating a curious mind

You know what? I blame @dragonnarrative-writes for all of this. It's all their fault for poking this part of my brain in the first place even though I was originally just trying to poke theirs ><

There were only so many places you'd been allowed to go growing up even with a chaperone at your side. Mother brought you up the way any well respected young lady should be, and to be honest you felt much more at home in your skirts and dresses working on your drawings in the parlor than you did climbing over the fence in your backyard like your cousin convinced you to. But your father worried Kyle was improperly rubbing off on you and wanted to find you something to fill your head with where you could still be kept an eye on.

His solution: the Museum of Antiquities in Cairo.

After all, how much trouble could you get into reading about dead guys? At least they wouldn't be trying to chase your skirts as you got older.

Father owned his own shipping company that dealt with the transport of goods and wares, ancient artifacts included. He knew the people who were in charge of the facilities and thought this could be a replacement for the adventures your cousin liked to try to drag you on.

The beautifully painted sarcophagi drew in your imagination like a moth to a flame, chiseled sculptures and pillars depicting ancient beings far different than the god you'd been brought up believing in. And weren't you just the most well behaved little girl when your father brought you along on his business trips. All he had to do was put a book in your hand about the Old Kingdom and you'd stay seated right where he left you until it was time to leave. The drawings in your room turned less from pretty landscapes and fresh vases to imitations of the reliefs you'd seen from photographs of burial chamber walls. Your mother was slightly alarmed at first, but once she saw you still happily keeping up with your piano lessons and needlework she quickly gave in.

Once you were old enough to walk around the city by yourself, you stopped by the museum at least once a week just to spend hours wandering the halls - sometimes more if you noticed a new shipment of wares showing up on your father's ledgers that week slated for delivery. Always so eager to witness the unveiling of new items even if they'd never get put on display. One of the perks of growing up around the loading docks and being a sweet well mannered child to the workers.

You didn't work at the museum with Dr. John Price, but you'd frequented there an awful lot to have come to decent terms with the man. Always gruff, a bit rough around the edges, but boy did he have a mind for antiquities.

He wasn't always the easiest man to deal with; someone who didn't have time for the stupidity that came with being around the uneducated masses during business hours. He'd been working there in some capacity or another since you'd first became a patron, though back in those days he'd been a lot less rigid.

At one point you'd been barred from looking at a book that your father deemed had too much suggestive material in it – it was a tome about Tawaret, goddess of childbirth and fertility – and sent over to your favorite reading chair with something about Pepi II instead. Try as you might you couldn't get into it, mind still lingering on the forbidden subject which was just the latest in your stream of mythology research. You'd been half-heartedly flipping through the pages when a shadow passed you by and casually deposited the desired reading material in your lap, not even bothering to glance your way as he kept moving and turned down another aisle. He was clean shaven back then, but he'd made an impression as a kindred spirit willing to look the other way.

Now almost twenty years later you did your best to stay out of his way and disturb him as little as possible, but every so often you'd be fortunate enough to stumble upon him on a good day where he'd indulge you on certain topics of conversation that flowed smoothly, allowing you to see the lingering passionate twinkle of a younger man hiding behind eyes so full of wisdom and tired experience.

(And if you happened by chance to occassionally pass by a tall, large, tank of a dark robed man waiting patiently for his turn to have an audience with Price on your way out of his office – following you with his deep brown eyes and a cloth cover shrouding the lower half of his face from view – you kept your gaze to the floor and gave him a wide respectful berth, only risking a glance back at the individual long enough to see the broad planes of his back disappearing behind Price's door with a click of the lock)

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[Edited 5/8/24: changed formatting, title, tags, and numbering system]

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chavahlahdraws · 2 years ago

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okay i see you’re obviously a fan of hmc, as you should, but i have a question cause i read the book but people on tiktok pissed me off (as booktok usually does i’m about ready to get rid of it) and a lot of people were saying it’s weird that people love the relationship even though sophie “didn’t really love him” because she was charmed. but i was like no y’all i thought she really loved him?? like she stays with him to have a kid right so???

ok. here is a real way to comment on this yippee! this is actually aweslome because i get to do my little sophie rant.

first of all and most importantly - sophie was never charmed by howl. quite the opposite, really, which i would argue is how she fell for him in the first place.

“Oh, confound that gray-and-scarlet suit!” Sophie said. “I refuse to believe that I was the one that got caught with it!” The trouble was the blue-and-silver suit seemed to have worked just the same. She stumped a few steps further. “Anyway,’ she said with great relief, “Howl doesn’t like me!”

this is by far one of my favorite sophie moments in the whole book: and i understand the confusion here for more than one reason (will explain more later!) but clearly she’s using the gray and scarlet suit as a euphemism because she’s in denial. after everything she’s seen of him, sophie refuses to believe that she could fall in love with someone who is so intrinsically flawed—however, as we find at the end of the book—they’re the same in that respect.

howl is by no means a bad person or an evil person in the slightest, and despite herself sophie falls in love with him because of his kindness (like most people do, anyway) here’s some times that they bond …

More about Howl? Sophie thought desperately. I have to blacken his name! Her mind was such a blank that for a second it actually seemed to her that Howl had no faults at all. How stupid! “Well, he’s fickle, careless, selfish, and hysterical,” she said. “Half the time I think he doesn’t care what happens to anyone as long as he’s all right-but then I find out how awfully kind he’s been to someone. Then I think he’s kind just when it suits him-only then I find out he undercharges poor people. I don’t know, Your Majesty. He’s a mess.”

“Behold the new Royal Wizard,” he said. “My name is very black.” Then he began to laugh, much to the surprise of Sophie and Michael. “And what did she do to the Count of Catterack?” he laughed. “I should never have let her near the King!” “I did blacken your name!” Sophie protested. “I know. It was my miscalculation,” Howl said.

Howl pointed a shaky hand up toward the canopy of his bed. “That’s why I love spiders. ‘If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try, again.’ I keep trying,” he said with great sadness. “But I brought it on myself by making a bargain some years ago, and I know I shall never be able to love anyone properly now.” The water running out of Howl’s eyes was definitely tears now. Sophie was concerned. “Now, you mustn’t cry-”

“If you come out here alone, bring your stick to test the ground with,” Howl said. “It’s full of springs and bog. And don’t go any further that way.”

As she had feared, the hard black-and-white daylight coming through the broken wall showed her that Howl had not bothered to shave or tidy his hair. His eyes were still red-rimmed and his black sleeves were torn in several places. There was not much to choose between Howl and the scarecrow. Oh, dear! Sophie thought. He must love Miss Angorian very much. “I came for Miss Angorian,” she explained. “And I thought if I arranged for your family to visit you, it would keep you quiet for once!” Howl said disgustedly. “But no-”

Howl rose up on his hands and knees with a scramble. “I can’t stay,” he said. “I’ve got to rescue that fool Sophie.” “I’m here!” Sophie said, shaking his shoulder. “But so is Miss Angorian! Get up and do something about her! Quickly!”

Howl looked a little sad, but he said, “We were both hoping you would. Neither of us wanted to end up like the Witch and Miss Angorian. Would you call your hair ginger?” “Red gold,” Sophie said. Not much had changed about Howl that she could see, now he had his heart back, except maybe that his eyes seemed a deeper color-more like eyes and less like glass marbles. “Unlike some people’s,” she said, “it’s natural.” “I’ve never seen why people put such a value on things being natural,” Howl said, and Sophie knew then that he was scarcely changed at all.

and finally…

“Sophie,” said Martha, “the spell’s off you! Did you hear?” But Sophie and Howl were holding one another’s hands and smiling and smiling, quite unable to stop. “Don’t bother me now,” said Howl. “I only did it for the money.” “Liar!” said Sophie.

howl and sophie are meant for each other! they compliment each other immensely, and it’s difficult to describe how well they do so concisely. what i can pin it down to is this: nothing is secret between them. they operate like best friends as well as they do as lovers; they never let anything slide between them! sophie refuses to take howl’s shit when he crosses a line, (and howl vice cersa, especially when sophie is putting herself down) but they also know each other well enough to truly know their intentions when they say anything. a great example of this in hmc is this whole conversation:

“Why did you pretend to run away? To deceive the Witch?” “Not likely!” Howl yelled. “I’m a coward. Only way I can do something this frightening is to tell my self I’m not doing it!” Oh, dear! Sophie thought, looking round at the swirling grit. He’s being honest! And this is a wind. The last bit of the curse has come true! The hot grit hit her thunderously and Howl’s grip hurt. “Keep running!” Howl bawled. “You’ll get hurt at this speed!” Sophie gasped and made her legs work again. She could see the mountains clearly now and a line of green below that was the flowering bushes. Even though yellow sand kept swirling in the way, the mountains seemed to grow and the green line rushed toward them until it was hedge high. “All my flanks were weak!” Howl shouted. “I was relying on Suliman being alive. Then when all that seemed to be left of him was Percival, I was so scared I had to go out and get drunk. And then you go and play into the Witch’s hands!” “I’m the eldest!” Sophie shrieked. “I’m a failure!” “Garbage!” Howl shouted. “You just never stop to think!” Howl was slowing down. Dust kicked up round them in dense clouds. Sophie only knew the bushes were quite near because she could hear the rush and rattle of the gritty wind in the leaves. They plunged in among them with a crash, still going so fast that Howl had to swerve and drag Sophie in along, skimming run across a lake. “And you’re too nice,” he added, above the lap-lap of the water and the patter of sand on the water-lily leaves. “I was relying on you being too jealous to let that demon near the place.”

sorry for the chunky quote, but this is super super important for our two silly little characters and their dynamic!!

and as for the misconception that sophie was charmed by howl:

mrs. pentsemmon actually hints when she meets sophie that she cursed the grey and scarlet suit herself (out of jealousy, though she’d never say it) and the original passage says that;

The trouble was the blue-and-silver suit seemed to have worked just the same.

Sophie knows for a fact that she felt the same about Howl when he was wearing the blue and silver suit that she did when he wore the enchanted one, and she knew from that that she most definitely wasn’t affected by the charm.

also! a little note about misconceptions in general: the first time i read hmc, the ending scene felt out of nowhere. but that’s how subtly dwj worked in the character development throughout this story! at it’s core hmc is a character based story, and howl and sophie are the most important characters (sophie especially!) but in the first read through i think we all focused on the plot a little more since we didn’t know that was what it was. every read through since, i’ve seen how howl and sophie fall in love in real time! and it’s undeniable then. :3

anyways! relationships written by a woman always win fr. thanks for listening to my rant if you made it this far. and my good friend @thatfoolsophie if you have anything to add, please do to this already crazy long post lmao :3

#hmc book #howl’s moving castle #hmc #dwj #sophie hatter #howell jenkins #howl pendragon #howls moving castle #sophie x howl #howl and sophie #long post #book analysis

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stromuprisahat · 1 year ago

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Why do Zoya stans dunk on Alina constantly when without her she'd be dead I don't understand. At least Alina wasn't handed the crown and a throne by her prince bf. It's the people who'd already declared her the Sun Queen something we can't say about Zoya who's male LI had to scheme and bribe people to declare her as their queen.

I don't see how "Nazyalensky" rule will last tbh. Alina was loved because the sun summoner had some religious significance in their world (I think it's because of the existence of fold she was seen as the savior) but Zoya's dragon avatar doesn't have any of that. Like her being a dragon just feels so random to me i really can't take it seriously. Is there any public love for her that there was with Alina? And what happened to the majority of Grisha who sided with the darkling? Where did they go? Did they just accept the monarchy? So many questions

I don't know. I've blocked so many idiots, fandom drama usually doesn't reach me.

There are several issues with both of them.

It's true I don't know, what would Zoya do, if Alina didn't appear to claim the Second Army. Until the Sun Summoner shows up, the remaining Little Palace Grisha are prisoners in their own home. The only person we know of, that was doing anything, is Sergei, who worked on paperwork and probably kept an eye on day-to-day the way his limited options let him. Zoya was bitching, but not contributing.

Her behaviour points towards being a big-mouthed follower, waiting for another powerful figure to worship. Which she does, eventually. Alina becomes the flawless Saint in her memories.

I don't remember Nikolai bribing anyone to proclaim Zoya, but then again- the whole passage was so stupid I was trying not to cry the whole time, while reading it, so I might've missed it.

Alina is more likely to keep the power she had as the Sol Koroleva, but none of it was her merit either. While there likely was some myth regarding Sun Summoners, we don't know anything about it, and in books we're told in several places the Apparat was actively spreading the myth he created about her.

Sometimes I was Sankta Alina, sometimes Alina the Just or the Bright or the Merciful. Daughter of Keramzin, they shouted, Daughter of Ravka. Daughter of the Fold. Rebe Dva Stolba, they called me, Daughter of Two Mills, after the valley that was home to the nameless settlement of my birth. I had the vaguest memory of the ruins the valley was named after, two rocky spindles by the side of a dusty road. The Apparat had been busy breaking open my past, sifting through the rubble to build the story of a Saint.

Siege and Storm- Chapter 10

What she does, is wave and smile. She sucks in leadership and doesn't become better with time. She's misguided at best, and fails even in her official main quest- the Fold isn't destroyed by her, just as it isn't destroyed well.

But hey- it's not entirely her fault. She's victim of her enviroment as much as the author's.

I can see where Alina's support comes from- there's faith to built on, probably a legend we're not aware of, whole net of priests spreading it, Alina tours the country for a while and appears with the Prince, meeting diplomats and delegates...

Zoya's following a new king around, rumoured to be his mistress. One of three Grisha he closely works with a few months after nation-wide pogroms hunting them? Young King with head full of innovations and changes (both usually distrusted, when first applied), rumored to be bastard...

Alina was considered a Saint in her own right.

Zoya's one of many Grisha first and foremost, drawing power from her connection to Nikolai. She wasn't appearing with Alina, she wasn't seen with her by considerable amount of surviving people, they weren't seen to be close in any way. Her reputation of "war hero" is built on nothing. Her close ones claim she fought alongside Alina, and there's too little people to dispute (or confirm) it.

Neither of them have any real achievements, until Zoya sells her soul body to and for a dragon nuke, that's somehow better than the Fold nuke.

Even associations with their power can't be compared and deemed of similar weight. While Sun is mostly viewed in positive light (pun absolutely intended), dragons usually have negative connotations. If you told me Zoya's worshipped in Shu Han- a country inspired by China (I guess.)-, I would believe it, but Slavic countries aren't nearly as clear-cut in their relationship to giant flying lizards (If I'm wrong about China, feel free to correct me- my knowledge of its folklore is superficial at best.). Sure, dragons might be wise and otherwordly (like snakes), but also malevolent and dangerous.

Either way, Zoya's rule has no real(istic) support, and I would love to read a good story about it's gruesome collapse.

As for Aleksander's Grisha- we weren't supposed to ask about them during TGT, so what makes you think they exist now? Unless they're here to establish the Darkling enjoyed killing little children and torturing helpless widows or whatever...

#reply #Grishaverse #grishanalyticritical #Alina Starkov #Zoya Nazyalensky #Cult of the Sun Saint #S&S Chapter 10 #Grisha loyalists #self centred and paranoid #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo #anti Zoya #anti Leigh Bardugo

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ryminadventures · 3 months ago

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hai guys!!!

rymin will be posted later today! dont worry! i just wanted to say its officially been

1 year!!!

since i got back into infinity train as a special interest of mine! (it’s been around for years…)

infodump and random talk about my experiences below <33

infinity train was always an interest and general hyperfixation to me since the pilot came out. that only grew with the first official season.

surprisingly, my favorite book is actually book 2, despite my love for rymin.

nonetheless, at the end of 2021 i had stepped away from infinity train, not because of growing distance from the series, but rather because of some hate i had received in the larger cartoon space which made me pull away from fandoms and fandom culture, but especially infinity train.

i won’t lie and say it was entirely the internet’s fault, i had fault in it too. i was a dumb little shit on the internet who was freshly 18 and didn’t understand that my actions would now have more severe consequences placed against me. i was also very heavily online and didn’t go out much, which stunted my emotional growth.

i’ve reflected on my past and realized i was the one who was the problem. i stepped away, i learned. i forgave those who turned away from me, i forgave those who would never forgive me. some things you can fix, but those scars and cracks will never fully go away. it’s better to embrace them and how they made you a better person than hide, i’ve learned.

everything that had happened kept me distant from something i loved, something that brought me genuine joy anytime i thought about it. i wasn’t able to draw them, write about them, even watch the show for 2 whole years without feeling sick to my stomach.

but i’ve grown since then. like a lot. even when people said i couldn’t. even when people thought i would never even try to take initiative and try to better myself. and i know it’s weird to post this on my silly rymin account instead of on my main where i can just ramble about whatever, but i felt it was more appropriate to say it here than anywhere else. i feel it’s best to be transparent about everything even if this is a silly meme account.

on this day in 2024, i was able to watch infinity train book 4: duet. on this day in 2024 my spark and love for this show and for rymin as a whole reignited. and i know it sounds cheesy and crass, and i will definitely regret spilling my feelings in the morning when it’s time to actually post, but i’ve never been happier than i am wandering around with my rymin plushies in my bag to take stupid pictures.

if you actually read through, thank you.

happy infinity train day to me <3

#infinity train #rambles #rambling #not a rymin post #at least not yet #thank you #i love them #i love this show #i love you all #you’re the best

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liaa--qb · 1 year ago

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why sudden hate on darklinas if team green stans rha*nicent, rhaegon ? Atleast Darklina was meant to be canon

Oh God🤦🏻‍♀️ !!!!!! Who is hating darklinas... moreover just bcz I mentioned them once😭 ( btw it was hated enough by it's author herself🤣 I can very much say that after wasting my time grisha books. sorry not sorry 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Before commenting anything some of u really need to read with open eyes n brain instead of ass.

I never hated darklinas or Darkling. I ship them too. Atleast book or whole story should be good enough to even hate or like any character first of all which it never had😑. Darklina is like very much any problematic random Ya bad guy and good girl silly ships u see on daily basis. Nothing more bad than any other Ya ships.

( LB n SJM are not even good writer. I don't like their work at all. Just over hyped to me. Honestly I still think how snb was not cancelled just after S1. If u have problem wf one of my post which wasn't even about them🤷🏻‍♀️ it's ur delulu headache buddy. I don't even involve with them much someone just asked me including Darkling's name that's y I replied... Btw I knew this would happen, bc If someone points one bad thing, all of them will cry their ass out.)

the point was something else n ur question is also wrong. Problematic has nothing to do with canon or non canon for ur info. Majority of YA canon ships are problematic but you can like whatever the f u want.

I never said that Rhaenicent is any healthy ship. Rhaenicent, Daemyra, alysmond , helaegon n majority of ships in hotd are problematic. It's just their Stans fighting is like one idiot jumping on another idiot.That's what I am always mentioning. That's just funny and extremely stupid to like one problematic ship or character n attacking on Stans of other problematic ships n characters.

Some of them shamelessly fight as if their life depends on it. It's really dumb honestly 😂. No one is stopping them btw they can do the heck they want to but also they should not even have problem if someone is pointing out their silliness that's it🤷🏻‍♀️. It's a free fandom ! Just bcz I mentioned some of TB Stans hyporcrisy once , idiots thought I am team green when I am srsly far away from this nursery kid color fight

Same way many of green stans also developed this stupid habit of making their characters as pure Angels just because of the changes done by the show itself which is rubbish instead of that they should really go for better storyline for every character. " Them saying no one should support TB after BnC is....😑" Like y ? Not saying that it was bad but bad things were done from both sides. Aemond n Daeron would have done way worse with Jace n strong boys if all their parents were dead honestly.

just like Alicent's anger on Aemond losing an eye was absolutely correct that same way Rhaenyra's anger was also justified, so would Helaena's anger as she and her children were having no fault in all of this

You can like the villian and their reasons for becoming the villain but I would not say they didn't deserve their death or punishment n I would not give any apology reasons ' like no he wasn't the bad guy or he wasn't a villian'. That's what I am always pointing but logic and GOT/FNB die hard Stans are never at same place 🤡

And regarding ur take one darkling or Darklina, I don't hate Darkling but ye he's not among my fav villians or any good written at all. Not only him, I don't like any single character from that book.

If I love Homelander, Klaus, soldier boy, Tom riddle, Rafe, Billy, Jerome, Roose bolton, Euron Greyjoy.., do you really think I would be anti Darkling or care fr him enough 😂 like these r just some tv screen villains I like but if I started talking about my actual favourite bad guys from Grim dark fantasy novels like Jorg ancrath n many more, Darkling would look like little twink infront of them😭

so pls think.. using your brain is not a big deal 🙏🏻

#house of dragons #hotd fandom #hotd discussion #hotd discourse #daemyra #rhaenicent #alysmond #shadow and bone #darklina #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targeryan #alicent hightower #aemon targaryen #aegon the second #aegon targaryen

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whatsyaname · 2 years ago

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Hi.

I can't reveal who i am but i used to be a ex moot of tee (@/saetoru) and i don’t care if this seems cowardly to make a page just to call her out. after seeing lots of people share their experiences with tee i’d like to also add and show some of the stuff she’s done to remind people she’s not as angelic as she makes herself out to be.

me and tee weren’t close as she was with her little clique (they know who they are) and other people but the main reason we aren’t moots anymore is because i broke the mutual. after seeing a callout post about her way back in oct. 2023 with other people’s stories in the thread of reblogs / link (i’m sure you guys saw)

i simply didn’t wanna be associated with someone like that. i was just confused why tee was acting like it wasn’t her fault. she said she doesn’t have to provide proof because she doesn’t owe anyone anything when that doesn’t make sense. because if you’re gonna accuse someone, always provide proof otherwise it’s safe to assume you’re lying.

this was Tee’s response back in october to her being called out by one of her old moots also, she deleted this a few days before she returned to make it seem like nothing happened but oh it did. i’m putting this here for people to see again (if you already haven’t) because just look at this.

this is what a narcissistic manipulator sounds like!

the biggest thing that made me scratch my head was for her to immediately bring up past drama to redirect the situation and make herself seem like the good person, and address the other party as a “white girl who blackfishes,” and she tried taking the attention off her to bring up palestine.

are you serious? if she so called “blackfished” why were you supporting/defending her in the first place? shouldn’t you be in the wrong too? the party she was talking about didn’t even blackfish, from what i can recall it was a simple tan so again, this was Tee reaching and blowing things way out of proportion.

she keeps mentioning some random bnha blog but never gives the @ so she’s probably lying. how are you gonna accuse someone of plagiarism then your only evidence is “oh me and my moots saw the whole thing, so you know i’m not lying.” girl bffr. and for her to even say something as childish and stupid as “she’s stolen ppl’s skin tones and she’s stolen their ideas. not much to left to take besides your identity at that!”

you and i both read that right? this is a supposed 20+ year old, saying something as kiddish as that. she even exposed the persons @ in the tags and why did she do that? so she can make her thousands of followers / anons spam their inbox with threats, derogatory names, and literally anything else. and she has the nerve to say she’s not enabling that kind of behavior with her audience. she’s abusing her following and it’s showing.

and for her to sit there and say it’s not her fault for being in her own space and name dropping people without actually name dropping them is just absurd. subposting is the lowest of the low. If you’re gonna talk shit at least put the url while you’re at it. people can tell who you’re talking about even if you’re being discrete.

She has a private blog called @/clorindes where she uses it to "vent" and bash writers and laugh it off with her moots and even followers.

i know of this particular blog because like many others, if you followed tee that blog (her private) would appear in ‘blogs like…’ or ‘recommended to follow.’ after tee got called out, she privated it but it’s still up.

(i recommend blocking that blog) because i’m sure she’ll activate it again once things settle. i hope that’s not the case because how many drama, discourse posts, call outs does it take for her to fully leave this platform? this is chronically online mentality at its finest.

it’s been an ongoing rumor that tee has this tumblr 'burn book' to blacklist writers on this platform and it’s proven to be true. some of tees even own mutuals are in there, and its just embarrassing. you have to constantly remind yourself this is a 20+ y/o person acting like this, out of all platforms, tumblr…

i remember a while back tee drove off a few blogs just for having the same theme concepts as her. (is that even a thing?) like tee used to have instagram themes i think, yet when she found other blogs having the same, she’d send her thousands of anons to harass that person, and be so butthurt over a theme.

not gonna lie, her themes are generically basic and doesn’t even look like it takes much effort. so what is there to copy. i’m not saying copying themes are good and okay, but she takes things too far. i can see if it’s writing, but a theme or a layout? i just find it so mind boggling people stick by her side and support her still.

from her old blog she’d always say sneaky comments like these and laugh it up with her mutuals in the comments. it’s really…something, because why do you care what those writers do? she reeks of jealousy and envy, literally look at her tone.

“we all know yall just want the notes and numbers.” um, yeah? everyone wants recognition on their work, it feels good to know your works being appreciated. and her jab at shading writers who write half paragraphs was so unnecessary. because again, why do you care? how are those writers hyping each other up seen as ‘shady’ or ‘fishy’ behavior? just say you’re jealous and go.

she acts like she doesn’t do the exact same thing with her cult of friends on tumblr, spamming the tags with wtv.

miss tee, flat out you’re a nobody.

you have no right to judge how someone write. who cares if you have 30k+ followers on this old ass site. congrats ….i guess? in the real world, you’re just a miserable person who likes torturing people online.

she has this thing of coming after upcoming big blogs, if i’m not mistaken, the most recent one was a known jjk writer, kazu _____ another was a popular multi account munson____, and there were multiple others i’m sure. her following count boosts her ego a lot, that i can see. and she thinks it’s okay to say whatever and not get held accountable. well now she is.

notice how she came back to tumblr after a two month hiatus, turned anons on then back off. and shes been inactive for a few days. she’s running away from the drama because she knows exactly it’s no one’s fault but hers.

if you look through the long thread i linked earlier, actually read through the reblogs. if multiple various ppl are coming out to share their experiences (with receipts) chances are you should be able to tell who’s lying! she needs to be stopped and ran off the app, not those blogs who didn’t do anything. tee’s been involved with drama for a long time like i said before, way back in her tokyo rev/hq era in her @/hanmas era. so about three to four years ago.

it’s been said tee and her mutuals send anons to harass other writers and i wouldn’t be surprised if that’s true.

again, it’s a shame you have to remind yourself this is a grown woman in her twenties acting like this on tumblr. it’s sickening and she needs to grow up, and get the hell off this platform before she drives anyone else off.

thats all! thank you for reading

#saetoru #Hope she sees this too.#stop supporting her #her moots and followers who ignore her are JUST as bad as her #she’s been in drama since 2021 (her tokrev era)#get a grip this is tumblr dot com #She needs a reality check and it should have been her ran off the app instead of those innocent blogs #to people who lost their blogs to her I’m so sorry #I hope you all are at peace.

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the-casbah-way · 2 years ago

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im fucking wheezing about that last post lmao. he WOULD. anyway please share the failed marriage lore <3 i love them -rivstyx

i could write an entire prequel on octavius and amelia's cringefail marriage alone but here is just a little lore off the top of my head

they went to rome for their honeymoon and wanted to kill each other after an hour because octavius just wanted to mansplain every monument and statue but amelia wanted to have a Proper Adventure and every time amelia tried to speak to a native to improve her italian octavius would correct her pronunciation before she could even finish her sentence and it got to the point where she was literally begging him to stop talking because he was annoying her so much <3

there was never a proposal. they were just eating dinner one night and it was like "everyone is expecting us to get married" "yeah" "we should probably do that then" "ok"

octavius never told amelia he was getting a cat he just showed up with one after work one day. and amelia started to get genuinely irritated very quickly because suddenly her emotionally constipated husband who has never shown affection in his life was cradling this cat like a newborn and calling it every pet name under the sun and talking to it in a stupid baby voice

all of amelia's friends hated octavius but her parents LOVED him which is half the reason she felt pressured to marry him in the first place. he was the rich successful man they always wanted instead of her and she always resented him for it even though she never said it

they tried couples therapy once but octavius kept zoning out because the therapist was really hot and amelia scrapped the whole thing because every session made her want to strangle him even more

they both hate their parents and it was one of the few things that kept them bonded during their marriage. whenever their parents would visit they'd both do terrible impressions of them while they weren't looking to try and make each other laugh

you know about the dreaded sexting incident but that's just the tip of the sexual nightmare iceberg. there's the time amelia accidentally said the name of one of her male colleagues during sex. the time octavius started getting bored and awkward and nervous during a blowjob and asked if he could read a book during it to distract himself. the time ahkmenrah walked in on them. the time ahkmenrah and octavius had sex literally an hour after the divorce papers went through. i could go on

octavius’ cat vomited on amelia’s favourite shoes once and it caused an entire year long ordeal because amelia was Very angry and octavius was very indignant and annoying about it because ‘well i’m sorry but she had to do it somewhere’ and every time they would go shopping amelia would see a nice pair of shoes and passive aggressively be like “i’m pretty sure i had a pair like that once. i wonder what happened to them— oh yes i remember now :)” and then the whole argument would start all over again

once amelia got jealous of one of octavius’ female colleagues because he was spending a lot of time with her and octavius genuinely could not understand why amelia was concerned about this because he completely forgot he was supposed to be pretending to be straight and into women

one of octavius’ deepest and darkest guilty pleasures is musicals which are amelia’s least favourite thing on this earth and sometimes she would catch him subconsciously singing something from a musical under his breath and she would be like can you please shut up and octavius would get very defensive about it because “its not my fault its stuck in my head someone was singing it at work i don’t even like musicals—” and amelia would be like “oh shut up ive heard you in the shower you liar” and it was like a whole thing

they both have the exact same dry overly british sense of humour so even when they ended up hating each other they were still painfully good at making the other laugh without even trying and they would both get bitter and frustrated about it

#down then left #this ask is SO old im sorry i had this in my drafts and forgot to post it #anyway i really really want to write a whole fic about how octavius and amelia met and what went down between them #i love amelia so much i hope she gets to kill her horrible parents <3

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madaboutmunson · 2 years ago

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Baby, You're a Rich Man Too

I Think I Could Have Been Someone - Chapter 1 Ao3 Link Next Chapter

Link to fic overview and all parts

Chapter Summary: Eddie POV Introduction to this AU

Author Notes: This is a mature story, definitely 18+ only.

Tags/Warnings: rockstar!AU; band; touring; music industry; alternate universe; drug usage; alcohol abuse; performing; enemies to lovers; road trip

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

"I do NOT want this assignment, Marney!" Eddie pushes the flimsy file back over to his agent. He already knows what's inside. It shows up at least once a year, which was a relief compared to how frequent the request used to be.

"Eddie, baby, hear me out. It’s not an assignment. It is a project. It could get you back on the radar. It's not even a tour. It's a residency, and his team have already provided you with a list of shots he wants for the book. It's pose, point and shoot, Ed. Easy money." She slides it back over to him, keeping her fingers on top of it firmly, drumming her bright red talons on the card as she looks him right in the eyes, "and it's not like the gigs have been rolling in for you, now have they, sweetheart? Other than the family portrait business that I know you absolutely adore!" She smirks and holds his gaze. Using his favourite pet name against him makes his blood boil, but he isn't angry with her. It was Him.

"Gigs drying up for us is not my fault! The last client wanted all candid behind-the-scenes shots. I provided that. I edited them, barely, because they wanted the realism of life on the road, and they ok'd them. It's not my fault the internet is a cruel, unforgiving place!” Eddie exclaims in annoyance, “Especially when it’s full of Harronites, or whatever those lunatics call themselves." Eddie mumbles under his breath.

She raises her eyebrow at him, "He asked for you specifically." She says, and flicks open the folder revealing an old photo Eddie had taken of Rock Phenom Steve Harrington at one of his shows. He didn’t know what was so special about the picture. He’d taken this shot hundreds of times for artists. It's on a list of shots they can ask for. The artist climbs the barrier, and the hands of the fans reach up to them like worshipers praising their false idol. Eddie waves his hand, and the artist looks straight down the lens. It's supposed to be a duality of intimacy. The solid eye contact with the camera whilst in the arms of strangers, eager to reach out and touch their obsession, which none of them would ever possess. Lest of all, that guy.

What a piece of work. Ruined Eddie’s career and damn near ruined his life!

"He says," she balances her reading glasses on the tip of her button nose and pulls the sticky note from the photo, "no one captures his truth like Eddie Munson." She flips over the message so Eddie can see, “Signed it too. Could be worth something?”

"I've never even spoken to the guy. Why's he so obsessed with me?" Eddie whines, and his agent shrugs.

"Does it matter, Ed? There are a lot more zeros here than we'd see normally."

"Something seems off about this. I don't like it."

"You like his stuff, don't you?"

"Did! I did like his stuff until I published that stupid photo. He's been on my case ever since."

"Not flattered, Eddie?" She laughs

"At first, sure. Until his demands started rolling in, and his fans started giving me grief for declining them. They called me washed up! I hadn't even begun! I thought that picture was gonna be my big break! It went viral! Remember you told me that! But it was actually my demise, Marn!" Eddie seethes, “Imagine calling up your horde of rabid fans because you couldn’t get your way!” He closes the file and folds his arms. “No fuckin’ way! I can’t post a picture of a fucking sunset without his fans all over it like a rash.”

“Then just say yes, Eddie. It can’t be any worse than it is right now.” Marney says with a kind smile of compassion. She did want what was best for him, and though it killed him to admit it, he did need that money. He was in debt up to his eyeballs, barely breaking even at the studio, and the numbers on the cheque he saw could clear that and then some.

Eddie sighs and sinks back into his chair, “I’m gonna regret this. I know I am.” he says tensely, running his hand through his hair.

He looks up at her, and she is already back in her chair, phone in hand, finger poised over the green call button. At his lowest, Eddie admits defeat and nods.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #rockstar!Steve Harrington #rockstar!SteveHarrington #photographer!Eddie Munson #photographer!EddieMunson #steddie au #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #fanfiction #steddie fanfiction #steddie fan fiction #madaboutmunsonITICHBS #madaboutmunson #enemies to lovers #alternate universe

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aceofbooks-creative-anthologies · 8 months ago

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Autumnal Darlings Prompt #23: Movie Night and/or Slasher

autumnal darlings masterlist

I was originally gonna write this from when we were in high school, maybe pre-daisugace, but then, well... the election happened. So this is post-timeskip now. Reminder that this is a platonic selfship.

Background: Ace hasn't been communicating with Tanaka all day. He knows something is wrong, and he also knows just how to cheer up his best friend.

wc: 1824; written in first-person from Ace's POV

Doomscrolling. The act of spending an excessive amount of time reading large quantities of news, particularly negative news, on the web and social media. At least, according to Wikipedia. How does one define excessive exactly? Is it about length of time in one sitting? What if it's one article that's a ten-minute read vs ten that are one minute a piece. What about research dives? Is it still doomscrolling if I'm piecing together historical evidence and scholarly research to show that this is all somehow Reagan's fault?

Being an American overseas has never been easy, as much as Mom would like to argue with me on it. But now the thought of even booking a flight to visit my father for the holidays has my anxiety lighting up like a Christmas tree. It was supposed to be the first time Dad has met Daichi and Koushi in person since my college graduation, but now....

What was even the point of getting that degree anyway? It's not like I'm using it? Stupid fucking housewife, can't do shit—

THUD THUD THUD

The knocking on the front door is hard enough that it rattles my nearly empty glass of water on the bedside table.

I snuggle deeper under the covers. Dai and Kou have keys, so they don't knock. We haven't ordered anything in a while, so no mail deliveries. And no food delivery today either—Dai's on a weird diet to support one of the guys at the station, and Kou and I are suffering alongside.... mostly. (Kou eats lunch at school, so he gets to skip out on five meals a week. I generally don't eat lunch, so I'm out five to seven.)

I start to pull up the security feed on the doorbell, but a phone call comes up instead. "Ryuuuuuuu 😝" shows on the Caller ID, and "You and I" by Anabor starts to play at full volume as his ring tone. Fucker changed his ID again.

"Shitshitshitshit...." I fumble with my phone, trying to decline the call, despite having it directly in my face. Instead, I manage to turn it into a video call.

"Oi!" Ryuunosuke Tanaka is holding his phone at an angle from below, so I'm looking up his nose. But I can see our porch light above him. "Open the door! Need proof of life! Suga! Daichi! Are you in there?!"

"They're not home." I manage to say. I sniffle, unsure whether I'm about to start crying or if I'm finishing up. My cheeks haven't been dry for hours, my nose is raw, and my eyes sting.

"Where are they?! This is probably one of the scariest days of your life! Outside of, y'know, breaking up with that shithole ex of yours and the subsequent six months because his dad was connected to the mob, but still!" I can hear shuffling, like he's adjusting his grip on something he's holding in his hands.

"Ryuuuu," I whine, really not wanting to think about Johsei right now. He still waltzes through my nightmares at least twice a month.

"Where's the damn key?" He takes his phone and puts it between his shoulder and ear, so now I'm getting a really good look at his ear canal. I can hear the jingling of his key ring. "I'm going to lose this pizza if I have to keep fumbling around y'know."

The word "pizza" gets my attention. "Did you get it from that place on third?" I poke my head out from under the covers, but don't commit to getting out of bed yet.

"No, I got it from the place over on fifty-second—of course I got it from third! It's a shitty day, you want shitty pizza. I have Kiyo's keys, so can you please come let me in? Your ice cream is melting too."

Instead of responding, I hang up on him. I crawl out from under the covers, slip on my slippers, and briefly consider pulling the big fluffy comforter off the bed, before picking Koushi's college alumni sweatshirt up off the floor and pulling it over my head instead.

I have to turn on the lights as I make my way through our house. Usually they'd be on by now, I hate having a dark home, but I haven't made it out of the master bedroom suite yet today. I had pulled on Daichi's sweatpants before going to the bathroom first thing, and made the mistake of checking my phone. I went back to bed.

Ryuu is waiting on the other side of the door when I open it. He has the biggest, dopiest grin plastered on his face, two large pizzas and a half gallon of strawberry ice cream balanced in one hand, his backpack slung over one shoulder, and his phone and keys in the other hand. He's still wearing the polo and sweats that his gym has instituted as a "uniform".

I squint into the sunlight, and realize I haven't been wearing my glasses all day. "Did you bail on work?"

"My last two clients for the day are Americans on business trips, so they cancelled on me. Where's Daichi and Suga?"

"Kou has a staff meeting and is going out for dinner after, and Dai was on call and has been at a structure fire since...." I make a point of looking at an imaginary watch on my wrist. "Before I woke up at ten."

"Right. And your glasses are....?" Ryu raises the pizzas over my head and shoulders past me through the doorway, kicks off his slides, and making his way to the kitchen.

"Not totally sure." I close the door and follow him to the kitchen, where he's already put the ice cream away and is pulling plates out of the cabinet.

"Have you taken your meds?" Now he's searching a different cabinet, moving cups around.

"No. And it's too late for me to take them." I open one of the boxes of pizza. The crust is as thin as paper, the sauce is leaking over the sides, the cheese is burnt in places, and the pepperoni (real pepperoni!) has grease pooling like an acne-ridden teenager. Shitty American pizza for a shitty day in America.

"No cat videos AND no meds? I have my work cut out for me." He puts a full glass of water in my field of vision, and I know better than to argue with him, so I drink it down all in one go.

"So, movie night. I grabbed a whole bunch of dollar bin movies from the video store by the gym. What's your flavor of punishment?" Ryuu fills up my glass of water, hands it back, and then starts pulling open drawers. "If I were Ace at 3 AM last night, probably terrified of what I will see when I wake up, where would I have left my glasses that help me walk in a straight line?"

I pull a slice of pizza out of the box, not bothering with a plate just yet. The moan I let out is unnecessarily euphoric as I take my first bite of food today. It's sloppy and mostly tastes of tomato and oil, but it hits the spot. I finish the slice in three more bites and then grab a second.

Meanwhile, Ryuu has wandered off in search of my glasses. He comes back with them as I'm moving onto my third slice. "On the cat tree in your office?" I shrug my shoulders, mouth full. There usually isn't a rhyme or reason to where I leave them when I go to bed, but especially so last night. This morning? Whatever. Ryuu puts them on my face for me and I push them up my nose with my forearm.

Ryuu hops up to sit on the counter and grabs a slice of pizza for himself. "Do they even know?"

I shake my head. "They knew I was worried last night, but they both went to bed before I did. And Dai was going to stay home with me, but then he got called out to the structure fire. I haven't texted or called either of them because they're both busy."

"Y'know they'd wanna be here."

"And you know that I'm not going to pull them away from their jobs just because I'm having a bad day. Kou is raising the future and Dai is saving lives. The results of the American presidential election is by far less important."

Ryuu raises an eyebrow in disagreement, but doesn't push. He licks his fingers clean and then slides off the counter. He goes to the fridge, where he had dropped his backpack on the floor. "Movie night. What are we watching? Bad plot, bad characters, or bad effects?" He unzips the bag and starts staking movies on the counter, simply based on vibes.

"Bad plot. Those are usually the horror movies, right?" I put two slices of pizza on each plate and move towards the living room, knowing that Ryuu will grab napkins and our drinks. I sink into the couch—Kou would have a fit if we spilled this pizza on the kotatsu. The couch cushion covers can be removed and thrown in the wash, the futon not so much.

Ryuu comes in and sets our drinks on the slim table sitting behind the couch, for that exact purpose. He tosses the napkins at my face, and then moves to the television, DVD in hand. Back to me as he crouches, he says, "This one is one of those blank DVDs that you can burn stuff onto. I can't read the title, though. It's in English, but the handwriting is worse than Kageyama's in high school."

"What the fuck did you buy? What if it's a snuff film?!"

He finishes fussing with the DVD player and TV settings and laughs. "I have more questions about it being in the bargain bin than about it being a snuff film, if it is a snuff film." He comes back to the couch and puts his feet in my lap as he sits. I narrowly manage to lift the plates of pizza out of the way in time.

I hand him his plate and we both settle in as the credits start to play. The Nail Gun Massacre flashes across the screen.

Ryuu and I watch the slasher three times all the way through before Kou gets home.

"Love! I'm home!" Kou calls out, shutting the door; he could hear Ryuu and I laughing from outside.

Kou walks in to the living room as the pool scene starts, and he watches in abject horror. "What are you guys watching?!"

I snort, which makes Ryuu double over in laughter, clutching his stomach and rolling off the couch and onto the second pizza box, thankfully empty, on the floor.

"Inarguably the worst slasher film I've ever seen." I say through hiccups, wiping at my eyes with my sleeve.

#the lovers' library #acanaka #daisugace #special collection: autumnal darlings #divider from cafekitsune

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