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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

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Stalker X Stalker, Part 2

First part

Perma tag: @nathleigh

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades

Tim wheeled his bike into the alleyway nearby and set the alarm to call him if someone messed with it beyond the normal ‘must touch cool thing’ instincts.

Once he was sure that his bike couldn’t be easily stolen, he turned back to where Marinette was waiting for him.

She struggled with her phone with her gloved fingers. His lips twitched into a grin and he took a moment to school his face into a neutral expression before he started over.

After a second, her head turned to look at him and she flashed a wink, pocketing her phone.

“Cheers!” She chirped, flashing him a wave.

Tim raised an eyebrow at her behind his domino mask. “I hate to break this to you, but that’s a British thing.”

He could only see the top half of her face, and yet he was sure she was pouting. “Kwami, this is Canada French all over again.”

“Canada --?”

“They speak the language all wrong,” she said, as if that made it make more sense.

“I feel like you’re implying that I speak English wrong.”

“Would you rather I say it outright? ‘Cheers’ is a cute word and it sucks that Americans don’t use it.”

“Is this really a hill you’re going to die on?”

“Not just a hill I’m going to die on, it’s the hill.”

He scoffed lightly at that, then turned to get the door for her. The moment they stepped inside they tensed. The silent stares pressed in on them on all sides and he felt Marinette shuffle just the slightest bit closer to him as they took their place in line. The Gothamites continued watching them -- no, they were watching her -- warily, and of course they were (new people in costumes usually meant pain for them).

Well, he could assure them she was safe, at least.

He slowly, carefully, threw his arm over his shoulders. Marinette’s hand twitched towards the arm on instinct to throw him off, but otherwise she didn’t give much indication that what was going on was weird. There were a few more tense seconds before people turned back to what they were doing, visibly relieved by the fact that she was apparently on the good side. Chatter started back up.

Marinette relaxed slightly under his arm and he gave her shoulder a little squeeze in a weak attempt at comfort.

“Kwami, I forgot how much being a new hero sucks.”

“Vigilante,” he corrected her absently.

She rolled her eyes. “At least try and make it sound like you’re not a cop with a bird theme.”

He sputtered, pulling away to cross his arms over his chest. “Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes!”

She rested her hands on her hips.

“We break laws!”

She snickered. “So do cops.”

Tim… didn’t have a retort for that. Luckily, he didn’t need to have one, because it was their turn to order. Neither of them hesitated and within a minute they had their drinks and were out the door. They waved for the few cameras pointed at them on their way out, false smiles lighting up their faces, and then quickly ducked back into the alleyway to have their drinks in privacy.

“I’m going to start going places as Red Robin more often since it seems to mean I’ll get served quicker,” joked Tim as he leaned against the wall.

She gave him a puff of laughter and then pulled the bottom of her mask up to take a sip of her caramel frappe. He watched her expression for a moment and then decided that it must have been good because she didn’t instantly recoil. He pulled his coffee to his lips and took a confident gulp, only to choke.

“Shit,” he hissed, fighting the urge to spit it out.

Now that he knew what to look for he could see the pain behind her eyes.

“It’s really bad,” she informed him, purposefully just a moment too late in her warning.

He huffed a little, looking at the cup in his hand. It’s an iced coffee! How do you even mess that up?

There was a beat as the two vigilantes considered their options, before giving each other shrugs and downing their drinks. It may have been bad, but at least it was caffeinated. Marinette, lucky her, had an easier time of it because she’d gotten whipped cream with hers. He was tempted to snatch the drink from her hands to have something to wash down the cup threatening to sully the good name of coffee for him…

But he didn’t have to. She smiled and offered him the last of her whipped cream. He squinted at it suspiciously as if expecting it to be poisoned. After the coffee incident just a moment before he wasn’t about to take any chances.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s actually good, promise.”

“If you’re lying I’m taking back vouching for you to Batman,” he told her.

Her eyes crinkled with mirth.

“I’m serious! If it’s terrible I’m marching back to the Batcave --!”

“All the way back?”

“Yes! All the way back to the Batcave! And I’m going to revoke my vouching!”

“Oh noooooo, not the vouching!” She said, bringing her hands to her cheeks in mock terror. When he continued to ‘glare’ at her she snickered and assured him that: “It’s fine, I’m pretty sure it’s from a can.”

He squinted at her, because canned whipped cream was still far below his normal standard, but he did end up taking it. It was… okay.

“See? Not poisoned.”

“Very suspicious thing to say unprompted but okay.”

She grinned, reaching over to swipe some cream off his nose. “You’ll die in exactly four hours”

He rolled his eyes. “Hm. I guess I should go home and work on making an antidote, then.”

“Yeah. Good luck with that. I’ll see you later.” She leaned forward and pressed her mask to his cheek in a sort of kiss before heading off.

He watched her leave, smiling to himself. He leaned back against his motorbike absently, thinking.

Well, he supposed he didn’t need to watch her to make sure she was safe anymore. She was Ladybug, she could take care of herself in a fight…

But then a thought occurred to him: she couldn’t detect him when he had been watching her earlier. He bit his lip anxiously. Sure, he was trained to evade detection but did he really want to chance it? In a place like Gotham the ability to tell when you’re being watched is an absolute must.

Okay. Fine. He’d watch her just a little longer…

Marinette frowned when her phone rang while she was doing some late-night work.

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, M’lady?”

A wide grin stretched across her face and she fell back in her bed. “Chaton! And here I was thinking you would never call!”

Adrien laughed. “Well, our time zones don’t exactly match up and I forgot that your sleep schedule is less of a schedule and more of a suggestion.”

“Fuck you, too, then.”

He laughed and she could hear him shifting around on the other side. She heard him zip something up on the other side and she lit up. “When’re you coming over?” He sighed and that was all it took to let her know that he had bad news. The momentary silence afterwards as he tried to figure out what to say was a good indication, too.

“I can’t, unfortunately. The Son of Hawkmoth moving away right after he gets jailed isn’t a good look. The United States Government isn’t that eager to have me, either.”

She wasn’t about to give up that easily. “Just steal the horse miraculous from Fu and come over illegally.”

He snorted. “Yeah, no, straight up disappearing is even more suspicious, thanks.”

Marinette frowned. She supposed that made sense…

She pulled her cat plush over so she could rest her head against it. “It’s so boring without you.”

“You’re making new friends, right?” He questioned, concerned. “I saw on the news that you’ve met the other vigilantes already.”

“Yeah, I guess… but they clearly don’t trust me.”

“Well, did you trust me when we started out?”

“No…”

“So give them time. They’ll realize you’re the best person on Earth soon enough.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, obviously. They’d have to be blind not to notice that.”

“Well, one of them is called Batman --.”

“I’m hanging up on you.”

He laughed at her and she smiled as she burrowed into her plush.

“Thanks, Chaton.”

“Anytime. Now, go to sleep.”

She rolled her eyes and hung up on him without promising him anything.

He leaned against the concrete of the roof, head on his arms to prevent scratching up his chin as he watched her through the window. He kind of worried about her having the blinds open like that, anyone could look in at her, but at least she closed it at night.

Still, he couldn’t deny that it certainly made things easier for him. She did most things by window light -- to save electricity, he theorized -- so he didn’t have to work all that hard to keep track of her.

Currently, she was working on stitching some pieces of an outfit. Her tongue poked out of her mouth a little when she concentrated, he had learned. A tiny part of him wondered if she did that as Ladybug, too, and he just couldn’t see it under her mask.

He kind of wished he could ask. Maybe one day he would (if they ever got close enough for him to reveal he’d been watching her without her knowledge, of course).

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts, and he groaned to himself as he synced his earbuds and picked up.

“Yeah, B, what do you need?”

Listen, Marinette liked her job. She had the privilege of designing most of the outfits she did and that was a lot of fun -- certainly more fun than working solely on commissions -- but… sometimes she just wants to be told what to do. Artist’s Block is real and it fucking sucks.

Thankfully, Gotham gave quite a bit of inspiration. The difference between Gotham and Paris was striking. Paris was pristine; lots of tourists meant keeping the city in a constant state of newness, all bright colors and surfaces so clean you can see your reflection in them. Gotham, on the other hand, felt exceptionally lived in; graffiti, decaying buildings, cracked sidewalks…

She found a nice vantage point that overlooked the city and looked out over the horizon. That was another difference between the two: the height of buildings in Gotham was far more varied than those of Paris. It was more interesting to look at, she thought.

(It had been a point of annoyance at night as she could no longer jump from rooftop to rooftop with ease, but that’s not the point here.)

Maybe she could do something inspired by all the different heights. Audrey would probably like a dress like that.

She smiled walking to a nearby gargoyle. Red graffiti dubbed them Charlie, and who was she to not use his preferred name?

“Hello, Charlie, may I sit on you?” She joked quietly.

Charlie did not answer, not that she really expected him to.

She perched herself on the gargoyle’s back and pulled her sketchbook from a secret pocket in her leather jacket. She hummed tunelessly as she sketched out the shape.

Layers of different lengths -- and different colors, too, of course, she thought as she pulled out some colored pens (what’s the point of different layers if you don’t make it rainbow?) -- and oh it definitely had to trail a little in the back for the drama…

Artist’s block hit her like a too-high wall on patrols as she stared at where the bodice needed to be. What should she do? Obviously it needed to be relatively simple otherwise she risked the dress being an eyesore but…

It was just her luck that the moment she came to a decision about what to do for the bodice and accessories is the moment the first water droplet hit her sketchbook. She pulled her gaze to the sky and noticed the storm cloud overhead.

Shit, it was starting to rain.

She looked back down at her sketchbook, irritation spiking under her skin.

Option one: tough it out and continue drawing so she doesn’t risk forgetting the idea she’d had.

Option two: don’t risk her outfit (or her health, she guessed) and just head inside like a sane person.

… Marinette chose option one. She wouldn’t be herself without the occasional bad decision.

She drew her jacket over her head and hunched over her sketchbook as she continued sketching out her design.

Except, after a few minutes, she didn’t feel the beat of the rain on her jacket. She blinked a few times because she could still hear the rain nearby and she started to wonder if she had died somehow before she caught the sound of someone moving just out of her seeing range.

She turned her head to see a man holding an umbrella over her head, her jacket falling back to rest on her shoulders.

She gave him a once over. It was a little paranoid, she could admit, but she was in Gotham; it paid to be cautious. He was wearing a thick trench coat and gloves, which was a big red flag. He also had open posture -- more open than was natural, actually -- what with his slight slouch and hands spread wide in a somewhat placating gesture. The only good thing was that he was keeping a respectful distance, even standing a bit in the rain in order to avoid crowding her.

… well, he had an umbrella, at least.

She gripped the gargoyle tighter with her legs just in case he decided he wanted to try and push her, then turned to face him more.

“Hi,” she said carefully.

“You know, it’s illegal to be up here,” he said, flashing her an almost blindingly white smile.

She grinned. “You’re breaking the law, too, then.”

“Yeah. I won’t tell on you if you don’t tell on me.”

She reached a pinky out and, after a second’s hesitation, he returned the gesture.

Deal made, he wiped some of the water away with gloved fingers and took a seat beside her.

He clearly trusted her more than she trusted him, even allowing his legs to hang over the side of the building. She wondered why, vaguely, but she couldn’t exactly go and ask...

So, instead she smiled and said: “Thanks for the help. Water stains are a bitch to get out of leather.”

“You’re welcome, but I really can’t believe you went out without an umbrella in this city of all places.”

She shrugged sheepishly. “I’m a little new here, to be honest.”

She watched him carefully out of the corner of his eyes. The man frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by her laughter.

“I’m kidding, I’m not stupid enough to genuinely tell someone that. I was just going for the Manic Pixie Dream Girl aesthetic.”

His shoulders relaxed in a way that would have been imperceptible if she hadn’t been trained to check body language. She let herself relax her grip on the gargoyle a little as well; he had been concerned about her right then, he was probably pretty safe. Safe enough to not strain her legs too much, at least.

“Well, I do like your aesthetic,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “The Manic Pixie Dream Girl stuff, my outfit, or what I’m drawing?”

“All of it. But mostly the outfit.”

She felt a faint blush rise to her face but she brushed him off with a: “Yeah, thanks, but I’m not about to start taking fashion advice from a guy in a trenchcoat.”

He gasped and brought his free hand to his chest in mock offense. “Excuse you, this is peak Gotham fashion!”

“It’s shady, that’s what it is.”

“That’s what Gotham fashion is!”

She couldn’t have rolled her eyes harder if she tried. And she did try.

Her gaze fell back to her work and she sighed as she pulled out her pens and started working on finishing up her sketch.

“So, what’re you up here for?” She asked because she didn’t want to risk him getting bored and leaving with the umbrella.

“Hm? Oh, I do photography in my spare time. Figured I’d scope out some new areas.”

“Know all the best places in Gotham?”

“You have no idea.” The man flashed her a grin. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone in person, though, so I figured I’d get some update shots.”

“Well, if we both need to go sightseeing around Gotham for our things, why not do it together?”

He raised an eyebrow at her but she could see the way his lips twitched downwards with concern. “Trust me that much already? We’ve just met.”

“Well, you seem like a nice guy...” She smirked. “And I could totally beat your ass.”

He scoffed and unbuttoned his trenchcoat to prove to her that he did, in fact, have muscles hidden beneath all those layers and she laughed before she noticed the shirt he was wearing.

Holy shit. She’d made that shirt. He was wearing one of her shirts. She could see the gold stitching partially hidden beneath his collar, and fuck maybe she was concerned about all the wrong things.

Her eyes narrowed in on him just slightly. He clearly wasn’t actively hiding the shirt and didn’t seem concerned that he had shown her, which meant he:

a) didn’t know she was MDC,

b) saw her as just another artist,

or c) was showing her on purpose so she could make an informed decision about being his friend.

So… he didn’t seem to be a threat to her.

Maybe she could do some checking up on him, though, just to be safe.

She smiled. “I realize I never got your name. Probably would be a problem if we’re going to be spending more time together from now on.”

He grinned. “Yeah, it’s kinda hard to be friends with someone if you don’t even know their name. I’m Tim Drake.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said, watching his expression carefully.

He remained impassive. She wasn’t sure what that meant -- or if it meant anything at all, for that matter.

She pulled out her phone and offered it to him, taking the umbrella so he could type his number in with both hands. That done, she stuck the phone back in her pocket and smiled up at him.

“I’m stealing your umbrella, by the way,” she informed him, grip tightening on the handle in case he tried to take it back from her.

He grinned and made no move to do so. “If you must. Can you at least walk me inside the building before you run off with it?”

She giggled. “I guess I can do that, yes.”

It had been a long time since Tim had fanboyed this hard.

If he was any younger, he would have fallen back on his bed and squealed like a person in those old movies. As it were, he still wore a dopey smile.

He had MDC’s number! And not her work number, because he’d already had that, this was her real number!

And, even cooler, she might just let him go with her to get inspiration! Who wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to watch one of their favorite artists do their thing?!

… oh, yeah, also the protection thing, obviously. That was the whole reason he was doing this, after all.

It would be so much easier to protect her if he went out with her on these excursions. Just being around men tended to ward off potential assailants. It was perfect!

Which meant he wouldn’t have any reason to follow her for her own protection anymore…

Wait, what about when she needed to go out for chores like groceries? She’d still need to be safe for that! Gotham is a scary place! What if someone tried to follo -- what if someone tried to mug her or something dangerous like that? No, she still needed his help!

Yeah, no, he has to do this. It’s for her own safety.

#haha this took forever dont @ me #timinette #timari #shutterbug #timmari #tim drake #red robin #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #maribat #stalker x stalker

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ms-starflower · 3 years ago

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Spook-tober Day 1 — Decorating

@maribat-october-rarepairs

So, technically, it’s October 2nd for almost two hour here, but it’s probably still the 1rst somewhere, right? Well, I don’t care anyway.

It’s my first time writing for an event (Maribat or otherwise) and I wanted to write both prompts for Spook-tober - Maribat Month and the Maribat Rare Pairs Month, but didn’t have time to start writing before 11pm.

This one's for Spook-tober, though it could also qualify as rarepair since it's a Stephinette (is that the correct shop name???), because Steph is my Queen (Cass too, but I wanted Steph today). Though they don't interact (yet) but I think I’ll write a follow up for other days' prompt, maybe (day 9 and 21, I’m looking at you,).

Anyway, let’s start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You sure you got the right address, miss?” The cab driver asked her with a skeptic expression. It would have been alright if the man hadn’t asked the same thing in at least twenty different ways during the ride.

“Yes, thank you Monsieur. I’m exactly where I wanted to be,” Marinette answered with a tight smile, like the twenty previous times. Giving him the money she owed him, she got out of the car to stand in front of the gigantic gate of Wayne’s Manor. The place was kind of intimidating.

Still hearing the car behind her when she reached the intercom, she turned toward it. The driver was shamelessly looking at her, probably waiting for her to get refused access.

“Are you waiting for something, sir?” She asked, tilting her head slightly.

“You’re gonna need a ride back, don’t ya? I’m already here, might as well,” he smiled at her with condescending amusement. Marinette was tempted to tell him that she would prefer to go back to the city on foot than to get into his car again. But her parents raised her better than that, so she only smiled politely.

“There is no need, sir, I really don’t know how long I’m going to stay here.”

“Yeah, right,” the man huffed, still staring at her.

Deciding to just ignore him, Marinette turned to push on the intercom’s only button. It took a minute before an elegant and accented voice responded.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

“Ah, hello sir. I’m Marinette, Jason asked me to come?”

“Indeed, Master Jason warned me to expect you.”

When the gate opened, Marinette made a point to turn around to smile and wave goodbye at the cab driver. She would cherish his dumbstruck expression for a long time.

Her victory was short lived, though, when she saw how long the march from the gate to the house was going to be. Jason better be on the brink of death. Or the world, she wasn’t picky.

When she finally got there, an old gentleman she thought might be Alfred was waiting for her.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng, I’m Alfred, the family’s butler, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Alfred said with a kind smile and a nod.

“The pleasure is all mine, sir. And just Marinette is fine,” she told him kindly, walking into the house. “Jason is okay, right? He didn’t say why he wanted me here, and I have to admit that he got me worried.”

Jason had been determined to keep her as far away from his family as he could manage before, and the sudden change was really odd.

“I see,” Alfred said slowly, closing his eyes for a second. “Master Jason is alright, Miss Marinette, do not worry. He just… Well, why not let Master Jason explain the situation to you himself. If you would follow me.”

Marinette followed him for a couple minutes through a couple of corridors, before he opened the doors to… a battlefield.

She thought that, maybe, it was supposed to be a living room, but it was hard to say, under all those decorations. They were literally everywhere. Throwing on the couches, a couple of boxes were overturned in a corner, a couple of garlands of little cartoon ghosts hanging hazradly from the chandelier. It was a mess, but she could see that someone probably tried to… decorate? Maybe? It was a really bad job, though.

Jason and a man she assumed to be his brother were battling with a plastic pumpkin and a skeleton respectively, while two more men and a woman—probably also Jason’s siblings, she heard Bruce Wayne was kind of a serial adopter— were cheering on the sidelines and a brooding teenager was glaring at them. Everyone froze as soon as they realized that they weren’t alone anymore. Alfred only sighed, nodded at her before going back to where they came from.

“Hey! Pixie! Great, you’re here,” Jason exclaimed excitedly, letting go of the pumpkin he was shoving into his brother’s face and stauttered toward her.

“Jason, in the name of everything that’s holy, what the hell?” Marinette asked with a voice deceptively calm. She could see the woman and one of the men behind Jason wince at her tone. Good.

“Well, see, we wanna decorate the house for Halloween, now that it’s time—”

“Jason,” she interrupted incredulously. “We are in September!”

“Well, technically, it’s already October in Russia,” the man that had been fighting with Jason piped up.

“Yeah, what Timbers said,” Jason said with a serious nod while Marinette could only look at him in astonishment. “Anyway, Bruce said we can decorate all the room in the Manor like we wish if we can make this one presentable, without the help of Alfred. And I really want to make a cat theme for his bedroom, so I thought; hey, you know a designer…”

“I’m a fashion designer, Jason, not an interior designer!”

“Same difference, Pixie. You’re my only hope, all of them are hopeless in terms of good taste.”

Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose, ignoring the various protests from Jason’s sibling, before taking out her phone.

“So you proceeded to send me ‘Hey Pix,” she said, reading the message he sent her earlier with a bad imitation of his voice. “‘Need you at the manor asap, urgence lvl 3’ before ignoring me, making me think that the world was probably ending—”

“World ending is at least a lvl 5, Pix, come on,” Jason interrupted with an offended expression. She ignored him.

“—Forcing me to take a cab with a absolute jerk driver—”

“Why did you take a cab? You have a car!”

“Adrien took the car, he is visiting Chloé in New York. But that’s not the point. The point, Jason, is that all of that was because you needed me to help you decorate for a day that is literally in a month?”

“Hey, Halloween is a very important celebration,” Jason’s brother, the one that had been cheering the loudest, told her with a solemn expression.

“I’m French, I don’t care about Halloween,” she deadpanned.

“I’m sorry, what?” The one Jason had called Timbers, probably Tim Drake, looked pained at the very idea that someone could not be obsessed by Halloween.

“I mean, we used to make speciales and sales at the bakery, and I’ve been to a couple of costume parties, but we don’t really pay attention to Halloween until around the 25 of October.”

“That’s sacrilegious,” Jason said, and almost all the others agreed in a way or another.

“Maybe for you, Americans,” she told him with amusement. “But it doesn't change the fact that I’m not going to help you.”

What? Why?!” He exclaimed, his eyes widening.

“Because, one, I don’t have anything to gain from it,” she said, showing him one of her fingers before adding a second. “And two, do you know how long the walk between the cab and the door had been? And all of it just for decorations?”

“Aw, come on, Pix! Bruce is going to make Alfred judge, and I have projects for the cat theme!”

“There is nothing you can say that is going to make me change my—”

“Hey guys!” A cheerful voice suddenly interrupted her, the owner barging into the room like a whirlwind. The woman was slightly taller than her, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She had a beautiful smile that brightened the room and Marinette could feel the hearts that were making their way in her eyes. The girl was cute. Uh oh. “You are decorating already?! Cool! Be right back, let me just grab my stuff!”

Then she was gone, and Marinette could only blink slowly, before turning back toward Jason.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“What? Why— Oh, no, no, no! You’re not going to crush on Steph—”

“Oh, her name is Steph? What a lovely name,” she mumbled, looking back in the direction she disappeared. “But if you don’t want my help, I can just ask for her number and let you fend for yourself with the decorations, you know.”

“Pixie!” Jason complained, making his sibling laugh or snicker at him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fun fact: when Marinette says that France doesn't care about Halloween until around October 25th, I’m talking from personal experience. I don’t know if it’s the same in all of France, but I grew up in Paris’ region (It’s not Paris Paris, but it’s like, the places all around and we call it régions parisienne) and they don’t care about it. Where I live, the shops don’t start selling Halloween themed candy before, like a week (maybe two?? when they start early) before Halloween and the children rarely go trick or treating. (I lived in this house for ~five/six years, and I’ve never got a child knocking for candy on Halloween.)

Again, I’m not saying it was like that for everyone in France, maybe it was only my city, but I thought it funny to have this opposition between Marinette and the Batkids.

#MaribatHalloween21 #maribat #mlb x dc #platonic jasonette #stephinette

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chromes-corner · 3 years ago

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Filling out my cacao storyline bingo card + explanations and stuff

(Spoilers under cut)

BINGO!!!!! 🥳

Okay I’m going to go through every square and talk about them bc I have too much time on my hands (ones marked in red were ones I marked in my bingo card)

Espressoleine hint/tease

Thank god there was none of that

Dark Choco redemption/hinting at redemption

So, I think this once speaks for itself. It’s less of a redemption and more of the start of the redemption. I’m marking it down.

Affogato is a villain or at least morally grey

Self explanatory

Dark cacao/affogato ship art

Surprisingly, I haven’t seen a ton of it. I really thought a bunch of people would jumping on that wagon haha

Espresso dialogue

UGHHHH I WISH HE AND AFFOGATO INTERACTED!!!! I did like his little thing with the destroyed coffee tribe village in 13 tho

new bonds

That shits so disappointing like cmon

Insufficient Caramel Arrow story involvement

YESSS!!!! THEY DIDNT SHAFT MY GIRL!!!!!!!! I would’ve liked to hear more about her relationship with Choco but that little bit about him teaching her to fight sated my thirst pretty well lol

Dragons

WHYYYYY DEVSIS!!! YOU GIVE US COOL FUCKING LORE AND DESIGNS AND YOU DONT USE IT????? I want to know more about the black and white dragons so fucking badly. I’m assuming they’ll never have story relevance now which makes me SO MAD!!!! They’re everywhere on the cacao kingdom architecture!!!! Please tell us more about them and their significance to cacao culture!!!!! I will never not be pissed about that :/

Dark enchantress involvement

She wasn’t there lol

Cacao in disguise

Very glad they didn’t go the “omg he’s disguised nobody knows who he is” route. I like that it took him a while to get into his armor. I really hope we get the robes as a costume :)

Lack of Dark Enchantress involvement

Like, she wasn’t there in person is what I was going for with that one.

Dark Choco is kicked from the meta since Cacao is meta

Now, I almost didn’t mark this one, but I’m counting it since I hardly see Choco in arena anymore. Personally I still prefer him for stuff like guild battles and bosses, but yeah having used cacao he’s like way better lol

Dark cacao thirst

It’s my free space but still. I’ve seen it. You’ve seen it. God has seen it.

Impossible boss

Yeah uhhhhh that 14-30 kinda…… um…… let’s just say I miss raspberry

F2P players shafted

Yeah lol I did the math on like the first day. Sorry f2p homies 😔

Coffee tribe mention

Well, at least they were mentioned…? Still would’ve liked more. Devsis fucking sucks at worldbuilding :(

No CoD storyline mention

THANK GOD FOR CONTINUITY AND CINEMATIC PARALLELS BABY!!!

Arena saturation

Yeah self explanatory

Dark Choco has no plot relevance

ONCE AGAIN, THANK GOD

Emotionally absent father

Okay I was on the fence about marking this one but tbh this is how I interpreted it. Cacao seemingly only trained his son for battle and never really was a “father” to him, yknow?

No info about golden cheese

Kill me

No trauma resolution

I was also on the fence about this one but I decided that yeah it happened. Cacao realizing where he went wrong in fatherhood was probably as far as it could go anyway since the damage had already been done, and Choco, well, that’s an entire other post

Gingerbrave on his dumb shit

SURPRISINGLY DIDNT HAPPEN!!!!! Really happy about that. Happy about gingergangs entirely separate involvement in the plot this time. I liked seeing the others work it out on their own without fireteam mcguffin butting in with their “you have depression? Just smile :)” bullshit

Flashbacks

Surprised that there were no flashbacks. Well there was one VERY brief one but I’m not counting it. Wish we saw more cacao and young Choco interactions so we could fully understand their relationship :/

Glimpse of milk tribe

Thank you for this crumb of sustenance devsis. It will tide me over until we get some golden cheese info or another ovenbreak legendary :)

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run kingdom spoilers #cookie run spoilers

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katsukikitten · 4 years ago

Text

It's hard to see through the sticky wet droplets that fall from above your brow, from your lips and cheeks. You huff, blood splatters the floor at the feet of a woman dressed in an old fashioned black kimono. Her fox mask askew on a rare occasion.

"You broke her, you BROKE HER!" You screech, small frame shaking from fading adrenaline and flashing memories of cold steel and even colder eyes. This was too much, way too much for your seven year old body to handle. But you would do what you must to survive.

The woman turns towards you, her blue eyes iridescent even in the low light.

"No child, you broke her. You were just going to let her kill you." She shrugs as if it weren't such a heavy statement.

"I'm- I'm her weakness, she's better than me, SHE HAD TO!" A stammer that grows into a deafening scream.

"No my dear, she always has and always will be your burden."

You wake in a cold sweat, alarm blaring and your heart stutters in your chest, knives instinctively woven into your fingers.

"An old memory. A dream." Soothing words from a shaking voice, knives never faltering as you lower them, slipping them back onto your person. You rise, peering out the window to see the city blanketed in snow, heaps of it as more fall from the sky. The sidewalks cleared in such a half assed way you were sure they would just turn to ice instead, the piles in the storm drain already turning a mute grey.

You hated the snow, it always brought up bad memories and the biting cold made every scar you owned throb. Ebbing in memories you wished you'd forgotten. Instead you get ready for the day pulling on your hero suit although you didn't have to work the overtime today, you guess old habits die hard. Two weeks had passed since Bakugou offered you that side job. He paid you enough that you wouldn't have to worry about your sister's bills for the next month.

Still Christmas dinner couldn't come soon enough.

You lock the apartment and push through the biting air, face begging for a reprieve as you walk into the icy wind but it's not as if you could walk to the agency backwards.

Bakugou and Kirishima wait outside of the agency building for you, Bakugou holds out a steaming coffee as Kirishima offers a warm smile.

"You're late." "Just on time." They speak over each other before Bakugou gives Kirishima a glare.

"We're patrolling the fucking shopping district today." Bakugou shoves the coffee into your hands as you grit your teeth, trailing behind the two as Bakugou sets out the pace. You let your eyes wander, snow clinging to their hair as Kirishima wears next to nothing, his dumb ass costume having sleeves for warmth. You roll your eyes before they fall on Bakugou. Normally you can smell the spicy burnt sugar wafting off of him in troves but the wind chill is dangerously low for someone who relies on sweat as their weapon. The snow comes down thicker, the flakes a puffy white that sends you miles away before a gut feeling brings you back into the present. You grab onto both of the men, straining your ears to hear over the bustle of the city. Something isn't settling right but they don't seem to be on high alert. Maybe your nerves are fried from the dream.

Your concentrated look doesn't go unnoticed by either party looking over their shoulder. Bakugou shoves the two of you into a side alley to stay out of the way of the hustling streets since you're just standing there. You seem to be off your game, you're more subtle at letting them know about danger without alerting civilians.

"Oi. Spit it out." Bakugou crosses his arms as he stares you down. You blink away the rage, the wind whipping through the side alley making the three of you shiver. You grab onto Kirishima, placing your palm on his sculpted pectoral before explaining.

"Just some buffs for the day. Your unbreakable will be 65% harder and you'll be lighter on your feet." Kirishima gives you a concerned look as you reach for Bakugou who tries to resist.

"Don't need your fucking help."

"Yea?" You hiss, "What good are you if you aren't sweating moron?"

You yank his arm to you, pulling at his sleeve to get to bare skin, pressing your warm fingers against his cool forearm. You send him a knowing glare.

"Gonna feel like summer for you today sweaty palms." You shove him away and he thinks to swing at you. Kirishima diffuses the situation.

"All day buffs? Isn't that a strain on your quirk?" Kirishima was always concerned about you.

"I'll be fine. You know I'm at a place where a lot of my own personal buffs and debuffs are idle." With a snap of your fingers a little display appears in the air thanks to your support bracelet. Reminding the two men of a video game, your stats out there for them to see. The screen rolls through them fairly quickly. Bakugou can only catch a few as the text moves at a rapid pace. Poison resistance 85%, Stab resistance 98%, weapon pulled from body closes wound 50% faster, returned weapon caught or pulled from body 100% hit rate, deadly intent. Your stats disappear as quickly as they came. Bakugou knows your quirk's ability comes from experience, he thinks of the ones you have maxed out and let's his eyes linger over your face. Over the muted slashes and his stomach churns from concern, suspicion. How would a "petty thief" come across a blade and return it enough times that they could never miss? It surely wasn't in the time of your forced hero work, he has yet to see you take anything more than a surprise punch.

"Are we fucking done? We got extras to babysit." Bakugou growls stepping out onto the sidewalk and into a nest of paparazzi.

"Dynamight, over here Dynamight. Is it true you're dating your partner?"

"Is it Red Riot or Rouge?" Another reporter shouts. Screaming out question after question putting Bakugou under rapid fire.

Cameras flash as you can practically hear Bakugou's blood pressure increase ten fold, he inhales sharply to scream but Pro Hero Red Riot saves the day.

"Guys we're on the clock, please save this for our designated interview dates." He smiles listing the dates and times. You wonder how they collected here so quickly, scanning the crowd for a nosy bystander that may have tipped the tabloids off with your location.

But your eyes lock onto something far worse.

In the crowd is a woman with auburn hair and icy blue eyes, dressed in an all black kimono. She smirks and mouths "Finally" to you before she throws her deadly ice darts, dipped in shining poison yet to be added to the government registry.

But how could they know when you helped her make it. Working on instinct you yank Kirishima forward by his steel face mask until he is doubled over before you pull Bakugou into the same position by his belt of winter grenades. One ice dart sinks into your shoulder while the other nicks your throat but it's not as if it matters. Mithridatsim was your best friend growing up.

A small box flashes in the top left corner of your vision, a status only you can see

WARNING! MORE EXPERIENCE NEEDED: LAST ADMINISTERED DOSE OF POISON X HAS BEEN SIX MONTHS, PLEASE DO NOT CONSUME ANYMORE TO INCREASE LOST RESISTANCE AND GAIN EXPERIENCE.

Fuck! How could you forget that her special blend of poison required exposure every two months?! Hero work was making you too soft, making you wonder just how many other skills were deteriorating from lack of repetition and experience.

But that was a problem for another day. For now you growl, yanking the men down further to keep their eyes off of you as you give chase. Following her deadly speed with ease, thankfully she is headed out of sight from civilians and paparazzi although it spells trouble for you.

Or maybe it spells trap.

She throws another set of ice darts, you dodge them all but one that sinks into your stomach. You grip onto the ice, pulling it from your skin when a warning pops up

LIMIT EXPOSURE, REACHING LETHAL DOSE, PASSIVE BUFF ACTIVATED, HEALING RATE REDUCED FROM 50% TO 30% DUE TO POISON X, RETURNED WEAPON HIT RATE REDUCED TO 65% DUE TO WEAPON TYPE, COLD RESISTANCE INCREASED TO 55%

WOULD YOU LIKE TO TAKE A CHANCE?

The question flashes as you push forward, following her step for step. You loved and loathed that question, it could increase your chances of the poison clearing instantly, heal your wounds perfectly and return your hit rate back to its max level.

Or you could utterly "fail" the chance roll earning you double the pain and debuff.

The closer you were to whatever magic number your quirk decided, the better your chances.

Another set of darts that you barely dodge. You grind your teeth, hero work was definitely making you too soft.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO TAKE A CHANCE?

"Yes!" You growl as your quirk activates. It announces to you the size of the "dice" and the numbers to avoid as you give chase.

PASSIVE BUFF DEACTIVATED "LUCK OF THE DRAW" FOR CHANCE ROLL, DIE SIZE 70, NUMBERS TO AVOID CRITICAL FAILURE 1 THROUGH 50, NUMBERS TO HIT FOR CRITICAL HIT 72 THROUGH 75. ALL NUMBERS IN BETWEEN THE CRITICALS WILL INCREASE BUFFS AND DECREASE BODILY HARM BY 15%.

ROLLING DIE NOW.

In your mind's eye a giant die flashes in your head as numbers blur together while it rolls.

50! CRITICAL FAIL, DAMAGE INCREASED BY TWO, POISON RESISTANCE REDUCED BY 15%, TEN MINUTES UNTIL BLACK OUT

THANK YOU FOR TAKING A CHANCE!

DOUBLE OR NOTHING?

You swat away the temptation as a copper taste begins to coat your tongue, spitting red into the snow. You return the damn dart anyway, lucky enough for you it sticks into the nape of her neck but the ice is not strong enough to sink deeper. Finally she takes a left into an alley and you follow before the mouth is closed off by ice.

Sealing the two of you into an icy tomb. Snarling you exchange fists, hoping to wear her out before you lose consciousness, as she was never good at hand to hand, unlike yourself.

Who lived for the up close and personal.

PASSIVE BUFF "UPPER HAND" ACTIVATED, MELEE AND CLOSE COMBAT SKILLS INCREASED

You rear back your fist, landing it straight into her jaw, causing her to fall back onto heaps of trash. You pin her, pressing one of her ice blades to her throat.

"What are you doing here Fox?" You hiss, and she smiles in delight.

"Could ask you the same little ‘hero’!" She laughs and it's haughty, bringing up now bitter memories, "How far you have fallen sister."

"Tch, this was not my first choice." You fake smile, pressing until you draw blood just to make it even.

"Did Madem send you?" Even saying her name makes your stomach churn while Fox rolls her eyes.

"Who else would send me to fetch their golden child?" She shrugs, using her quirk to make another cold weapon as you're distracted. Although you have the upper hand she still has enough room to sink another ice dark into your side, causing you to grit your teeth.

"You're the fucking favorite now. What more does she want?"

"You're her favorite, you both are. She wants a complete set." She purrs and it feels as if her ice is freezing your blood. Vision blurring from your rapid heart rate, from your rage and the venom.

"What the fuck do you mean? What about her?! She is fucking unwel!" It echoes around in the ice and she smiles, playing you for the fool you were.

"Exactly as I said. I wouldn't count your twin out just yet. You know how Madem lives for backups." She winks, as you feel exasperated. The poison coursing through your veins, your vision tries to spot but you push through.

"I'll let you go just this one Fox but if I ever fucking see you again-" She interrupts.

"Please, you know the rules. Don't come home empty handed. Plus what you do to me will be far more mild than what Madem can think of." She spits blood onto your face, you bare your teeth and sweet drips onto her kimono. You were running out of time.

"ROUGE!" Bakugou shouts in the distance, earning a smile from Fox below.

"Wow bold of you to keep the name." She laughs, "Well your weakness works in my favor. What a dream it would be to be captured by your boyfriend. Then I could tell him everything about me. About you."

"You'd snitch? Just like that?"

"Wouldn't you do anything to keep a loved one safe?" Her words sink deeper than any dagger, any ice pick, she's ever thrown.

She's right.

"ROUGE!"

You would do anything.

Huffing you do what you hadn't in well over a year and although you'd done it thousands of times. It never got easier. You press the blade deeper, letting it slice into her throat as a red line follows in her wake. She looks up at you with a soft smile, relief flooding her features as sweat prickles your brow.

WARNING BLACK OUT IN TEN SECONDS, POISON X WILL BECOME LETHAL IF ANTIDOTE IS NOT ADMINISTERED WITHIN THE HOUR. COUNT DOWNS STARTS NOW :10, 59:59

With shaking hands you set the already melting blade into her hand, jumping over the other ice wall deeper into the alley as you hear heavy foot falls come your way.

You fall into a heap yourself, pressing your hands into your wounds, tempted to attempt to activate double or nothing. Although it could kill you instantly with the status you were in now.

A part of you hopes it does.

The ash blonde blasts through the icy walls, spotting you in an instant. When he sees the perpetrator dead, his stomach churns as he reaches you. Your clammy to the touch and your support bracelet is flashing with an alert for a trusted on looker.

PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF

It yells as Bakugou shouts his name. A little hologram of you shows up before your voice pours out. Silently you're thankful that you could tinker with the item enough that should you come across something from your past you could intercept some information.

Or at least manipulate in your favor should you be rendered non verbal as you are now.

"It seems an especially strong poison has been introduced into my blood stream. The antidote will be elderberry tea, which can be found at these surrounding locations. Please do not take me to a hospital, by the time they identify the poison I will be long gone….I'm talking to you Bakugou. Get the tea. If I pass out, force activate one of my idle or passive buffs. Specifically Adrenaline high… Trust me, you're going to have to..."

The world fades to black without any warning as you float in what feels like non existence. Probably the best sleep you'll ever get even when it's short lived. Like it is now.

"Fuck." Bakugou hisses as the stupid translucent you blabbers on and on of ways to activate this dumb ass, complex, and mysterious as fuck quirk you had. He thinks of how the mini you emphasized pain would be a trigger to activate the idle buff. He grips onto your forearm, thinking of doing a point blank blast. Best case scenario you'd have his palm burned into you for all eternity, worst case scenario you lost your whole fucking left half.

"Fuck! FUCK!" He doesn't want to hurt you but he has to. He thinks of the limited time you have as an ominous timer floats in the air from your bracelet. He tries slapping you across the face first, nothing. Your cheek barely reddening as blood oozes from your wounds. Gritting his teeth and choking on his honor he hits you again, this time with the help of his quirk to add some force.

When that doesn't work, his sadistic side comes out, fueled by his desperation and his gloved fingers subconsciously find the wound in your throat and shoulder. Thinking to exploit it in order to rouse you. He lets out a low hiss as he plunges his fingers into the wounds, digging deep into the one in your shoulder.

PASSIVE BUFF "ADRENALINE HIGH" ACTIVATED.

Your eyes snap open, rage fueling them as you act on instinct, slamming your forehead into Bakugou's hard enough that it bruises both of you.

"OI FUCKING! I'M TRYING TO HELP!" He shouts, forearms popping as heat rushes up his spine from your landed hit. He pushes back his hair, rubbing his sweaty forehead before baring his teeth at you.

"What the fuck?!" He snaps, "Who was that? Why is she dead?"

"Another time yea?" You say weakly, lifting your wrist so he can read the time, "The tea still has to steep."

You stand but wobble on your feet as warnings flash in your minds eye and thankfully not on your stupid support bracelet. Much to Bakugou's disdain, he needed to know what he was working with, not blindly trusting you. Especially not now with growing suspicions.

ADRENALINE HIGH OVERRIDES DAMAGE AND POISON EFFECTS FOR THE NEXT 10 MINUTES COUNT DOWN STARTED 09:59

"Dismiss." You spit blood and the information fades away. You stumble like a drunk towards the mouth of the alley, avoiding your fallen sister as your mind races.

"She wants a complete set."

"Fuck." Is all you can manage thinking of your actual sister, hoping she was safe within the confines of her own prison. That needed to wait. Right now you needed that elder berry tea. The closest shop carrying the product was several blocks away and at this rate you'd never fucking make it.

Bakugou catches on, scooping you in his arms.

"Hold on tight Princess." He growls, propelling himself into the air to land a few store fronts away from your destination.

"Can't believe you're dragging me down." He hisses, fully taking over holding you to him. He squeezes a bit tighter. Your stomach flips and you blame the poison.

"If anything I'm bringing your image up. Imagine the paps seeing this bull shit. Headlines like 'Bakugou, the knight in shining armor saves the day.' Or some horse shit like that." You weakly tease, he glares down at you.

"Tch. Fuck off. They'll find a way to twist it."

"Well your mom will see it for what it is." You squeeze tighter around his throat, nosing the crook of his throat. You feel his laugh through his chest.

"Yea and what's she gonna see?"

"You saving me dumb ass." You pull at his hair and he glares down at you.

"Great, now she'll force me to marry you. Is that what you want bitch face?"

"I'd rather die first. Plus you wouldn't be able to afford my dowry, ass hat." You tease, all he can do is roll his eyes.

"You're fucking right about that. Now where is the stupid elderberry bullshit?" He growls, waltzing through the front door as if holding you were nothing.

IDLE BUFF ACTIVATED SLIGHT OF HAND INCREASED TO-

"Dismiss." You whisper, vermillion burns into your skin, "Next aisle."

WARNING: LACK OF EXPOSURE WILL CAUSE A LOSS IN EXPERIENCE. SLIGHT OF HAND WILL DECREASE

Grinding your teeth you reach for an easy snack, shoving it into your shirt sleeve as Bakugou studies the tea.

"Where?" He snaps, causing you to sigh heavily. You point with exaggeration to the small purple box.

SLIGHT OF HAND MAINTAINED, EXPERIENCE PREREQUISITE MET, BUFF IDLED.

You needed to think of a way to turn this annoying "emergency" mode off, but whenever you were in critical condition, the warnings would display non stop. Most of your quirk you had memorized but you had to admit, it had been a while since you last rolled for chance.

For fun.

"Grab something for Kirishima, you know how he gets when he worries. You need water too."

"This ain't a fucking road trip!" He growls but oddly enough he moves to the back of the store towards the drinks. He grabs a code red for Kirishima and an energy drink for himself. You hold onto the cold drinks as he holds onto you and the tea awkwardly. Setting them on the counter fixing a nasty glare at the clerk.

"R-Rouge and Dynamight wow!" They gush, about to ask for an autograph before ringing the two of you up.

"Kinda on a time crunch kid." Your bracelet flashes 20:32 before the clerk understand the dire situation.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. On the house."

"Doesn't work like that." Bakugou snarls, eyeing you to get his wallet. Little does he know you already snatched it, pressing a twenty into his hands. He glares at you as best he can.

"Keep the change." You're beginning to think that was his new catch phrase as he makes his way towards the hot water dispenser. Setting you on the counter while he let's the two bags steep per your holographic instructions. He taps his finger impatiently before cracking open his energy drink.

It was going to be a long day.

"I'm going to cancel with my mom." He says finally, reaching for his phone, "I'll still…"

"No you fuck. Your mom expects both of us there. I'm not dying."

"Yet, bitch face." He places the tea into your hands, "Think she'll be more pissed if you die in her living room than not show up."

He eyes your wounds, noticing the droplets of blood that followed in their wake, how your scent clung to his skin. He contacts Kirishima instead instructing him to get the first aid kit ready at his house.

"When you're done with your tea. We're gonna get those wounds bandaged."

"Nah I'll be fine, once the poison status is cleared. My other status will return to normal. I'm kinda like a pokemon."

"Don't care, as your boss I'm telling you Imma wrap your wounds with Kirishima now drink your fucking tea." He hits your shoulder before a sadistic smile clouds his features, "Or am I going to have to activate your passive 'Adrenaline High'?"

"Fuck off, I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna pass out with half the cup down." You shove him away from you as his pocket pings.

"Only pretty sure? You're fucking stupid. You can check that."

"Tired of my quirk today." You grumble while Bakugou glares at his phone, he turns it towards you, it's from his mother an article titled "Bakugou, the knight in not so shining armor?" Her text is in all caps beneath ARE YOU SAVING HER I SWEAR TO GOD BOY YOU NEED TO WATCH HER BACK BETTER SHE BETTER BE OKAY YOU BETTER BE OKAY

"Guess you'll have to propose to me now." You laugh sliding from the counter, something from around your throat catches his eye now that things have calmed down.

An odd feeling burns in his chest as goes all the way to his fingers and toes and realization washes over him in waves. He sees a gold chain that leads down to what looks like the droplet of blood. The garner necklace he gave you.

"Come on Kiri is probably waiting." You nudge, grabbing for Eijirou's soda, your own tea almost finished. His eyes follow after you for a moment as he tries to figure out why you hadn't taken it off yet, he's never seen you wear jewelry before.

There is no reason for you to wear it, still the feeling in his chest burns hotter. It makes him feel suddenly proud and oddly possessive. He grinds his teeth, skin popping as he stomps after you, yelling.

"Don't you take credit for the soda I bought!"

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha x reader

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 4 years ago

Text

The Critique of Manners Part VI

~Or~

An Attempt at an Objective Review of Emma (2009)... VOLUME TWO

Haha, bitches you didn't think I could wait a whole week did you? Nah, not me. and guys, I added to it--all total, it's 9,023 words now. this half of the review is 5,214. HOW DO I HAVE SO MANY WORDS FOR THIS THING? I'm not gonna split it into a third part, because I don't need to for picture limit purposes, but buckle in.

If you didn't catch it, read part 1 here

Here it is, the stunning conclusion to my Emma Adaptation Review series (but this isn't really the end because I plan on doing some rankings later). In this half of my review of BBC'S Emma (2009) we'll discuss Costumes and all the very specific things that I love about this version, and some things I don't like, and some things I'm here to defend.

Let's dive in!

Costumes

Generally I liked these costumes pretty well. They were designed and facilitated by Rosalind Ebbutt, also known for her work on PBS’s Victoria and Vanity Fair (1998). And her work is, as her filmography would suggest, by turns, great and so-so.

These costumes are definitely in line with the adaptation’s general aesthetic: warm pinks and golds, with mints emeralds and blues to cool it off a little, are the order of the day. I really appreciate that every character has a definite color palette. The tradeoff is that this adaptation is the WORST EVER offender for the Jane Fairfax Blue™ trope.

Daywear

Emma’s daywear is full of warm and muted colors. Salmon and magenta are commonly seen. I love that most of Emma’s daywear consists of sleeveless or short-sleeved gowns with wide-sleeved linen blouses underneath. It’s not a commonly seen aesthetic so it feels light and fresh. My favorite of Emma’s daywear dresses is the pale yellow with purple floral print.

There’s one other in particular that I love.

Emma’s blue, sleeveless dress. I love this because of HOW OBVIOUSLY it’s a reference to this portrait of Charlotte, Princess of Wales. I mean...

I’M NOT IMAGINING THIS, RIGHT? WHY DOES NO ONE TALK ABOUT THIS? This is a REAL dress. They still have this exact gown of Princess Charlotte’s. It’s on display. It’s faded, but it’s the same dress.

Harriet has a fresh and innocent green, white and purple color scheme with healthy doses of peach and pink showing. I particularly like her white and purple floral print dress.

Mrs. Weston’s color palette varies, but leans heavily on tans and purples, which is very flattering, I must say, to Johdi May’s coloring and is really refreshing for Mrs. Weston who seems to get stuck in pinks and yellows a lot. No idea what’s going on with the laced-front dress though? This doesn’t quite read as authentic to me, but I do like that her first dress seems to be an apron-front.

I know I already said that this is the worst Jane Fairfax Blue™ offender, but guys I can’t stress it enough. WE ARE 5/5 ON DAYWEAR HERE. LOOK AT THAT. (Also of note, Jane 5 is one of Gwyneth Paltrow’s dresses from the '96 Emma.)

Mrs. Elton seems, at all times, to be wearing some form of pink, but I think I’m right in saying that the white day dress with the rose patterned bodice under the yellow and pink spencer is one of Jane’s dresses from P&P ’80. Can anyone confirm that? They did sneak in some Mrs. Elton Orange™ though, for Box Hill, and it’s worth noting that Mrs. Elton is the only lady who’s appropriately dressed on that occasion.

Isabella gets some understated day gowns that are very nice and also VERY “Jane Austen” in the sense that I feel like Jane Austen herself might have worn them.

Miss Bates, unfortunately is slapped with brown at just about every turn, but at least her “Nice” day outfit has some subtle leaf patterns, which is refreshing. Also Mrs. Goddard has a slappin’ cap. Love that.

Also, Harriet’s Grecian costume for the painting (upper right hand corner). What can I say, but that I love it. I love that it hints at the neoclassical influences on Regency fashion too. This is my favorite interpretation of the painting too.

Evening Wear

You know what I love about this version? It’s the first version of Emma where her gown for the Crown in Ball isn’t WHITE. I know, I know white was fashionable, but it’s just… it’s nice for not EVERY gown in a ball scene to be plain white friggin muslin and also, it’s not one she’s ever worn before, which is great.

Harriet does have only white evening gowns but that’s okay. My only complaint is that, specifically on her Crown Inn dress and in a lot of her costumes in general, the waistline seems just a little low. Hmm. I really like the pale blue pattern on her first evening dress though.

Mrs. Weston though. Woo. Look at those. She has a dark chartreuse gown with black lace trim that any other version would have put on Mrs. Elton, so you know from the dark tones that she’s a bitch. Not so with Emma '09, and that’s good. And her teal dinner number is a favorite of mine. I never paid much attention to her green and gold ball gown but it has some really beautiful, subtle leaf or maybe peacock feather patterns on it and I love that. My only problem is that there seem to be some fit issues. She’s got muffin top way too often. Her orange evening dress is a bit of a dud though, firstly, because it has long sleeves (which is an evening gown no-no) and the fabric slaps a bit too much of sari fabric for my tastes.

Jane, not only is put in blue with both of her evening gowns (although one is so pale it borders on white), ONE of them is another Emma ’96 repeat and not only that, it’s one of Jane Fairfax’s dresses in that film! Perhaps that’s enough to make it an homage, and I have to say, I think Laura Pyper wore it better.

Miss Bates only has one evening wear ensemble, but at least it’s cream and not brown.

Mrs. Elton’s gowns are surprisingly understated, and yet still seem to be annoyingly fussy and, what’s better? They’re not sickly green. One of them is actually a very pleasant mint.

Outerwear

Outerwear is roundly pretty great here. Emma’s primary choice of color for spencers is emerald/evergreen and one of them is Elizabeth’s Bennet’s from the 1995 P&P (though to be honest, I think Jennifer Ehle filled it out better.) I do love Mrs. Elton’s pink and yellow number with the slashed sleeves. Jane Fairfax’s only spencer is, you guessed it, blue, but her friend Miss Campbell has a rather fun mauve one.

There’s no shortage of pelisses and redingotes either. Harriet can be seen in one borrowed from Elinor Dashwood in the '08 S&S, Mrs. Weston has a rather fabulous purple one which she wears with the most delicious looking hat I’ve ever seen.

Emma has two. The first one is a great magenta number with military braiding (and I think she wears with it one of the brown slouch hats that Kate Beckinsale wore in the same role) and while the other pelisse is brown, they had the sense not to make her wear a hat with it that was also brown. Instead, they gave her a contrasting color. Good on ya, Rosalind!

Speaking of hats, I don't often single them out for commentary, but I want to here because… the hat authenticity is… kinda spotty. Let me show you.

Okay first of all, Emma may be a teenager in this pic on the upper left, but she is not dressed formally enough for her sister’s wedding (which is what’s going on in this scene) but at least her hat is pretty good. You can see the ribbons are on the inside of the hat here, which is as it should be… but she never wears this hat again. At any point in the series. Instead, we next see her in the one on the upper right and ye gads this is atrocious. WHY IS HER HAT NOT PINNED ON? IT’S SLIDING DOWN THE BACK OF HER HEAD. SOMONE FIX IT. PLEASE. But wait, there’s more. This kills me because these bottom two are so similar to the one she wore earlier (the correct one) but crappier looking. Jeez.

This is not a hat. It’s a peanut. You know who doesn’t have this problem? Harriet. She only has one sun hat but at least it’s correct.

I also wanna touch briefly on this ^ costume continuity issue.

WTF is this? She’s in the hall, her ribbon is contoured to the line of her dress; she goes into the drawing room and… it isn’t anymore? Wha happun?

I took more menswear screencaps for this version than any other version. And that’s because the men just have more outfits that are, y’know, different from each other.

Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight the first pic there and why I love it. This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding.

He also has a rather lovely blue evening waistcoat that I WISH I could have gotten better shot of (although I do believe it’s also worn by Henry Crawford in the '07 Mansfield Park, so for further reading…)

Mr. Weston finally gets to wear clothes that aren’t all brown! He only has ONE brown outfit. He gets PATTERNED waistcoats, one of them a rather spiffing blue and brown striped number. And he wears TROUSERS! Because he’s a gentleman, and he’s not that old and trousers are worn by fashionable gentlemen in this period!

You know who else gets to wear trousers and at least one fun waistcoat? Mr. Woodhouse. Check out that lovely Sunday Best™ waistcoat. The red striped one. That’s delightful.

John Knightley’s evening wear intrigues me. That’s a double-breasted jacket, and you know I’m not totally sure that’s very authentic for evening-wear of this period, but it is different. Unfortunately he also has a flared top hat and that is definitely not on for this period.

One of my favorite things about this version is that they don’t dress Mr. Elton as a clergyman all the time. Yes, he may be the vicar, but he’s also allowed to dress like a fashionable, handsome young man. So I’m really happy that he gets to flex his fashion muscles here.

And speaking of fashionable young men, FINALLY frank gets to be COLORFUL and his trousers are even tight enough. Both he AND Elton are often seen wearing TWO waistcoats, as I would expect them to, and even though Frank’s a dandy, he knows that flashiness is gauche so his pops of color are bright, but not in your face. His green and red waistcoats are always worn under more muted colors, and I just love it.

The only problems are… what’s with the turned-down waistcoat collars? There’s no precedent for this, in fact I think it’s directly contradictory to the style at the time, and also it makes the cravats look a bit unruly.

A Critique of Manners

A lot has been said about the manners in this adaption. Like, the actual manners, body language and facial expressions, specifically vis-à-vis Romola Garai.

And, oh yeah, there’s a lot to pick at here, but first I’d like to talk about the facial expressions.

I'm mostly gonna be talking out of my ass here, but this is my take, so if anyone can make a better argument against my points, I am listening, because I don't really like talking out of my ass and I like to be informed. That said...

I tend to be lenient on the… exaggerated facial expressions because, something I’ve noticed reading Austen’s works through the last several months is that Austen is very descriptive when it comes to facial expressions and I just find it hard to believe that people in the Regency Era never made exaggerated expressions like this.

I’ve heard a lot about how Garai’s Emma is not dignified or lady-like. But let’s think about the context of Emma Woodhouse – she’s never been in society. She’s only had a governess to teach her, and we know Emma’s always been sort of averse to being told what she can and can’t do. Emma is the highest ranking woman in her social circle (barring Isabella’s occasional presence). Emma doesn’t have to be ladylike. At 21, she’s already her local Lady Catherine. She puts a lot of stock in her position in society but, as Mrs. Elton will be the first to hypocritically point out, she’s very poorly behaved. I'd be very curious to see what would happen if Emma went to London for the season. Probably, she'd be seen, comparatively, as a country bumpkin. Can you imagine how she might get on in a sea of accomplished young ladies? She can barely handle having ONE rival with any kind of grace.

Austen never describes bodily movements of the kind we’re looking at when we watch adaptations, so why not have Emma’s body-language be un-ladylike in the conventional sense of the time? I’m not saying this to excuse the absolutely inexcusable (Frank’s head in her lap, kneeling on the sofa backwards etc.), but while Emma’s mannerisms aren’t exactly ladylike for her time, they’re not overtly masculine either (which was one of my biggest problem with Death Comes to Pemberly for example.)

Yes, there’s an ideal for manners. But we know real people didn’t always follow those ideals. In dancing for example, many dancing guidebooks of the day were full of repeated instructions not to be too loud or rambunctious when dancing. What this tells us is that people were doing just that, and probably quite a bit, too. I think that, while taking societal strictures into account, we shouldn’t totally discount the idea that people in the Regency weren’t really that different from us, and young people especially.

Now I’ve already mentioned some of the inexcusable aspects of interaction in this adaptation and they’re so notorious at this point, I don’t think that I really need to go over them much here. Although I will say: is it ridiculous to have Frank Churchill put his head in Emma’s lap? Yes. Did it make me more viscerally uncomfortable with the situation on Box Hill than any other version? Yes.

I was like, 14 when I watched this the first time. This was an effective way to telegraph to young people like me that Emma is being extremely inappropriate here in a way that no other version really managed to, even when I watched them when I was older and understood the period more. I’m far more acquainted with Regency manners than I was then, but to be honest – if they had been accurate with the manners here, when I was 14 I would not have understood what the big deal was. Is there merit in circumventing historical accuracy in favor of reaching a less-informed but still-interested audience? Yes, I think so. There were three other versions of this, at that point, that did this scene with more or less pristine manners. Not every version has to follow the manners of the time to-the-letter to be good. That’s my feeling on the matter.

There are things that do really bother me though. Like the idea that Harriet Smith doesn’t know how to spoon soup, for instance. As I said in my review for the Miramax version, table manners are pretty basic, there’s no reason Mrs. Goddard wouldn’t have taught Harriet this. It does provide a good moment to show Emma tacitly coaching Harriet and showing the trajectory in which this relationship will go, but personally I don’t think it was necessary—there are plenty of other ways that could be done.

Also: kids at the dinner table? I know this is part of building the familial atmosphere but it really does annoy me, because apart from building the familial atmosphere (which they do very well and frequently in other ways) it really didn’t need to happen, and it doesn’t add anything.

The Heart of Highbury

So, as I’ve hinted at throughout this review, the bread and butter of this adaptation of Emma is emotion. This version goes hard and heavy on showingthe relationships – Emma’s relationships with Mrs. Weston, Mr. Knightley, her father, her sister, her brother-in-law, Miss Bates; Jane’s relationship with Frank; Frank’s relationship with his father; The John Knightleys’ home life – and it illustrates things that can be surmised from just reading the story, but really draws your attention to them in ways that other adaptations just don’t.

It does this from the very beginning with the prologue which explains in detail (not just in quick exposition between characters) how Jane and Frank were separated from their families at young ages. We know now, from psychological study, that being taken away from their primary caretakers during their formative years is one of the most psychologically traumatizing things for a child. This is deeply important context which is explained in detail by the narrator in 2-3 large pages (in my Barnes & Noble anthology) in the book.

In the featurette on the houses, they talk particularly about Hartfield and the Woodhouses being the heart of Highbury and how they particularly wanted it to feel homey because Hartfield is Emma’s house and they wanted the audience to feel why everyone is so drawn to it, and to Emma; to me that is what they did with the whole adaptation in microcosm.

I usually talk a bit about the dancing and I'm going to here as well because this is maybe the most special dance scene in any Austen for me. Of course I'm going to link to Tea with Cassiane as usual because she knows what she's talking about and I don't. But I wanna add some comments. She gives this a pretty low rating in spite of a generally favorable commentary because of two big oopsies, the circle dance formation is one, and the other is I believe, an issue with the style of dance not matching the tune in Emma's dance with Knightley. Throwing out any objective technical analysis though, this is my favorite Ball in any Austen and it all comes down to the cornerstone of this adaptation--emotion.

All of the songs and dances were original compositions and choreography made for this adaptation. So they're not period per se, but the tunes at least are representative of how Regency dance music should sound. These dances are upbeat, and lively and, damn they look like fun. Everyone is excited here and it makes me understand why dancing was such a big thing. Best of all that excitement adds to the emotional charge of the scene. "The Ship's Cook" is the most fast paced dance and I'm glad they made this the dance where Elton snubs Harriet because it really hits for me just what Harriet would be missing out on if Knightley wasn't so fucking aptly named. In all other versions you get the insult, but the dance that's taking place is usually a Baroque walker so it doesn't seem terribly like she's missing out on much. Here, this is like not getting picked for kickball-- not only is it a slight that no one wants you on their team, but you miss out on even playing the game. Harriet looks so lonely, and her feeling of being out of place rolls off of Louise Dylan so forcefully it chokes me up just thinking about it because I've been there, man. I feel this shit. *dabs eyes*. Ahem. So, yes, when Knightley engages her for the dance the excitement the viewer feels is that much more forceful and Harriet's exuberantly starting to jump in when the timing is off and Knightley gently pulling her back, it just hits me in the feels center, guys. (I wanna take a moment to give a shout out to every camp counselor who ever partnered with me for any game at summer camp.) Emma's reaction too, is gold. Her genuine relief at Knightley swooping in is one of those great reminders that Emma is Harriet's friend, and she does care about her.

Finally on the dancing front, I wanna talk about Emma's dance with Knightley and why I prefer it to the one in the 2020 version. I already talked about this a bit in the 2020 review, so I'm gonna try and keep it brief. That shouldn't be too hard, because I'm probably mostly going to repeat a lot of what I've already said about Emma and Knightley in this version as a whole.

The big thing everyone loves about the Crown Inn dance in the 2020 is the yearning, the sexual tension, the quivering touches etc. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE all of those things but... not all the time. Not in everything, and definitely not in Emma. Because Emma, to me, isn't about repressed sexuality or heated tension or seething passion. Emma and Knightley are the opposite of that, to me, really. One of my mutuals put it best, I think: "Emma and Knightley are more suited to stolen glances than hot touches."

In Part 1 I talked about how Knightley is Emma's comfort object. When Emma is out of sorts, Knightley re-centers her. It helps set up, and puts emphasis on, the crisis of the story in the last act--Emma not knowing what she has until [she thinks] she's lost it. Emma and Knightley are Friends to Lovers done as it should be. She is already so comfortable with him she doesn't even realize her own feelings. She just feels right with Knightley and that's what this dance is here to show you--a foreshadowing of matrimonial harmony.

The dance itself, of course, is always up to interpretation, because Austen never describes how it goes, just that Knightley asks Emma to dance and Knightley doesn't dance (barring charitable causes). If you prefer the sexual tension take, if that, to you is an improvement on Austen's story and gives you what you've always felt was missing, I'm glad that there is a version now that gives you what you've been looking for, but for me, I think the 09 approach hits closer their dynamic in the book.

Now do I do think the Emphasis on emotion maybe went a little too earnest in some places in this adaptation? Maybe. Just a little.

In my last review (1972) I went on a rather lengthy tirade about the scene where they turn Emma’s appeals to Harriet to exert herself and move on following Mr. Elton’s marriage into Emma guilting Harriet into thinking she’s a bad friend for being heartbroken and then throwing her into the situation most likely to rub salt in that particular wound.

In this version, while I love the emphasis they put on the stress Emma puts on her own guilt for being the reason for Harriet’s situation in the first place, I think it’s maybe a little too… much.

That’s the only way I can put it. I know I’ve just said that I think there should be a bit more expressiveness in period drama, but this doesn’t quite match the way I read it (Emma’s a bit less desperate in Austen’s prose. Very dedicated to helping Harriet feel better, but just a skosh more composed). I think she’s even crying in this scene.

While we’re here let’s go over to Box Hill ONE. MORE. TIME.

First of all, this is where this screenplay shines, in my opinion. This is the big turning point in the story and as such, should be a touchstone for the judgment of any adaptation. This sequence in the 2009 version is a perfect crystallization of everything I love about this version—namely that this is the version that, to me, most feels like someone read the book thoroughly, paid attention to what Austen was describing and then actually tried to convey it on screen. A lot of other versions sort of feel (to me), like the director glanced at the page and said “here’s what I want to convey in my version”. Insofar as making a piece of art goes, that’s good. Directors are artists as much as painters are and movies are their canvass, but it’s seldom that you find a director who honestly wants to hit as close to the author intent as possible and this Box Hill sequence makes me feel like that’s what Jim O’Hanlon was going for. I have the book open next to me as I write this and it’s shocking to me how minutely the atmosphere described in the book is conveyed here. Most of all, the fact that Emma’s insulting Miss Bates is not the only thing faux pas she makes here. Box Hill as a whole is a disaster, and it’s largely because of Frank.

“When they all sat down it was better; to [Emma’s] taste, a great deal better, for Frank Churchill grew talkative and gay, making her his first object. To amuse her, and to be agreeable in her eyes, seemed to be all that he cared for—and Emma, glad to be enlivened, and not sorry to be flattered, was gay and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragement, the admission to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first and most animating period of their acquaintance; but which now, in her own estimation, meant nothing, though in the judgment of most people looking on it must have had such an appearance as no English word but flirtation could very well describe. “Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse flirted excessively.” They were laying themselves open to that very phrase—and to having it sent off in a letter to Maple Grove by one lady, to Ireland by another. Not that Emma was gay and thoughtless from any real felicity; it was rather because she felt less happy than she expected. She laughed because she was disappointed…” --Emma, Chapter 43

Most other versions rush through Frank’s “excessive” flirting with Emma (Right in front of Jane) to get to “Three Things Very Dull Indeed” as fast as possible, and yes that’s the crowning horror of Box Hill, but there’s a very intricate setting here, too, and this version has the time to lay back and let it all unfold in the oppressive discomfort of an English summer day.

Even better than all of that though is Knightley confronting Emma after it all goes down. This treatment is neither plaintive, nor aggressive as it was in ‘96 and ‘97 respectively. I’ve already extolled the virtues of Johnny Flynn’s Box Hill rebuke, but for a change I’m not going to zero in on Miller’s performance which is, at least as good as Flynn’s, but on Romola Garai’s, which I find superior to Anya Taylor Joy’s. Specifically, her reaction once she’s alone.

ATJ in the 2020 version immediately breaks down sobbing and it’s hard for me to feel that she’s sobbing for “anger against herself, mortification, and deep concern” or that there’s much self-reflection going on there. To me it rather just feels like she’s crying because she got shouted at. The theatrics of it, to me, feel childish and self-centered.

I don’t feel that with Garai’s performance.

“She was vexed beyond what could have been expressed—almost beyond what she could conceal. Never had she felt so agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. She was most forcibly struck . . . How could she have exposed herself to such ill opinion in anyone she valued! And how to suffer him to leave her without saying one word of gratitude, of concurrence, of common kindness!

Time did not compose her…” --Emma, Chapter 43

Of course one can make the case that Emma's reaction should be a bit childish because Emma is an immature character, but that's the thing--I can agree with you anywhere else in this story but this is Emma's maturing moment. This is her turning point as a character. It's where we should see her reactions shift from the same childish denial we're used to seeing when Knightley scolds her, because this is different. It's not the usual brushing off of big brother Knightley, this is a young woman reacting to an esteemed friend pointing out how abhorrently inappropriate she's been and her having to admit that to herself.

I didn't really want to drag comparisons to the 2020 film into this, not on this scale at least, but this just jumped out at me the last time I watched the new film and I have to express it somewhere.

What I see in Garai’s performance is desolation and mortification. That shocked tearfulness of knowing you’ve been justly reproached for wrongdoing, but being too frozen in a pretense of composure to actually cry about it until you’re quite sure that no one will see you. And especially when it’s someone you esteem rebuking you, the horror of them leaving before you can admit that they’re right. There’s so much more depth here, I think, and I can’t even quite express what it makes me feel.

The aspect of time not composing her is another thing that they decided to put stress on in this version. Emma looks fucked up in the following scenes. When she goes to see Miss Bates, she clearly either hasn’t slept or has slept very badly. I feel like this is maybe an anticlimactic conclusion to this section but I’m afraid I’m very close to reaching incoherence, so I’m just gonna leave it here.

My absolute favoritest thing about this version though—something that sets it apart from ALL other versions and even adaptations of other Austen stories—is the inclusion of the post-confession conversation.

This is something of a trope in Austen books but it very rarely finds its way into adaptations: confessions of love are out of the way, the hero and heroine settle into an easy an comfortable conversation, glowing with happiness as they explain and laugh over their actions and misinterpretations of each other’s choices. It happens in Pride and Prejudice, in Persuasion, and yes, in Emma. This is the only Austen adaptation, that I've seen, to include this kind of conversation in any kind of detail. The 1995 Pride and Prejudice alludes to the corresponding scene in it its source material, but the lines pulled from it get tossed into the confession scene itself and then it flies through to get to the obligatory wedding—a side effect of rushing through endings, a convention I’m rather tired of.

Emma (2009) takes its time with this, as with all other aspects of this adaptation. For a version that’s so full of energy, its pacing is extremely laid back and comfortable, without dragging. When you hear the gentle musical swell and Emma and Knightley have their kiss (this whole confession sequence is so sweet and wonderful in its own right), you expect that to be it. But no, we cut to them, the picture of contented happiness, sitting together on a bench overlooking Hartfield’s garden, just talking and enjoying being together, with no teasing, no pretense. If Jane Austen stories emphasize anything, it’s the importance of communication in relationships, and I think that’s maybe why she made it a point in almost every story to show her characters communicating their feelings in words, even after all the conflict has been resolved. This is my favorite scene in the whole series (In case it being my header image didn’t make that obvious.)

This is followed rather promptly by a cut to the next day, with Emma bursting in to Donwell in hysterics about how they can’t be married because she won’t leave her father alone.

This is one of those maybe over-the-top choices that a lot of people don’t like, but guys, it was so funny to me when I was fourteen and it still makes me laugh. It might seem outlandish, but to me it’s just the emphasis on personal relationships and emotion coming through again and it always makes me smile.

Final Thoughts

It’s hard for me to give a proper round up of my feelings for this section because I think I’ve poured just about all of my feelings on each aspect into its dedicated sections.

At the end of the day, the only thing that really disappoints me about this version is the number of missed opportunities there are here. One of my favorite parts of reading Austen is when I run across a line in dialogue or narrative that just… slaps. But they never make it into the adaptations. Emma is full of them and I just wish that Sandy Welch could have taken an opportunity to slip a few of them in.

In summary, I think this is a wonderful, heartfelt adaptation aimed at getting to the emotional heart of a story that often gets caught up in the Mean Girl-ness of its main character than the coming of age story that it is. It's one of my favorite period dramas because it's one of the few that really captures the spirit of the source material as it's always felt to me. There's really only two other period dramas that I esteem on the same level as this, and they're North & South (2004) and Jane Eyre (2011) and it's for the same reasons; because they impact me deeply on an emotional level--which is what art is supposed to do--because of how well it captures the essence of the story that I know and love.

So did I succeed in a more objective review of Emma 2009? I' feel like probably not. But I tried my best. It’s so hard to be objective about something that makes you as happy as this adaptation makes me.

Ribbon Rating: Most Agreeable (83 Ribbons)

Tone: 10

Casting: 9

Acting: 9

Scripting: 7

Pacing: 10

Cinematography: 7

Setting: 9

Costumes: 6

Music: 8

Book Accuracy: 8

#emma 2009 #emma woodhouse #mr. knightley #jane austen #jane austen emma #romola garai #jonny lee miller #period dramas #regency

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theyscreamjade · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I’m back again! 🥺You know how heartwarming it is seeing little black girls have representation/idols? Princess Tiana, Susie Carmichael, and even Orange Blossom are some of my top examples growing up and I would love head cannons of Hawks, Bakugo, Aizawa, and Mirio reacting to their black!fem!pro-hero crush gushing as she meets a few young (like 5-8 years old to make it cuter) black girls wearing her merch or looking at her in pure awe to see someone that looks like them is a pro-hero. They could be patrolling or just minding their business and they hear this little queen just squeal in joy as Y/N is like “Oh, Come here, Baby! 🥺”. Sis doesn’t care where they’re at; She will hug, give an autograph, and spoil the angels! She’s not even a high ranking hero and to see she’s already giving representation just makes her heart burst when she hears the magical words of “You look like me! 😃”

I Want To Be Just Like You!

Now, I know you said you wanted it to be just designated to little black kids, but I had to spice it a bit and include all races. I hope that’s okay! Thank you for requesting and I hope you like it!

Disclaimer: Soft Moments

————————————————————————————————————————

* Mirio already took notice to your rising popularity within the hero society.

* That’s what he came to fall for though, how much effort you’d always put in to your work and how you were constantly saving someone or ready to. His speed was unmatchable to you.

* So, When you two were on patrol one afternoon, it wasn’t a surprise when he saw two little kids rushing over with papers in their hands.

* It was obvious that they just came from school due to the backpacks on their back, one thing was completely evident though.

* A little girl had a action figure of you in her other hand when she finally arrived in your view.

* “M-M-May I have your autograph?! Please!” She begged excitedly, her eyes sparking under the orange sun while holding a white notebook in her hands.

* You smiled, getting on your knees and took the pen from her hand. “What’s your name?” You questioned.

* “I’m (something similar to your hero name)!” She said with a absolute smile on her face. “And I want to be just like you! Maybe we can beat villains together and save people!” She said happily, her excitement obvious.

* “But I want to be a hero too!” Her friend whined, walking towards you.

* “You both can be heroes..and save the day together.” You replied, stopping their argument as they smiled brightly towards you. You listened to their talking about being a group team and how they’d love to be sidekicks of yours.

* You didn’t mind it a single bit, admiring thier words while he admired you from afar, his swelling crush growing bigger for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* You and his relationship was now an exclusive one, especially after a few scandals and a near exposure.

* It was a small backlash at first but, things kinda smoothed out. It became a subject not to really worry about and something to be okay with.

* It was your off day when you and Keigo decided to go out for a date,something simple and fun.

* The random and strange idea to go shopping, you needed a few things and wanted to change a few things to your costume.

* Keigo didn’t mind because he wanted do buy a new pair of headphones since the ones around his neck broke during a fight with a villain.

* A few spent cash later, you had your items and he had his latest headphones. You and him were heading to the food court to grab a bite when you kept feeling that feeling.

* You instantly had your guard up because you felt a stare on you and god was it hard.

* You were about to activate your quirk when you spotted the eyes that stared at you behind the glass doors of a kid’s toy store. You waved but she ducked back behind the glass before looking at you again.

* “Come here honey.” You soothed, making her small eyes widened a bit. “Don’t be scared...” you added, easing your way to her height on the cold tile within the busy mall.

* Her small shoes tapped on the floor when she engulfed you into a hug, nearly jumping in your arms as she held you close. You giggled softly, seeing her random sign of affection.

* A older individual soon walked over and smiled, seeing you two together where she explained why she stared and why she’s hugging your body so tight. You were her destiny and the dream she wished to reach.

* Hawks couldn’t help but smile when the once shy child began to talk about the heroic acts you did, confidently. Your smile never left, his heart smiled knowing that you would make a great wife one day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* It was hero’s day in UA academy, you were apart of the staff to assist with training the students in the best way you could.

* It pained you to replace Midnight’s place but you had to do what you had.

* Hero’s day was a day where you’d dedicate something to a hero you admired.

* As predicted, Deku made All Might a pretty cool cake with the help of his mother and a personal gift.

* Aizawa and everyone else got gifts. As well as students, especially Deku and Bakugo, well class 1A received a whole buffet from the townspeople they saved and a lump some of money.

* You didn’t mind the fact you hadn’t received anything really, you weren’t in the spotlight anymore and the issue with your quirk may being your easy ticket to your death.

* You definitely didn’t want that.

* “Alright Students! Gather your things and prepare for the bell!” You ordered, tapping your stacked homework papers to grade on your desk when the door opened.

* You glanced to see your fiancé walk in before looking away. You were used to his arrival because you and him would eat lunch together.

* You went back organizing your desk, not noticing the child that walked to you. “H/N?” A voice said, making you confused. You haven’t heard your hero name in a while and you turned to see a young girl, dressed exactly like you. Down to every last detail of your hero costume and hair.

* “Thank you for saving me and being my hero.” She said, holding a picture to you.

* When you first became a hero, your first successful action was a house fire, everyone was escorted out but her mother kept screaming about her missing daughter. You bravely ran back in and searched for her.

* You could remember screaming for her when she screamed back, you held her tightly while the wood snapped and began to fall. It was luck that you two came out alive.

* You were speechless while she smiled cheerfully at you, holding the infamous newspaper shot of her holding you tightly while you two laid in a hospital bed inside the ambulance together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* It was rather normal for you and him to be on patrol together, it took a minute to earn his respect as well as he did to earn yours.

* You were a up and coming hero, certainly making a big impact within the community.

* You were defeating villains, becoming the first African American female to have an award in Japan for your hard work.

* You didn’t mind it though, you were destined to keep people and others safe like you always pushed yourself to do.

* Your feet tapped against the sidewalk when you saw a child at the playground.

* From the details in her costume, she was a fan of yours. She stood on top of the monkey chamber, in your hero pose as she looked up at the sky. “Ha! You can’t defeat me, I am H/N!” She announced before swooping down from the bars.

* The kids screamed while they ran around in circles with each other, you giggled softly watching them until her eyes locked on you. The moment she saw you. She dropped the toy as a crowd of kids follows her to you.

* It was a girls academy because it was a large crowd of young girls that proclaimed their love and passion for you, how they wanted to be just like you and to save others.

* You couldn’t help but admire how cute they were, even if some were still in their uniform. The little girl that’s as dressed as you, held a notebook in her hands. It was opened to a blank page.

* Without asking for their names, you simply signed in the book with your signature and a small message. “Believe in your dreams and strive for the best, I’ll be waiting when you graduate from UA’

* The girls loud screams and squeals they created when you and Bakugo continued walking made him rethink his negative thoughts about you. You weren’t suck up or anything, you wanted everyone to accomplish their dreams and be the greatest they can be. No matter who they are.

#my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #i hope you like this #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha shouta aizawa #bnha mirio #bnha hawks #takami keigo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #mirio togata x reader

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years ago

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Arkham Files: Weather Wizard

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Marco “Mark” Mardon, also known as the Weather Wizard. Patient displays symptoms that suggest Borderline Personality Disorder, but I have not had the time to give him a full psychological evaluation. Session One. How are you feeling, Mr. Mardon?

Weather Wizard: Fine. I guess. Not sure what I’m doing in an insane asylum, though.

Hugo Strange: I am afraid that the blame for that can be laid at the feet of endless bureaucratic red tape, Mr. Mardon. No one could decide where to house you and the other ‘Rogues’ while Iron Heights Penitentiary is being rebuilt, and so someone, in their endless wisdom, decided to simply send you all to Arkham Asylum, most likely because we are perceived as the logical dumping ground for all costumed criminals.

Weather Wizard: Oh, okay. Good. I was getting worried that I’d lost my mind without realizing it or something.

Hugo Strange: So, Mr. Mardon, you call yourself the Weather Wizard.

Weather Wizard: That’s right. Why?

Hugo Strange: And you use a device called the Weather Wand in order to manipulate the weather?

Weather Wizard: That’s also right. Why?

Hugo Strange: It’s quite an astonishing piece of technology you wield, Mr. Mardon. Did you make it yourself?

Weather Wizard: Me? Make the Weather Wand? (Laughs) I’m not smart enough to do that.

Hugo Strange: So who did invent it, Mr. Mardon?

Weather Wizard: My older brother, Clyde. He was better at science than me. (Pause) Actually, he was better at everything than me.

Hugo Strange: Clyde Mardon? I remember reading about him in the papers many years ago. From all appearances, he was a very promising young scientist.

Weather Wizard: Yes, he was. My folks were really proud of him.

Hugo Strange: What about you, Mr. Mardon? Were you not proud of him?

Weather Wizard: Of course I was proud of him! Clyde was a genius! (Pause) And I...wasn’t.

Hugo Strange: Your records indicate that you spent your entire childhood in your brother’s shadow, Mr. Mardon. You could never learn as quickly or jump as high or run as fast as he could, and your parents viewed you as an afterthought at best. He was their golden child, and you? You couldn’t measure up, so you became the scapegoat. Whenever things went wrong, you were the one who got the blame. It would be only natural for you to resent your older brother.

Weather Wizard: Resent him? (Pause) Yeah, I guess I did. Sometimes I hated him so much that I wished he was dead...but at the same time, I loved him. Clyde...he was the only good thing in my life, you know? He wasn’t like Mamá and Papá. He knew what a screwup I was, but he stuck by me anyway- me, worthless, stupid, pathetic Mark Mardon. It used to make Mamá furious. Clyde was important; he was going places. He couldn’t have his worthless little brother dragging him down for the rest of his life; better just to get rid of me. But he never listened to her. Even after I became a thief, he still didn’t cut ties with me. He said he wanted to help me; that I wasn’t just the worthless waste of space that Mamá and Papá said I was. I didn’t really believe him, but it was...it was nice to know that at least one member of my family didn’t wish that I had never been born.

Hugo Strange: Your parents told you that they wished you had never been born?

Weather Wizard: Uh-huh. I don’t remember what exactly led up to it-I think I’d failed an important exam or something like that-but I remember their reaction to whatever it was clear as day. Mamá and I got into a shouting match over whatever it was that I’d screwed up that time, and about a minute in, Mamá looked me dead in the eyes and said “No sé qué te salió mal, pero eres un fracaso, una vergüenza para la familia. ¡Ojalá nunca hubieras nacido!” And then she burst into tears, and Papá grounded me for making her cry.

Hugo Strange: That is terribly unfortunate, Mr. Mardon. No child should ever have to hear that from their parents.

Weather Wizard: (Trying to play it cool) It wasn’t that bad, really. I was pretty much used to being insulted by that point. Besides, I still had Clyde. I knew he loved me. Even if he was better than me at everything.

Hugot Strange: So your relationship with your older brother was more complicated than one might have expected. Fascinating. (Pause) You know, Mr. Mardon, there are rumors that say you killed your brother in order to get the Weather Wand.

Weather Wizard: Killed him?

Hugo Strange: Certainly you understand where the rumors come from, Mr. Mardon. An escaped convict, who has lived his entire life in his brother’s shadow up until this point, stumbles into his brother’s isolated lab, only to find that said brother has conveniently dropped dead, having just finished a device that will grant the convict unimaginable power? I have to say that it does sound rather suspicious.

Weather Wizard: Are you saying that I murdered my brother to get the Weather Wand?

Hugo Strange: Well, did you, Mr. Mardon?

Weather Wizard: No! Clyde died of congenital heart failure. The coroner even said so.

Hugo Strange: And your first instinct upon finding your older brother dead was to steal the Wand he had worked so hard to build?

Weather Wizard: Well, he wasn’t going to be using it. He was dead; it couldn’t help him anymore. But it could help me. I was so tired of being stupid, lazy, worthlesss Mark Mardon-and being the Weather Wizard meant that I didn’t have to be him anymore. With the Weather Wand, I could finally be someone important!

Hugo Strange: In other words, you stole the Wand so that you could finally be special, like your older brother had been.

Weather Wizard: Exactly! Clyde invented the Wand...but I was the one who would use it to master the weather. Oh, Dr. Strange...you have no idea how wonderful it felt to finally be important; to wield the kind of power and know that no one...no one...would ever ignore me again.

Hugo Strange: And you used this great power to...rob banks and jewelry stores?

Weather Wizard: What else would I have used it for?

Hugo Strange: Humanitarian aid comes to mind. Or, if you’re insistent on using the Wand for evil, world domination. You can control the weather, Mr. Mardon! There is virtually no limit to the things you could accomplish!

Weather Wizard: World domination? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not smart enough to run the world...and besides, it sounds like way too much work. No, I’m happy to stick to the small-time. Less work that way...and less chance for me to screw things up.

Hugo Strange: For a man who can bend the weather to his whims, Mr. Mardon, you are disturbingly lacking in both self-confidence and ambition.

Weather Wizard: You should see me when I’m fighting the Flash. I don’t lack self-confidence then.

Hugo Strange: Ah, yes, your city’s costumed vigilante. I was wanting to talk about him, actually. What sort of relationship do you have with the Flash, Mr. Mardon?

Weather Wizard: Adversarial, I guess? He’s always getting in the way of my robberies, and that’s pretty annoying, but I’m not obsessed with him or anything. I’m not, like, gonna go out of my way to get his attention. I happen to like being able to successfully escape with my loot.

Hugo Strange: And he had no influence on your decision to put on a green leotard and start calling yourself the Weather Wizard?

Weather Wizard: I don’t think so. I mean, I guess it’s possible that he had some influence on my costume design or something without me realizing it, but I didn’t put on a costume because he wears one.

Hugo Strange: So you wouldn’t stop being the Weather Wizard if the Flash were no longer around?

Weather Wizard: Of course not! If I’m not the Weather Wizard, I’m a nobody: stupid, pathetic, worthless, useless Mark Mardon. I’m never going back to that life. Never. (Pause) That being said, I do have to admit that there’s a part of me that hopes that the Flash won’t go away. Crime wouldn’t be half so much fun without him around.

Hugo Strange: First you say that you would prefer to avoid the Flash if you could; then you say that crimes wouldn’t be half so much fun without him. Which is it, Mr. Mardon? Is he a nuisance, or an enjoyable challenge?

Weather Wizard: (Long pause) I...I don’t know.

Hugo Strange: Then allow me to offer my theory, Mr. Mardon. I think you have Borderline Personality Disorder.

Weather Wizard: I have what?

Hugo Strange: Borderline Personality Disorder. It’s a mental illness characterized by mood swings, impulsive behavior, feelings of boredom or emptiness, an unstable, distorted self-image, and, perhaps most relevantly to this conversation, unstable interpersonal relationships. Your relationship with your brother was like this-you claim that he was the best thing in your life and that you wished that he was dead-and so, I think, is your relationship with the Flash. When you are in a relatively good mood, he is a fun challenge; when you are more stressed, he is an inconvenience you would prefer to avoid. Either way, he exacerbates your condition.

Weather Wizard: (Muttering) So my parents were right. I really am a lunatic. Great.

Hugo Strange: You are not a lunatic, Mr. Mardon. You are a man who needs to learn how to properly manage life with a difficult disease. But don’t worry. I am here to help you.

#flash rogues #dr. hugo strange #flash comics #batman comics #weather wizard #fanfic

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seasidewriter1-writes · 4 years ago

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Answering Asks from @fadingclamalmondrascal : “Hi! I hope you're still doing asks, but I understand if you're not, it sounds like you've got a lot going on. I've got 3 questions for you:

1: What made you want to adopt this story and write an "Anakin's big sister who falls in love with obi" au? What about it appealed to you initially, and what about it keeps you coming back?

2: I love Elara's Sith name! Carus is so cool. What kind of thought did you put into that name and her sith design?

3: What does your writing process for each chapter look like?”

Hi!! My asks are always open, and even if my life his completely hectic, I’ll always get around to answering them! But, thankfully, my life has started to calm down in the last week. I’ve gotten a lot of writing done in the last day, so I’m in a very “Balance” mood, so I’m super stoked to answer these!! (I also wrote a lot again, so buckle up!!)

1. So fun backstory on my finding the story: I was living in England for my first year at University, and I was on a big ol’ Star Wars kick because The Force Awakens had just come out in December. It was January. It was cold, the evenings were getting rainy, so one night after dinner and scrolled through FFN to find something fun to read. And when I first found and read the original story, pre-adoption (which I believe is still up and called “Another Skywalker”), I remember being like ‘wow, this is an interesting concept.’ And as I read it, in my head, all of these ideas were coming to my head; and I remember being kinda sad about that. I didn’t want to write my own story, then have it seem like I’d ripped off the concept from the author. Because this was the first fic with the “Anakin’s older sister falling for Obi” concept that I’d ever seen. I didn’t know if it was something of a trope for an Obi x OC pairing, or if this one was an odd one out. So I finished reading the 11 chapters, and the author had posted a note saying that the story was, effectively, up for adoption. I have never jumped on something so fast. I drafted out two scenes (a now obsolete scene where Elara sees Obi-Wan off to Kamino, and a chunk of the final battle RotS) and sent it to the author. When she told me that the story and concept were all mine to do with as I pleased, I was so excited. Because I realized that all the ideas that had been tentatively brewing in my head, I could now fully bring to fruition.

What initially drew me to the concept was the idea of being able to explore a story and a romance that is, in a way, a foil to Anakin’s. Almost a way to show that maybe, if things had gone differently, Anakin and Padmé’s romance didn’t have to be doomed. Because I have always believed that there had to be some way that it didn’t have to end in disaster. Presenting a Jedi OC x Obi-Wan can explore similar issues (and there’s a lot of fun to be had with that concept, too). But then you have two people who were raised with/to follow the same ideals. Though they are both unique individuals, they will come up to very similar blockages––struggling with breaking the Code, with sloughing off ideals and a way of life they’ve followed all their lives. But with a Skywalker OC… that changes. You get someone who wasn’t raised to keep her emotions in ultra-check. Someone who, like Anakin, is family oriented, passionate about protecting those they love, and innately wishes to express their emotions in a more open manner. Those characteristics present unique conflict (particularly in conjunction with Obi-Wan’s characteristics), and I just… I wanted to, and continue to want to, play with that. Because Elara is dedicated to the Jedi Code. She’s a good Jedi. But put her want to be a good Jedi (for herself, for her brother, for the good of the galaxy) right up against an undeniable, innate need and want to love (because, at her core, Elara is just a purely loving person)––you get whole other obstacles to overcome. It’s a lot of fun to figure out how her overcoming her obstacles helps Obi-Wan overcomes his, and vice-versa. How we can see, in recent chapters, that Obi-Wan realizing he can’t hold Elara at arm’s length anymore affects her; how she starts being more gentle towards him again, tentatively letting him back in. I just love playing with stuff like that!!

And there are a whole lot of things that keep me coming back to this story. One of the biggest things, I think, has to be the idea that ‘love prevails.’ I love myself a complex romance. Maybe that’s why I love Regency/Period Dramas so much; because there are so many ups and downs––and that’s what makes it feel so good! Because while there’s hope and love and happiness, there’s also drama and frustration and confrontation. But through all of that, at the end… love prevails. I’m a hopeless romantic, I’ll own up to that any time of the day. So seeing a couple, so hopelessly in love, go through trials and tribulations and come out on the other end completely alright? That’s my jam! And when you’ve got someone who stands so steadfastly by their ideals as Obi-Wan, but who very clearly is… so passionate and loving… That just feels like the way a love story with him would go. And ‘love prevails’ doesn’t just apply to the Obi-Lara stuff either. It’s about the familial love between Anakin and Elara, and how that love for each other may thrive or suffer in events to come… it’s the platonic love of Elara and the men of the 442nd. Star Wars is a story of many things––family, adventure, coming into your own… but it’s also about love. And getting to add to that aspect of the story in any given way, for people who enjoy reading it, to have fun conceptualizing and writing everything… it keeps bringing me back for more.

2. I had so much fun thinking up all the Darth Carus stuff!! It was prompted by a question in a review, asking what I thought Elara would be like as a Sith/what her name would be. So I started looking at all the other Sith names, and realized a lot of them were words that stood for descriptors of the Sith Lord. “Maul” for (the literal usage of) “maul,” “Tyrannus” for “tyrant” (derived, likely, from Latin tyrannia or tyrannos), “Vader” for “invader” (or “father”). So I decided I would use a Latin word for her Sith name, and decided I needed to think of what she would be like as a Sith. Tyrannical? Violent? Rampaging? And none of those seemed… right. It felt, to me, that if she were to become a Sith, it would be out of heartbreak. And it wouldn’t be a denial of love kind of heartbreak; it would be losing someone she truly loved (Anakin or Obi-Wan) forever. Their death, perhaps by a mistake that she made. So I went, ‘okay, the birth of her being a Sith is related to love.’ I searched up some Latin words and found “Carus” which means heart. And because Elara, Jedi or Sith, is so involved with her emotions and with love, with her heart… it just seemed to fit.

Now, the outfit––ohh, I had so much fun with the outfit. I’ve got a BFA in Theatrical Arts, so I’m big on costumes and costume details, so creating Elara’s Sith outfit was absolutely delightful. Again, I started with what I thought Darth Carus would be like. There’s a mournful aspect to her, so black as part of her color palette works, but I didn’t want her to be dressed in all black. I thought that, in the wake of her heartbreak, there would be a dangerous passion about her. An angry passion. So ‘anger’ and ‘passion’ are typically associated with burning colors like red, so I through red (and orange) into the mix. And I wanted them to be bright––Darth Carus is no longer hiding in the neutrals of Tatooine or the Jedi Order. She’s letting the galaxy know her pain. I did, however, want to stick with clothing articles that were more robe-like. It’s what Elara’s known her whole life. But instead of multiple layers, I stripped it down to singular, more form fitting articles. In a way, the fewer layers is displaying the vulnerability that turned her towards the Darkness. Red is the predominant color (the tunic) because it draws attention. You have to look at her, you have to see her pain. It’s almost like staring into a fire, or gaping at an open wound. And because all good Sith Lords need a dramatic cape, I thought I’d do a fun take on it and do one of the ones that attaches at the shoulders instead of drapes over them. Maximum drama for sweeping down staircases or jumping off of tall platforms. Now, like I said, I’m a sucker for small details… hence why I added the embroidery on the tunic collar. It’s floral. It denotes her love of life. Now, if this were all real life, real costume design in an actual movie… the embroidered flowers would be Gleannish Snow Blossoms. And, of course, amidst all the bright reds, vivid oranges, and swaths of black… against all this intensity… you have the delicate, cool softness of the real Snow Blossom pinned to the spot over her heart. The very same Snow Blossom that Obi-Wan gave her on Gleann. A gentle reminder of better days… of the reason she became the ways she is… of the man she loved so wholly and deeply that, in losing him… she’d much have rather killed her own heart instead. (Also, a friend of mine and I had a wonderful conversation discussing how much of a terrifying, badass power couple Sith!Elara and Sith!Obi-Wan would be. It’s delightful.)

3. So, if I’m writing a chapter that deals with a chunk of movie or episode, what I’ll do first is sit down and watch what I perceive I’ll be writing. I’ll take down notes on things that I’ll want to add in/describe. I’ve also got a whole document of ideas I’ve already written down, and a document of bullet-pointed ideas, so I’ll give that I skim/edit, too. I always have to pick what scenes to leave in or take out, decide if they can be summarized or should be left in. Sometimes this’ll happen the same day I start writing, but sometimes I take a day to really think things over, sleep on it, then start the next. Then I’ll start to write, and I’ll have the movie/episode open for reference. When I write canon dialogue, it’s a lot of: watch, listen, pause, transcribe; rewind, read subtitles, listen, pause, transcribe. I also usually have, like… five safari tabs open with different research pages open––one for the movie/episode, probably one for a character of some kind, a google image search of a costume or something, and another one that’s got, like, different kinds of starships or droids (because there are so, so many). A lot of the time I’ll just transcribe/describe a chunk of canon stuff, then go back and add in extra details, weave Elara into it, or change up the dialogue to fit. An example being Obi-Wan and Sugi’s conversation in the barn. I beefed that up a little bit, added in references, and used it to benefit the overall storyline.

With chapters that are more original content based, those take a little longer to plan. Even if I have an idea of what’s going to happen, it takes a bit of time to figure out how to order it all, how to get a proper lead in, how to make transitions. And I also contemplate whether or not what I want to write is really going to be beneficial to the story, or if it’s going to end up being meaningless filling. There are a lot of ideas that I have had or do have that would be fun to write, but don’t really… work into the story well enough (like, god, do I want a girls’ day chapter 😂). And it’s in writing these chapters in particular that I do a lot of my music listening. Star Wars soundtracks, the story playlists I’ve made… the right music can help me find the mood or setting of a scene, inspire a moment. Like, I cannot tell you how much of the bunker scene on Ryloth was inspired by Sebastian Böhm’s rendition of “Blue Monday.” Music plays a huge role in writing for me. I’ll have music playing when I’m driving or doing dishes or cooking, and I’ll start to formulate ideas while listening. There are times, too, when I feel stuck when writing that I’ll swap on over to YouTube and I’ll watch some Star Wars edits. There’s an amazing edit of “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath over battle sequences from the films, and it’s just… it feeds my soul when I get stuck writing battle sequences. I’ve got, like… a go-to list of edits I watch when I feel a little stuck, and they’re all phenomenal. And when all is said and done and I’ve finished the chapter, I usually take a break and sit on it for a bit. Then go back, read over it, do grammar edits, change things if I see fit too. Then it’s on to review replies and I get it uploaded and posted!!

#mary answers #Mary answers asks #balance asks #I’m alive!#And I’m writing again!#HUZZAH!

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romantichopelessly · 4 years ago

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Not a Cinderella Story

This is my contribution to @dukexietyweek 2020! The prompt was Fairytales and I followed it... very loosely. This is also a bullet fic because I scrapped my plot no less than three times over the course of writing this.

Pairing: Romantic Dukexiety, Implied/Background Mociet

Words: 2072

Warnings: jealousy, misunderstandings, toxic behavior

Synopsis: When Remus, Roman and Virgil were young, they were inseparable. They always played pretend--castles and princesses and dragons. But everyone has to grow up. Things change.

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Remus Sanders and his twin brother Roman have always been close. “Attached at the hip” some would say. Specifically, their mother, neighbors, and preschool teachers.

They always do the same things. They like the same juice. The same snacks. They play with the same toys, and they always laugh at the same things.

Their bond is unbreakable. They are the perfect duo. They never need anyone else.

Until they meet Virgil Storm.

They meet him early in their second grade year. Virgil is… a weird kid. He wears a purple jacket with cat ears on the hood in the middle of August. He doesn’t try to talk to anyone at lunchtime. He wears different colored socks and carries a lunchbox with cartoon spiders on it that says “Happy Halloween” even when it isn’t October.

He’s odd.

Remus loves him. And because Remus loves him, so does Roman.

The three of them make quick friends, underneath the tree on the playground, sitting in the grass and sharing easy smiles, as children do.

Roman suggests that they play a game that he and Remus invented all on their own--Knights and Dragons.

Virgil is quick to agree, because young children don’t have anything to worry about beyond silly games with their peers.

Remus believes that Knights and Dragons is a much more fun experience with three people. Sometimes Virgil is a knight, with Roman, and they both chase Remus around the school yard, giggling and waving sticks like they’re swords. And other times, Virgil is a dragon with Remus, and the two of them roar and yell and flap their arms like wings.

Virgil makes Remus laugh in ways that he thought only his brother could. Virgil laughs with him, not at him.

Of course, all good things come to an end, and soon, for the imaginative boy that was Roman Sanders, Knights and Dragons is not enough.

Knights and Dragons are boring in the eyes of a third grader.

Roman suggests one day that they add a princess to their game of Knights and Dragons.

Remus (rightfully) thinks that this is a very stupid idea. Princesses are for Disney movies and fairytales. Remus Sanders most definitely does not live in a fairytale.

But Roman loves fairytales. And Roman loves Disney. And, unfortunately, so does Virgil.

So they add a princess to their game. Oftentimes, this princess is played by Virgil, but sometimes Roman steps into the role. Remus is just glad that he gets to stay a big scary dragon.

That is… Until just a princess being kidnapped by a dragon and saved by a courageous knight is not enough for young Roman Sanders.

No, Roman wants more. Roman wants to emulate his favorite movies and his new favorite theme of said movies--

Romance.

So Knights and Dragons and Princesses turns into… Playing Cinderella.

There definitely wasn’t a dragon in Cinderella.

Remus is quickly shoved into the roles of the ugly stepsisters and stepmother. Don’t get it wrong! He loves playing the villain. He loves laughing maniacally and calling his brother funny names and getting away with it without punishment, because it was just pretend.

He doesn’t so much like sitting in the grass of his own backyard, watching while Roman and Virgil twirl around, holding hands and “dancing” to imaginary music while they “fall in love.”

It’s boring.

He’s almost glad when Roman’s phase of playing pretend Disney princesses ends.

Except that he can’t be. Because it ends with the three of them turning twelve and entering the dreaded halls of middle school. It ends with Roman joining the school theater club and making a whole bunch of new friends.

It ends with Virgil and Remus suddenly being left to walk home from school alone one day.

Despite his brother’s popularity, both Remus and Virgil are… outcasts of a sort. And since they just downgraded from a trio to a duo, their friendship is a bit more… strained. They still have the closeness of five years of best friendship, but there’s something… missing.

Cue Janus Duncan.

Janus is also an outcast. Janus is like a fairy godmother who comes in to save the poor outcasts at the last second, turning bleak days into wishes come true (if eating school lunch under the bleachers and snorting with laughter as they mix all the slushie options at 7-11 into one cup can be considered wishes come true), and wearing a super cool leather jacket that was two sizes too big, but definitely influenced Remus’s punk phase.

Because, oh yeah. They definitely both start their punk phases after meeting Janus Duncan.

Honestly meeting Janus really is a wish come true for Remus. A miracle among the comedy of errors that was his teenage years.

Because after about a year of Virgil, Janus and Remus being the perfect trio 2.0, Remus starts to… notice some things.

One thing is the way that his heart seems to inflate like a little balloon in Remus’s chest when Virgil smiles at him. The way that his guts squirm when Virgil laughs at one of his jokes, true and bright. The way that Remus catches himself staring at Virgil’s crooked smile, or his chipped nail polish as his fingers twirl around in his hoodie strings.

The second thing has… a lot of the same signs honestly.

Because Remus starts to notice how Virgil always watches Roman when he’s over at Remus’s house. The way that Virgil always smiles and waves at Remus’s twin brother when they pass one another in the hallway at school, his pale cheeks flushing a soft pink.

It makes a terrible, sickly green emotion curl in Remus’s stomach.

Jealousy.

So when Virgil tentatively brings up trying out for the school play, and asks Remus if Roman would mind running some lines with him, Remus does something he isn’t proud of.

He snaps. He tells Virgil that he shouldn’t try. That he won’t even make it. That he isn’t popular kid material. That Roman isn’t his friend anymore, god, Virgil, can’t you take a hint?

He watches it happen like he isn’t the one controlling his own body. He sees the shock take over Virgil’s features. The years of easy trust crumble before his very eyes as Virgil reels back in horror. He can taste the jealousy on his tongue.

As Virgil leaves, Remus knows that he is the villain of this story.

He can see it as plainly as if he had shattered Virgil’s dreams right in front of him, like so much of a shattered glass shoe on the palace steps.

That night, Janus comes over and lets Remus have it.

For about five minutes, before Remus breaks down and tells the truth to his now one and only best friend and lecturing quickly turns to comforting.

By the time that they start high school, the original trio has withered down to just Remus. The other two thirds are nearly distant memories. One a locked door down the hall, and the other three lockers down, speaking to new friends.

Anyone would choose the prince over the ugly stepsister. He couldn’t blame them.

The spring of their sophomore year, the school announces that they will be putting on a production of none other than Cinderella.

Roman auditions, of course. He gets the role of the Prince.

Virgil doesn’t audition, but he offers himself up for the role of stage manager.

Virgil and Roman’s friends Patton and Logan audition. They get the roles of mice, but they don’t seem at all upset by that fact.

Janus auditions. He gets the role of the fairy godmother.

Janus asks Remus to audition.

Remus refuses. He doesn’t want to play a campy version of the ugly stepsisters in front of the entire school. He may not care about this hell hole, but he isn’t going to make his remaining two years any worse than they have to be.

Janus drags Remus to rehearsals anyway. Kicking and screaming.

By some miraculous happenstance, Remus suddenly becomes the set designer for the show.

He may be imagining things, but he is pretty sure that that has something to do with what Janus, Roman and the director were whisper-arguing about in the first week of rehearsals.

Remus is grateful for it. Not that he plans on saying so. He still can’t bring himself to apologize to Virgil, but watching him from afar still brings those butterflies to Remus’s stomach.

One night, after rehearsal, Remus is putting the finishing touches on the carriage prop, which has quickly gone from inconsequential to him to his very own magnum opus. He’s just testing out its mobility when he hears soft laughter.

Naturally, he follows the sounds.

Stage left, hidden in the wings, Remus sees his brother, in full costume, standing across from Virgil, who is chuckling and gently smoothing his hands across the front of Roman’s costume.

Remus sees green. His old friend Jealousy curls around him like the dragon that he used to love to play.

He barely restrains himself from breaking the very set that he worked so hard on.

Funnily enough, that is progress.

The night before the play opens, there is a house party. Remus isn’t quite sure who is hosting, but the cast and company are the only people invited.

Remus doesn’t want to go.

Janus makes Remus go.

Begrudgingly, Remus has a good time. He has a good time drinking soda and watching the other stage hands tell stories about past productions. He has a good time laughing at Janus as he unsuccessfully tries to flirt with the boy in the bright blue sweater who plays a mouse.

He is still having a good time when the girl who plays Cinderella herself caps a plastic bottle and places it on the ground, calling for everyone to gather around for a game of spin the bottle.

Remus finds himself sitting between Janus and his giggly mouse boy, and some other techie who wears sunglasses indoors.

There are a few fun rounds. Roman has to kiss the girl playing the stepmother. One of the mice has to kiss Cinderella. It’s all in good fun.

That is, until Remus isn’t really paying attention and the mouth of the bottle is suddenly facing him. He blinks.

From across the circle, the studious looking mouse speaks up. “Janus clearly touched the bo-” The hand of one of the set designers covers the mouse’s mouth.

Remus blinks again. “So who’s the lucky bastard I’m making out with?”

All eyes turn to Virgil, who looks like a startled mouse himself.

Shit.

Virgil is up before anyone can say anything, backing away from the circle and spinning on his heel before making a beeline for the kitchen. Remus follows, standing up before his mind even catches up with his body. He sees Roman making to stand up too, but he holds out a hand.

Even after years of not being close, Roman can tell what he means without a word.

Remus follows Virgil into the kitchen and finds him leaning against the counter.

“Didn’t want to kiss the ugly stepsister that badly, huh?”

“What?”

“You… You know, Emo, like that stupid game Roman always made us play when we were ankle biters.”

“Wh- First of all, you and Roman are identical twins. You look exactly the same. That was just a game.”

Remus shrugs, as if he hasn’t carried that game and all it implied with him for the entirety of his teenage years.

“And… No. It wasn’t- I just didn’t want to kiss you in front of everyone.”

Remus pretends like that doesn’t make his heart shatter into a hundred tiny pieces.

Virgil seems to see it anyway. “I mean that I don’t want to… have my first kiss in front of all of them. It’s nothing against you, they just- they just all know about my crush.”

Virgil says it like it’s something stupid. Like being in love is something shameful. Like liking Roman Sanders isn’t something that literally everyone in that room except for Remus has in common.

“Your crush on my brother?”

Virgil looks at him like he’s the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.

He probably is.

Because he doesn’t see it coming for a second when Virgil steps closer, cups Remus’s cheek in his hand like he is made of something precious and priceless, and closes the gap to kiss him.

133 notes · View notes

klaineaddictsfanficrecs · 4 years ago

Text

Unmasked

By Gleeful Darren Criss Fan

Covid sucked. It had totally ruined 2020. First, he had landed his first major role in a Broadway production. Ok, it was an understudy role, and it was a revival of Wicked. He was Fiyero’s understudy, even though he was better than the guy cast to play the role, some cocky kid named Brody that slept his way to the top. Unfortunately for the promiscuous boy, he had pissed off the director and was fired during the pandemic, allowing Blaine to step in and fill his shiny, polished shoes.

Unfortunately, Covid had other plans. The governor called for the emergency closure of all nonessential businesses, which meant the show and the theater was mandated to stay closed to the public until further notice. Initially, he had been optimistic, thinking that they were only going to close down for a couple of weeks. Now, almost a year later, there was finally a date set for opening night. It was finally time for his debut. He had finally gotten to walk back through those doors and step back on stage. But that wasn’t the reason that he had been so elated.

This morning when he was told that everyone would be allowed to congregate and rehearse together, he had practically jumped for joy. Yes, it would be amazing to see his costars again. Rachel, although a diva at times, was fun to be around and immensely talented. And his friends in the ensemble, like Sam, Tina, and Mike were a blast to be around. And even Santana, Rachel’s understudy, was even becoming his friend, even though he did not want to get on her bad side. But the person he was most excited to be around wasn’t even on the stage. And because of that, he only had the opportunity to see him sporadically, only when the costume director needed to take measurements or do adjustments. Yep, that’s correct. His favorite person to see in the whole production was the lead designer for the show, Kurt Hummel.

When he was first told that Brody was out and he was in, he was ecstatic because that meant that he’d get his chance to shine. Unfortunately, it had caused Kurt to flip out because Brody and Blaine were very different, especially in the height department. Blaine was also told that he was not as defined in a few areas, like his arms, but he was much more defined in other areas, such as in the crotch area. Blaine had never blushed so much in his life as when Kurt had to take his measurements that day.

And since then, Blaine’s outlook for his day seemed to improve as soon as Kurt walked into the theater. It hadn’t happened much at first, because they staggered days that they worked at the theater so that they could socially distance themselves. Kurt had said that he could do much of the sewing at home, so he seldomly graced them with his presence until the virus finally started to get under control.

And when Kurt was there, he would always do the responsible thing and distance himself and wear an impeccably designed and completely original mask. Of course, all of them were encouraged to wear masks. Blaine had his on currently, although he was permitted to take his off when he was singing because it was hard to sing with them on. However, since Kurt was a costume designer that didn’t have to perform or sing, his mask stayed in place the entire time that he was there. And Blaine absolutely hated it.

Yep, he hated that little piece of fabric so much. Stupid covid. Because of you, Kurt’s face was concealed. His luscious lips, his adorable button nose, his strong jaw, his rosy cheeks, and that adorable cleft in his chin were being touched, caressed even by the fabric instead of his own fingers and lips. Now, Blaine had to imagine what Kurt’s face looked like when he laughed or when he got irritated and said something fiery and sarcastic. It was just so unfair. And what made it worse was that everyone had to bring attention to them.

Kurt never seemed to wear the same mask twice, unlike most of the rest of the crew. Some of them obviously only owned one and never bothered to wash it. Kurt, however, always walked in with the most stunning, unique masks that Blaine had ever seen, which became the immediate topic that everyone had to talk about. Sam, Mike, or even Santana would comment on how amazing the mask was. Blaine thought back to the first time that Kurt had walked in with the accessory that Blaine now detested most of all.

“Oh my God, Blaine,” Tina exclaimed as she embraced him. “Did you see Kurt’s mask yet?”

tin man mask

Blaine nodded. “Yeah. It’s neat.”

“Neat? Blaine, it’s the tinman’s face, in exact detail. It’s incredible. I’ve not seen anything like it, and I’ve searched like crazy for the coolest designs and fabrics when I was making mine. I bet he made it. He has the skill, obviously. I wonder if he’d make me one.”

“I’m sure he would,” Blaine said softly, though he was really trying not to roll his eyes.

“Don’t you like it? I thought you liked the wizard of Oz. If it wasn’t for the popularity of that story, Wicked wouldn’t have ever happened.”

“I love the wizard of Oz. You know that.”

“Then, what’s the reason for that face. When I brought up the mask, you looked almost as irritated as you were when Rachel tried to make “As long as You’re Mine” a solo because she had the strongest voice. Do you not like Kurt?”

Blaine bit his lip. “No, no. Of course, I like Kurt. I was just thinking of the show and everything. Sorry. It’s a great mask.”

“Cool. I’m going to ask him to make one for both of us then,” Tina said, ignoring the look of horror from Blaine as she frantically started waving the brunette over. “Hey Kurt! Come here for a minute!”

Kurt smiled as he stepped up to the two friends. “Hi, Tina. Hey Blaine. Did you need somethi-?”

“Yeah,” Tina interrupted, shaking Kurt’s hand, neglecting to let it go so that Blaine could do the same. “We were just talking about your mask, and how cool it is, and Blaine and I thought it would be neat to have one. Where did you get it?”

“Oh, I made it actually,” Kurt replied. “During the pandemic, I had to do something to earn money and keep my sanity, so I designed and sewed masks. It was also a way that I could do my part to help. My dad was at risk, since he’s a cancer survivor and all, so it started with me trying to convince him to wear a mask. He kept fussing that he couldn’t find any that were comfortable and fun to wear, so I started designing them for him to wear.”

“He’s a Wizard of Oz fan?” Tina asked.

Kurt shook his head. “Nah, not really. This one was completely my idea. No. I designed him some masks with his favorite car models or the Buckeyes.”

Blaine did a double-take. Could Kurt be more perfect? “You like the Buckeyes?”

Kurt laughed. “Oh Heck no. But my dad does. He loves football, and he’s all about supporting the local team, you know.”

“Oh ok,” Blaine chuckled. “I didn’t take you for the type that liked football.”

“Hey, now. Don’t put me inside a box, Blaine. I was on my high school football team.”

“For like two games, and you were the kicker,” Rachel interjected, popping up behind them as if from nowhere. “Hey, Blaine, Tammy.”

“Tina,” Tina said with an eye roll.

“So, are you ready to finally get to practice together? I bet it’ll be a total disaster since I highly doubt that the rest of the cast rehearsed daily as I did to stay in optimum shape both vocally and physically. Kurt, have you put on some weight.”

“Why, yes, Rachel, I have, or to phrase it more accurately, I’ve gained muscle mass, because unlike, what you suggested, I’ve kept up with my aerobics and exercise routine daily, and I’ve actually watched what I’ve eaten better. Have you?”

Rachel’s eyes flashed. “No, I have not. I’ve actually lost weight, thank you very much,” she said, stomping away angrily.

“Thank you,” Tina said graciously. “I can’t stand her sometimes. We’ve worked together for a while now, and she still calls me Tammy.”

Kurt shrugged his shoulders. “She just feels threatened because she’s not used to sharing the spotlight much. So, you want a mask like this?”

Tina nodded. “Yeah. It’s incredible. Actually, could you make two? Blaine wants one as well.”

“Is that right? I think that I still have enough fabric at home to whip one up for both of you. Or did you want a different character? I even have couples’ masks if you’re interested.

“No, no, uh uh. No couples masks. Blaine and I aren’t a couple. I’m seeing Mike. Blaine’s gay,” Tina corrected.

“Oh, is that right,” Kurt replied. Blaine wished that he could see the rest of Kurt’s face when he had said that because if he didn’t know better, Kurt seemed to be smiling, maybe even blushing, but Blaine couldn't be sure because of that damn mask covering his face.

“Uh yeah, totally gold star gay,” Blaine responded, feeling his own cheeks grow warm. Thank god he had on a mask to cover the bright red hue painted on his cheeks. “I thought it was obvious.”

Kurt laughed, his nose scrunching up under the fabric. “Nope. and I thought my gaydar had improved since I moved here. Good to know,” Kurt said with a wink.

A wink. What did Kurt mean by that? Was he blushing too? Smiling at him? Could Kurt be interested in him? Blaine was usually good at reading people’s expressions, but with that stupid mask, he wasn’t getting the full picture. And unfortunately, every conversation after that was just as cryptic.

“Hey Blaine,” Kurt said as he stepped into Blaine’s dressing room. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah sure. What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to see if you got your mask, and you obviously did because it’s right there. Does it fit right?”

“Oh, I haven’t tried it on yet since I haven’t left my dressing room yet. I wore a different one here today, but it looks good.” He fitted the elastic over his ears. He smiled, but then quickly realized that Kurt couldn’t see it anymore. “Yeah, it’s perfect. Yours is interesting today.”

Baby Yoda mask

“Thanks. I think baby Yoda is adorable,” Kurt replied.

I think you’re adorable, Blaine thought. “Yeah, he is. Did you need something else?”

“Um, yeah. Actually, I noticed yesterday that your costume is a little snug in a few areas, specifically around your arms and other areas and I didn’t want it to be uncomfortable so I thought I’d take your measurements so I could make the needed adjustments.”

This was mortifying. Kurt noticed that he had put on some weight during the pandemic. He tried to keep up a healthy diet, and he still exercised every day. He also indulged more in sweets though, especially since his favorite bakery started offering delivery. He and Steve, the Door Dash delivery guy, were now on a first-name basis. “Yeah, I guess that I started eating less healthy since this whole pandemic thing started and I discovered cronuts. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Kurt said as he started measuring Blaine’s triceps. “If anything, I just thought that you had increased your workout regime while you were stuck at home. Your sleeves have definitely gotten tighter, along with some other things,” Kurt remarked, his eyes shifting down his body. “I thought at first that you just started dressing up in tighter clothing until I saw you in the costume. Not that I mind.” Kurt said as he turned his head up and looked directly at Blaine, and were his pupils larger?

“Oh, um. Yeah. It wasn’t intentional. I can’t pull off the look as well as you do,” Blaine replied.

“Debatable,” Kurt answered back quickly, and was that a giggle? That stupid piece of fabric on his face muffled his voice a little, so Blaine couldn’t be sure. Was he flirting? “Anyway, I’ll adjust the shirt for you,” Kurt said as his fingers worked his way down to Blaine’s thighs, “although I think I need to take out the pants a little as well. You’ve clearly gained some definition in your thighs as well.”

Blaine was thankful for his mask at that moment because it hid how his mouth dropped open in shock. Was Kurt complimenting his legs? Or was he just doing his job and noticing that his pants had gotten tighter.

“Do I need to take them out in other areas? Turn around and let me get your measurements in the seat of your pants.”

Did Kurt just ask to measure his ass? “Are you trying to imply that my ass has gotten bigger?” Blaine laughed, again a blush rising on his cheeks.

“Not at all. It’s actually the opposite. You’ve obviously defined certain areas, and so your trousers are ill-fitted in some places and too tight in others. I just didn’t want you to have an unfortunate wardrobe malfunction on stage. Plus, I know how uncomfortable it is to squeeze into a pair of pants that are too tight.”

“Your pants are really tight. Why do you wear them that way if they’re uncomfortable?” Blaine questioned, thankful that Kurt was behind him and not able to see how embarrassed he was by the question.

“It’s fashionable. Plus, I have long legs. My skinny jeans accentuate my assets,” Kurt answered as he moved the measuring tape along Blaine’s butt.

“Yeah, they do,” Blaine blurted. “I mean, you obviously know what looks good on your body type,” he quickly added. Change the subject, before you pop a boner, Blaine. “So has my ass has gotten smaller.”

Kurt laughed heartily. “Are you trying to insinuate that I committed the size of your ass to memory, Blaine?” Kurt said, rising up, and resting the tape on his arm.

“Um, no, but you said my pants no longer fit right,” Blaine mumbled. “So it must’ve gotten smaller, right?”

Kurt chuckled again. “Not necessarily. Like I said, your thighs have gained definition and you have gained some muscles in your glutes as well. Therefore, it changed the fit of your already tight trousers. And since they’re white, they’re showing some things that may not be appropriate for the kiddos in the audience to see.

“Oh, um, then, by all means, let’s fix that.” Blaine laughed.

“Well, then, I’ll kinda need your pants.”

Blaine ran his hand through his curls as he turned his head from the brunette. “Wait, right now?”

“Not this exact second, Blaine. I’m not telling you to drop ‘em right this instant.” Kurt chuckled. “I’ll leave, and you can change. Then, I’ll tailor them as quickly as I can so that they are ready for the dress rehearsal Thursday.”

“Oh, ok. Thanks, Kurt.” Blaine smiled, even though he knew Kurt couldn’t see it with his mask covering his face.

“No, thank you, Blaine. It’s been my pleasure. Kurt said with a wink. Then, he turned and shut the door behind him.

What the hell? Was Kurt flirting or was he just doing his job? He had to be flirting. He had noticed that Blaine’s body had changed, and he had even commented that the changes were nice. Was Kurt trying to hint that he liked what he saw? Or was it really an issue of a wardrobe nightmare waiting to happen?

Damn that mask. Blaine had missed all the signs. The shy smiles, the blushing cheeks, the sly, confident smile he’d usually look for when he read another guy’s expressions. The signs that he had read on his former hookups or boyfriends before he felt confident to ask them out. Hell, some guys made it extremely easy, like Sebastian, who basically called him sex on a stick and gave him a room key to his dorm. Covid had already complicated his life on so many levels, and now it was messing with his love life. Not that he had a love life. Blaine sighed and unbuckled his pants. Yep. He hated those stupid masks.

The next encounter was even more confusing.

“Hey, Blaine. Are things inside your pants better now?” Kurt asked, making Blaine nearly spit out the water he had just taken a sip of. “Oh God. I meant, do they feel better.”

“Wanky,” Santana laughed. “You been lettin’ Hummel get into your pants, Anderson?”

“What? No. He had to make some adjustments yesterday.”

“Some adjustments? Is that what we’re calling it now? Santana laughed again, raising her eyebrows and perching her hand on her hip.

“I had to tailor his pants, Santana. Just like I had to make adjustments to your costume as well after you decided to get some adjustments of your own,” Kurt replied.

“Hey, just because Berry’s captain of the itty bitty titty committee doesn’t mean that I have to join too. Now, I’m ineligible, thanks to some silicone and a team of surgeons. Anyway, Blaine, you didn’t answer Ladyface’s question. How are things inside your pants? Growing uncomfortable, are we?”

“No, they actually are fine. Thanks for your concern. Don’t you have some lines to review, Santana?”

“Yeah, but they aren’t going to be as fun for me to study as the ones that Kurt studied on your ass.”

“Leave him alone, Santana. Blaine can’t help that his body changed during the pandemic, even though he looks great. Getting into better shape and taking care of your body is a positive thing, especially since Blaine didn’t have to get the help of a doctor and a scalpel to do it.”

Santana flipped her hair, “Whatever, lady face,” she sassed, stalking away.

“Thanks, Kurt.”

“For putting her in her place? She lived with me for a little while. You just have to call her out when she gets bitchy,” Kurt replied.

“No, I meant for the alterations. I don’t feel quite so obscene now.” Blaine laughed.

“No problem, Blaine. That’s my job. Although I kinda liked the view,” Kurt said quietly. “Besides, it reflects poorly on me as a costume designer if anything appears ill-fitting.”

Blaine smiled. “Well, still, thank you. I can actually breathe in my costume now. Did you make that mask as well?”

“Yeah. Do you like it?”

Chewbacca mask

Nope. Not at all, Blaine thought as he visualized how even more gorgeous Kurt would be without it. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“Fine? Do you not like Chewbacca, Blaine?

“He’s fine, I guess. I’m more of a Han solo guy myself.”

“Oh, I like him too, but I didn’t know how to make a Harrison Ford face,” Kurt laughed. “I don’t think they sell that at Mood.”

Blaine chuckled. “No, I guess not. But does that mean that they do have Chewbacca Fabric?”

“No, I had to order it from a specialty shop online. They use a special program to put the design on fabric. My customers really seem to like them.”

“They really are unique,” although I wish you’d take yours off so that I could see your gorgeous smile again, Blaine thought. “I think that it’s great that you make them, even though I can’t wait for the day that they lift the mask mandates.”

“And why is that, Blaine? I really like seeing the different designs that people wear, and they’re fun to make.”

I really like seeing your whole face, and I haven’t gotten to see it since this stupid pandemic started, Blaine thought. “I just don’t like trying to breathe through the fabric, I guess, and I kinda miss seeing people’s facial expressions.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Especially for an actor. I guess it’s hard to react to your scene partner’s expressions when you can’t see them. And I guess it’d be difficult trying to sing with one on,” Kurt replied. “But, safety first. I wouldn’t want anyone to get sick because of my negligence.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It is the responsible thing to do.”

“Being responsible sucks sometimes, though,” Kurt said. “I don’t particularly like them either.”

“You don’t?” Blaine asked in surprise.

Kurt shook his head. “I miss people’s smiles too, some more than others,” Kurt said as he turned and walked away.

What did he mean by that? Did Kurt mean him? Was he talking about someone else? He had never been so puzzled in his life.”

__________________________________________________________________________

The next few weeks continued to puzzle Blaine. The days that Kurt was at the theater were few and far between, and when he was there, he was bombarded with the task of fixing a burst seam or making alterations to the rest of the casts’ costumes. And since the CDC and the governor were still suggesting that every one social distance, Kurt seemed to take that to heart, barely speaking to him at all.

“Blaine, what did you think of Kurt’s mask today?” Sam asked as Sam exited the stage and Blaine prepared to enter.

“Oh, I haven’t even seen it yet. I wasn’t aware that he was here today.”

“Yeah, the CDC finally lifted some of the restrictions, although they are still recommending masks,” Mike commented. “You didn’t notice that everyone was here today?”

Blaine shook his head. “I’ve been running lines in my dressing room. With the opening night being just a week away, my nerves have been a mess,” Blaine admitted.

“Then you should definitely check out Kurt’s mask. It’s just your style,” Sam said, smiling.

“I’ll check it out,” Blaine said with a nod, stepping on the stage, and then spotting Kurt sitting front and center in the center of one of the front rows, and Sam was right. It was definitely his style.

Han Solo mask

Blaine flubbed several of his lines as his focus was pulled from Rachel and directed to Kurt countless times. It was Han Solo. Kurt was wearing a Han solo mask. What did that mean?

“Blaine? Cut? We need to try that again. That line isn’t even in this scene. Where’s your focus? We have opening night in a week, and you can’t just be dropping the wrong lines. It might throw me off. If you’re going star opposite of me, you have to match my level of talent and enthusiasm. I don’t want my opening night to be lackluster.”

“God, Rachel. It’s not just your opening night. You do realize that hundreds of people all have a hand in making this play come together. You aren’t the only person that people are coming to see. I need a break,” Blaine sighed, storming off the stage in frustration.

“Hey, Blaine, are you ok?” a sweet melodic voice asked behind him.

Blaine turned to see Kurt standing in front of him, his Han solo mask still in place. “Yeah, I just get a little flustered by her sometimes.”

Kurt nodded in understanding. “I get it. We used to be roommates. I couldn’t take it anymore. I moved in with Elliott during the pandemic.”

“Elliott?” Blaine had never heard Kurt mention that name before. Did Kurt have a boyfriend? Of course, he did. There was no way that a man as gorgeous and sweet as Kurt was single.

“Yeah, we met when he auditioned for my band shortly after I moved to New York.”

“Your band? You’re in a band?”

Kurt nodded. “Yeah, but we haven’t played anywhere with a lot of the venues we play not having shows this past year. I really miss it. We still practice sometimes, but I miss performing in front of an audience. We have a gig coming up, though. You should come.”

“Sure. When is it?”

“Friday at Callbacks. It starts at 8.”

“I have rehearsal, but I’ll try. By the way, your mask is great.”

“Thanks. It was inspired by you. You said that you liked Han. and I’ve already sold several on my Etsy page. But I saved one for you, if you want it.”

“Of course I want it. What makes you think that I wouldn’t.”

“You said that you don’t like masks,” Kurt answered matter of factly.

“It’s not that I don’t like them. I just miss seeing people’s faces.” Especially yours, Blaine thought. He had never been so jealous of a piece of fabric in his life. Those masks got to be right up close to Kurt’s smooth skin, his perfect, luscious lips, and it wasn’t fair. “I’ll try to be there Friday. I can’t wait to hear you sing.”

“I can’t wait to be back on stage again myself. I’ll see you then. And here. This is yours. Kurt placed something in his hand. It was a mask just like his own.

“Thank you,” Blaine said, squeezing Kurt’s hand as if to discourage him from moving it away from his.

“No problem. I made one for Sam and Elliott as well. They’re both Star Wars fans like you. And hang in there. Rachel does not use to sharing the spotlight, but one of these days, she’ll realize the importance of a team effort. See you Friday.”

“See you then.” Although Blaine was really tired of the fact that he still wouldn’t get to see Kurt’s beautiful smile. But then he realized that Kurt would be singing and it was hard to sing with a mask on. Kurt would have to take off the mask. There’s no way that Blaine would miss finally getting to see his face once again.

____________________________________________________________________________

Blaine was a nervous wreck, pacing back and forth in front of the little club. He debated going inside. On one hand, he’d get to hear his crush sing. On the other hand, Kurt would be there with the man he lived with, that probably got to kiss his lips and touch his face and strong jaw.

After about five minutes, he finally gathered the nerve to step inside the club, only to see the man of his dreams, maskless, and wrapped in the arms of a gorgeous, taller man with eyeliner and a leather jacket. He turned around and abruptly left the club without looking back.

_______________________________________________________________________

It was opening night, and Blaine’s nerves were on edge. He was excited. His parents and Cooper were both going to be in the audience tonight to watch him perform. His parents had already seen the special showing the night before, and then they took him out for dinner at a swanky place that Blaine could probably never afford. It was a nice evening, but it had been plagued by a feeling of frustration. Kurt hadn’t even tried to talk to him since that night that he stood him up at Callbacks. And Kurt would be at the show. He’d have to be, to make sure that everyone’s costumes were in perfect shape. In fact, he had seen Kurt running around and checking with everyone to make sure that they didn’t need anything. Except him.

Kurt hadn’t even turned around long enough for him to see his mask today. And suddenly, Blaine collided with someone hard, almost falling backward as a strong arm gripped his and prevented him from hitting the hardwood beneath him.

“Are you ok?”

“Kurt, hey, I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was goin-”

“Are you ok? Kurt asked again.

“Your mask. It’s me.”

Blaine Anderson Mask

Kurt nodded. “It is. I broke my rule to wear it tonight.”

“You have a rule? I mean other than to never take it off.”

Kurt nodded. I don’t usually wear the same mask twice. But I wore this one again.

Blaine shook his head. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“I wore it at Callbacks. I guess you couldn’t make it that night.”

“I was there, but I-I had to leave. I’m sorry.”

“Was there an emergency or something?”

“No, I just couldn’t handle it. I’m sorry.”

Kurt shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. You’re going to have to explain it to me.”

“How does Elliott feel about that mask?”

“He’s fine with it. He actually helped me find a picture of you to use so that I could draw it accurately.”

“And he wasn’t jealous?”

“No, why would he be. We’re just roommates and bandmates.”

“He was holding you quite tightly the other night. I didn’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, that? He needed a friend. His boyfriend of two years broke up with him the day before and we had just rehearsed a song that Elliott wrote for him. I was being supportive.”

“Wait, so Elliott isn’t your boyfriend?” Blaine asked.

“No. I just needed a place to stay when Rachel became an even bigger diva than she already is. Elliott and Danny offered to let me stay at their place. They never seemed to mind me. That is until Danny accused Elliott and me of sleeping together. Which would never happen because I respected their relationship too much, and I’m not really attracted to Elliott. I’ve been hopelessly head over heels for someone else for over a year now.”

“Wait, you have? Do I know him?”

Kurt smiled and pulled his mask off and handed it to Blaine. I thought I made it pretty obvious. I mean, I wouldn’t just put anyone on my face.” Kurt facepalmed. I mean, I wouldn’t just wear a mask with just anybody on it.”

“You had Han solo’s chest on one of them.” Blaine objected.

“Because he was your favorite,” Kurt countered.

“And you wore baby Yoda.”

“Because Sam said that you liked Star Wars a lot. He told me that you thought Yoda was adorable.”

“I think you’re adorable,” Blaine blurted, and then blushed profusely when he realized that he said that out loud. “I mean, especially now, since I can see your face.”

“Well then, if you like seeing it, then how about you make plans to see it again, tonight, after the show. Dinner. You and I.”

“My brother’s taking me out tonight. But we can do something afterward.”

“Will you show up this time,” Kurt pouted.

“I showed up last time. And I am truly sorry about that. I really did want to see you perform. I just was caught off guard when I saw you and Elliott holding one another so tightly. It just seemed like I’d be intruding.”

“You can’t intrude if I want you to be there. And he was comforting me because I thought that you weren’t coming.”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions,” Blaine said dropping his head down in shame.

“Make it up to me?” Kurt asked with a timid smile.

“Anything.”

Kurt cupped Blaine’s jaw and closed the distance between them, their lips finally meeting in an electric kiss.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that for ages. But I couldn’t because of these things.” Blaine said, referencing the mask that was still in his hand.

“I knew you didn’t really like them.”

“I hated them at first, because I didn’t actually get to see you smile anymore. I didn’t get to see your nose crinkle when something irritated you, and I didn’t get to see your cheeks redden when Santana said something distasteful. But then, I realized that I got to see another part of you that I hadn’t got to see before. I think I fell head over heels for you when I saw you in a mask for the first time. That tin man mask. It just showed so much personality. And then, you made one for me too. I still have it. I wear it all the time.”

“I have mine in my keepsake box. It was the day I realized that I didn’t just have a crush on you anymore. It had grown into something much deeper.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Blaine asked, staring intensely at the gorgeous man in front of him.

“It depends. What is it that you think I’m saying?” Kurt smirked. Smirked, and it was adorable and so freakin’ hot.

“I think you’re saying, Mr. Hummel, that you want me to be your boyfriend,” Blaine smirked back.

“And I think that’s pretty accurate,” Kurt replied as he pressed his body into Blaine’s and kissed him firmly on the lips.

“It’s nice to finally get to do this,” Blaine whispered against his boyfriend’s lips.

“Do what?” Kurt prompted, lightly kissing Blaine’s lips once more.

“To get you unmasked,” Blaine replied before deepening the kiss.

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bucketofcowboys · 4 years ago

Text

Santa-Maj Is Coming To Town

Cute Christmas fluff drabble I made randomly in the early hours of the morning (as one does). Hope you enjoy!

Relationships: Kiryu Kazuma/Majima Goro, Kiryu Kazuma & Sawamura Haruka, Majima Goro & Sawamura Haruka Words: 3,995 Warnings: No warnings! Just severe fluff and Nishida abuse AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413567

- - -

"Ojisan, did you know that a polar bear's fur is see through?" Haruka spoke up, finally tilting her head up and away from the newest puddle she had decided to attack. She decided to entertain herself as they walked back to their apartment by dipping her toes in every puddle they walked by to see how much water she can kick up without making a complete mess.

At this point, her new winter boots were sure to be soiled in, but she made sure not a single drop got on the rest of her new outerwear. She cherished the winter jacket Kiryu had bought her as soon as the cold began to hit Kamurocho. It was perfectly puffy and warm with a nice pastel pink color to it, and around the hood was faux fur that would tickle her cheeks every time she huddled up when a cold breeze blew by.

"No, I didn't know that." Kiryu hummed in response. He held her hand and their connected arms swayed as they strolled down the street. As they approached a rather large puddle in the middle of the street, he gently tugged her in front of him to balance on the narrow dry patch of land around it.

It had snowed the previous few days, which was quite rare with the usual winter temperatures of the city. Christmas Eve of course was the day that the temperature decided to heat up once again, leaving large puddles of melted snow scattering each street corner. Kiryu would have preferred a white Christmas for his first holiday celebration with Haruka, but she seemed to be just as happy with soggy socks.

"Did you know that penguins have to hold their eggs between their legs to keep them from touching the ice and freezing?" Haruka had been spouting interesting animal facts the whole way home. Kiryu didn't mind though. If there was ever a trivia night on random animal facts he would rest assured that he would win.

"I didn't know that either." Another big puddle. He pulled her in front of him again, holding her hand above her head like he was twirling a ballerina.

"Do you know any cool animal facts Ojisan?" Haruka tilted her head back to look up at him. He hummed for a moment. He never was too interested in facts-- and he never paid attention in school, so he wracked his brain for anything he could scramble up.

"Uhh... did you know that..." he looked up at the dimmed night sky and watched as his breath steamed in the air for a moment as he thought, "Did you know that an octopus has three hearts?" He finally offered. She gave him a surprised look.

"Really?" She asked.

"I heard about it somewhere. I don't know how true it is." He shrugged and scratched the side of his chin.

After a couple more minutes of leisurely strolling through late night Kamurocho, avoiding puddles and exchanging animal facts (though Haruka said most of them), their temporary, dingy apartment had finally come into view. As they approached the back alley, leading to the door another large puddle came into view, this time with no dry spots to go around on. Kiryu pulled Haruka in front of him, but this time he let go of her hand and grabbed her from under her arms. He safely picked her up and placed her at the other side of the puddle without ruining her boots and with a few giggles to go along with it. He just stepped over it semi-clumsily.

Once they were in the alleyway, something felt wrong though. He paused for a moment before moving towards the back of the building with Haruka. He couldn't understand why, but the underlying feeling of wrong itched at the back of his mind and brought goosebumps up to his skin. It was a familiar feeling at this point. By why would he be here on Christmas Eve--

"Ho ho ho!!" Kiryu tensed up at the sudden vocal intrusion of his alone time with Haruka. It seemed like the person speaking was trying to make their voice sound deeper than it is, but eventually settling on shrilling out their failed impression of Santa. Both Haruka and him turned. Kiryu wasn't even sure how he could still be surprised by the man anymore.

Behind him, standing in the puddle he and Haruka had just hurtled over, was Majima, dressed up in an ill-fitting dollar store Santa costume that sagged way too much around the belly area, included with a scratchy looking synthetic white beard and a stained Santa hat that looked like it had seen better days. His eyepatch also seemed to have been customized to have a snowflake design on it, but upon further inspection, it was clear to see that he had just hot glued a snowflake decoration to his usual eyepatch.

"Majima no-nii san--" Kiryu started, But Majima quickly interjected.

"Ah ah ah!! Not Majima," He scolded, "Santa Majima." He quickly corrected, gesturing towards his outfit.

"Santa Majima," Kiryu corrected, not liking the feel of that name on his tongue, but it earned him a pleased smile from the man in front of him, "What are you doing here?"

"Me? Oh, I just came to wish the lil' tyke merry Christmas." He kneeled down and smiled over at Haruka. Ever since Majima kidnapped her all that time ago, she had been a bit wary of the man. But after the shift of Majima hanging out around Kiryu more often without looking for a fight, she had grown much more used to him. Kiryu would even say that she liked him. "Merry Christmas Haru-Chan!"

"Merry Christmas Majima-Ojisan." She giggled from Kiryu’s side. Santa Mahima frowned.

"No, not Majima. Santa Majima!" He corrected with a pointed stroke of the synthetic beard. Kiryu flinched at the prospect of how much it must itch.

"Majima-Ojisan I know that's you--"

"Haw? Who's Majima? Wait are ya talking about that Majima? Goro Majima? That one-eyed freak is at the top of the naughty list ya'know!" Kiryu tsked at the loving nickname he gave himself, "You shouldn't fraternize with people on the naughty list Haru-Chan. It can ruin yer rep."

"Majima-Ojisan isn't on the naughty list! No way!" She quickly defended.

"I dunno kid-- the stuff he does seems like naughty list material to me." Haruka quickly shook her head.

"No! He may act all tough and fight a lot, but he's a super sweet person when you get to know him!" Haruka said with such confidence that it was almost as if she wasn't talking to the person she was talking about. Kiryu had to hold back a smile at that, and when he looked back at Santa Majima he could see a wobbly smile past that gross beard.

"Aw Haru-Chan... yer gonna make me cry." He stepped towards them, kneeling in front of her and bringing a hand up to ruffle her hair a bit. "You wouldn't wanna make me cry now would ya?" He pouted out his lip and looked up at her with feigned sad eyes. She giggled and shook her head. A smile returned to his face as quickly as it left.

"Good!" He stood up quick enough to give himself whiplash and turned towards the mouth of the alleyway, "Ey Twinkletoes! We have a gal on the nice list that's waiting patiently for her Christmas gifts! Will ya hurry it up!"

Upon Majima's request, a man dressed in a stereotypical elf costume, that looked suspiciously like Nishida, came scrambling into the back alleyway. He was holding way too many stuffed dolls for one man to carry all alone. Most of them looked like prizes from the UFO catcher at the arcade. Each stuffed doll had a little bow wrapped around some part of its body in an attempt to put some sort of wrapping on them. The stack had every color and size variety of every doll you could win.

Kiryu distantly wondered if Majima had won all of these by himself or if he had found out where to buy all of them. Kiryu couldn't imagine Majima spending his day mowing down cash on a UFO catcher in the arcade, but then again it was also very believable. The man was unpredictable

Kiryu glanced over at Haruka. Her face was covered in shock and she had that wonderful childlike wonderstruck look in her eyes at the pile of toys held in poor elf-Nishida's arms. Even if Kiryu had to deal with Majima's antics, that look on her face was worth it.

"All of those are for me Majima-Ojisan?" She seemed to be stuck in a permanent gasp. Majima didn't correct her this time. He only nodded.

"Of course. You were a really good gal this year, and good gals get good toys." He explained as if it was obvious. She smiled so brightly, Kiryu was sure he could see Majima's heart melting into a puddle on the pavement.

"Anaki..." Nishida piped up as he struggled to balance the weight of all of the stuffed toys in his arms.

"I'll grab some--" Kiryu offered, taking a step forward to grab some of the dolls, but was quickly interrupted by a sharp interjection from Majima.

"Kiryu-Chan, only elves can touch the presents." His tone was teasing, but his face was darkened and serious. Kiryu backed off and Nishida continued to struggle. "If you drop a single one of princes Haruka's presents Nishida, I swear ta God--"

"Why don't you come inside?" Kiryu quickly interrupted before Majima started slinging threats. Nishida quickly nodded.

Their gangly group made their way up the stairs and to the door of their apartment, and Kiryu quickly fished out his keys from the pocket of his jacket. Once produced he wasted no time opening the door wide for everyone to start filing in. Nishida looked like his arms were about to give out at any moment. Eventually, all four of them squeezed into the apartment's tiny half living room-half kitchen set up, and Nishida quickly got to work putting the dolls under the small Christmas tree set up they had going.

Haruka took off her jacket and handed it to Kiryu, who moved by habit and put her jacket on the coat rack near the door. He then kneeled down to her height and quickly unzipped her boots, helping her take off the soaked shoes one at a time. Majima, not wanting to just hang in the doorway and stare as they did their routine, quickly toed off his shoes and went to help Nishida with the presents. He helped the only way he could-- by barking orders as to how Nishida was meant to perfectly place each and every doll under the tree.

The tree wasn't the biggest, only standing about four and a half feet tall, and some of the synthetic branches seemed to be missing judging by the gaps in the tree's formation. It was heavily decorated to compensate for it. Two different kinds of strings of lights were wrapped around the outer layer of branches, one in a usual rainbow tint and the other in white color.

The ornaments that hung from the tree all seemed to be homemade. A lot of them made with varying colors of popsicle sticks hot glued together to make certain shapes. One a reindeer made from a formation of brown popsicle sticks and googly eyes, another a Christmas tree made from green sticks and little beads as ornaments. The only ornaments on the tree that weren't homemade were two Bun-chan decorations made from cheap plastic that seemed like a limited edition prize from the arcade. One was in the pink variety and the other in the yellow.

The look of it was so sickeningly domestic in Majima's opinion. He could imagine Kiryu bringing home an old battered Christmas tree he found on the street, then he and Haruka making do with what they have and turning it into their own. It brought a smile to his face.

"Put that one there, Twinkletoes. Hey!! Don't you fuckin' dare knock over that ornament that princess Haruka took so much time to make!" Majima growled, kneeling down to adjust a popsicle stick figure of Kiryu that Nishida had bumped into, complete with his signature outfit and a frown drawn on in sharpie.

"Majima no nii-san," Majima shot Kiryu a look over his shoulder when he was called the wrong name, but let him continue, "Would you and-- uh... your elf want some shortcake? I think there's enough for all four of us." He bought a small cake for Christmas this year since he expected it to just be him and Haruka. He neglected to remember that he had another person intruding in on his life nowadays.

"Sounds good Kiryu-Chan." Majima grinned. Nishida seemed to perk up at the invitation for cake, which made Majima quickly turn towards him and continue snapping orders.

Kiryu stepped into the kitchen half of the room and went to the fridge in search of the Christmas Cake. While he did that, Haruka made herself useful and began to sift through the rack of dining wear that sat on the kitchen countertop, pulling out four small plates and forks, as well as a knife to cut the cake with.

After a few moments of Kiryu cutting up the cake and Haruka carefully placing each piece on their own respective plate, they walked back over to the other half of the room balancing two plates in hand. Haruka made her way over to Nishida first and handed him his slice. Majima pouted out of view.

"Thank you, Nishida." She whispered over to him as she handed him his slice. If she spoke too loud and Majima heard, she was sure Nishida would receive worse than a threat. He gave a curt nod and a small smile before taking his cake from her. She then turned to Majima and handed him his own.

"Aw thank ya, Haru-Chan. This is why you're on the nice list." He cooed, one hand balancing the plate with almost masterful precision while the other reached over to pat her head.

Kiryu placed Haruka and his own slices on the kotatsu that sat largely in the middle of the room, allowing them the opportunity to warm their cold feet after dipping their toes in freezing puddles the whole evening. The four of them sat together, eating their cake in comfortable silence.

"Santa Majima, you want to know what me and Ojisan were talking about on our way home?" Haruka perked up, licking the remnants of vanilla frosting from her fork.

"Sure." Majima shrugged.

"We were talking about animal facts."

"Animal facts huh?"

"Yeah, but like weird ones. Did you know that an octopus has three hearts?" Haruka parroted what Kiryu had said earlier. Majima's face shifted into exaggerated surprise.

"Really?" His Kansai accent shone through as his voice pitched up, "I had no idea. What do ya think they need that many hearts for?" Haruka paused at the question, actually taking a moment to think about it.

"Maybe they need one to stay alive, and then the other two contain all their love." Majima laughed at that.

"That’s a lot of love to hold on to. What do you think they love so much that they'd need so many hearts?" Again, she paused, taking the opportunity to take a bite of her cake as she pondered.

"Maybe for their families? Or maybe even a lover? Do octopus have lovers?"

"I'm sure they do. It would be sad if they had all those hearts to store their love and they didn't have anyone to share it with." Kiryu’s pretty sure his teeth were rotting with how sweet this conversation was... or maybe it was the cake. He didn't miss Majima's subtle glances over at him during this conversation. He was sure the other man was purposefully seeking out a flush from him, and he was succeeding.

"True. If I had all those hearts filled with love, I would want to share it with Ojisan!" Scratch that, both of them were tyrants attempting to ruin his reputation. Majima looked over at Kiryu, holding his face in his hand as he leaned over on it.

"I'd want to share it with your Ojisan if I had those hearts too." God. Damn. Tyrants.

Kiryu cleared his throat when the heat over his cheeks became too unbearable for him to just sit there any longer. He ate the last bite of his cake and stood from his spot under the kotatsu. He did not miss the heat on his legs as much as he originally thought he would. At the moment he just wanted to cool down.

Haruka rushed and shoved the last few pieces of her cake into her mouth, earning her a quiet scold from Kiryu before he took her fork and plate. He then proceeded to take Majima and Nishida’s as well. He noticed that Nishida’s had been licked clean.

He quickly took their dishes and washed them off before returning to the other half of the living room. He noticed that Nishida seemed to be missing now, probably leaving by Majima's order. Majima now sat lounging under kotatsu across from Haruka, the two of them continuing to talk about octopus-- Majima beginning to go on a rant about the environment and octopus populations.

Haruka stayed as interested in the conversation as she could, but after a while, she let out a yawn and realized that it had gotten much harder to leave her eyes open. That's when Kiryu glanced up at the clock on the far wall of the room and realized that it was already 11:30.

"Haruka," He called, getting her and Majima's attention. Majima seemed huffy that his rant had been interrupted. "Don't you think you should head to bed? I know hanging out with Santa Majima is fun, but you don't want Mr.Santa to not come because you're up too late." Her eyes widened when he spoke as if she had forgotten that Santa was something she had to worry about entirely.

"Right!" She quickly scrambled up from the kotatsu, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she did. She paused for a moment before she went to get ready for bed. "Can I bring a doll to bed?" She pointed towards the pile of dolls beneath the tree.

"Of course." Kiryu stepped over to the tree and kneeled down beside it. He shifted through the dolls before settling on grabbing a stray Woo-Kun. He held it up. "How about this one?" She nodded and took the doll from his hands, squeezing it close in a hug.

"Why don't you say thank you to Santa Majima before you get ready for bed?" He added.

"Santa Majima-Ojisan, thank you so much for the gifts!" She exclaimed, turning to him. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace. Majima tensed for a moment, not exactly expecting the affection. But, he quickly melted into it and hugged her back twice as tight.

"No problem princess Haruka-chan! I always go above and beyond for gals on the nice list." He hummed, ruffling up her hair a bit when they pulled apart. She gave him one last smile before turning and walking towards the door to her small room. Then it was just Majima and Kiryu.

"Where'd you get all of these?" Kiryu asked, squeezing at a particularly puffed up pink bun-chan.

"Earned them all with hard work and dedication! You'd be amazed at what I can do with a whole day and a shit ton of cash." Kiryu hummed.

"You didn't just mug a particularly lucky kid at the arcade?" He mused, crawling over on the floor to sit next to Majima. Majima placed a hand on his chest as if he was offended.

"How dare you accuse me of theft Kiryu-Chan! I earned every doll honestly I promise." He looked over at him and produced pinky between them, "Pinky promise." Kiryu rolled his eyes at the childish gesture. He hooked their pinkies together anyway, and with the new leverage, he pulled the other man closer. He went to lean in for a kiss but then paused when the synthetic beard tickled at his chin. He huffed and brought his other hand up to tug the gross costume piece beneath his chin before he collided their lips together in a swift kiss.

"Aren't you slick?" Majima hummed when they pulled apart, his hand pulling away to instead wrap his arms around Kiryu's neck.

"How do you wear that thing, it has to be itchy as hell." He gestured to the beard. Majima shrugged.

"Ya get used to it after a while. But I have a whole new appreciation for people that dress up as the big man." He sighed, ripping the garment off now that he didn't need it anymore... especially since it got in the way of his Kiryu kisses. He tugged Kiryu forward by the back of his neck and connected them in a kiss once more, this one lasting longer than the last. Kiryu wrapped his arms around the older man's waist and pulled him close.

"You know, she loves it when you hang out with her, Goro." Kiryu pulled away slightly to comment against his lips. A shiver ran down Majima's spine at the use of his first name. He ran his fingers through Kiryu’s hair and gently massaged the scalp, earning him a pleased hum in response.

"I know." He paused for a moment before sheepishly adding, "I'm glad." Kiryu smiled, connecting their lips once more. But soon their kissing session was interrupted by Haruka loudly clearing her throat.

"M' ready to go to bed Ojisan!" She called from her door frame, clutching the Woo-Kun doll so tightly to her side he looked like he could suffocate. She wore her new pajamas that were covered in tiny reindeer and carefully wrapped presents, and she rubbed her tired eyes before turning and walking back into the confines of her room. Kiryu turned to Majima once again, pressing their foreheads together for a moment and pressing one last short kiss on his lips before pulling away and standing up.

"I'll put her to bed and then I'll be back." He offered when Majima gave him a childish pout at his absence. "Maybe then Santa Majima can help Mr.Santa set up the presents, and then we can have some alone time." He said much quieter, making sure Haruka couldn't hear him.

"I like the sound of that." Majima leaned back and smirked up at the younger man, earning him an eye roll before he turned and headed towards Haruka's room.

As Majima sat there, toes being warmed by the kotatsu, Christmas lights reflecting on the ceiling above him, and the distant sound of Kiryu’s deep rumbling voice telling Haruka of all the wonders Mr.Santa was doing this Christmas night, he let out a small sigh at how domestic it all felt. It was sickeningly sweet, and yet he couldn't help but love it-- if he was allowed again, he would want to do this every year. The mental image of spending Christmas with Kiryu and Haruka, eating Christmas cake, and talking about octopi, all sounded delightful to him.

His train of thought was interrupted when Kiryu tip-toed out of Haruka's room, carefully closing the door behind him slow enough for it to not creak. Kiryu returned back to his side in a moment, pressing a kiss to his cheek and running his hand in the shaven undercut of his hair.

"Help me with the gifts will you?" He requested with a whisper. Majima nodded, and at that moment he realized this was going to be a long night. He wouldn't have it any other way.

#kazumaji #kazuma kiryu #goro majima #goro brain rot #comfort character #haruka sawamura #my writing #my fic #yakuza #fluff #domestic fluff #christmas #christmas fluff #nishida yakuza #santa majima #probably not too accurate to an actual japanese christmas but I tried

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slashingdisneypasta · 5 years ago

Text

Hewitts / Pleasant Valley x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: The Multiverse Theory and the Horror Fandom

Notes:

I don't really know what it is, but I enjoyed creating it, so I’m posting it! If I get an idea as to what might happen next, I’ll probably add a part two.

Its crack

Plot:

Okay, you are from this universe and you are your Slasher fucker self. But you’re transported from your home, to the universe that the Slashers live in, specifically 2003 Texas Chainsaw Massacre. They capture you of course and decide to keep you.

Now the Hewitt’s have decided to go on a roadtrip and are of course taking you, their hostage, with them.

They end up staying in Pleasant Valley, despite your warnings not to.

Warnings: Mention of real life people, breaking of the 3rd wall, if you look then there is some hints towards sexual assault cursing. Its comedy though mostly, so its pretty okay

~~~

“We’re lost.”

“No, mama, we not lost. We’re just taking the scenic route… “Hoyt transparently bullshits, looking around completely lost at the surroundings that we pass at a 100 km/h. Nothing but wheat fields and cows as far as the eye can see. Georgia is even more boring then Texas had been.

Luda Mae rolls her eyes, not taking any his shit after 6 hours in the car with him just today. God, I’m on her side. Can we stop somewhere just for a little bit? I mean, I don’t have to pee anymore since I held it for so long that the urge went away, but I’d still like to try because now I feel like I’m going to explode at any time. “So, we’re lost.” She announces, leaving no room for argument.

“Definitely lost… “Monty, in the seat beside me in the back seat of Hoyt’s tiny sheriff car, agrees with his sister, also watching the fields go by moodily. Why didn’t we take the goddamn truck, anyway? I would rather be tied to top of that, then squished back here between Thomas and Monty. I mean, there’s not even any doorhandles in the back here! Why did I have to be in the middle? Its not like I’m going to throw myself out the window! Sometimes I think Hoyt’s paranoid. And I hate him. And his ego’s too big.

Of course, Hoyt snaps back at Monty even though what he said was so mellow. It certainly didn’t have the amount of pent up frustration that Luda Mae’s had behind it. “We ain’t lost, goddamn it- Look! There’s a town. We’ll stop there and ask for directions if you really want. Just to make sure we’re going the right way, which I’m sure we are.” I look up from my hands, bruises all over the wrists from Hoyt and the ropes, and cuts all over the fingers from cooking with Luda Mae… and jagged fingernails from before I gave up. When I was still scratching at the walls and floor and Thomas, wanting to escape this mad family.

My fighting spirit isn’t completely crushed, now… but it has been a while since I screamed for help. I’m waiting for the moment, the right moment to try and escape. Of course, I don’t know if that moment will every come… but I still hope. And that’s something.

Now, looking up out the front window to see the town Hoyt’s talking about, I wonder if this will be the place that I’ll escape in.

Then we rush past the sign and I do a double take.

What did that say?!

I glance at Thomas, my designated warden to see what he’s doing now since he had been sleeping for most of today’s trip- yesterday he had stayed awake and alert, but today it seems that he decided I wasn’t about to crawl over anyone and creep through the window so it was cool to nap,- to see he’s alert, and when I look at him he turns to look at me back. I flash him a fake smile and turn to Monty, because he speaks. And he’s on the right side of the car, so he would have seen the sign.

“Hey, what did that sign say?”

“Why are they talking again?” Hoyt pipes up in the front as we get nearer to the town and I start to feel sick in my stomach. I raise my eyebrows at Monty instead of answering Hoyt’s goad.

Monty shrugs, leaning his back on his hand and looking out the window again. “Uh, Pleasant Valley.”

Oh my god.

It cannot be possible that more then one Horror movie exists in this world… right? I’ve been through enough trauma; I do not need to endure Robert Englund’s trademark craziness- oH, or Bill Mosely’s either. Oh god, - and his band of confederate lunatics. Do not do this to me, universe.

My heart’s beating faster then a bullet train as I wait, still as a statue and straight backed, for any more hints that I am where I think I am.

Thomas watches me with a hard stare, alert and suspicious about my odd change in posture and body language. I try to ignore him, which is of course hard, but I make do.

Then we start to pass people in this town, and they’re men in overalls and women in the most era-incorrect costumes I have ever seen. And they’re smiling and waving at us.

And I feel sick, and sink back into my seat so nobody outside can see me through Monty or Thomas, hopefully.

“Hoyt,” I call, quietly for the ‘sheriff’s’ attention. My voice doesn’t lift even to a normal volume, I’m so scared so he either ignores me or really doesn’t hear me. I try to be louder. “Hoyt!”

“Yes, hostage?”

“I think we’re going the right way as well; I saw sign on the road a few miles back that said so. We should just keep going.”

“What?!” Luda Mae turns in her seat to look at me furrow her eyebrows- she doesn’t believe me one bit. “What are you doing, slouching in the back like that? Sit up!”

“Are we stopping?”

“Uhh… “She turns to look at Hoyt, and he nods. “Looks like it. About time, too. I need to stretch my legs, and we obviously need those damn directions.”

“We do not need the- “Hoyt sighs, exasperated, then furrows his eyebrows as he focuses on something in front of the car. “What the fuck are these wackos all doing out there in the middle of the road? Get outta my way… “

Mow them over, Hoyt! MOW THEM OVER.

Of course, he slows to a crawl and then a stop, and I thank god that the back windows don’t open, lest I feel any more in danger. If they were open, I definitely would have feared scary ghost cannibals would stick in their hands. As it is, cross my arms and let Hoyt do the talking. Of course, I mean. What else could I do?

I can see full frontal the mess that we’re getting into, which once upon a time in a different world -my world. Oh, how I wish I was there right now, - would have been a good sign. Seeing Kane Hodder, Robert Englund and Lin Shaye and the ‘Guts and Glory Jubilee’ banner would be a sign I’m about to have a good night full of horror movie enjoyment and probably fanfiction as well. But now I see it and I wish to never watch that movie again, much like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise.

Hoyt puts his hand on the car door handle next to him. “No, no, no, don’t get outta the car!” I exclaim, quietly and reaching to grab him back but he looks over at me, gives me a ‘I do what I want’ kind of look and then gets out of the car.

“Good afternoon, sheriff! Welcome to our Guts and Glory Jubilee! You’re our honoured guests!”

Oh, dear god.

Hoyt slams his car door shut and Luda and I wince at the sudden noise. “What the hell are you people doing out here in the middle of the road??! Me and my family are tryna get through here.”

“Aw, my bad sheriff! We’re just so tickled to have you with us this fine day!” Buckman doesn’t seem stirred that Hoyt’s clearly southern, and therefore ‘confederate’, like him, as far as he’s concerned which is what I was hoping for, so I decide to blow this whole situation out of water- I have no choice.

And what, in hell’s name, could I possibly lose at this point?

I lean forward in the car, keeping an eye on the scene, to talk to Luda Mae. “Hey, so this may be a bad time to mention this but, uh.” How do I break this news? “Well, I’m from a different universe. That multiverse noise? That’s real. Anyway, more importantly, I’m from a world in which you and your sons, and Monty, are just movie characters. Your movie is called ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’, Thomas is the Texan Chainsaw guy and he is called Leatherface.” Luda’s slowly turning her head to look at me like have 7 eyeballs. I keep talking through, quickly ad feverishly, desperate. “I know it sounds crazy, and you can ask me any question about ya’ll’s passed if you want as proof but just get your son back in this car please. This place also has its own movie, and its even less pretty then what goes on in your house.” I look pleadingly at her, hoping to God, by some miracle she believes me.

“Sit back down!! I’ve been in a car with 3 sweatin’, stinky men for 6 hours now today and I am in no mood for your stories.” She turns back in her seat. “God.”

“Oh Jesus, you said it… “ I whine, plopping back down in my seat, looking at Hoyt and Buckman who have now met in front of the car and aren’t yelling at each other across the road and immediately assume the fucking confederate mayor is successfully feeding the fucking fraudulent sheriff’s ego, and drop my face into my hands. A few minutes pass, and I stay like this, occasionally making frustrated crying sounds without really crying, and getting annoyed groans and ‘shut up’s from Monty beside me, until a hit to the car jolts me up. “What! What? What’s happening- are they attacking!?”

Everyone who heard, ignores me and I see it’s just Hoyt coming around the car opening Thomas’ side. Oh god, breeze has neve felt so terrifying. “Come on out, family. We’re stayin’ the night! I can’t tolerate settin’ in this car with you people anymore.” On no. No, no, no. STAYING?

Thomas gets out and Luda Mae follows, opening Monty’s door for him and letting him out onto his wheelchair that Thomas gets out of the trunk for him and unfolds. I cross my arms and stay inside. When Hoyt realises this, he leans down to peer inside the car at me and thrusts a thumb to point behind him. Slowly, menacingly he drawls. “Get out of this car.”

Oh, what is he going to do? What could he possibly do that he hasn’t already done to me.

I stubbornly look away. “You said family, I’m not family. I’m not leaving this car, no way. You can’t make me.”

“You wanna bet, sugar?”

He reaches in, wraps a calloused hand around one of my arms and starts pulling me until I topple out of the car, into the dirt. He lets go of me and immediately slams the car door closed again so I don’t slither back in.

“Fuck.” I mutter, glaring up at him from the floor. He locks the car in front of my eyes.

“Now, when you’re feeling more like an adult and not a child, you can come on to our room- that building over there. “ I feel like running after him when he walks off to the building, but before I can get myself out of the dusty, beige dirt, a hand enters my vision and I follow it up and scream on the inside. Mayor George Fucking Buckman.

He smiles so charmingly… you could nearly believe he isn’t depraved. Then I see the eyepatch and I’m reminded. “Would you let me help you up outta the dirt, little miss?”

Mmmm, I guess.

Best to stay on his good side, I think as I take his hand and he hauls me up. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those glares that the whole town like to take part in with him. Noooo thank you. Not for me.

“Thank you.” I say quickly, looking to get out of there and find the Hewitt’s. They’ve all disappeared into the building Hoyt went towards a moment ago now. I brush the dirt off my pants and then clap my hands off of each other to get rid of the dirt that’s on them now, and any remnants of feeling Buckman’s hand, then flash a tight smile in Buckman’s general direction and escape towards the building.

They have to listen to me!

I burst into the place and see Thomas trailing behind the rest of that devil family down a hallway and run down there. “Thomas!” I pant, because that was a long hallway. Where are we now?! The Overlook hotel!?! “Thomas, what kind of warden are you? Please, don’t you ever leave me alone with that man ever again!” Thomas narrows his eyes suspiciously at me above his normal, leather mask -Luda and Hoyt had decided before we left their murder mansion that the human flesh mask would probably not fly in normal society, so he swapped it in for the old one,- then nods in front of him for me to walk there where can watch, and I gladly go there.

___TIME SKIP: A couple hours later___

All day, I have been trying to persuade the Hewitt’s that I’m not from here. I described Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning in explicit detail, including of course the Sheriff Hoyt thing, the Eric/Dean confusion, Bailey, Monty’s legs being chainsawed off… I even recruited some comic book information about Hoyt’s time in the Prisoner of War Camp and Sargent Chow, but they just think I’m a stalker now.

I mean, why the fuck not? Why wouldn’t I stalk these freaks? Truly, being around them has been a joy filled time.

I don’t throw back at my face that I watched their movies religiously, readers. That’s was when I thought they were fictional! (Yeah, I know you’re there reading this. This sure feels like a fanfiction to me, and as a fangirl, I’m an expert.)

So, I’ve decided I have one more option. One more chance to survive.

Hopefully this doesn’t go worse then plan A did.

Through pretending like the rope around my wrists was too tight when Hoyt tied me up by the hands to his bed frame, when really in truth it was a bit loose, I manage to make him think I’m stuck for the night. So, when he falls asleep – I know he’s asleep because he snores like a feral racoon… that also has rabies… (He drools) – I carefully, quietly, I struggle out of the ropes and carefully put them on the floor. Then turn to the window.

We’re on the second level of this building, but the possibility of a broken bone or two will not deter me from getting out of this mess. Especially since Thomas is waiting in the hallway outside this room for any sign of me trying to escape and getting hurt from falling out of a window is much preferred to meeting the business end of his chainsaw.

Not that I’ll be out of danger when I get out… as I’ll still be in Pleasant Valley… but I will have completed Level 1 at least.

Opening the window, I wince and look back at Hoyt to make sure the gentle rubbing sound the window makes against the frame doesn’t wake him, then turn back and immediately get to crawling out. Once I have succeeded in getting onto the ledge I hold on to the gutter - hoping beyond hope that it’s sturdy, - and reclose the blinds and push the window closed as well again. Covering my tracks.

Then I start the perilous journey down the building, which somehow, I succeed in! When I finally drop down on the dirt again and turn around though, I nearly out loud this time. “Miss Shaye! -“I stop myself, making an ‘Oop’ sound. You would think I would stop making these mistakes- I have been tortured and keep prisoner by the Hewitt family. Certainly not the late R. Lee. Ermey or Andrew Bryniarski either. The Hewitt’s. - But alas, I am still making this mistake apparently. “Sorry, you remind me of someone else!” I smile at Granny Boone, who must have been standing there watching the whole time I conquered the hotel building, stands with her hands on her hips and one eyebrow purposely halfway up her forward. She’s waiting for an explanation. “I didn’t want to wake up my family, and its time for the midnight stroll. Couldn’t sleep!”

My heartbeat races in my chest, because I have every confidence that this woman could kill me with her bare hands if she doesn’t like my answer. For a few moments, she makes me wait as she does looks at me suspiciously like Thomas. Oh god, are you going to eat me or not, ghost lady!?

“Oh, well that’s very considerate of you! Could I join you on your walk? I’m in the same boat.”

Oh, for fudges sake.

I smile politely though, and we start walking side by side down the middle of town. Silence hangs between us, but as we walk, I start to think this could work. I was planning on finding Buckman and telling him my story to see if he would believe me and do something because this whole town is supernatural and hard to believe, but I actually think this may have worked out in my favour! Maybe. He’s a sexist, chauvinistic bigot. But at the very least Boone’s a woman like me, with less of a boner for authority so hopefully she’ll at least listen. So… maybe…?

“So… “I start, sounding loud since it’s so quiet out here. “Can we talk? Woman to woman? I don’t know, you just seem trustworthy!” Oh, puke. What am I saying? “Sorry if I’m out of line, but… something crazy’s going on in my life.”

“Oh, trust me. I know crazy.” I side eye her as she smirks ‘mysteriously’. Oh, I know you know crazy, lady. I know. I know it all. You know crazy intimately. “Uh but go on. Sure thing. What kind of good Christian lady would I be if I didn’t bend an ear to our esteemed special guests?”

… Uhuh.

Well, okay! Works for me. “Thank you.” I clap my hands together. “Well. It started a month ago now, I guess… Haven’t really been able to keep up with time. First, I should probably explain the multiverse theory…”

#Oneshot #Horror x Reader #Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2003 #texas Chainsaw massacre: The beginning #2001 Maniacs #Sheriff Hoyt #Charlie Hewitt #Luda Mae Hewitt #Monty Hewitt #Thomas Hewitt #Granny Boone #Mayor Buckman #x Reader #Horror Oneshot #Slashers

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lavalampelfchild · 4 years ago

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Lava’s Art Masterpost

Hey, all! Welcome to my art masterpost! I have no idea if this is a thing that is done typically for art, but oh well, I like organizing things, so here we are! What you’ll find here is mostly Dragon Age, with a few non-DA pieces in there, and there’s a range of styles I like to use, depending on my mood. But a lot of what you’ll see will most likely combine lineart with some other form of coloring/shading.

Feel free to browse at your leisure, and I hope anyone who stumbles upon this enjoys what they find! :D And thank you to anyone who sees this and likes, or reblogs, or even just stops by to peruse a bit!

All that said, away we go!

Digital Portraits:

1. Portrait of Nameless Woman, 2020 - This one is just an experiment with a watercolor brush that I did. It’s not anatomically perfect, but I enjoyed playing around with shading.

2. Sketch of Aja Amell, 2020 - This one is basically sketch practice with my Amell~ Not really the most expressive pictures, but it’s a start toward drawing her more expressively. Full disclosure: Aja is one of those OCs of mine that I have had trouble with deciding on a definitive appearance for several pictures, and I really want to work on upping my level of consistency when drawing her.

3. Long-Haired Fenris, 2020 - Exactly what it sounds like; this was for practice drawing Fenris’s features (I love how distinct they are), but with long hair because I am weak for it. This one was a fun piece to shade, and mixing the stylized lineart that I normally use with a greyscale shading spectrum was really enjoyable.

4. Portrait of Ilorin Lavellan, 2016 - This is an oldie. Basically practicing expressions, and it is technically a WIP, but I’m still very happy with how the shading turned out, especially because this is actually (aside from the unfinished hair) one of the more minimal pieces I’ve done in terms of lineart It’s still there, and it still shapes the flow of the picture in some ways, but it also ends up flowing with the shading instead of standing out next to it, which I like. (Both styles are good, though, and I love seeing other artists try both too.)

5. Old Portrait of Aja Amell, 2016 - Much older picture I did of Aja; she... honestly looks very little like the newer one, I think, and that consistency is something I’m still working on, but this one was the first picture of Aja with that particular hairstyle I drew. What I like about this picture is how young she looks; it fits with her image as a fresh and sheltered Circle mage who’s only about 20 years old at the time of DAO.

6. Old Portrait of Trilyn, 2016 - They very first piece of art I posted to tumblr~ It’s not exactly how I envision Trilyn anymore, but it was still very fun to draw, and helped me get a feel for drawing him in the future.

Dynamic Movement Pictures/”Moment’s in Time”:

1. Tabris in Arl’s Estate, 2020 - TW: blood. I am super proud of this one. My ultimate goal is to draw all of my Warden DAO OCs, and I could not believe I’ve never drawn my Tabris, and so here she is. This was, in large part, practicing expressions because I absolutely love art that depicts characters in motion, or capturing some kind of expression.

2. Velyn in the Rain, 2017 - This one was actually based on some art that I saw in a Teen Wolf fic! It was an experiment with a more expressive style (and one of the first pieces I did without lineart left in the finished version) and it was a huge step out of my comfort zone. But overall, I am extremely happy with how it turned out.

3. Jem Nocking an Arrow, 2016 - And here is the lineart version. This was entirely an excuse to draw my DAI baby, Jem, and to do a cool archer pose because archers are my fav, and I love characters in motion.

4. Solas Teaching Trilyn Fade Magic, 2016 - This one was a painterly picture that was also (like the Velyn picture) something which I tried to keep lineart out of. Overall, I am proud of a lot of parts of the pic, but I think I would definitely go back over it and change a few things now if I had the patience.

5. Trilyn Closeup WIP, 2016 - TW: injury, blood, mention of abuse in the author’s note. A lot of early pictures I have are of my OC, Trilyn, and this is one of my absolute favorites. His entire upper body is technically in the picture, but I hadn’t finished rendering it yet, so this was what I posted. And it was an experiment with a cross-hatching style with the pencil tool for some texture, with air brush shading and a blurring tool. It’s a style I had fun playing around with!

6. Trilyn Blood Ritual, 2016 - TW: blood, injury (the slight cut used to supply the ritual with blood). This one was definitely a sort of “captured moment” from a backstory I gave Trilyn, and I think what I was really going for was an atmospheric piece that could fit with any potential fic I wanted to write for Trilyn. And then it ended up being practice for extreme lighting/shading techniques, and drawing the blood and the gross mass of demon ichor (or whatever the heck that is) turned out to be highlights of making the piece for me.

Art + Text:

1. Freedom and Control, 2020 - TW: scars, but very difficult to see. This one was ambitious for me! It started originally just as Solas and my Tal-Vashoth OC, Saara, facing each other, because I love the dynamic I’ve built for them in my head, but then it turned into an attempt at a tarot-esque background, and just sorta grew from there... Overall, I’m happy with how it turned out, especially with how Solas and Saara themselves turned out. The version you can actually see a larger view is here.

2. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 1, 2020 - I love writing my own codex entries, first off, and I love combining art with text to create a (hopefully) seamless work. This work was an attempt to flesh out these OCs of mine with both art (because unique facial structures are hard for me to get down, but so important regardless) and text (because writing~). I think it turned out well overall, but there are elements of the portraits that I might at some point touch up a bit.

3. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 2, 2020 - Part 2, with what I refer to as a “DAI Outfit Change” because I have always loved seeing fans show their own OCs as they look in DAO, DA2, and then finally DAI. So I absolutely wanted to jump on that bandwagon myself. The skin tones are a little off (and I’m sorry about that!) because I was playing with the watercolor brush at that point, and it dilutes the colors I use. Still working to figure that out, but I was very happy with the overall lineart and structures of the faces.

4. Alistair/Aja Amell Picture with a Blurb, 2017 - Ooooold, old, old, old, OLD! I still love the art, and I’m soooo happy with how the interaction between Alistair and Aja turned out (drawing kisses is extremely difficult for me; I always end up creating a distorted weird lip-creature, instead of realistically puckered lips...). I’m not as happy with the blurb that went with it? At that point, I was still very much figuring out my own DAO worldstate, and the characterization for everyone, so, eh. Take it with a grain of salt!

Unfinished Costume Designs:

1. Ancient Elvhen Armor with Dwarven Influence, 2018 - People who do costume design work are amazing and mystical beings, and I wish I could do what they do. This was an attempt at merging the Keeper robes from DAI with a more dwarven armor aesthetic, solely because I created an ancient elvhen character, Ceda, who was taken in by the Cad’halash dwarves mentioned in the Witch Hunt dlc, and I wanted this character to have a mix of the elven style of armor and the dwarven style. I’m overall decently happy with it, but there’s still that persistent level of self-criticism present.

2. Herald of Andraste Outfit WIP, 2016 - This was a very old picture, not one I showed around a lot, but the idea for this was entirely born of my intense interest in how fashion and outfit designs could be used to create a symbolic image for the Herald of Andraste. In general, I love the combination of ceremonial armor with long and flowing cloth, so that was what I went for here. I’m still actually very proud of how this came out, and headcanon something similar for my Herald in my canon DAI worldstate.

Pencil Sketches:

1. Quick Saara Sketch, 2019 - TW: saarebas mouth scars. Exactly what it says; very quick sketch of Saara I did in a small notebook I carry around with me. This was basically a test for myself to see if I could manage to draw Saara with the features and facial structure I envisioned for her without needing to use a lot of references.

2. Mass Effect Character Sketch; Jesse, 2018 - Similar reason for drawing this one as the above Saara sketch! With these characters, I love sometimes the way they can turn out with the specific character creator used for them, and when I draw them, I enjoy trying to create a definitive look for them using what I get from the CC, and my own knowledge of Hooman Faces.

3. Saara Sketch, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars. A more detailed sketch of Saara than the one above, and one I definitely put more time into overall. It’s currently the profile picture I’m using for ao3, and is the definitive go-to reference picture I use whenever imagining Saara in a fic, or for other Saara pics I make. I am extremely proud of this picture, and feel like I should work in graphite more often. It’s such fun, and the texture is so nice to look at.

4. Sketch of Nameless Alamarri Woman, 2017 - This was a sketch I did of what I envisioned some Alamarri tribes to look like; I used artistic depictions of Gaul tribes and hairstyles for inspiration, and have used this as a go-to reference for my version of Alamarri tribes. Nothing super notable about this one, but I really liked the way the shape of her face turned out.

Events and Gifts:

1. Another Scar, 2020 - TW: blood, injuries, gore. The most recent piece of art on the list, and a gift for @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold; featuring sisterly love between Rica and fem!Brosca, which was her requested prompt. This was a tough piece for me because of the difficulty with the lighting I dealt with. For some reason, that one particular element of it gave me so much trouble. Overall, I’m very happy with how it turned out, though, especially the skin tones of the sisters; Brosca I always sort of like as having this greyish, more gaunt look to her, while Rica I like seeing with a darker, richer, and warmer tone to her.

2. A Very Cousland Christmas!, 2019 - This was for a holiday exchange for a server, and I drew a friend’s Cousland (Elissa, the girl on the left) with my Cousland (Gazza, the girl on the right). I love kid-fic, and I love kid-art, and so I decided... baby Cousland art! Drawing kid proportions was the toughest part, I recall, and I thiiiink it turned out well, and I’m still quite proud of it overall. Elissa’s design came entirely from my friend, but I added the holly~

3. Exchange Gift with Dis Brosca and Mabari, 2018 - This was an exchange gift for @fanfoolishness, using her lovely Dis Brosca, and was my first real attempt at backgrounds... I struggled with the coherence of the foreground and background a bit, but I’m still very proud of how it turned out, especially with the colors I had to work with. What I also really enjoyed working with was the lighting and the expression on Dis’s face. Backlit subjects are always fun to play around with!

4. Inktober Picture, “Deep”, 2017 - TW: scars, injury, mentions of abuse in the author’s note/attached dialogue snippets. This was for an Inktober prompt (the only one I’ve ever done, sadly... because I am bad with deadlines...), and again features Trilyn. Trilyn’s backstory has him a former slave in Tevinter, and a lot of the early works I do for him are sort of deep-dives into his life there. It’s all meant to be an exploration of the things he endures, and then those moments when he overcomes it all and takes back his own autonomy and self. This art is definitely provocative, and I can understand if not everyone likes it, but to me, I just wanted to show just what he faces (without glorifying it) before showing the moment of his own triumph.

5. Christmas Holiday Picture with my Brosca and a Friend’s Amell, 2017 - This was a piece of art drawn first by a friend of mine, @nanahuatli~ She drew the Amell, the background, the mistletoe, etc. All I did was add my Brosca to the mix to finish the image. It was a lot of fun to do, 1) because it was fun trying to match her style so that the picture looked cohesive, 2) because I love doing collabs with friends, and 3) because it was just such a fun thing to imagine my surly short Brosca, looking at this weird plant/fungus/thing dangling over some puckering human! It was an absolute joy to do this collab with her!

6. OC Kiss Week Pic of Jem and Saara, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars. A spur-of-the-moment thing meant to demonstrate just what kind of dynamic my OC, Jem, has with my other OC, Saara (both of whom are members of Leliana’s network in DAI). This was a very quick picture (deadlines...) and was mostly just to have fun drawing these two characters interacting, and to see if I could make them look like themselves. I think I did a decent job with it overall, especially with Jem’s kissy-face! (Again... drawing kisses are the bane of my existence, although hands and feet take a close second.)

#lavalampelfchild's art #masterpost #dragon age #some not DA stuff

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