#there’s like way more nuance here but I’m sitting in the parking lot of my job just
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I could literally write essays about Boothill and his decision to become death itself by giving up the ability to die. Especially after we hear his younger thoughts/feelings about death being a universal and beautiful part of living. His name is even a colloquial term for dead men, because he believes that he died with his family since everyone who knew his name in their common tongue passed. The memory of him died with them. His new “name” is a noun, a place specifically. He references sending people “to Boot Hill”- he is death. He is their grave. My blood pressure is rising.
#im gonna throw up#there’s like way more nuance here but I’m sitting in the parking lot of my job just#pacing like a caged animal istg maybe I will write my little essay#hsr#Boothill
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Bitter(Sweet) | JWW
Bitter(Sweet)
Pairing: Wonwoo x Fem!Reader
Rating: M 🔞; NSFW
Genre: Infidelity!AU; exes!AU; angst; smut; some fluff
Warnings: cussing; sexually suggestive language; clit play; protected sex; questionable morals; open conversation about infidelity; hurt without comfort
Word count: 4.8K words
Summary: You and Wonwoo reunite to celebrate a special evening.
A/N: If you don't like reading about cheaters - you are free to skip! Thank you, Sim @/roaminginthenights for your notes. They added more depth and nuance to the story in so many words. I appreciate you, my friend!
A/N2: Originally posted on my SVT sideblog but I've decided to merge everything on main now. I also have a version of this fic with BTS' Namjoon, if you choose to read it with that character.
You’re sitting in the airport parking lot, tapping your fingers happily to the beat of the song playing on your car radio. You glance at the time, it wouldn’t be too long; he’d be walking out of those doors soon. Until then, you continue to hum to the song.
Tonight is special. A night you didn’t think you’d ever celebrate again. Yet here you were, in a rental car, in a town you’d left years before.
Other than one particular overnight reservation, there are no other formal plans. You’d order takeout and perhaps pick up a bottle of wine or two from the corner store.
Your phone rings. You bring it up to check the caller ID and smile when you recognize the name flashing on the screen.
“Hi, honey!”
“Hi mom,” your daughter greets you on speakerphone.
“Is everything okay?”
She goes on to ask permission to do a facemask with her cousin. While she rambles on about other activities they have planned for their sleepover, you distantly hear the passenger door open. You quickly turn your head to smile at him then bring your pointer finger to your lips signaling him not to say a word.
“Mom? Helloooo? Are you listening to me?”
You scramble to get back to your call as your passenger shuts the door. “Uh–sure, honey. That all sounds great. Just make sure you get some sleep and listen to auntie, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And you know I told you that I have a late-night meeting so no phone calls but you can always text–”
“I know, mom.” She’s exasperated in a manner that only middle-schoolers who know it all would be. You exchange ‘I-love-you’s’ before she ends the call.
And now, you can properly greet your new arrival.
“Hi,” Wonwoo says.
“Hi,” you greet him with a smile. “That was Yuna.”
“So I heard,” he smiles. “Is she sleeping over at Emma’s?”
You nod. “She’s thrilled. It’s a school night and she gets to stay up late with her favorite cousin.”
He chuckles. “I don’t know if I can top organic facemasks when she comes over next week, but I’ll try.”
“I’m sure she’ll be happy with whatever you’ve got planned for her.”
“Right. As long as she’s happy.”
You nod then let out a long sigh before telling him, “You know, at some point, we need to stop meeting like this.” That’s what you also said last time. And the time before that. You’re fully aware of it and you think that if you say it enough times, you believe it and actually stop.
“I know,” he breathes out before cupping your nape to bring your face to his, sealing his lips over yours. You don’t pull away or give any hint of protest. You melt right into him, your mouth parting to let his tongue savor you.
You miss this. You miss him.
Somehow, you find the willpower to wrench yourself away from him. “Easy there. We’re still in the parking lot.”
You can see the mischief in his eyes even through his glasses. “So? It’s not like that’s stopped us before.” His hands trail between your legs, cupping your heat.
“I know but,” you gently push his hand away. “We have a reservation and it’s late so we should probably get going.”
He sighs, relenting. “Okay.” He reaches back for the seatbelt then stops short of buckling in. “By the way, happy anniversary,” he grins.
You feel a flutter in your chest and your cheeks warm up. “Happy anniversary,” you reply.
******
Wonwoo scrolls through his phone, scanning for the email confirmation that contained the security code and instructions to unlock the rental.
“Are you sure you have it?”
You are both standing on the front porch of your Airbnb, using your phone's flashlight to help him see his phone better. He was nearly blind as a bat, especially in the dark, even with his glasses on.
“I’ve got it! Trust me.” He scrolls some more until he exclaims, and finally sees the coveted email.
He carefully punches the code on the door’s keypad until you hear it chime, confirming that you’ve gained access.
You walk through the door and into this place that is known to you. But seeing it again after so long, makes it feel unfamiliar.
The first thing you notice is that the foyer has been redone. The divider wall that used to separate the kitchen and living room has since been knocked down to give it a more ‘open’ layout.
The furniture is all generic. Not much thought was put into picking them out. The colors also don’t provide much contrast to the equally bland walls. It all blends in but not in a good way.
“Why is everything so white?” You remark.
“It supposedly gives the illusion of a bright and open space.” Wonwoo sets your bags at the base of the staircase.
“Feels more like a hospital to me,” you reply dryly, to his amusement. He moves into the kitchen, helping himself to the contents of the cupboards.
You follow behind, wandering over to the counter, where there is a binder listing the ‘house rules.’
“No parties, no loud music,” you read random bullet points out loud. “Quiet time at 10PM. Interesting.”
His arms circle your waist from behind, and you feel him nuzzle into your neck, planting a soft kiss. “Can you stay quiet after 10PM?” He murmurs against your skin.
“Shut up,” you giggle and break out of his hold and playfully pinch him on his side. “Only if you keep your hands to yourself after 10PM,” you tease him back, making him burst into laughter.
You walk around the place some more, scanning and assessing. You’re surprised at how many more modifications have been made. Gone were the warm, earthy tones that you painted the living room and the kitchen.
What was wrong with the way things were before? The interior designer you hired found a great way to marry modern and vintage concepts!
You shake your head in mild irritation.
The upstairs bedrooms feel just as desolate with the plain white, sanitized walls. At least the new owners attempted to break the monotony with a few framed watercolor prints and scenic photographs, no doubt purchased from a big-box store.
You find yourself standing in the midst of your old master bedroom. You see hints of the old furnishings layered with the new. It certainly wasn’t how you remembered it.
“Huh.” Wonwoo says when he walks in. “Why didn’t we think of putting the bed against that side of the room before?”
You roll your eyes at him. “Because you get up to go to the bathroom more often than I do so that’s why we put it on the side that was closer to the en suite.”
His mouth drops slightly with a soft ‘ah,’ in sudden realization. “Well, I’ll have to admit, you were right. You should have ignored me and gone with your original plan.”
“I appreciate you acknowledging that, years later.” You roll your eyes and brush past him on your way out. “But as you know, marriage is about compromise,” you call past your shoulder.
“I’m ordering the pizza!” Your voice echoes down the staircase.
Wonwoo spends a few more minutes in this room, allowing himself to reminisce before finding the strength to tear himself away and rejoin you in the kitchen.
******
You’re sitting at your old kitchen counter, eating pizza and sharing a bottle of wine that Wonwoo ended up stealing from the owner’s kitchen. When you question him as to whether the alcohol was included in your AirBnB reservation, he shrugs and promises to replace it instead.
“So, are you seeing anyone?”
You stop mid-bite, taken aback by his question. “Wow, already?”
“What? I’m just making conversation.” He says casually as he takes a sip of wine. “And I’m nosy,” he snickers.
You giggle at his admission. “Nope, not seeing anyone. I had–what I thought was a connection a month ago…but that was a false flag. I’ve decided to hang back, take a break…be alone for a bit, you know? I’m not really looking for anything serious anyway.”
His expression turns sullen. He clears his throat before saying, “I thought you had a connection with Seojun. Things looked pretty serious.”
The reminder of your fatal mistake doesn’t sting as much as it did before. And he wasn’t as angry and bitter when he brings it up.
“Seojun was…” you sigh, collecting your thoughts so as not to create unnecessary ripples in this still water. “He was good for me at the time. He was who I needed at the time. But long-term?” You scrunch your face and shook your head. “I didn’t think that far down the road.”
He used to always ask ‘why.’ Why did you do what you did? Why did you make those choices?
You were together for five years before you married. Two years later, you had Yuna and everything seemed picture-perfect. You thought that you were doing well and that you might really have a knack for marriage and monogamy. It was a point in your relationship when you thought that nothing could ever break you.
But it turns out that anything and everything can break you.
Seojun came along and it was as if something that had long been dormant ignited within you. You thought it would be a one-off, but it wasn’t. For months you thought Wonwoo would suspect whether anything felt off. It wasn’t like you were trying to get caught but maybe some part of you wanted him to catch you. But that didn’t happen. Instead, he seemed happily blissful in his own world, seeing everything through rose-colored lenses.
You pick up your wine glass and tip the contents into your mouth, emptying it. When you set it back down on the counter, you look at him, staring at you.
“But you loved him, right?” He asks between mouthfuls of pizza.
You pause for a few long beats before responding. “Sure. In a way, yeah.” Your answer is noncommittal but the truth was, you didn’t know for sure if what you felt for Seojun was love. It certainly wasn’t the same as what you felt for Wonwoo. He was in his own category.
“I don’t get it though. Why would you want to be alone?”
You scoff and straighten in your seat, feeling the urge to be defensive. “I don’t get why you’re suddenly concerned about my choice to be alone.”
“No, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” He switches tact, sensing that your walls start to go back up. “I remember back then, you used to say that a lot…that you like being alone and that you didn’t believe in marriage or lifelong partnership. And yet–you still agreed to marry me when I asked. So no, I don’t believe that your ultimate desire or goal is to be alone.”
You pour yourself another glass. “You were different. Being with you, what we had–it made me want to prove myself wrong. That perhaps I do have the marriage gene in me and I can make it last.” You pick at a piece of pepperoni on your slice. “I’d like to believe that I did. I tried to keep things together to make things work for us.”
Wonwoo reaches for your hand and brushes his fingers over your knuckles in an attempt to console you.
“Turned out well, right?” You remark sarcastically, throwing your free hand up in defeat. “I failed. So, I conclude that I just don’t have it in me.”
“The marriage gene?”
“Uh-huh. I’m doomed!” You laugh darkly.
You were happily resigned to that fact. Wonwoo was a beautiful anomaly. While your time may have been short-lived, it still added meaning to your generally doomed perspective on marriage and relationships.
His fingers curl around your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. “For what it’s worth, I thought you were great at it.”
You smile wistfully and bring his hand up to your lips to kiss it. “Thank you. That’s kind of you to say.”
******
You were in the upstairs bathroom washing up when Wonwoo excused himself to retrieve a couple of things from his jacket pocket downstairs when his phone starts buzzing.
“Hello?” He answers.
“Hey, how’s it going? I’ve been trying to reach you. How was your flight?” the female voice says on the other line.
He clears his throat and hides away in what used to be his office. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, sweetheart. You know how it is at my dad’s house. The reception’s shit.”
“Why are you whispering?” She asks.
“Dad just fell asleep. You know how he’s such a light sleeper.”
“Oh, yeah. You’re right. Do you think you’ll be able to finish up whatever you need to over there? I have some miles on my card and fly out tomorrow to come over and help?”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Wonwoo tells her calmly. “Dad and I are just about done packing up some of his old things here so, he’ll be ready to move into the facility. He’s really looking forward to it.”
“Is he? That’s great.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I have to go. I’m trying to sort through a few more of his things here while he sleeps. I work faster when he doesn’t stop to admire each item and talk about what it meant to him.”
“Okay. Just call me if your flight changes. I love you!”
He hears the floorboard creak and looks up from his seat to find you leaning against the door frame, dressed in nothing but a black lace teddy. Biting his lower lip, he says, “I love you, too.”
As soon as he hangs up, he tugs at your wrist and ravishes you.
******
“You think she’d ever suspect anything between us?” You wonder out loud while you both lay naked in your former marriage bed, basking in your post-sex high.
He shakes his head adamantly. “I think ‘you and me’ is the last thing on her mind.”
You laugh at how confident he made that sound.
“I’m serious!” He says firmly. “This is not even remotely on her list of possibilities! She knows what happened between us so this is highly unlikely for her.”
You sit up against the headboard and stare at him in disbelief. “You told her about us?”
He shrugs, not seeing the problem with it. “It was all part of my therapy and healing process so…yeah. I told her everything.”
“So, does she think I’m, like, the devil incarnate or something?” You try to mask the pang of guilt in your chest by making light of it.
“Nah. She doesn’t really think about you.” Then he immediately adds, “I’m not saying that to be hurtful or dismissive. I think at the time she thought she was somebody who could, I don’t know, put me back together or something.”
Even though you’ve both said your pieces over the years and talked things over, traded apologies, and accepted them, it still felt inadequate.
“I’m sorry,” you say instinctively.
He sits up to mirror your posture and dips his head to kiss your bare shoulder. “You’ve said that already.”
“Yeah but–” He cuts you off mid-sentence with another kiss, his lips lingering over yours.
“No buts. We’re good, okay? I’m good.” He reassures you.
But you press him anyway. “Okay, I’m sorry to keep dropping the reality check here but what if she finds out?”
He sighs, a wry smile on his lips. “If she does…” he trails off without finishing his thought. He straightens his posture, turning serious. “I guess you could say that I’m no longer scared of being labeled the bad guy. I spent a good chunk of my life trying to do the right thing and being a good person. Always doing what is morally acceptable.”
You tilt your head at him in curiosity. He’s changed a lot, but just like your old house, even though the fixtures have been replaced, walls knocked down and repainted, and furniture layout rearranged, you can still see hints of what it used to be.
He’s still the same Wonwoo you fell in love with, beneath this new cynical, detached exterior. He wasn’t always open about his emotions but in the rare cases that he would wear his heart on his sleeve, you saw and felt it.
Right now, he was baring his soul to you.
“I’m not saying that I’m proud of it. You know, the affairs. I have needs that she can’t fulfill,” he shrugs. “There’s acceptance on my part. I’m not trying to claim righteousness or hide behind morals. And that’s okay. I’m okay with that!”
You’re silent as you take in his ruminations. In a way, it saddens you that he’s adopted this perspective. You always knew him as an idealist–someone who, as he said himself, ‘always did the right thing.’ Which was why it crushed him when you confessed your infidelity.
He stares at you for a minute before breaking into a chuckle. “What?”
“What?” You echo, your eyebrows furrowing.
“Say something!” He laughs.
“I mean, what do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know! Anything. Scold me or, I don’t know…tell me that this isn’t right. ‘Your wife doesn’t deserve this! You’re a terrible husband!’” He says jokingly.
“I am the last person to judge, okay? If it doesn’t keep you up at night…” you trail off.
He nods at that.
But then you cock your eyebrow at him, picking up on what he said moments ago. “So, ‘affairs?’ You mean, there’s more?”
“I had some fling a few months ago. It was meaningless,” he add quickly, as if that contributed to anything. “And there were a couple of one-night stands but I don’t think they count.”
“Mm…” you hum vaguely.
******
Wonwoo cracks open another bottle of wine and brings it upstairs, where you both drink in bed and continue to trade stories.
“I didn’t really want to get married again. We were having a good time and she’s great,” he recounts the early days of his new relationship. “Sometimes it’s easy to confuse great sex with love.”
“Mm-hmm. Speak for yourself,” you remark.
He smirks at your comment. “But…there she was, down on one knee, asking me to marry her. And so I did. We’ve been living together anyway so, might as well, right?” He shifts and changes his tone, feeling the need to clarify that he’s not a complete asshole. “I hope you’re not taking this the wrong way but she and I are good. We’re comfortable. It’s like, we speak the same language.”
He’s tipsy and babbling but you let him. “That’s great,” you smile softly, taking a sip of wine.
“The sex is not.” You nearly choke at his revelation. “A month after we got married–phew–” He makes a whistling sound and makes a quick, swooping gesture with his hand. “Out the door, it went.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say with all sincerity.
He shrugs. “It is what it is.”
“But don’t you love her?”
He purses his lips and tilts his head from side to side. “In a certain way, sure.” He mirrors your answer from earlier this evening.
You nod vaguely, letting the words hang in the air while you both fall into a comfortable silence.
After a few beats he says, “I’ll never love anyone the way I loved you. That’s a fact.”
This isn’t the first time he’s told you this. He’s declared it several times, at least once during one of your clandestine meetings.
“When we were together, I never thought we’d split up. That never occurred to me. So–what I have with her it’s…it’s an entirely different kind of love. But if or when she suddenly comes to me and asks for a divorce, I’d give it to her. I feel like that’s where this is headed anyway.” He downs the rest of his wine before setting it down on the nightstand. “I would compare it to a piece of tape. You stick it on then peel it off and try to stick it someplace else. It might take, if you tried hard enough but…it’s never quite the same.”
You lick your dried-out lips and let out a shaky breath. “God, that sounds really sad,” your voice cracks.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not sad about it so you shouldn’t be!” He maintains his lightheartedness. “I think it’s perfectly fine to have different types of love, different types of relationships. Mine happens to be unconventional.”
“Unconventional, yes. But the way you speak about it, it’s as if you’re saying that you’re totally comfortable with the fact that you’ll never truly love again. That’s what saddens me.”
“I never said that,” he says in defense. “I never said I’ll never truly love again.” Then he looks you in the eye and says matter-of-factly, “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
The look he gives you sends an involuntary shiver down to your spine which makes its way between your legs. “Yes, but what we have is different. We’ve both gone through the worst possible thing that could happen in our relationship; which is why when you’re with me, there are no surprises. No unrealistic expectations. There’s no fear lurking around because it’s all laid out for you.”
His expression is steady and unchanged. “And I’m saying this is what works for me right now. This is what works for us–”
“Ugh, Wonwoo…” you groan, sinking back into the mattress and turning on your side, facing away from him. “That’s such a fucked up way of looking at the situation. You know how fucked up we are! We’re still reeling from how our marriage ended and…” You bury your face in your palms and groan in frustration again. “Who would have thought even after we signed those papers, that it didn’t really mean the end…Like, right that second? I wish that somebody told us that breaking up takes much longer than that.”
You feel the bed dip behind you as he scoots closer, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you flush against him. “It’s like we said, it just takes time, baby.”
“But it’s been five years!” You whine petulantly. “I just want to be done with it! You said that after we’re divorced, we’d move on and start fresh.” You turn your body around, his face is so close to yours. “Now, we’re just in this endless cycle of grief and trauma.”
You close your eyes and you feel him press his forehead on yours in silent agreement. You don’t remember how long you hold each other like that. He quiets your whimpers with the softest kisses until you both drift off to sleep.
******
“No!” Wonwoo cries out, jolting you both awake. He sits up abruptly, with his head in his hands. His back is covered in sweat and his heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest.
“Hey.” You sit up and rub circles on his back consolingly. “Did you have a bad dream?”
“Yeah,” he sniffs and wipes his tears away.
You offer to get him a drink of water but he declines. He gets out of bed and paces around the room.
“Do you want to talk to me about it?”
“Uh…” he breathes before sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “Yeah. I’m…trying to remember bits and pieces.” He takes a minute to regulate his breathing while simultaneously collecting his thoughts. “We were walking down the street, coming back from a dinner party or something. And then, we needed to cross the street for whatever reason.”
You hug your knees to your chest while you listen to him.
“I was holding your hand so we could go together but you went on and darted out into the dark road. I kept calling out to you but you kept moving farther away from me. I tried so hard to run after you but it was as if my feet were sealed into the concrete.” A tear rolls down his cheek. “I felt so helpless because I wanted to get to you and–I couldn’t see you. You were gone.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. C’mere,” You open up your arms and beckon him to come back to bed.
He obliges and nuzzles into touch. “I couldn’t get to you,” he cried.
“It was just a dream, baby.” You whisper calmly into his ear, rubbing his back to console him.
He burrows his face into the crook of your neck. “It’s not the first time I had a dream about losing you. I’ve had different versions of that dream where you disappear into the dark and I can’t move my body to reach out to you. It’s like–I’m perpetually stuck or something.”
All you can do is listen. This was his trauma talking. You continue to rub his back and rock him gently.
“You know, sometimes I wonder if…if I’ll ever love anybody. Like, truly love them. Or maybe I’ve never been truly loved before. Maybe…maybe that’s what it means. I’ll never be able to have the ability to–“
“Hey,” you interject. You pull his face away from your shoulder and cup his cheeks. “Listen to me— I love you. In my own… twisted way. And I know that you love me. In your own way.”
He smiles ruefully, his eyes welling up with emotion.
You gaze at him, brushing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. “I will always love you,” you say reassuringly before bringing your lips to his.
Your gentle kisses turn hungry and you can’t help when your body responds to him instinctively. Your need for him is unrelenting.
One moment he’s telling you about a nightmare and the next, you’re wrapped up in each other’s arms, your legs on either side of his hips. It doesn’t take him long to be ready for you, especially when you’re naked and bare for him.
You undulate your hips, grinding your slick over his length. His hands gripping your waist, guiding you while you pleasure yourself with the delicious friction.
“Mm, you’re so wet for me,” he whispers, reaching between you to rub circles on your clit.
“Mm-hmm,” is all you can muster.
“You ready for me, huh?” He nips at your bottom lip.
You give him a nod and he manages to pause his ministrations to reach across the nightstand. Once he sheaths himself, he takes one swift move and slips right into your center.
Each thrust is purposeful. Your fingers grip his hair as you moan into his shoulder. He gently sinks his teeth into your tender flesh, groaning. You're both floating and it’s a special kind of high.
One look at him and you heat up to a fever pitch. You take comfort in the deep baritone of his voice, goading you, whispering his naughtiest fantasies about you when you’re apart. You feel him touch you and you know it’s what you’ve been missing. He completes you.
You move in perfect sync as if you never separated. When you’re intimate like this, the questions and doubts fade when your bodies close in, filling every gap. Your connection is unrivaled.
He pulls back. “You close?”
Not that he needed an answer but he just loves watching you come undone. He ups the ante, cupping your ass cheeks and combining deep plunges with swivels, thrusting sharply and retracting slowly. Your head lolls back, dizzy with pleasure and at the same time awed by the heights he takes you to. Places where you can simultaneously forget and remember. Where nothing and nobody else exists except you and him and the mutual passion you share.
The sweat misting his brow glistens in the dusky light, his face beginning to strain as your release crests and finally crashes down. Instantly, you shudder, the tingling becoming too much to bear, your skin too sensitive. He is attuned to your body, because he stops his movements and applies pressure where you need it, keeping your hypersensitivity at bay, as his own climax hits him hard. His growls are suppressed, his face crimson with the rush of blood to his head. Your walls squeeze him greedily, prolonging your pleasure as he empties himself into you.
Wonwoo drops you both onto the mattress, collapsing in a heap of exhaustion. He is glued to your slick chest, where he will remain for the next ten minutes, snoozing, nuzzling, and kissing your neck. You hold him and savor the moment before you part and return to the alternate realities you both worked hard to establish.
Deep down, you know you’ve ruined him. You didn’t mean to. He was nothing but an innocent bystander in your own path of self-destruction. Perhaps, as your lifelong penance, you’d spend the rest of your days assuring him that he’s not broken and that he deserves unconditional love.
You breathe into his shoulder as you settle, holding him as close as you possibly can. In your own quiet way, you're telling him that you're happy to remain like this.
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#svt fanfic#svt wonwoo#wonwoo fanfic#wonwoo x reader#wonwoo x you#wonwoo smut#svt smut#wonwoo angst#svt x reader
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@multiparked 〢 cont from here .
Asking for something, whether a physical possession of some sort or a shoulder to cry on, was just what you didn’t do in the Tucker household. It wasn’t that they didn’t support or love each other because they did; they just tended not to ask for it or communicate in the more traditional ways.
There had been a time when he was younger when his parents were fighting, and he resolved to leave, but not without Tricia. She was already tucked into bed, and he hesitated in shaking her awake, arrested by how serene and gentle she looked. She woke up on her own a moment later, started when she saw him, and demanded to know what the fuck he was doing in her room. Craig hadn’t asked for her comfort then, just took it, letting the knowledge that she was still herself and that not everything under that roof was awful lull him back into his own bed after telling Tricia to fucking forget about it and that everything was fine.
He fell apart around his mom from time to time, but usually only in more extreme circumstances, like when he almost died or remembered how he almost died, And even then, he didn’t expressly ask for her help; she just gave it because she was his mom.
All of that meant that Kyle’s ‘living room therapy’ approach to hashing out feelings felt odd and stilted to Craig. But… he could at least see Kyle’s intentions and understand that his heart was in the right place. He just wanted to work things out, but they had very different methods.
“Yeah, it’s all right,” Craig said, running a hand up the prickly fuzz on the back of his head. It was a clumsy way of both accepting Kyle’s apology and offering up one of his own, more in tone than actual words.
“I’m just used to the way my family does things. We all kinda tell each other to fuck off until shit works itself out,” he chuckled. “Nah, it’s more nuanced than that, obviously.” With how many fucked up families there were in South Park, Craig had to defend his as one of the more normal ones, at least his mom and sister. The way they expressed their affection for him had not messed him up.
“It feels… forced to sit down and name every single emotion, wrap them up in neat little boxes with bows on top. I’m bad at it, and I don’t like doing it.” He shrugged, pulling his hands up before they flopped limply to his sides again, and then it was his turn to sport the creased brow. Frustration—there was one, a single feeling identifiable in crystal clarity. “I’m used to… I dunno… letting things come and go more naturally than that. Anything else doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.”
#ic :: ( craig )#int :: ( thread )#ver :: college ( craig )#multiparked#//nobody tell him he's talking about his feelings right fucking now LKFJDSLKJDF#//he might have an aneurysm
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Awaken
Pairing: chenle x reader Genre: friends to lovers AU, fluff, mature content Length: 6.4k Summary: When Chenle invites you on a last minute trip to his family’s home in China, you’re excited at the prospect of a small vacation and about spending time with your crush. Surprisingly, Chenle’s extended family is there as well, and a series of events quickly awaken something new in both of you. Warnings/Details: female reader, explicit sex (breeding kink, unprotected sex [please stay safe], creampie) disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. the characters and events are not a reflection of reality or meant to offend in anyway.
“What do you mean you can’t come? We were talking about this literally last night, and not even 12 hours later, you can’t come?!” Chenle practically screams into his phone as he stuffs random pants and shirts into his open suitcase. “Explain yourself, Park.”
“My mom suddenly wants me to come home.” Jisung sounds apologetic and slightly timid, “She said she’s cooking dinner tonight for our family and if I’m not at the table she’ll cut my tongue off. I know she won’t actually do it, but... I don’t want to test it.”
Chenle sighs, sounding bothered by this predicament, but Jisung knows his best friend isn’t going to be that sad about his absence. It’s not like Jisung has never been to Chenle’s house in China, and although he loves the place, he knows this won’t be the last opportunity for him to fly there. When Chenle sighs once more, this time just to be annoying and show how irritated he is, Jisung speaks again.
“Don’t be like that. You love visiting your family, just think of it as an opportunity to spend more time with them.” Jisung hears Chenle fall onto his bed on the other side of the line.
“I do love to visit, but my whole family is either younger than nine or older than thirty-five. I just want someone that’s my age to be with me if I feel lonely.” Jisung pouts at that. Chenle is an outgoing person and loves to be around the people he’s comfortable with, so hearing that he gets lonely without his best friend makes Jisung’s heart hurt a bit. However, an idea suddenly pops into his head.
“Hey, you actually do have another friend our age, and I bet she would love to go to China with you.” At the mention of a ‘she,’ the only ‘she’ both Chenle and Jisung know at the moment who would want to hang out, Chenle sits up straighter on his bed and his heart rate speeds up.
“Oh, ___?” He tries to sound nonchalant, “I’m not sure. She would be meeting my family, won’t she think that’s weird? And what if she feels uncomfortable? It’s not like she can just go home—”
“There are lots of what if’s, Chenle. All I know is that she finished her finals and is on break, and probably deserves a small vacation for her hard work.” Jisung pushes, suddenly excited that he can’t come on the trip if it means Chenle can get closer to you. “Just ask her. I promise it won’t hurt.”
“If she says no, it will hurt my pride. So, that’s a lie.”
“Chenle.” Jisung replies flatly.
“Fine, fine, I’ll ask.” Chenle plays with the hem of his shirt, thinking about how nervous he got over this trip just by adding you into the equation. With some last goodbyes and a promise that Chenle will update Jisung about everything that happens this weekend, the call ends. Chenle fidgets through his phone, procrastinating calling you, but when every single app is checked and there is only the phone icon staring back at him, Chenle sighs and finds your contact, pressing the call button.
After meeting you through Jisung, you and Chenle quickly became close friends. You’re both easy-going, prefer staying up late at night, and okay with being lazy at home, so hanging out together is easy to do. It also doesn’t hurt that you’ll eat literally anything Chenle cooks, boosting his pride tenfold when you praise him endlessly for his cooking. Actually, one night at his house after he made dinner and you shared a bottle of wine on the rooftop of his house while looking at the night sky, wishing the light pollution didn’t erase all the stars, that’s when he figured it out.
You’re important to Chenle. So, so important.
He knows he has feelings for you, and that he cares about you deeply. He is aware of your presence whenever you’re in the same room and gets that longing feeling in his stomach when your attention is taken away from him. There is no doubt that Chenle is in the middle of falling head over heels for you, but he always feels the need to keep a few steps back.
He walks on a tightrope, on one end is friendship and on the other is love, and he’s stuck in the middle. You’ve given him hints of attraction and subtle nuances in your words that could possibly mean you have feelings for him as well, but nothing concrete enough that gives Chenle the confidence to walk further along the tightrope.
Maybe, just maybe, this trip can bring you two closer to the end of this balance beam.
“A trip?” Chenle hears excitement in your voice after he explains what happened with Jisung, and he feels hopeful, “That sounds like fun!”
“Great. I’ll pick you up in three hours.” Chenle feels giddy and nervous at the same time, his leg bouncing up and down to portray all of his feelings.
“Oka— Wait. Three hours?”
“Bye!” Chenle abruptly ends the call before you can ask anything else or change your mind, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. He takes a few deep breaths and then stands up, continuing to pack his things. This time with more skip in his step that’s fueled by the promise of your presence with him for the whole weekend.
It’s already nearing 6pm when you arrive in Shanghai. You follow Chenle closely as he leads you through the airport, looking really confident about every turn he makes as he weaves through the busy and tired looking people. However, you’re both thrown off your path when a large window on your right catches your eye, the night view of the city of Shanghai making you stop in your tracks and swerve to take a closer look.
Your hands smudge the clean windows as you lean in and stare at the enormous city, the sparkling lights and tall buildings look like you just took a flight to the future, not just a few hours south.
“It’s pretty…” You trail off, not really talking to anyone in particular. Chenle, who followed you to the window and also stares at the view from beside you, smiles at the comment.
“You like it?”
“It’s amazing…” You sound like you’re in a daze, which makes Chenle smile wider.
“I should show you the view from the balcony in my room. It’s ridiculous.” Chenle nods and gives the view one more glance over. His words bring you back to reality, making you shiver.
In Chenle’s bedroom… where so many things other than watching the night sky can happen.
You heat up in embarrassment at the dirty thoughts, yelling at yourself in your head for thinking like that when Chenle probably meant it in the most innocent way.
“We should probably get going..” Chenle seems completely oblivious to your predicament, yawning as he turns around and continues walking through the airport. You follow him, lightly biting the inside of your cheek as your previous thoughts fly through your mind again.
The Shanghai airport is crowded, almost over-crowded. After traveling further through the airport, it gets hard to follow Chenle’s leather bucket hat that bobs through the sea of people and you have to grip onto his backpack so that you don’t lose him. He feels the sudden weight on his bag, turning around to see you struggling.
His hand finds yours, making you release the grip on his zippers and instead intertwine with his fingers, turning to look forward and once again leading you to baggage claim. Your hands start to sweat and you feel embarrassed, but Chenle doesn’t seem to mind as he squeezes your fingers softly and glances back at you to make sure you’re okay. He doesn’t let go of your hand until your luggage arrives, and when he does release your hold, you feel very cold and empty from the lack of Chenle’s touch.
“Mom, I’m home!” Chenle yells into his house, dragging his suitcase behind him and taking off his shoes, “I brought a friend.” You both leave your things at the door and Chenle hands you some slippers, then you follow him through the house in search of his mother. You find her in the kitchen, stove on and several pots and pans cooking food at once.
“Chenle!” She exclaims after seeing her son, and then her eyes fall on you.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” You politely greet her, slightly unsure of what her reaction to you will be.
“You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing your girlfriend here.” She laughs gleefully and leaves the stove to come closer, almost jumping on the tile floors over to you.
“Oh, we’re n-” You begin, but Chenle cuts you off.
“Jisung couldn’t come, so I brought ___ here instead. I hope that’s okay.”
“Oh, it’s perfectly fine,” She smiles, which makes you relax a bit, “You’ve never brought anyone here other than Jisung, I was beginning to think you don’t know anyone other than him.”
It’s your turn to laugh, covering your mouth as you glance at Chenle to see him roll his eyes with a sour look on his face. Before he can retaliate, his mom cuts him off.
“Well, since you’re here, could you set the table? I’m running late on dinner and I need extra hands. Get out eleven plates and those high chairs we keep in the closet.” She quickly makes her way back to the stove after warmly rubbing your arm, moving faster than your eyes can follow as she adjusts spices and stirs.
“Why so many?” Chenle asks.
“Your aunts and uncles are coming over today.” At that information, you turn to face Chenle with an unsure look painted on your face.
“Is it okay that I’m here?” You step closer to him and whisper, “If you’re having a family dinner, I don’t want to intrude.”
“Of course it’s okay. Don’t even worry about it.” Chenle gently grabs your shoulders and turns you around, forcing you to walk out of the kitchen and back into the foyer. You collect your luggage and head upstairs.
Chenle’s house has an impressive three stories with several bedrooms, an office, and a lounge room in the top two floors and the rest of the important rooms on the first floor. You didn’t see much of the backyard, but you caught sight of several trees that surround the house, making the area more private. Considering this place is close to the city, you’re amazed at how all of this belongs to Chenle and his family.
His room is on the third floor, and you take a look inside when he sets down his things on his bed. The balcony he mentioned earlier is covered with long white curtains and his bed is wide, taking up a good chunk of space. On the other side of the room, a TV hangs on the wall and there are several gaming consoles hooked up. Overall, a normal guy’s room.
“You’re next door…” He mumbles and leads you to the room next to his. The layout is a mirrored version of his room, only the balcony is replaced with large windows and the room is more generic looking rather than lived-in like Chenle’s. You set your things down and glance out of the window; you’re met with the canopy of trees that grow in his backyard.
“And your bathroom is right here,” Chenle’s voice brings you back to the room, showing you inside the bathroom, “And if you need anything, my room is right through here.” He opens a door in the bathroom to reveal his room on the other side. You nod and walk over to the bed, plopping down on the soft covers.
“Your house is amazing. I feel like I’m staying at a fancy AirBnB… but I don’t have to pay for it and there’s a family staying here too.” You both laugh at that, but your comment has you questioning your stay here some more.
“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to take your time away from family.” You bite your lip and look up at Chenle, looking for his honest answer. You’d hate for Chenle to not spend all the time he can with his family while he’s here, considering he can’t visit often.
“I am 100% sure that you’re okay to stay here. I think everyone will l-love you.” Chenle clears his throat after his stutter, hoping you wouldn’t question his sudden nerves surrounding the topic of love.
“Okay.” You nod and rub your hands over your thighs to rid yourself of anxiety. You only keep asking because you hate to be an intrusion. But if Chenle is sure that your presence here is okay, then you’re going to enjoy this vacation to the best of your abilities.
“You get settled, I’ll go help my mom. I’ll get you when dinner is ready.” Chenle turns around to leave the room, but you stop him.
“Oh, I can help. It’s the least I can do, and it seems like there’s a lot to get ready.”
“But you’re a guest—”
“I don’t mind.” You smile and leave the room first, looking over your shoulder as if to beckon him to try and stop you. Chenle doesn’t, partially because he wants to spend any second he can with you, even if it’s just setting the dinner table. But he also doesn’t stop you because that would mean grabbing onto your hand and pulling you back, and Chenle almost had a heart attack at the airport the first time he did that. Thinking back on it, the action felt natural but it still startled him, and he can’t get the feeling of how your soft hands feel in his own out of his head.
“Hey, wait up! You’ll get lost.” Chenle calls out and quickly follows you out of the room.
Chenle’s family loves you. In fact, Chenle thinks they love you just a little too much.
From his mom cooing at you as you help Chenle properly set the table to his aunts and uncles endlessly talking about your hobbies and school, it seems like you’re the life of the party tonight. However, that’s not what catches Chenle’s eye.
As he’s carrying some drinks to his dad and uncles who decided to sit outside after eating, Chenle passes by the living room to see you and his nieces and nephews playing. You’re reading a book to one of the younger kids while the others are coloring next to you and constantly showing you their art, seeking your approval or ideas on what they should draw next. Chenle’s two older nephews are playing tag around the table, and overall it’s just a whole ruckus. Chenle only has a chance to glance into the room for a second before continuing his trip outside to deliver the drinks.
As he’s coming back in, he’s startled by his older nephews who took their game of tag out into the hallway, almost running into Chenle.
“Woah, woah, woah. You shouldn’t be running in the hallway, get back in the living room.” Chenle ushers the boys back and once all of them are in the living room, he shuts the doors completely to keep anyone from going back out. His eyes land on you, you’re in the same position as you were before, but now you look up at Chenle and give him a warm smile while patting the spot next to you.
Chenle sits with his legs crossed while facing the same direction as you, looking over his niece's artwork and complimenting their scribbling, and then leaning back against the couch to mirror your position.
“I guess it’s more fun to play with the kids than with the adults?” Chenle asks, making your attention move from the TV screen where a kid’s movie is playing to meet Chenle’s eyes.
“Don’t you find it fun to play with kids? I think there’s never a dull moment with these guys.” You laugh and motion around the room as if to make your point.
“So, you like kids?” Chenle asks.
“Yes, a lot.” You nod, watching him look away and nod at your words. “What about you?”
“My nieces and nephews are… a bit too wild for me.” He admits, “But I like kids. I would like to have my own kids in the future.” Chenle speaks without really thinking about his words, just talking to you about anything is nice. When he realizes what he said at the end, his eyes glance over at you to gage your reaction.
“Same here. There’s some special sort of happiness that comes with having kids. I see it all the time on mothers’ faces, and I always wonder what it feels like. I bet you can’t really find that kind of feeling anywhere else in the world.” You muse, and Chenle quickly agrees with your sentiment, involuntarily gulping as the thoughts in his head rampage.
Could you get anymore perfect for him?
You look down at your thigh, for some reason not being able to look at Chenle in the eye. “I think… You’ll be a really good father, Chenle.”
Just from your simple words, Chenle’s heart begins to pound in his ears and warmth spreads through his chest. He watches you shyly look up at him, not being able to do anything but stare at you for fear of his body moving without his control.
“Can you please read again.” His youngest niece breaks the staring contest between you two with her question, pulling your gaze away from him. When your attention is on his niece, he quietly slips out of the room and stumbles up the stairs to his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.
He paces around his bed, his hands running through his hair as he tries to figure out
what just happened. You said you like kids. You said you would like kids in the future. You also said you think Chenle would make a good father. Are you purely giving him compliments or… could you be hinting at something else?
Why does Chenle feel like his heart might explode any second if he keeps thinking about you. On second thought, he looks down, his pants might be the thing that explodes. Chenle sighs, slightly embarrassed that he got hard by just thinking about you.
You looked so cute playing with his nieces and nephews, so kind and genuinely warm hearted to them that it melted Chenle’s heart. He wants to see it again. He wants to see you reading a book to them and changing your voice for every character, listening intently as they tell you story after story, rubbing their backs gently as they color.
Chenle wants to see you like that with his kids.
His own thought scares him a bit, and he sits down on his bed while trying to calm his breathing. He’s even more surprised at the shot of pleasure that runs through him at his own idea. He feels his stomach turn pleasantly at the thought of a little you and him running around, you showing your love to both Chenle and your child.
Warmth grows in Chenle's heart; he wants it so bad.
He can imagine the picture so clearly in his head that it hurts him to think about it, since he knows he’s far from that point in his life. That doesn’t stop him from getting turned on, though. He digs the heel of his palms into his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to think of something —anything— else. Why is it that whenever you’re around, he can’t think of anything, but whenever you’re not around, he can only think of you?
‘It’s useless’ he sighs, scooting up on his bed and moving his bedsheets away.
Sitting against his head board, Chenle grips his sheets in one hand and his other slides down his stomach, tickling him slightly, and over his crotch. Swallowing thickly, he closes his eyes and focuses on his warm hand stimulating his member. He can’t help but let out a soft sigh at his own teasing, but soon has had enough and quickly pushes down his pants and boxers to let his dick spring out. Using some precum that glistens as it runs down the side of his dick, he starts pumping his shaft, eventually getting fully hardened.
His wrist turns every time he reaches the end of a pump and he slides down the headboard as his eyes flutter from the pleasure. Chenle is good at staying quiet thanks to the years of practice in his full house, but he can’t help the whines he emits every so often when his fingers move over his tip.
But soon, Chenle turns frustrated. He’s doing all the things he knows his body likes, but his orgasm is just too far away still. He becomes impatient, starting to shift his hips around and rub his length faster as sweat builds on his forehead, but it only hurts his wrist and makes him itch for his orgasm more.
Every time Chenle thinks of you while getting off, he feels a bit guilty.
He hopes you don’t mind it, but you hold a place in his heart and Chenle is very attracted to you, it’s impossible to think of anyone else when he’s in this position. So, Chenle takes a breather, and when he continues his stroking, he thinks about your tiny hand replacing his instead. His eyes immediately roll to the back of his head and he finds it hard to keep himself sitting up.
Chenle’s head is tilted back, his jaw dropping open bit by bit as he moves on to thinking about your warmth mouth around his cock, the way your face would look as you glance up at him and kiss up his thighs before sliding his member through your lips again.
Chenle has to shove the duvet he has been gripping into his mouth to stop the moan that almost leaves his throat, his eyes screwing shut as he imagines how good your wet pussy would feel around his dick, sliding in and out as you chase your own release. He loses composure when he imagines what your pants and moans would sound like in that situation, what your nails would feel like gripping onto his shoulder for dear life, and what the flesh of your hips and waist would feel like under Chenle’s hands as he drives you harder onto his cock.
Chenle eventually starts thrusting his hips up into his hand, desperately chasing his high to the very highest peak. Chenle has thought about you many times while jerking himself off, but this time around, the thing that makes him tip over the edge is the thought of his cum shooting into you. He lets himself fall into the pleasure, seeing stars at the thought of his seed filling you up. He milks himself as strings of cum land on his thighs and pants, going to the very last stroke until it almost feels painful.
He limply falls over on his bed, breathing heavy and ears slightly ringing from the intensity he brought upon himself. When the feeling goes away he opens his eyes and listens to the sounds of the commotion downstairs, his mom and aunties playing with the kids, and the cars that drive by outside his balcony. When he looks over at the bathroom door, his heart drops all the way to his stomach and his head turns fuzzy from panic.
You’re right there.
Maybe you think he doesn’t see you, half hidden by his bathroom door, but he sees your hand resting on the handle and he hears your heavy breaths all the way from across the room. A part of him wants to dig himself into the covers and never come back out, but he pushes that embarrassment away so he can think clearly. You’re just standing there, no doubt just saw him come, why aren’t you leaving?
“___,” Chenle calls out, his voice lower than you expected and making you flinch behind the door. “Come here.” He says it softly, but in a demanding tone, so you open the door all the way and look at him. A mess of sheets surrounds him and his hair sticks to his forehead from sweat, all of this is illuminated by the dim moonlight coming from the balcony. Taking small steps to him, you don’t know what to do with your hands or where to look, but Chenle makes it easy when he pulls you down on the bed next to him.
“Did you like what you saw?” His question startles you, “Tell me the truth.” He adds on. You nod, a question of your own coming to mind.
“Why did you say my name when you were doing… that?” Chenle’s eyes widen, not aware of your name slipping through his lips. “Tell me the truth.” You say back at him.
Something in Chenle tells him that things won’t be the same way between you two after tonight no matter how he tries to amend this situation, so he thinks he might as well take it as far as you’ll let him.
He leans into you slowly, lips sliding past your cheek and teasing the skin there, stopping to whisper into the shell of your ear. “Because I was thinking of you, why else?” He likes how you shiver, he likes seeing the goosebumps on your shoulder from his words. Scraping up as much courage as he can, he leans all the way in and places a hot kiss below your earlobe. He waits for you to push him away, but you only grab onto the front of his shirt for leverage, so Chenle continues. He presses slow and open-mouthed kisses down your neck, almost too slow, until he reaches your shoulder where he bites down gently, raising a sharp gasp out of you.
You push him away and look at his eyes. Chenle is afraid that you’ll tell him to stop because this surely means he screwed up, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the next words that come out of your mouth.
“Tell me what you were thinking about. I’ll make your dreams into reality.”
Chenle’s jaw drops slowly at that, looking over your face for any signs of a joke. But fire burns in your eyes and the hand that’s holding onto his shirt pulls him in, lips crashing together in your very first kiss.
It’s hot, the room and the kiss and the way your hand falls down to chest and stomach to reach his dick, once again twitching from just the slight sting your nails give him as they travel across his body, not to mention the way your tongue slides into his mouth, exploring every corner. The kiss is wet and messy, but neither of you care right now.
“Was it like this? Hm?” You pull away while tilting your head, somehow looking innocent as you start to pump his dick, the same way he did not too long ago. Chenle shakes his head, pushing on your shoulder to get you to sit on the floor. As you slide onto your knees Chenle grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, wiping his hands on it, and throwing it behind him, not caring about how dirty it will be after.
When he looks down at you between his legs, your little hands moving his pants and boxers all the way down his legs, he thinks he must be dreaming. It has to be fake, you look too good with his spit covering your lips and your hands spread out on his thighs, looking up at him curiously as if to ask for what he wants next. This has to be a dream, but when he feels your soft hair bunching up in his hand and the first touch of your puffy lips on his sensitive tip, he knows this is anything but a dream.
He’s all too excited when his hips push up into your mouth and his hand tightens in your hair. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t help how good you’re making him feel. His toes curl, his mouth releases little whimpers and pleas filled with your name, probably the most vocal he has been in his entire life.
You don’t mind the roughness from him, you like it actually, the wetness building in your core proof of that. The sight above you, Chenle’s head tilted back and the outline of his abs flexing every time your tongue swirls around his dick is more than enough to get you heated, desperate for some friction between your legs. Just when you think Chenle is going to cum, he pulls you away from him, surprising you.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, suddenly afraid you did something wrong. He groans, his eyes squeezing shut hard enough that the dimples under his eyes come out. He lets you stand up, but grabs the back of your thigh to pull you closer to him.
“I should be good to you, I can’t let you sit on the floor and suck my dick all night, as much as I would like that.” That makes you chuckle a bit. Chenle smiles, moving your shirt up and peppering kisses over your stomach, right above your waistband. You remove your shirt, feeling Chenle’s hands play with the buttons and zipper of your pants.
“What’s next?” You ask after he slowly slides your pants off of your legs and throws them behind you. He looks at you, his eyes conveying how nervous he feels by your question. He’s not sure how you would feel about the next part of his fantasy.
“Can I come in you?” He asks so fast that you almost don’t register his words, but when you do your eyebrows quirk up. When you don’t say anything, Chenle continues, “I know this is kind of wild for our first time together, but I promise I’m clean and—”
“Sure.” Chenle shuts up at that, his eyes wide as he tries to read your face through the lack of good lighting. “I trust you. Do you trust me?” When Chenle nods, you climb onto his lap, your lips meeting again in a softer kiss than before. You grip the strands of his hair in the back of his head as you gently sit down on his thighs. Chenle immediately grabs your hips and pulls you flush against him, chest to chest and hips against hips so that you can feel his dick pressing against your center, raising a strangled gasp out of you.
Chenle takes that moment to slide his tongue in your mouth, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you against him while his other hand moves your hips against his own. His dick rubs against your center, the slickness that has seeped through your underwear making Chenle shake with pleasure. He kisses down your neck and chest to leave hickies on the top of your breasts while continuing to grind up into you, starting to feel obsessed with how you sound every time his dick rubs against your clit.
You’re in the middle of taking off your bra when his hand that was moving your hips moves to your front as he runs two fingers over your covered slit. It surprises you and you let out a moan, forgetting about your bra and covering your mouth to stop yourself from getting any louder. He moves your panties to the side and slides one finger in to test the waters, you clench around him instantly and sigh in relief at how he curls his finger in you.
“Relax,” He mutters and removes your bra all the way for you, his hand once again finding a palace at your waist to steady you on top of him, “I got you. You’re safe with me.” He mumbles against your shoulder between kisses as you get adjusted on top of him. Your nails that were gripping into his shoulders relax a bit, and he adds a second finger to stretch you out some more. Your shaky breath tickles Chenle’s ears when he does so, but eventually you start grinding down on his fingers.
Chenle takes a moment to watch you grind onto his hand, your eyes shut as you’re completely lost in your own pleasure. You even look pretty like this, how is that fair? Chenle can’t help but express his feelings in the form of kisses over any part of your skin he can reach. You’re pretty sure he has kissed everywhere by the time he pulls his fingers away, making you turn your attention on him.
“Are you sure this is okay?” He gives you one last chance to back out, but you nod your head in agreement, your head cloudy from pleasure and your whole body begging for him to fuck you already. He nods too, guiding his dick into your hole and letting you slide down him inch by inch. Every move downward sends his mind blank and his stomach tightening, watching how he disappears into you and twitching from how tight you are. You keep clenching around him and it’s driving him completely insane. He leans back on his hands, breathing deeply to keep himself under control.
When you’re sat all the way down, Chenle takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers together to place your hand against his cheek. You’re not sure if he even realizes he does this since his eyes are still shut in pleasure, but the gesture makes you smile a bit.
When Chenle thrusts up into you, your smile drops. Fuck, that feels good.
Chenle releases your hand and instead takes a hold of your hips keeping you steady as he thrusts up into you in a steady rhythm, drawing out unstoppable groans and moans from both of you, not caring about who’s hearing you two. His hips slap against yours with every move, sending you closer and closer to your high as you hold onto each other. When he stops for a moment, no doubt tired from all of the work, you continue to roll your hips against his.
“Ah—” He groans at your movements, “Oh my god, ___, don’t stop.” He moans. If you thought Chenle’s singing voice sounded heavenly, then you think the voice he used to moan your name might be out of this world, filled with so much feeling and lust that you don’t think he can even register what he’s saying anymore.
You feel your orgasm approaching all too fast, and when Chenle’s hips start to move again, you think he might be close too. That’s when you lean into his ear, the same way he did to you when he started all of this just a while ago.
“Come in me, Chenle.” You beg him, and his hips move faster, the grip he has on your hips so tight you’re sure there’s going to be bruises. You can’t think about it right now, though, as his cock moves in and out of you mercilessly and your name tumbles out of his lips once again.
Your orgasm breaks open throughout you, spreading like a wildfire through your nerves. You’re sure you can feel Chenle all over you and all around you as you come, pleasure filling you up from your head to your toes. As your muscles flutter around him, Chenle lets go too, white and hot springs of his sperm shoot into you. He continues to fuck it into you, slowing down when he feels both of you almost topple over from fatigue.
He slowly lays down in his bed, careful when he rolls you to the side. Sliding his dick out, he watches his white seed flow out of your pussy and down your thigh, his lips opening in awe and surprise at how much he likes the sight.
“Are you okay?” He asks, suddenly realizing the redness around your hips and waist from his own hands.
“Oh, I’m great. I’m wonderful, actually.” You sigh out, your eyes closed as you are still trying to get over the orgasm Chenle gave you. Your words make him chuckle, a bit of cockiness peaking through.
“Huh, I guess I’m that good, yeah?” Chenle makes sure to send you a closed lip smile, and you peak an eye open to hit him gently against the arm before retracting and falling limp again, both of you not able to control your bubbling laughter.
Chenle always imagined what the other side of the balance beam would look like— how it would feel like. Now, as he looks at your messy hair, your shining skin under the moonlight, and your quiet mumbles about random things as you cuddle under the blanket, he thinks it may feel just like this.
Later, after you and Chenle cleaned up a bit and got situated under the covers with you laying your head on his shoulder and him tracing stars, hearts, and the Chinese characters of his name on your back, Chenle gets a phone call.
“Hey, how are you? How’s it going with ___?” Jisung asks on the other side. Once you hear his voice, you perk up and tilt your head to look at Chenle with a raised eyebrow.
“Everything’s good, really good, actually. How’s your family?” Chenle asks back, stopping his tracing for a second to flick your forehead gently, making you slightly scowl at him.
“Good, my mom didn’t cut my tongue off, as you can probably tell.” Chenle lets some air out of his nose in the form of laughter at Jisung’s joke.
“So, why did you call?” Chenle hums into the phone, burying himself closer to you under the covers.
“Don’t you remember? You said you would update me on anything that happens while you’re over there. Did something happen?” Jisung asks and Chenle can’t contain his smile as he answers.
“Park Jisung, I’m so glad you couldn’t come this weekend.”
“What? What does that mean—”
“I’m hanging up now.” Chenle ends the call, throwing his phone somewhere on the bed and wrapping his arm around you, cuddling closer to you and finally falling asleep.
#chenle#chenle smut#nct dream au#nct dream smut#chenle x reader#nct smut#nct fluff#nct dream fluff#chenle fluff#chenle au#nct au#chenle scenarios#chenle imagines#chenle fic#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct fics#nct dream imagines#nct dream scenarios#nct dream fic#nct#nct dream
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Fade:
“I’m a literature/theology/etc professor, you’re a math professor, it’s my first day and you have no idea who I am and start slating the subject I teach, who do you think you are?”
I made a tiny adjustment to the prompt but I hope you like it darling! 😘😘
This was supposed to be a temporary job. Just something to help her pay back her college loans before she could rush into the fray of revolution and overturn Norta's elites, to then (maybe) go back to the Lakelands and end the oppression of the proletariat there too.
It's been five years though, and Diana Farley is still teaching history at Saint Victoria Academy. It's not the excellent paycheck that keeps her here, which obviously comes from the pockets of Albanus' wealthiest families. Neither is it the solid friendship she found with most of her colleagues, or the fully stocked coffee bar at the teacher's lounge. What keeps her here, despite her resentment toward the unequal access to quality education of this system, is the fact that she gets to impart knowledge and plant the seeds of radical ideas on eager, inquisitive minds. Her classes are known for prolonged debates and extensive, unconventional reading material.
The kids (teens, to be more exact) she teaches blossom into new ideas like wildflowers in spring. It's beautiful to witness, and it makes her feel a deep responsibility to the task. So, she keeps showing them the most brutally honest and nuanced versions of historical events. At least until the day the school board decides she's gone too far and fires her. It hasn't happened yet, though she knows it someday will. She's not being paranoid, numerous pearl clutching parents have threatened her with this. Farley could not care less.
As she makes her way to the teachers' lounge, she sees a temporary in memoriam wall dedicated to Sister Blonos. A picture with a candle underneath. RIP her least favorite colleague.
It's not that Farley's a bitch, but the nun did call her a wretched commie lesbian on numerous occasions, and outright told her she was going to hell for corrupting children several more. There was no love lost between her and the late Theology teacher. Now, if Blonos had been a bit more like Sister Nanny, the music and theatre teacher, that would have been a whole 'nother story. There's a living example of ‘the Lord's love’ (whatever that means).
Unsurprisingly, she's the first one to arrive. Everyone else is probably trading summer vacation anecdotes at the parking lot, jokingly moping about school starting again. Farley is actually excited to get back in the trenches of education. Her classroom is all set up already with maps, her laptop loaded with cool diagrams and presentations. She's come armed to this fight.
She takes her place on the long mahogany table, sitting down on the high-backed leather chair, spins to face the inner grounds of Saint Victoria Academy through the big, ancient windows.
"...Just try to keep the experiments to a minimum, Miss Barrow. I'm not asking for a lot."
"How else are the punks going to pay attention? Besides, it was just a few lightbulbs, geesh."
"It was half the building's electric installation."
"A cheap price for the treasure of knowledge. Don't tell me how to do my job. You're not the boss of me."
"I am your superior!"
"Are you now? That makes quite the HR complain about what you were making me do last night!"
"You were literally begging—"
Diana coughs loudly and spins the chair around to let the newly arrived pair know she's there.
Vice Principal Calore and Miss Barrow (or simply Mare for her) both halt to a stop, paling at the sight of her. Farley can see them mentally calculating whether their angry whispers were loud enough to reach her. In the name of friendship, Farley is willing to play dumb and let her closest co-worker delude herself into thinking that her inappropriate relationship is still a secret. As if no one has seen Calore preparing her coffee how she likes it, every day for two years now. Amongst other glaring sings.
"Good morning, Mare," Diana fakes surprise without putting too much effort into it. "Sir," she nods at Calore. "How was your summer?"
"Great!" they reply at the same time, making Mare glare at him. He smooths his tie, lowers his head and walks over to the coffee bar... and starts preparing two cups.
Farley inwardly rolls her eyes. Seriously, why do they even bother?
Mare sits down across from her. She starts telling her of the dog she found/adopted, which is a cute story sure, but when the rest of the teachers walk in the lounge, Diana stops listening.
There are two men she doesn't recognize. One of them is a priest, and that's all the assessment he elicits. The other is a lean man with honey eyes on a handsome, gentle face comprised of soft angles that grant him that perpetually young look.
Button down shirt, knit vest, slacks, and moccasins outfit straight out of the teacher's section of the rack. The fact that his chestnut curls are forcibly combed flat to the side annoys her for some reason.
She imagines carding her fingers through the curls to loosen them to their natural state and her breath shallows for a cycle. Not that she cares about appearances but she is not a liar either. Truth is, that is a perfect human being where aesthetics are concerned.
The man smiles down at Mare and rubs her shoulder, who looks up placing her hand upon his.
"You're here! Farley, this is my brother. The decent one."
"Shade?" she remembers quickly.
He smiles the sort of smile that cures illnesses and lights up rooms, looking at her now.
"The very one. I'm afraid to ask about what has she told you about the rest of the family."
"You should be," Diana replies.
Shade beams and makes a hand gesture toward the free chair next to hers. There are no assigned seats so she tells him that.
The meeting starts. Calore welcomes them, makes a pun about the blackout incident Miss Barrow caused last year and they all laugh. He sobers up to remind them of Sister Blonos' passing, of the math department hiring a new teacher, then proceeds with other announcements.
"They should have just saved the time and money from Blonos' class and used it for something worthwhile, for a change," Diana mumbles low enough that only Shade can hear her.
He subtly slides his chair closer to hers.
"I'm sure she can't have been that bad.”
"I won't speak ill of the dead, but I was talking about Theology. There's a useless class if I ever heard of one."
He blinks several times at her brutal honesty.
"Don't you think kids have a right to wonder about that which they cannot see?"
"You mean physics?" Farley interprets the question liberally to make her point. "That's what your sister is here for."
"Physics phenomena are measurable."
"And religion is the opium of the masses."
"Ah Marx, old fella," the corner of Shade's mouth twitches as if they’re sharing a private joke. Something unfurls inside her like a cat placidly stretching under the sun.
Farley is just a bit impressed a math teacher knows who the quote actually belongs to.
"Before that, though," Shade proceeds, leaning in so close she can smell his cologne. Damn, it’s really nice. "He writes that religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature."
Fair enough. Farley finds it hard to look away once her gaze has settled on him. Like trying to lift a spoon from a jar of thick honey, much like the rich color of his eyes.
She arches an eyebrow.
"If comfort is what we're talking about then psychology should suffice, or even art. Again, classes we already have."
"Art is to the soul what religion is to the spirit. That's where theology comes in. To add a different perspective to the way our students can see the world."
"It creates division and wars. I would know: I teach them."
"Fear and ignorance create those. Actual knowledge would do the opposite and create mutual understanding,” he whispers passionately.
"Actual knowledge" she repeats pointedly, "not that archaic bullshit filled with prejudice, meant to maintain the status quo and keep the working class blinded with fairy tales. Theology is delusional garbage."
Shade stares at her so intently, for so long that it feels as if time has stopped, suspended from a thin thread. Waiting to snap at the first sound or blink. Every fiber in her being is strung up, ready for something to happen.
"Revolutions are built on faith," he delivers like a killing blow.
The tension in her releases in the form of all consuming, violent indignation.
She intends to tell him a long list of real things successful revolutions were based on, ask him who the fuck does he think he is to mansplain this topic to her. "Are you—?!"
"Thank you for your words, Father Cortez!" Calore claps giving her a look to shut up and pay attention. Shoot, the priest was speaking and she didn't even notice.
Go to hell Calore, walking HR nightmare. She mentally shouts, squinting her eyes at him, joining on the round of polite applause.
"We're all happy to welcome you to the math department."
Wait... if the priest is the math teacher if that means...
Farley's hands freeze mid applause as she turns to...
"And the second incorporation this year." Calore smiles and extends his hand in to the chair beside hers. "Shade Barrow. Our new Theology teacher."
If there is a god, they must be laughing at her. Fuck.
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youreyeslookliketheocean’s DSMP Fic Recs!!
Figured it was about time for one of these... :)
Mostly SBI-centric because they’re my favorite dynamic. I’ll probably add to this list as time goes on, and I also want to go back through my ao3 history and find some lesser-known fics I really enjoyed to rec them all. But for now...
* oneshot ** unfinished work
** the lights go out (my heart goes still) by curseworm
With his old home unwelcoming and his new one gone, Tommy is alone. After hours of staggering through the freezing snow, he finds a cabin.
Technoblade’s cabin.
He hides himself away in the deepest corner he can find, taking only what he needs to survive, wasting away in the cold and the dark. He’s petrified at the thought of being found out, terrified of what he thinks Techno would do to him.
When Techno finds his injured teenage brother huddled in a filthy little cave beneath his basement, the rage he feels is immeasurable. The voices demand blood, and blood he will give them. Dream won’t be getting away with this one.
(On the other side of the world, in a country that floats on a man-made lake, Philza gets himself in a bit of a pickle.)
** The hearth down under by Crystalquill
A tiny change gives Tommy the courage to flee to the Nether instead of the cold tundra, finding an unlikely ally in the midst of a fiery hellscape.
But tiny changes can alter the course of history. The SMP will never be the same.
(Lots of cool Nether worldbuilding in this one!!)
to be a wanderer, wandering by hydrangeasheart
Tommy's feet drag in the snow.
It's so, so cold. He's so cold. His toes are freezing. His exposed shins feel like they’ve been cut open-- even the one that’s bandaged. His wings have gone numb, which is almost, almost good, because now he can’t feel the shifting, broken bones inside of the left one, just under feathers and muscle.
He doesn’t know why he’s still walking.
-
Or, Tommy leaves the exploded ruins of Logstedshire behind, and walks until he finds somewhere safe.
And things keep going from there.
(A canon-divergent AU, splitting off somewhere around when Tommy started hiding out below Techno's house.)
that’s, like, a hundred miles by No_one_you_know (and then “as long as i’m here”, and “he’s my brother, i just raise him”)
Dream would kill him. Dream was going to kill him- he was going to- no, he wouldn’t. Dream was his friend- friends don’t hit each other- Dream was supposed to take care of him- Dream /was/ taking care of him.
It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. He couldn’t clear his thoughts as he stumbled to the family computer, pulling up a tab on google and frantically typing the name into the search bar.
The words Technoblade Watson stared back at him, the little black bar at the end of the letters blinking slowly, mocking him.
Why, of all people, did it have to be Technoblade?
in short: the one where dream sucks as a parental figure, tommy runs away, and visits his least favorite family member technoblade.
passerine by thcscus(blujamas)
Do I really need to put the summary here? Pretty much everyone knows this fic. Also, though, if you enjoy this one you should totally read thcscus’ connected fic, “shrike”!! It’s only at 2 chapters right now but it’s already really good and has this dark, foresty aesthetic I love...
not with a bang but with a whimper by dip_dyed_ghost
He knows Tubbo doesn’t care about him anymore. He knows that. He’s been shown that. But it doesn’t stop Tommy from caring about him. He brushes the pads of his fingers over the compass’s glass and wonders how he’s doing, if he’s tired of it all yet, if he needs help. He watches the way it points strongly in the direction over the ocean. He hopes he’s alright.
Even after everything, he hopes he’s alright.
During his exile, Tommy finds a drugged and hurt Tubbo on his doorstep. He can’t not help him.
(This one has a neat take on potions, in my opinion. Also it’s only 4 chapters so it’s a quick read!)
take this compass, follow it home by lightning_anon
Tommy's a fuck up, he can't pay attention, and never sits still. He taps his hands, pushes people away, and has never had a best friend. He's a screwed up, forgotten kid lost in the foster system. He's also just been placed with a new family. Tommy knows how this goes, he never ends up staying long. After all, no one wants a fuck up like him.
Why would this house be any different?
Or: the obligatory sleepy bois foster fic, but with a focus on the neurodivergent kids that inevitably get lost in the system.
(Genuinely want to see more books like this in original fiction. It’s part of what inspired my newest og wip, “To Build a Home.” So sweet and I feel like I had my eyes opened to some neurodivergent tendencies I never knew existed. I read this in a day and can’t rec it enough.)
bloodlines by youreyeslookliketheocean
Tommy’s an orphan on the run from his previous guardian. Philza’s a king who prides himself on keeping his kingdom in an era of peace. Wilbur’s the crown prince, and Techno’s right beside him as his adopted brother. When Phil’s kingdom of Pogtopia is threatened by the bloodvines—a strange, brainwashing plant infecting many of the surrounding kingdoms—the four must work together to keep the kingdom, and their family, safe. --- A royal au sbi fic... + the bloodvines, for spice.
(Yes I’m self-promoting. But, in my defense, I’m very proud of it. If you checked it out it would mean the world to me :’))
Heat Waves by tbhyourelame
Dream has always held a gentle admiration for George, but when their nuanced friendship trickles into his sleeping mind, he awakens to a new world of conflicting emotions and longing. Lost in the midst of a heat wave, he continuously listens to a song that works itself in to the very core of his heartache. Floridian nights, unsent messages, spiraling infatuation, and terrible, terrible weather.
Another fic I think pretty much everyone knows about. Listen, listen... I was once an idiot who said “Oh no, I’ll never read Heat Waves. It’s irl, not characters, and it’s probably cringe”... No. I was so wrong. This fic is wonderfully written, with a pretty quick moving plot and great characterizations. You do need an ao3 account to access it, though. Just to let you know. (Also read “Helium”, unfinished and hasn’t updated in awhile, but it’s the continuation).
Guitar Strings and Keyrings are What it Takes to Build a Home by Anonymous
Techno was adopted by Phil when he was 12 years old.
He'd been enjoying his morning before Phil came to him asking if he would mind them taking in another kid. Against his better judgement, Techno agrees and ends up with two new foster brothers who he was determined to not get attached to, no matter what.
Tommyinnit’s unbeatable method of avoiding sudden death by eneliii
“I uh,” Tommy starts, not knowing how to break this to the hero lightly. He hates to be the bearer of bad news. “I think your powers are broken? It’s not a bad thing of course, but like, I swear you tried to mind control me and it like, totally failed. Which is fine, honestly, don’t feel insecure. Everyone’s power stop working sometimes… I think.”
Sheesh, this is very awkward. Why is no one else talking? Why is Philza looking at him like he grew three heads? Why is the Blade staring at him so intensely? Why is Willow still frozen?
“Did I, did I hit a nerve? Yikes,” Tommy hisses, “Well um,” He steps back, bracing his legs and bending his knees, “This was like super fun, but I’m - I’mma head out.”
or,
in which Tommy manages to annoy the hell out of Phil, Techno and Wilbur by being both impossible to catch and irritatingly endearing.
or or,
a crack fic where Tommy is a vigilante and Phil, Techno and Wilbur are the heroes hunting him down.
(Feel like I am obligated to say how incredibly funny this fic is. Seriously. I have a distinct memory of sitting on my neighborhood park’s swing, giggling hysterically, while reading this. Well...until the end... but we won’t get into that...)
** bones in the ocean by bunflower
“Your reputation precedes you, y’know.”
“Does it, now?” Philza watches him coyly from where he’s now leaning against the wall, arms folded around his chains and gaze half-lidded, his lips curled in an arrogant, cat-like smirk.
“The Angel of Death, the ferryman of the Styx, the terror of the western seas. One of the most feared captains ever to sail, and yet, I have to wonder… how did a man like you end up all on his own? We searched the area where you were found—not another soul in sight. So,” He fixes him with a long look, allowing the silence to hover like a dark cloud, the words rolling off of his tongue with all the venom and smugness he can muster, “—tell me, Philza. Where is your crew?”
OR: Technoblade is a naval captain, and Phil his unwilling prisoner. Somehow, they manage to come out of it as friends in the end.
(Is this fic considered popular like passerine/Heat Waves now? Cause I feel like it’s reputation precedes itself, at this point... Pirate au.)
****
Okay! That’s it for now. Like I said, though, I want to add to this over time and also dig back for some older things I’ve read. Also, if you have any recs feel free to send them in! I’m about to go back to school and therefore might not have time for reading fun stuff, but whenever I get the chance I’d love to check them out!!!
Happy Reading!!
#dream smp#dream smp fanfiction#dream smp fanfic#dsmp#dream smp fic rec#dsmp fic rec#fic recs#the lights go out my heart goes still#the hearth down under#to be a wanderer wandering#that's like a hundred miles#passerine#shrike#not with a bang but with a whimper#take this compass follow it home#bloodlines#heat waves#guitar strings and keyrings are what it takes to build a home#tommyinnit's unbeatable method of avoiding sudden death#tumoasd#bones in the ocean#sbi fic rec#sleepy boys inc#sleepy boys fanfic#dream team fanfic#dream team#ao3#fanfiction
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A Loki TVA/Lokane fic. Rating T.
Previously: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (of 6)
Shine a Light, part 5
He is aware that the love of his life is digging her fingers into his arm and saying his name.
He is aware of Stark standing to his other side, visor off, speaking to someone on the phone. His voice is hard.
But most of all, Loki is aware that all their lives were just changed by a great big terrifying rip in the seam of reality.
Neither Jane nor the Avenger could possibly be completely sure of what they saw. Loki, as much as he desperately wants to, harbors little doubt.
The man he held in a death-grip only minutes ago and who just now disappeared through a doorway conjured out of thin air was somehow … himself.
Another him. Just as the man had said.
After witnessing from afar the double kiss Jane, Loki, who was coming back from a swim, had been more than ready to skip past introductions and just sever the intruder’s head from his body.
But as soon as he had laid hands on him, a torrent of images had flooded his mind – chaotic, confused images that seemed to span past, present, future and beyond.
The shock had made him lessen his grip and the double had used his (his!) magic to throw him off.
With some distance between them and Stark suddenly there as well, Loki had tried to let his rage quell the dizzying realization. Unsuccessfully.
He is still shaking, clutching a dagger in each hand. He drew them instinctively as the other made for the door.
He should have caught him!
“Loki! What did he say?!”
“What?” His thoughts are racing in too many directions to hear her.
“The … man, what was he saying to you?!”
Jane is looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes, worry and urgency all over her delicate features. Though not fear, Loki notes. His ever-brave wife. Both her hands are now clamped around his wrist.
That thing kissed her.
The daggers disappear and Loki wraps both arms around the mother of his unborn child, almost crushing her to his chest while still staring at the spot where the double vanished.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, love”, he murmurs. He suspects things are very much not okay.
So does Jane, of course.
“Loki, was it … oof, not so tight … “
She wriggles against him, and he remembers his amor. And her condition. He immediately relaxes his arms a bit while letting the leather and metal melt back into the clothes he wore before: Black jeans and a fitted, dusty green t-shirt (his “rockstar outfit”, Jane had called it, when Loki first started switching up his human wardrobe some years ago now). Drops of saltwater still cling to the ends of his slightly curly raven locks.
“Tony! Jane, Loki! What on Earth was that?”
Pepper jumps out of the car parked in front of the house and runs towards them. She must have seen everything as she drove down the road following her flying husband.
“The verdict’s still out, Peps”. Tony nods at Loki. “You wanna chip in here? I just called the boy-scout at headquarters and told him to be on guard for one of the magician’s interns playing a prank”.
Loki shakes his head slowly.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think Stephen had anything to do with this”.
“You’re right, I didn’t”.
All four of them turn around to see the sorcerer step out of a swirling ring of light, his cape billowing around him. The mahogany floor and paneled walls of his Manhattan mansion are briefly visible behind him before the portal closes with a hiss of little sparks.
Strange is wearing an even sterner expression than usual which only adds to Loki’s growing sense of dread.
Tony, however, groans loudly.
“Dude, really? Couldn’t you at least have let us have dinner before party crashing? Not shaming your bachelor lifestyle or anything, but this was couples’ night!”
“Tony!” Pepper hits her husband on the arm.
Strange ignores him.
“I’m afraid the arrival of your surprise visitor indicates that a set of … unfortunate events have been set in motion”.
As always, his voice is as even as if he was reading the weather forecast, but by now Loki has learned to differentiate the (very) subtle nuances between scorn and sincerity. Strange places his hands behind his back and regards them coolly. “I’ve had Wong reach out to Doctor Banner and director Fury. They should be here shortly. Stark, you may want to-”.
Tony narrows his eyes, lip twitching.
“Hey, Bleeker Street, you know I have low tolerance for you showing up and barking orders without giving two f**** for context. How did you even know that something was going down here? By all means, don’t keep us in suspense until the cavalry gets here”.
Strange doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes dart to Jane sends needles through Loki’s heart.
“Let’s go sit down, shall we?” With one eyebrow raised, Strange puts on a suave smile and gestures towards the house. The effect is a little startling.
Jane ducks out from under Loki’s arms. “Jane, don’t you want to-“. She brushes him off.
“Yes, good idea, Stephen. Let’s go sit down”. She motions for Strange to follow. “Welcome to our home. I was actually making drinks before, but I think I need to add a bit more kick to them…”
Her voice is oddly calm, and Loki fights the urge to grab her and magic them both far, far away, not caring that she would be furious with him for making decisions on her behalf.
He’s brought back to the present by an even odder sound as Strange actually chuckles.
Loki is not sure he’s ever heard it before. Then again, it’s not that he really knows Strange when it comes down to it. Like Tony, Loki finds the wizard exceedingly arrogant.
Pepper is the first to follow Jane and Strange across the lawn while Loki and Tony hang back.
“Real ladies’ man when he wants to. Who would have thought”. The billionaire superhero scoffs. His suit has folded itself off and into a briefcase next to his feet.
“Tony-“
“Uh oh. First name basis. So this really is an emergency”.
Loki faces his friend. Often in the past years, as they’ve grown steadily closer outside of “work”, he has secretly marveled at how long they’ve come since someone threw someone else off a building after being called a diva.
And attacking a city with an alien army.
Jane always insisted the two “hotheads” (her word) had a lot in common when not trying to murder one another (be it with weapons or sarcastic commentary), and Loki has to admit she was right. The metal man is fiercely intelligent, and Loki has been enjoying the quick-witted snark between them infinitely more than he ever valued the company of Thor’s band of gullible warrior groupies on Asgard.
“Well?”. Tony is regarding him with eyebrows raised, expectant. “Give me your take on this cause I’m starting to put together some rather outlandish theories myself here that I’m kinda hoping you’ll thwart ASAP”.
Loki draws in a deep breath.
“That thing with Banner at the tower two years ago-“
“Fuck!” Tony exhales, exasperated. “I knew you were gonna say that”. He squints into the distance towards the ocean, his mouth a tight line. It’s a rare day that Tony Stark is caught under a clear blue sky without sunglasses but for once he doesn’t seem to notice.
Loki takes a step closer to him and lowers his voice so they won’t alert the others just yet.
“I told you then and you didn’t want to listen! Everything about Bruce’s story was off. I know he didn’t remember much after Steve took him down, but you all pretty much accused me of trying to get back at him for, well, you know what, and I kept telling you I thought someone had gotten to him! Now-“
Loki searches for the words. It’s beyond absurd.
“That man was a version of me, Tony. I have no idea how, but I felt it. I saw into his mind. It was filled with images from my past and then … other, recent memories. Dark ones. He came from nowhere. Literally. It didn’t feel like a place. I tried to discard it as a trick, you saw that, but…” Loki runs his hand through his moist hair. “Stephen obviously felt something tear open too. And that is not a good sign”.
He has Tony’s full attention.
“Tear open? Could this other you be associated with your old boss? With Thanos?”
Loki winces.
“No, I don’t think he’s involved”, he says sharply. “But I can’t be sure …”
Tony catches his tone pats his shoulder. “Okay, okay. Shake it off. Didn’t mean to suggest anything. Let’s say he’s not. I’d much prefer that, at least until the wizard presents us with an even uglier imminent threat to the universe. Which, judging by the fact that he’s even here, willingly sipping cocktails in your kitchen as we speak, he probably will”.
Tony throws his hands up with a dramatic air.
“And here I thought the most challenging part of this weekend would be to convince you two to come see Hamilton with us in the city next week!”
“Who’s-“
“Never mind. Did you get a look at that gadget your guy was holding? Boy, he looked like an office slave who’d slept under his desk for a month before getting fired, didn’t he? Were you ever into accounting yourself by any chance?”
Loki shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Immediately he sees the image of the double kissing Jane, his arms wrapped firmly around her supple body. Rage rushes right back through him and his eyes snap open.
“Stark - I can’t. But yes, I did notice the device. It looked like a phone”.
“Yeah, somehow I don’t think it was the new iPhone”.
Tony shakes his head.
“The two of us and we didn’t take him down. Fury’s gonna have our badges”.
//
The director of SHIELD and Bruce Banner arrive barely 15 minutes later through a portal in the middle of the meadow-like lawn, following Wong and both looking grim and out of place as they weave around patches of wildflowers to reach the porch.
“Gentlemen, I trust you’re well”. Loki greets the trio with an only vaguely sarcastic nod as he holds open the screen doors to them, like a good host. Despite what some may still think, he can behave.
He could have just used magic of course, but he figures Banner is freaked enough as it is just by being here. The scientist hasn’t spoken more than five words to him since 2014 and at least three of them were expletives.
Once inside the small living room, Bruce goes to stand by the window and busies himself polishing his glasses with a little too much vigor than seems warranted.
He avoids Loki’s eyes but looks up and smiles wearily as Jane comes over to say hello.
Fury leans against the doorframe to the hallway and crosses his arms, face a closed book, and, by the sound of it, Tony is going through the cabinets in the kitchen trying to find something to spice up Jane’s pre-dinner cocktails.
Pepper is talking to Strange and Wong on the blue IKEA couch (assembled by magic after the attempt to go at it “as a team” turned into a shouting match), and Loki is about to politely ask Strange to please spit it out right this minute, when Jane is next to him, taking his hand.
“We need to talk. Now”.
Her voice is low and steady but her eyes insisting. She squeezes his fingers.
He squeezes back. “Come”.
Loki looks to Fury but he’s focused on Strange who’s listening very closely to something Wong’s saying.
Not letting go of Jane’s hand, he turns towards the kitchen. In the doorway they pass Tony who’s now holding what appears to be a glass of scotch. He must have given up on the gin and tonics.
“Hey, where are you two going? Forget about playing hosts okay, let’s just get started with part two of the evening’s entertainment”.
“In a minute”.
Jane pushes past him, ignoring Tony’s look and dragging Loki with her.
She closes the door behind them.
“Okay, so…” Jane looks around nervously in the small kitchen with the rustic white fronts and old brass handles. She loves that kitchen. They haven’t changed a thing since moving in. Loki reaches for her, but she takes a step back. “Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have gotten there faster. Did he …“
“I need you tell me exactly what he said to you”.
She is absentmindedly opening and closing her fists in the way she does when that brilliant astrophysicist mind of hers is working out an intricate problem in the lab.
Or, Loki knows, when she’s about to deliver him bad news.
He clears his throat. “He said he was me. And that something big was happening”. There. “And then he said he was sorry”.
Jane studies his face.
“That he was sorry? For what?”
“He didn’t say. He stepped through the door”.
Jane is quiet and now it’s Loki’s turn to try and read her expression.
“What did he say to you? I assume he pretended to be me …?”
Jane holds up a hand and bites her lip. Loki swallows.
“Loki, when we were staying at the flat in London, after we defeated Malekith…”
“What?” Loki furrows his brow in confusion. “Why are we-“
“The poison from the monster’s blade, it had you slipping in and out of consciousness for days. You were so feverish…”
“Yes, I know. I was there”. Loki’s blood is slowly turning very cold, but he musters a smile. “And you were amazing, love. Although some might say you took adv-“
Jane interrupts him in the middle of his blossoming smirk. A slight blush appears on her own cheeks.
“Yes, um, it’s not about that day”. She gives him a stern look. “The other day, later, when Thor left after you two went and had your, um, talk … there’s something I need to tell you …”
The door to the living room opens behind them.
“Actually, if you don’t mind, Doctor Foster, I would very much like to hear this too”.
Stephen Strange steps into the kitchen. The door closes behind him.
Part 6
#loki#loki series#lokane#tva loki#loki fanfic#loki ff#lokane ff#lokane fanfic#loki x jane#jane foster#shine a light#plainlo inthemorning#doctor strange#stephen strange#tony stark
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I see we're going ape over buddie and Choices tonight so
Yknow in 2.07, when Shannon comes back and her and Eddie have their first scene together? The argument at the end, after Eddie says it wouldn't be a good idea for her to see Christopher bc she left them, she says she needed him, she needed a husband and a co-parent - and "I needed someone to have my back!"
To which EDDIE says, "I always had your back"
*insert Incredibles "coincidence? I think NOT" gif here*
(Also side note, I do like that the show doesn't try to sugarcoat what Shannon did being messed up, and that Eddie's own actions weren't really the right thing either[thinking about his conversation with Buck where he says he got to pretend he left for a noble cause even tho he was running], and that it was just a sticky situation that neither of them were equipped to handle in any way, and snowballed. I do kind of wish we could've gotten post-divorce Shannon and Eddie and Christopher interactions, figuring out how they fit together, if at all, bc I like those intricate and messy situations but I could see how that might get too close to retreading old ground re: Michael and Athena's divorce. But I do hate how ive seen the fandom like. Seem to oversimplify things with Shannon sometimes? And make her the ultimate villain, and Eddie Did Nothing Wrong, Ever)
Hi Anon!
The decision to have Buck and Eddie's first bonding moment end with "You can have my back any day" and "or, y'know, you could have mine" only to then six episodes later find out that at least a contributing factor to Eddie's marriage dissolving was that he "didn't have her back" is like. Such a galaxy brain chaos move for them to take, honestly. Like?? They could've had the phrasing be literally anything in 2x07 but instead they had it directly echo Buck and Eddie in 2x01. What was the reason? Why did they do this?
As for the rest of your ask:
(gosh this got long and, uh, opinionated. It is Not Pretty below the cut)
One of the things I really liked about Eddie Begins is that we did get to see him at the beginning of his journey in being Chris's dad because it gives us an opportunity to appreciate how amazingly he's grown as a father. Like, he didn't start out as a perfect dad and he was definitely kind of lost in the woods at the beginning there when it came to the whole "how do I parent" thing. And before Eddie Begins, we'd only ever seen the end result of the growth he's gone through, where he really is a fantastic dad whose son is basically his entire reason for being. Before Eddie Begins, we get to hear him say things like "I left first" and "I've failed that kid more times than I can count but I love him enough to never stop trying" but we kinda have to take that on faith? Because we hadn't actually seen him be anything besides a good dad until we saw his Begins episode. (And even then in his begins it's like "area man in his early 20s unsure how to care for small child while also coping with PTSD and a toxic support system" which like. yeah. no shit. there's one hell of a learning curve there)
The thing about Eddie and Shannon as a couple and as parents that always gets to me is that they were so fucking young. We don't know exactly how old Eddie is in the show, but we can guesstimate pretty safely that he's around the same age as Ryan which would make him between 23 and 24 when Chris was born, and it seems reasonable to believe Shannon was around the same age. It's also a pretty common reading in the fandom -- although I'm not sure how much canon support there is for it because we really, really don't know anything about their relationship pre-Christopher unless I'm forgetting something -- that they got married because Shannon got pregnant and that was the Done Thing. And when you're 23-24, baby on the way, freshly married, that is just like. So much. It sure as hell ruined my parents' relationship when they did that exact thing, and then they disliked each other until they were 27 and then they got divorced, and no one was happier than me about it, I have to tell you.
Back to the show, I can only give you my impressions, obviously, but the impression I have always gotten from the whole "I left too" conversation and the context that goes into it and the different behaviours we see exhibited by the characters is that Eddie "left" first and it comes across to me that he was basically an early twenty-something kid running scared from the abstract concept of being a father in general, and then when he was forced home by an honourable discharge, and was confronted with the reality of Christopher, he managed to step the fuck up and become Christopher's dad. It's there in 2x02, right? "Oh, you've got a kid? I love kids!" "I love this one." Eddie doesn't strike me as a Swiss Army Knife all-purpose Dad(tm) the way Bobby is. Eddie is Christopher's dad. (and like, of course, he's obviously moved by kids when he's on a call, we've seen that enough times to know that if there's a child who can even glancingly remind him of Christopher, Eddie's sense of self-preservation goes out the window, and I love that about him as heart-stopping as it can be in practice)
Shannon, on the other hand, didn't run from the idea of being a mother -- at first. When she left, it wasn't from the abstract. She left Chris (and "gave up" on Eddie, thanks Helena). She was not running from a concept, she was running from a reality. I think Shannon is a fascinating character to include in a television show as a side character, because she really isn't a one note character. Like, she was unarguably a bad mother, and from what we saw, she was a questionable romantic partner to have (but as you said, anon, Eddie was also not 100% the best romantic partner when he was with Shannon either; their entire relationship so far as I can tell was built on sexual chemistry which, uh, super does not sustain a relationship), but she also seems to have been a devoted daughter? I mean, yeah, it's entirely possible that her mom being sick was a convenient excuse to bail -- and obviously she didn't come back after her mom died, and didn't, y'know, contact her son or husband in the interim, so yes, I can see that being a valid way to read the situation. I don't think she's the Ultimate Evil, because she strikes me as a very human character in all the ways that people are more often than not really fucking flawed.
But then we get back to the actual break-up scene. The first time I watched it (and second, and third; then the fourth time the person I was watching with was like "I mean, sure, but it could also be read in this light") her "I'm just learning how to be someone's mother" speech really bothered me? Partly because it was the abstraction of it, right? Eddie doesn't like kids, he likes Christopher, and Shannon sort of had the inverse journey there, I guess, where it went from she didn't know how to be Christopher's mother, to she didn't know how to be a mother. And that speech bothered me because it always sounded to me like she was bailing again. She begged Eddie to let her back into Christopher's life (guilt? I guess?) and like, straight up bribed him with sex which was sure a choice, and then decides -- for a second time -- that she's out. It sounded, to me, she was handing Eddie papers and maybe, in a few years, possibly, once she'd had "time" to "figure out how to be someone's mother" she would try again. Just like she had in the interim between leaving when Christopher was little and the time of season 2.
And like, that could totally be a misunderstanding of the scene and what she was saying. It's what I took away from it, but that could very well be influenced by the fact I was raised by divorced parents and my dad had custody and if you count up all the time I spent with either parent when I was a minor, I was predominantly raised by my father and have had an especially tempestuous relationship with my mother that is mostly (sometimes) repaired now that I'm in my late twenties and have not lived with her since I was sixteen.
Back to the show, and to your comment that the fandom tends to treat Shannon like the Ultimate Evil and act like Eddie Did Nothing Wrong, I mean. Yeah. Fandom as a rule tends to shirk nuance. We're all fools here on the internet sitting in our blue industrial waste container crying about a wee woo show. I personally believe a more nuanced take on that might be that Eddie has shown a great capacity to learn from his mistakes (sometimes to make fun, shiny, new ones, but for the most part, just like ends up doing better the next time) and Shannon did not show that capacity in the time we knew her.
I think, depending on what they did with it, there was potential for an interesting storyline if they'd played through the divorce. I don't think it would've been rehashing ground covered by Michael and Athena's divorce because I can't see Eddie and Shannon having reached a point of amicability and friendship. The only thing we know they had in common was Christopher, and frankly, when you boil it down, the ways they engaged with Christopher as a person were so disparate that -- to me -- it really didn't seem like they had Christopher in common when you get right down to it. But I wouldn't have wanted to see Christopher and Eddie dragged through an ugly divorce process. They deserve better than that.
There's also a conversation to be had about Shannon's blatant ableism towards her own son, but that is extremely not my lane since I am not disabled myself. But even from an outside perspective, basically their entire parking lot conversation in Haunted, uh, haunts me with it's repugnance and the fact that instead of calling her on any of it, Eddie "Chronically touch starved" Diaz's response was to kiss her? Gosh golly do I wish that was one of the mistakes he learned from properly instead of finding a new, shiny version.
ANYWAY this got long, tl;dr (although if you clicked on the read more, you probably read it) version is No, Shannon is not the Ultimate Evil, she's a shitty mom not a demon in a skin suit and a pretty yellow sundress; and No, Eddie is not a flawless human who's never done wrong in his life but holy fuck is he trying and he'd be the first person to tell you he's made mistakes (and often has been); and no, sorry, I don't want to see the divorce storyline play out because we probably would've had to see either Eddie Bashing, Shannon Redemption, or Shannon turning up again like a cardboard cut out of a cartoon villain the way Eva did and I want to be witness to exactly zero of those things.
#the ghost ship answers questions#I...honestly don't know what to tag this as#I have thoughts about eddie and shannon's relationship#that are probably unpopular opinions#teal dear she's a shitty mom not a demon in a skin suit and a pretty yellow sundress#and I also don't like her for personal reasons#and eddie is not perfect but I wouldn't want him to be and like seeing him try to improve constantly#and also am personally predisposed to like single dads#also for personal reasons
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Back at it again with my self-indulgent comic posts. This time! It’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #3, perhaps the most tonally-distinct entry yet, with shades of The Twilight Zone.
Spoilers!
So, as mentioned, this issue is the most deliberate in terms of both its pacing and its tone, IMO.
What is that tone, you ask?
To quote Alex Danvers, from “Midvale”: Hello, darkness.
THE STORY:
Kara and Ruthye are still looking for Krem Clues in the alien town of Maypole.
(Which is actually just Small Town, USA, complete with vintage 50s aesthetics.)
But the locals are clearly hiding something! So Kara and Ruthye continue to investigate, and they eventually discover what it was that the residents of Maypole were so keen to keep hidden.
Genocide, basically.
As I said, this issue struck me as very Twilight Zone; a genre story involving the build-up to a dark twist, all set against the backdrop of an idyllic small town. (Think, like, “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” but instead of focusing on the Red Scare, it’s classism and racism.)
The wealthier blue aliens kicked all of the purple aliens out of town, and when space pirates showed up to pillage and plunder, the blue aliens made a deal with them: the lives of the purple aliens in exchange for their safety.
Which is where the episodic story connects to the larger mission; it was Krem who suggested the trade, and then joined up with the Brigands (space pirates) when he was freed by the blue aliens.
The issue ends with no tidy resolution to the terrible things Kara and Ruthye discovered, but they do have a lead on where to find Krem, now, as well as Barbond’s Brigands.
KARA-CTERIZATION:
Ironically, it’s here, in the darkest chapter yet, that we get the closest to what might be considered ‘classic’ Kara.
Which I think comes down to that aforementioned deliberate pace--this issue is a little slower, a little quieter. It gives the characters some room to breathe.
That’s not to say Crusty Kara is gone. Oh no. She is still very much Crusty. XD
But anyways. A list! Of Kara moments I loved!
I mentioned a few of these in a prior post when the preview pages came out: I like the moment where Kara blows down the guy’s house of cards, and I like that the action is echoed later in the issue when she grabs the mayor’s desk and tosses it aside. A nice visual representation of the escalation of Kara being, like. Done with these creeps. (Creeps is an understatement but you get the idea.)
Another one from the preview pages: Kara explains to Ruthye that her super hearing won’t necessarily help her detect a lie, especially if she’s dealing with an alien species she’s not familiar with.
It not only reveals her level of competence and understanding of her super powers, it also shows that, you know. She’s a thinker. She’s smart.
Amazing! Showing, rather than telling us, that Kara is smart! Without mentioning the science guild at all wow hey wow.
(Sorry, pointed criticism of the SG show fandom.)
Anyways.
I dig the PJs!
And Kara catching the bullet! Not only are the poses and character acting great, it’s also a neat bit of panel composition:
We start with Ruthye’s POV, and then move to the wide shot of the room. The panel where Kara actually catches the bullet is down and to the side of the wide shot panel--we move our eyes the way her body/arm would have to move to intercept the bullet. Physicality in static, 2D images!
Also, like. It’s a very tense moment, life-or-death, but. Ruthye’s wide-eyed surprise at the bullet in Kara’s hand? Kind of adorable.
I was pretty much prepared for the page of Kara shielding Ruthye from the gunfire to be the highlight--it was one of the first pages King shared and I was like, ‘yeah, YEAH.’ But, shockingly? The TRUE highlight of the issue?
Where do I BEGIN?!?!
EVERYTHING. About this moment. Is lovely.
From Kara holding Ruthye above the bench to explaining the concept of a piggyback ride, to telling her:
“I’m going to hold my hands here, and these hands can turn coal into diamonds, so they’re not going to let go. I’m going to keep you safe.”
HNNNNNNNNNNNG.
Ruthye’s narration--about how Kara had avoided flying as she was concerned it would freak Ruthye out--just adds a whole additional layer of YES, GOOD, YES, and her line on that splash page is great: “You see, all that time, she was worried about me.”
HNNNNNNNNNNNG. AGAIN.
To say nothing of the STELLAR ARTWORK.
And SPEAKING of that stellar artwork, Evely and Lopes continue to knock it out of the park. Each issue is distinct and beautifully crafted, a true joy to look at.
Before I jump into more of the art, a few final notes of character stuff in general.
Ruthye is the one most affected by the experience in Maypole, as she can’t comprehend how a society of people that look so nice and gentle and peaceful could have been party to such a horrible act.
One of the big criticisms of the book thus far is that Supergirl is not the main character, and I guess I can agree with that observation. Typically, in Western media, the main character is the one who goes through the most change in the story.
And, yeah. That’s Ruthye.
As I was reading the end, where Ruthye sits on the curb and Kara hugs her, I was imagining how the scene would’ve played, had King stuck with the original idea for the series: Kara as the one learning to be tough/experiencing all of this for the first time, and while I think that could certainly work...
I continue to appreciate that King literally flipped the script; that Kara, especially in this issue, is like, ‘I’ve seen this, I know this,’ as opposed to being the one going through a loss of innocence.
*Marge Simpson voice* I just think it’s neat!
Because Kara’s been a teen in DC comics for so long--ever since she was reintroduced to the main DCU continuity, actually--so this is all brand new territory, here. Having an older Kara who’s SEEN SOME STUFF.
(Alsoooooo, since Bendis made the destruction of Krypton not just inaction and climate disaster, but rather, genocide, and the subtext of a Kryptonian diaspora text, the waitress’ derogatory comment regarding the the destruction of Kryton, as well as Kara picking up the bad vibes the entire time, suggests not just a broad commentary on discrimination in all its forms, but specifically allegorical anti-Semitism. The purple aliens being forced out of their homes and into substandard living conditions, then the blue aliens--their neighbors and once-fellow residents--essentially allowing the space pirates to kill them, making them literal scapegoats, Kara discovering the remains of the purple aliens, and Ruthye’s horror at the ‘banality of evil’...yes. A case could be made, I think.)
(Which would probably require a post unto itself and a lot more in-depth discussion, nuance, and cited sources.)
(Should mention that King has brought up that both he and Orlando--the other Supergirl writer he talked to--are Jewish, and for him personally, that shaped his views on Kara’s origin story.)
I guess my point is that this issue is perhaps not as out-of-left-field as some might think, and just because there isn’t as obvious an arc for Kara, doesn’t mean there isn’t some sharp character work at play.
(I could be WAY OFF, of course, and I’m not suggesting it’s a clear 1:1 comparison. I’d actually really love to hear King talk about this issue in particular.)
Anyways.
Here’s the final page, which I think works, because as I mentioned before, there is no easy answer/quick wrap-up to the story of Maypole:
THE ART:
I mean. How many times can I just shout ‘ART! AAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTT!’ before it gets old?
I dunno, but I guess we’re gonna FIND OUT.
There are some panels in this issue that I just. Like ‘em! From a purely artistic standpoint! Because they’re so good!
Like, I just really love the way Kara is drawn in that top panel. Her troubled, confused expression, the colors of the fading light, the HAIR.
Evely draws the best hair. I know I’ve said this before. I don’t care. I will continue to say it, because it continues to be true.
The issue I find myself running up against when I make these posts is that I really don’t want to post whole pages, as that’s generally frowned upon (re: pirating etc.) but with something like this, you just can’t appreciate it in panel-by-panel snippets.
(Guided View on digital reading platforms is a BANE and a POX I say!)
Anyways.
LOVE the implied movement of the cape settling as Kara speeds in and stops.
And, obviously, Kara flicking the bullet away is just. A+.
And the EYES, man. LOPES’ COLORS ON THE EYES???!?! BEAUTIFUL.
Also, should note the lettering! The more rounded letters for the ‘WOOSH’ of Kara’s speed (and, earlier, the super breath) work nicely, and contrast with the angular, violent BLAMS of the gunshots.
And, I gotta say, the editor is doing a really great job of not cluttering up the artwork with all the caption boxes. Which is no small task.
(I assume the editor is placing them, as editors usually handle word balloon/caption box placement, but I suppose it could be Evely? Sometimes the artist handles it. Either way, whoever’s taking care of all the text, EXCELLENT WORK! BRAVO!)
Okay I think that’s everything.
Ah, nope, wait.
MISC.
Just a funny observation, more than anything else: Superman: Red and Blue dropped this week, and King had a story in there, “The Special” (which was very good, btw.) Both Lois and the waitress swear a lot so I’m beginning to think that this is just how King writes dialogue for any adult character who isn’t Clark. XD
This is absolutely a personal preference but when Kara was like, “And my name IS Supergirl,” I was like nooooo. I know King is trying to simplify all of the conflicting origin stories and lore but I LIKE KARA DANVERS, SIR. XD
It’s almost assuredly a cash-grab/an attempt for DC to get all the money it can out of a book they don’t have much confidence in, but I like the cardstock covers! Very classy, much Strange Adventures.
(OH my gosh, can you imagine that issue 1 cover with spot gloss???? Basically the only way you could possibly improve on it.)
Okay NOW I’m done. For real. XD NEXT TIME: Kara and Ruthye go after Krem and the Brigands!
#supergirl: woman of tomorrow#long post#dc comics#supergirl: woman of tomorrow spoilers#kara zor el#comic thoughts#comic opinions#just occurred to me I should be crediting the creative team in these things#I think thus far I've included every title page?#still#will try to be better about that going forward
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Not Perfect - Henry Deaver x Mistress
Warning: 18+ smut/mentions of cheating/mature themes/strong language/spousal conflict. **mentions of impregnation and fertility issues in this part**
Note: Hello wonderful people! This will be the second-last chapter of HxM :O This one is written from Henry’s POV, as requested! I have enjoyed all the prompts and discussion and theories surrounding this series and thank everyone who joined in from the bottom of my heart. It’s been SO much fun. I’ll make sure the finale is long and jam-packed full of smut and fluff, since the last few chapters have been rather sad and angsty. So much love to you all. Enjoy!
Read past Henry x Mistress imagines here > Masterpost
I tried to keep myself from bothering her while she was in the shower, but my impatience won. To be fair to her, I let twenty minutes go by before I knocked on the door. When she didn't answer, I cracked the door open and smelled her vanilla sugar body wash suffusing the vapour.
"Sweetheart?"
She took a few seconds to answer, "Yes?"
"Just wanted to check on you. Will you be much longer?"
"Why?"
"I have a surprise for you."
Another long pause before, "I'll be out when I'm finished, Henry."
Fuck, fuck, fuck, I thought. She's pissed. Back at the office, she seemed fine, but I assumed, after a few hours rolling around with the sour news, she'd come to a different conclusion. I had something prepared to soften the blow, as I suspected she might take it harshly.
When she came out with her hair still wet, wrapped in a thick robe, her eyes avoided mine. Instead of waiting for her to come to me, I got up and cornered her in the kitchen, but when I touched her shoulder, she shrank away.
"Honey... Is everything okay?" I asked.
She looked up at me like I was a stranger. I touched her cheek, and her eyes dropped. This was something new. I'd never seen her react with anything but joy when I grazed her skin. She must have been angrier than I thought.
"Hey, what's the matter?" I asked her.
She took in a sharp breath through her nose and shrugged. "Nothing. Why?"
"Well... I don't mean to poke, but... It seems like you're upset with me."
She shook her head and turned from me to open the cupboard. The bottom cabinet was empty, and I watched her stretch up on the tips of her toes to grab a glass from the second shelf where she couldn't reach. I chuckled and took down a cup for her, but she didn't look at me with her customary smile or even a glance.
"Baby... I'm sorry, okay? I know you're mad at me about the job thing, but... I mean, I warned you something like this might come around. And I promise I'll find you something just as good, maybe even better."
She filled her glass with ice from the freezer, nodding, lips sealed in a line. I frowned and tried for her hand, but she evaded my grasp by ducking into the fridge for the water pitcher.
"Please, sweetheart. I can't stand it when you're cross with me," I groaned.
"Sorry," her voice came out stunted. She drained half the ice water and cleared her throat, still unwilling to lock eyes with me.
The stale way she addressed me filled my chest with a sensation I'd long forgotten. I hated to say it, even if it was only in my head, but the way she stood off reminded me of how Mary would greet me at the beginning and end of each day. This brought on a wave of nausea I could not shake. My stomach twisted into knots too complicated to untangle without her bright smile and words of assurance.
"So, what's the surprise?" She asked.
I blinked from my anxious state. "I'm glad you asked, beautiful. You up for a car ride?"
"Hmm, not really, but I guess I have no choice."
"Aw, don't be like that. It'll be fun! I promise. Can you be ready to go in half an hour?"
"Sure," she said, turning from me to get dressed.
The closer we got to the hotel, the more curious the look on her face grew. She'd travelled to this place a hundred times before, and the familiar surroundings brought on a lot of questioning glances. I answered each of them with a smile, trying to get her hand to hold or touching her leg when I could. We pulled into the lot and went inside to check-in.
"What are we doing here?" She asked in the elevator.
"You'll see."
I unlocked the door to our room and ushered her inside, where I had champagne waiting on ice and rose petals sprinkled over the bed and floor.
"Why did you bring me here, Henry?"
"It's the room where we first... You know. This is where it started."
She'd already had a look around and decided she wasn't impressed. Crossing her arms, she turned to me with heat in her eyes. "You mean to tell me you took me back to the room where you first cheated on your wife? Is this supposed to be some big romantic gesture? Because it's a little obtuse."
"Sweetheart, no!" I scoffed. "Don't look at it like that. This is where I fell in love with you! Right here, in this hotel, I saw you and wanted you in my life. Just looking at your face made me want to fix myself. And, maybe I didn't go about it smartly, but can you blame me? A beautiful, intelligent, caring person like you... I couldn't let you get away or risk you meeting someone else and losing my chance."
It started in her eyes. The inevitable wave of tears shrouded her irises, bleeding onto her cheeks. Then her whole face crumbled like a wall of sand washed away by the tide. I watched, horrified, as she dropped onto the love seat and hid her face behind her hands, shoulders convulsing.
"Henry! What's wrong with you?" She sniffled.
I sat next to her but she pulled away. "Hey, hey! What did I do? Honey, I thought we had an agreement about the job?"
"It's not the job!" She sobbed. "It's everything else. It's you. You're... A fake."
Then it was my turn to act shocked. "Excuse me? What on Earth are you talking about? I'm not... I'm not fake. This is exactly how I feel. I've wanted to do this for ages."
"You're a cheater," she whispered.
"It's a little more nuanced than that. You know what I was going through!"
"No. You've cheated on me. Mary told me what you did when you went to speak to her. She said you slept with her to get out of the suit... So she would drop the negotiation. You fucked her."
My blood turned cold in my veins. "I absolutely did not do that! What do you mean Mary told you I fucked her? That's positively absurd. When did you speak to her?"
"She tracked me down after work today. She waited for me in the parking garage... Said she wanted to warn me about you. The real you. Then I called the lawyer's office to verify if she'd dropped the negotiation, and she did... Just like she said."
I slid off the love seat and crawled before her, grabbed her knees, hands, forearms... Anything she'd let me touch. "No. No, no, no. That did not happen! She just said that to piss you off. To turn you against me because she has no other moves. Don't you see? She's throwing every stone she has, hoping to break something. Baby... I'd never do that. Never!"
"But you cheated on her. On your wife. Someone you gave a ring to and made all the same promises as you're making to me."
Heat and water stung my eyes. I blinked away my fiery tears and tried to make her look at me, but she wouldn't pull her gaze from the wall.
"Mary despises me. She made my life hell after I tried for years to make her happy. With everything I had, honey... Everything I fucking had in me, I gave to her, and nothing was good enough. Can you blame me for straying? For falling in love with somebody else? Yes, I'll admit a hundred times I didn't approach it right. I should have ended things before pursuing you. I should have called her that same night and told her I wanted a divorce, but I didn't. I made a mistake. A huge mistake. It's the worst thing I've ever done, but it led me to you, and I don't regret it for a second. I'm sorry. I can't rightly sit here and say I wish I didn't drink with you in this hotel that night."
"She told me you cheated on her before then."
I produced a scoff from my gaping jaw. "Of course she did! Anything to disparage me... Sweetheart, I never cheated on her before then. I'm sure she thinks so, but nothing could be further from the truth."
"Why would she make that up? She said you and your colleagues are all known for it."
"I don't know. Fuck, I don't know! Don't you see what she's trying to do? She wants to drive us apart! I never touched her that day when I went to talk with her. How could you possibly believe her?"
"That's not all Mary told me."
I'd had enough of the misinformation and let her eyes follow me to the other side of the room where the champagne bottle sweated, and so did I. There was no reason for me to be nervous. I knew the truth—it was only a matter of making her believe me. But what if she didn't? What if she bought Mary's pack of lies and I lost her?
I'd undone my marriage with a lie. There was no reason another well-placed deception couldn't shatter us too. I understood what she meant about the room being an obtuse decision. There I was, standing where I'd first kissed her, on the brink of her telling me goodbye. Full circle. I deserved this.
"What else did she say? That I have a porn addiction? That I fuck hookers? You know... Just because some men I've worked with are involved in sex scandals doesn't mean I am, or was, or support them! I've been clean and straight-laced my whole life. You know this, sweetheart. You know me. I'm not the type!"
"It's hard for me to know what's true. On the one hand, you're sweet and shy and an amazing boyfriend, but on the other... You're a cheater. No matter how you break it down, you have the capacity for deceit. And if you cheated on her, who is to say you won't cheat on me?"
To hear her doubts pouring from her lips and eyes brought me to my knees before her once again. I swallowed my galloping breath, choking down the acrid taste of desperation. She had to believe me.
"If that's what you believe, then what do I do next?" My voice teetered on the question. "Do I help you pack your things and let you go back to your place? Should I give up? Is there a point to me begging? If you say there is, I won't stop until you believe me. I'll do anything."
She sat quietly while I sat back on my haunches, imploring her to look at me. Another tear rolled down her cheek, and she sighed, shaking her head and pressing her fingers against her forehead.
"So you're saying that everything she told me is a lie? You didn't fuck her to get out of the suit? Even though she rescinded? You never cheated on her before you met me?"
While she laid out her questions like instruments of torture, I waggled my head in denial.
"There was no incident in Thailand with your colleagues? You never once betrayed her trust even in the slightest way?"
"No. No, no, no, no, no. Never. You gotta believe me."
"Then you're not sterile like she said?"
"No, no—" My tongue turned to stone in my mouth. A great chill came over me, cascading down my spine, spreading along my ribs like needles of hoarfrost. I couldn't feel my hands, though they shone with sweat. Suddenly, I couldn't hear. A piercing tone muffled her voice, unable to penetrate my punching-bag head filled with wet cotton. My legs buzzed like static, asleep under my weight, and immovable. Top-heavy, I clutched the arm of the love seat and tried not to pass out. Deep breaths. Deep, shaking, useless breaths.
"Henry?" She asked, gripping my shoulder. "Are you okay?"
She spoke through a film, voice echoing distantly as I tried to recover, but I only sunk deeper into catatonia. A gun had fired, deafening me to everything but the pain sizzling in my ears, spreading through my limbs. For an excruciating minute, I thought I was in the grips of a heart attack.
"Henry!" Her voice came back with point-blank clarity. I looked up at her reddened face, and she gasped.
"You're white as snow, Henry! Are you all right?"
"I..."
"Don't move. I'll get you some water."
She filled a glass in the kitchenette and brought it to me, but my lips pasted shut. I couldn't move my hand to take the cup.
Then I broke.
Tears like drops of sun bled from my eyes, blinding me. My throat opened, shuddering first from the groan building in the bottom of my stomach. I shook once, my whole body whipping, and then I was on the floor. I don't remember her lifting my head nor weeping in her lap as she hushed me and combed my hair. There was only pain. Deep, years-old pain I never knew existed.
Somehow she moved me to the bed and stripped me of my jacket. The ring box must have slipped out of the pocket in the process. I saw it on the bedside table once when I managed to open my eyes between bouts of tears. She stroked me like an injured dog, panting and convulsing in agony, and continued pushing air from between her teeth.
"Henry, you're okay. You're fine. Just breathe. Breathe for me, please."
By the time I recovered enough to speak, the ice in the bucket melted into a pool and the champagne bottle's label peeled off, sodden bits orbiting the glass. Crushed rose petals stuck to our clothes. The sun was long gone. She shifted me gently off her lap and went to turn on the light. I winced, eyes still bright red from crying. When she returned, she stood at the foot of the bed. I'd curled up, helpless and exhausted, but finally unfurled my limbs and sat up.
"Henry... Are you all right?"
I wished to forget, to start the day over from sunrise when we'd nuzzled each other in bed, but if I could rewind time, I wouldn't stop there.
I took in a long breath and sighed. My stomach grumbled emptily as she watched me like I was a baby bird who'd fallen from its nest and didn't know what else to do with me besides watch me squirm.
"It... It all makes sense now."
"What makes sense?"
"What you said... What she told you."
"But you said it was all lies. Do you mean—?"
"No. Those were lies. And I'll spend the rest of my life trying to prove it, but..." My throat closed up again. I fought off the emotional tide with a series of deep breaths, and she was patient. "I remember that day so clearly."
She angled her head in question, and I continued. "We failed. Over and over. We tried to have kids for a long time. At some point, we went to get some tests done to see if it was us. I had an important trip around the same time, and she assured me I could go, and she would phone me with the results. So, I left and never got her call. I thought nothing of it, chalked it up to difficulty reaching me."
She came around the bed, sat down and took my hand. "What did Mary tell you?"
"Nothing," I murmured. "She told me the results were inconclusive... That we'd had a major bad luck streak, and it could have something to do with her cycle—she wasn't always regular—but they didn't know for certain. There were other tests they could run to determine why we weren't conceiving. Mary told me not to worry, to focus on work because we were about to land a deal that bought us our current building and that we could keep trying until..."
"What if it's not you? What if it's her?"
"It's me. I know it is."
"But if everything she told me is a lie, why wouldn't she lie about that too?"
I shook my head. "It just makes too much sense. Mary's qualms were never with herself. It's always me. I'm the useless one—the sackless one. She knew she had an atom bomb in her arsenal, and she waited for the precise moment to drop it. That's what she does. She knew how badly it'd hurt me if you were the one to tell me I can't..." My voice tapered off.
"Hush now. Let's not think about this anymore."
I buckled again, this time on her shoulder. My eyes stung with salt again, running thin down my beating cheeks. Her hand crossed her body and carded through my hair as she soothed me with gentle assurances. I wiped my face dry and remembered the ring on the table.
"I was supposed to ask you to marry me tonight," I admitted.
"I thought you were going to wait until the divorce was finalized."
"Yes, that's right. But I couldn't wait. All I can think about is making you my wife."
"I don't think anyone on the planet has ever been fired by and proposed to on the same day, by the same guy," she giggled. "That has to be one for the record books."
"It's been a rollercoaster for both of us."
"So?" She gave me an expectant look.
"So what?"
"Are you going to propose to me, Mr. Deaver?"
"Right here? In this room? You said it yourself, this was a poor choice of setting. I should have taken you elsewhere. Cairo, Las Vegas, Vancouver... I should have booked us a beautiful room somewhere in the mountains and made love to you first. Not brought you back to the old job you hated and cried all over your blouse."
Suddenly, she swung off the bed, snatched up the ring box and circled. I followed her, fearing the fate of what lay inside the royal purple velvet.
"Fine, Henry Deaver. If you don't propose to me, I guess I'll just have to propose to you."
"Oh, no, you don't. No, no. You can't deprive me of this! I've wanted this for a long time," I said.
"Well, you blew it. So, now it's my turn," she knelt next to the bed and opened the box without looking inside. The diamonds twinkled along the band, catching every remnant of light left in the room. My emotions got the better of me again, and I had to crush another tear before it burned a trail down my face.
"Henry," she began. "I know you've made mistakes, and you've paid for them. And I apologize for letting someone's vengeance blur the way I see you—"
"Sweetheart,"
"Quiet, please. Let me finish," she said, brows drawing together. I curled my lips around my teeth and clamped down to keep from flapping. "Look, I don't want you to think you're not worthy of forgiveness. You are. Even if you acted out of desperation, out of hurt and loneliness and perhaps a bit of spite, you are a good man, and everyone knows it. I knew that before we ever spoke more than you ordering coffee. I mean, who the hell tips twenty on a two-dollar cup of coffee? Who feeds a whole row of parking meters, so people don't get ticketed? Who refuses a blowjob because they don't want to be an inconvenience?"
We shared a laugh.
"Please, get off your knee at least," I offered my hand.
She climbed onto the bed and sat next to me, finally taking a look at the ring inside and closing her eyes to keep from welling up. "I won't ask how much you spent on this."
"It's best not to," I supplied.
With a sigh, she leaned her head on my shoulder and passed me the box. "I don't believe what Mary said, and I was foolish to even entertain her lies. I know you truly loved her and wanted a family. I'm still just having an issue understanding why she threw that away. Because you can't have children? In this day, there are ways."
"She was never quite right for me. Her religion is her biggest determiner, but... It's not all her fault. She had a rather stringent upbringing. Lots of scripture, and even more punishment. I knew that about her before we got together. I thought I could show her what happiness was like."
"I hate to say it, but I'm glad she drove you out because now you're with me, and I can show you what happiness is like."
I clutched her close and notched her head under my chin, stroking her hair and breathing in her fresh scent as she circled my waist in her arms.
"You already have. More than I ever knew was possible. Every moment with you is like I'm winning the lottery over and over. When I wake up and see you next to me, it's like I never opened my eyes, and you're just an angel in my best dreams."
"I love you, Henry," she whispered.
"I love you too," I replied, snapping the ring box shut behind her.
She sat up and looked at the purple velvet containing her engagement ring, then up at me with big, curious eyes. I set it aside and took her hands.
"Let me have a do-over. I can't propose to you today, in this room, after all this crying. It's not perfect."
"What if I propose to you first?" She asked, snickering.
"It won't count if you don't have a ring," I replied.
"Who needs one to ask the person they love to marry them?"
"As a pre-engagement gift to me, I'd like nothing more than for you to let me propose to you properly. When the time is right."
"Somewhere in the mountains?"
I smiled softly and caressed her knuckles. "Yes, somewhere like that. Maybe under some palm trees, or out in the middle of the ocean under the stars. Or we can go sky-diving, and I'll propose to you at ten thousand feet."
"I'll go up in a plane with you, but I am not jumping out of it!"
"Fair enough. Bad idea," I laughed. "However I do it, I want it to be perfect."
"I know, Henry."
"Not on the day I fire you or in the room where we first kissed."
She squeezed my leg. "I understand the sentimentality you were going for and I appreciate it."
"Thank you, but you're right. It was a terrible idea. Can you forgive this colossal misstep, my love?"
"Consider it forgotten. And Henry—?"
"Yes?"
"We'll have our family. One way or another. You will be a father to several wonderful children," she said.
"Several?" I feigned an exasperated breath.
"At least two. A boy and a girl. Maybe three, if we can handle it."
"Oh, and what's the third one? Another boy?"
"We'll see... But probably another girl. Just saying!"
"I'll take whatever I can get."
#bill skarsgard fanfiction#bill skarsgard imagine#Bill Skarsgård#henry deaver x mistress#castle rock fanfiction
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Doting
Category: General Fluff
Fandom: My Hero Academia
Characters: Eri, Shota Aizawa, Toshinori Yagi
Hey, everyone! I am super excited to present my story for the EraserMight Mini-Bang! I had two wonderful partners for this event, Cam and apricot, and you can find their arts here and here!
Shota pushed himself away from his desk with a groan, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his palms. The joints of his fingers ached from hours of tapping away at a keyboard, yet Shota still had quite a ways to go before he finished constructing the term’s report on his class’ progress for the administration. There was a lot to discuss, especially with the persistent villain activity inadvertently causing them to show explosive growth, and this report would be a verifiable thesis by the time that the teacher finished. However, despite the pain of the assignment, Shota could not help but feel proud that his students were displaying such advancement that he could fill pages upon pages with praise for them.
Right as he gathered the will to get back to work, he heard the pitter-patter of little feet. His lips immediately curled into a smile, partly because of the adorable sound and partly because of the realization that he wouldn’t be getting back to work anytime soon. He swiveled in the desk chair just as Eri came trotting through the door, her long silvery-white hair swishing around her knees and the stuffed bunny that Nemuri had bought for her not too long ago clutched in her hand. She was dressed in a pair of worn blue overalls with a pink-and-white spotted shirt underneath, complete with some cute pink-and-white sneakers. She did look very cute, so Shota mentally thanked Nemuri for her fashion sense.
“Eraserhead!” the girl cried, running right up to him to grip his knee with sparkling red eyes. Using the other arm, she hugged the bunny to her chest; its fur was beginning to fray and become tinged with dirt, and Shota would have to pry it out of her arms to throw it in the wash soon. I’m beginning to think like a doting parent, he thought in amusement. He supposed someone had to for the little girl. He leaned forward as she gazed up at him expectantly. “Eraserhead, did you forget? You’re supposed to take me to the park today!”
Oh shit. Shota had forgotten. Still, he wasn’t going to let Eri know that.
“Of course not,” he said smoothly, straightening up and ruffling her hair affectionately. The edges of Eri’s smile curled up happily as his large, calloused hand weaved through the silky silvery-white strands. “I was just finishing up some schoolwork. Did you bring the stuff to do your hair?”
Eri nodded and dug into the pockets of her overalls to reveal a small brush and a collection of barrettes and ponytails. She dropped them onto the computer desk while Shota stood from his chair, stretching his arms above his head and bending back slightly. He groaned in satisfaction as his vertebrae popped in succession, alleviating the stiff pain that had made a home in his spine. “All right. Let’s get Midnight so she can… Oh.” His voice faltered as he looked around the teacher’s lounge only to find that it was empty aside from himself and the child. A spike of panic gushed through his blood vessels, filling him with cold dread.
“Um… Eraserhead, Miss Midnight isn’t here, and neither is Mister Mic. Who’s gonna do my hair?” Eri asked while spinning a lock of her hair around her tiny index finger. Shota gulped, wracking his brain frantically. He always recruited Nemuri or Hizashi to style the child’s hair; Shota didn’t possess the delicateness for that. They’d obviously headed home while he was busy typing up his report, and they wouldn’t appreciate being dragged all the way back just to do Eri’s hair. He sucked in a breath through his nose, resigning himself to the task ahead of him.
Then he flopped back down on the chair and patted his thigh as an indication for Eri to climb into his lap.
“I am.”
Eri scrunched her eyes suspiciously, looking very perturbed by the development. Still, she obediently moved to clamber into his lap. She continued to clutch the bunny, so she only had one hand to grip the arm of the chair and try to haul herself up. After a few times of slipping back down, Shota just grabbed her underneath her armpits and pulled her up to settle him on his lap. She settled herself in, sitting the bunny on her lap and smoothing down its ears.
“I’m gonna do Bunny’s hair, then,” she chirped while grabbing one of the barrettes to clip it to the tuft of white fur atop the stuffed animal’s head. Shota chuckled— she really was cute— but all the adorableness in the world wasn’t going to save him from the daunting trial before him. While Eri busied herself with using her fingers to comb through the stuffed bunny’s fur, Shota’s hands hovered over her mane of silvery hair, not even sure where to begin.
A brush. A brush is a good start, he decided. Shota picked up the brush and began teasing it through Eri’s hair, careful not to tug too hard and hurt her while easing out the knots. Eri hummed and kicked her heels against the computer chair as she played with her bunny, and he was grateful that he could at least do that right. Eventually, though, the brush glided seamlessly through the silky strands, and Shota couldn’t put off the inevitable forever.
He awkwardly bunched up a chunk of her hair and secured it with a ponytail, then let it go. It flopped loosely against her head with a few strands sticking out at odd angles.
He tugged it free with a heavy sigh, running his other hand over his eyes. This is going to be harder than I thought.
“Eraserhead? You’re here awfully late,” a voice piped up suddenly.
Shota looked over the walls of his cubby to see Toshinori strolling in, his coat draped over his skinny arm. When Eri heard his voice, she sat up on Shota’s legs to crane her head over the cubby wall and wave happily.
“Hello, Mister All Might!”
“Why, hello there, Eri. You look lovely today,” the teacher smiled as he walked around the desks to greet her. Giggling, Eri flopped back down on Shota’s lap and held up her bunny, which had several barrettes stuck in the tuft of cottony fur on its head. “Oh, Mr. Bunny looks great today, too. Did you do his hair?” he asked, squatting down to inspect the stuffed animal appraisingly.
“Yeah! Eraserhead is supposed to be doing my hair, but he seems to be having trouble.”
Shota covered his face with a hand as it turned bright pink with embarrassment. Kids really had no filter. Toshinori chuckled and straightened up, giving Shota a sympathetic look.
“Well, cut him some slack. I’m sure he just wants to make sure it looks extra perfect.”
Damn, he’s really good with kids. He knows the perfect things to say, Shota marveled, an eyebrow inching up his head as a plan hatched in his mind. Toshinori didn’t have children— at least not that Shota knew of— but perhaps the man had a little bit more experience in the complex art of doing little girls’ hair. Toshinori seemed to sense Shota’s great discomfort with the situation, as he shuffled around to the side of the chair to survey the barrettes and clips littering the desk.
“Eraserhead, would you like some help?”
“Oh, God, yes,” Shota blurted immediately, too overwhelmed with relief to maintain some sense of dignity.
Toshinori chuckled and retrieved the brush, leaning over Shota’s shoulder while he began brushing Eri’s hair to gather it into one big hand.
“I can’t say I’m familiar with things like this, but it can’t hurt to try,” he smiled. “How about we try some pigtails, Eri?”
“Okay!”
Shota reclined in the chair, melting with relief as he began to think that his dilemma may just be solved.
However, it soon became clear that Toshinori was about as familiar with doing little girls’ hair as Shota. When he stepped back, one of the pigtails was much bigger than the other, and the left one sat at least two inches lower than the right. Toshinori smiled sheepishly when Eri tugged at the skinny pigtail, then looked at him doubtfully.
“Um… I don’t think this is right…”
“I’m sorry,” Toshinori groaned, his shoulders falling as he tipped back his head in defeat. “It seems that there is more nuance to this than I realized…” Sighing, Shota slipped the ponytails out of her hair, letting the waves of silver hair fall loose for them to start over.
“All right. It’s time to pull out the big guns,” Shota decided. He grabbed his phone to pull up the ultimate source of information on the Internet— YouTube. Many young fathers and mothers posted tutorials on doing their daughters’ hair for those who were new to the game. Shota was more than willing to swallow his pride and peruse the videos rather than continue embarrassing himself. He picked a promising video and propped it up, and he and Toshinori watched the tutorial with great interest. The man pulled his daughter’s hair into perfect pigtails with almost frightening ease, talking through it step-by-step.
“Well, he certainly doesn’t make it sound hard,” Toshinori frowned and looked back to Eri’s mane of silvery-white hair. His doubtful look certainly didn’t inspire much confidence.
After taking a deep breath, Shota restarted the video and tried to replicate the father’s actions. It turned out better than Toshinori’s attempt, but the pigtails were still a little uneven and lopsided. Eri looked back at him when he pulled her hair free again, looking perturbed.
“Eraserhead, it’s okay…. You don’t have to do my hair. We can just go to the park…”
“No. You said you wanted your hair done, so I’m going to do it,” Shota asserted firmly and started the video over again. It was really less about making Eri happy and more that he was frustrated he couldn’t do something so simple as pigtails. His heart went out to all the single fathers out there bungling through the same struggle. Eri turned back around, pouting a little, but Shota was determined.
This time, he and Toshinori did one side each.
“Did… Did we do it?” Toshinori asked hesitantly as Eri shook her head back and forth slightly. Her pigtails swished over her shoulders; they sure looked even, and the ponytails didn’t slip free with her movements.
“I think so,” Shota said with relief, sinking into the chair. He picked up two pink flower barrettes and clipped them onto the ponytails, and Eri reached up to touch the smooth plastic with her fingertips.
“Well, Eri? Did we do a good job this time?” he said as he pulled up his cellphone camera and allowed her to look at her reflection. She grabbed the phone with her small hands to inspect herself, and Shota felt his heart flutter with happiness when she beamed wide in the screen.
“Yeah! It looks great!” she nodded. “Can we all take a picture together?”
“Sure.” They adjusted themselves so they could all fit in the frame, with Shota’s arm slung around Eri’s waist and Toshinori over his shoulder, smiling shyly and throwing up a peace sign. Eri was smiling hugely, her eyes scrunched up with delight. She immediately grabbed at the phone to look as the shutter sounded, squealing happily at the photograph. Shota stroked one of her pigtails as she kicked her feet excitedly.
“Thanks, Eraserhead, Mister All Might! I love it,” Eri said, then gave Shota his phone back. She slid down from the chair, clutching her bunny to her chest, and then looked up at Shota hopefully. “Can we go to the park now?”
“Yes, yes,” Shota said, patting his legs before rising from the chair. He winced, the stiffness from his hours in the chair returning with a vengeance. He rubbed his sore back muscles with a groan, then looked at Toshinori with a wan smile. “Thanks for your help.”
“Oh, of course!” Toshinori replied, waving his hands submissively. He then smiled down at Eri and flashed her a wink. “I couldn’t leave a lady in such distress, after all.” Eri giggled, hugging her rabbit, and then wiggled shyly.
“Mister All Might, would you like to go to the park with us, too?”
Toshinori pretended to think about it for a second, putting his hand on his chin and looking up at the ceiling. Eri frowned at his silence, her lips beginning to poke out into a pout. He then grinned widely.
“Of course! It’s a wonderful day. In fact, I think I just might have enough money for ice cream afterward…”
“Yay! Did you hear that, Eraserhead? Ice cream!” she squealed delightedly. She spun on her toes, holding her bunny over her head, before sprinting out of the room demanding, “Come on, come on!” Shota chuckled at her instantaneous burst of energy and shook his head at Toshinori.
“Wow. She’s going to end up spoiled if she starts to hang out with you more.”
“I can’t help it. Little kids are my ultimate weakness,” the blond laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. He smiled fondly, watching as Eri jumped back into the doorframe to beg for them to hurry up. “Besides, after what she’s been through… Doesn’t she deserve to be?”
“Yeah,” Shota nodded and slipped his hands in his pockets. “She really does.”
He supposed he had better learn how to do her hair soon, for he had a feeling he’d be taking more trips to the park as time went on. He really was starting to think like a doting parent, but that was okay. That was no less than what Eri deserved.
Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!
#erasermight#shota aizawa#aizawa shota#toshinori yagi#yagi toshinori#eri#my hero academia#mha#boku no hero academia#bnha
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I’m here for the ‘swords not as pets’ agenda. Swords as cars: solid, get you from place to place, potentially dangerous, customizable, something people name. Wwx losing his license taking the fall for a mistake jc made (idk, dui maybe?) and just choosing to mod the hell out of a self-balancing scooter or segway or something so it goes dangerously fast. Alternatively: spending 3 months inventing the first functional actual levitating hoverboard, with an insane top speed. 3 months in the (1/2)
sawdfert this is delightful!! i saw segway and i immediately started wheezing,, there was no time for laughing i went straight to the wheezing. i think it would make more sense if wwx lost his car and got a motorcycle? like hoverboards and segways are cool but motorcycles have that big reputation of being dangerous and there’s the whole ‘rebellious teen gets a motorcycle and becomes a delinquent’ thing? like motorcycles are fast and if you crash it’s so much worse than if you were in a car and there’s no airbags or anything. but also?? wwx rocking up to school on a segway while playing his flute like the shittiest entrance ever? iconic. but let’s stick with chenqing as a motorcycle/scooter (motorcycle-esque scooter not the ones that try and take out your ankles).
okay so all the major sects are super rich so in a modern au it would make sense for all the sect heirs to get cars. i’m not saying that jc and wwx complain about jzx being stuck-up bc he was given a porsche for his birthday even though they were also given cars for their birthdays,,, but i am. at first it would have been this major point of contention between yzy and jfm bc wwx isn’t even their son so why is he getting a car too but wwx is like ah it’s so i can drive jc and jyl to school! you wouldn’t want their cars being left outside the school all day would you? someone in my maths class had their car get keyed and it was super expensive to fix,, and yzy is like yes wwx may have a car only to protect my children from parking hassles,, also wwx must pay for his own parking. so wwx and jc both get given cars for their bdays.
now wwx gets bored easily,, so you could translate him being a cultivation genius to him being really good at driving. im talking that jc is still getting the hang of switching gears and wwx is out there casually drifting around corners. (this does mean he has to get new tyres really frequently but he’s friends with wen ning, whose family runs the mechanics that wwx likes to go to so he just helps around the shop for a bit and gets a discount (yes its the family discount)). anyway wwx really enjoys driving, also! he just rocks up to wen ning’s place one day and is like dude, i wanna pimp my ride, wanna help and wen ning is like heck yeah. so wwx pays for some upgrades with his own money and he spends hours doing some custom work to make it look cool,,
it’s all going well until wwx and jc go to wen chao’s party one night and jc gets absolutely sloshed,,, like completely hammered. wwx had walked in, grabbed a cup of lemonade or something and was gonna hang with his friends but lwj was there for some reason so he spent the entire night talking to him in the back garden. which means that when jc wanted to leave he saw wwx hanging out with lwj and went ew gross and just decided to drive home himself. he crashes and when wwx comes home the next day jc gets super pissed at him bc he was meant to be the designated driver and if he hadnt been screwing around with lwj jc wouldnt have tried to drive home and now his parents will be super pissed and wwx is like woah chill my grandmother is a mechanic and she can fix this up just give me a couple of days.
so wwx goes to baoshan sanren mechanics (which is just the back entrance to the wen sibling’s mechanics) and spends the next three days getting rid of all of his customisations and mods so his car looks exactly like jc’s. does he cry when he has to spend like five mins spraying the inside of the car with axe body spray to get the jc stench going on? maybe a little. but he does it and returns the car to jc! and jc is like oh wow my car is fixed, your grandma is a miracle worker and wwx is like haha yeah (:
anyway wwx mysteriously and suddenly discovers a passion for public transport,, it’s a good way to stay humble jiang cheng, he says, also i used all my petrol money buying porn from nhs or whatever. anyway wwx is doing the whole pt to school thing but then one afternoon wen chao and wzh find him and idk maybe the party got too rowdy so the cops came and wc got in trouble with his dad? he assumes wwx called the cops on him so he shoves wwx into his car and drives him out to the middle of no where and dumps him in the burial mounds scrap metal recycling place or whatever.
the train line isn’t running that day and there’s no phone service either so wwx is stuck there overnight. he gets super bored. so what does he do? he finds an abandoned scooter and starts scavenging for parts. he’s not expecting it to actually work but by the time the sun rises he’s found some actually decent parts and he thinks that he could get it working. tbh he kinda forgets to go back home and just walks into town to buy some food and then goes back and continues fiddling with the scooter. he doesnt live there for the three months but the people in yiling just accept that this random teenager has all but moved into their scrap heap and adopt him anyway. so he goes and visits the burial mounds every day after school so none of his friends or family really see him anymore.
until! one day he rocks up to school on his scooter. scooters,, are kinda like sad pathetic motorcycles,, but wwx mods his scooter with like a powerful engine and new steering and everything so people see it and go oh! a motorcycle! even though it’s not actually (can you do that with a scooter? idk but suspend your disbelief pls). so lwj is like hnnngg wwx in a leather jacket on a motorcycle but also wei ying, stop riding a motorcycle, *enter statistics about motorcycle crashes here* and wwx is like no! you cant take chenqing away from me. and jc is pissed bc they were meant to be brothers and have matching cars and be able to work on them and give them cool paint jobs together! but now wwx has this bike which has been modded to hell and back and refuses to drive his car bc it’s not as cool as his bike. so we get to have the whole ‘everyone thinks wwx is doing something dumb and dangerous’ bc he has a motorcycle and why isnt he just driving his car anymore? but we also get to keep some of the nuance of the demonic cultivation bc yeah it’s more dangerous than driving in a car but wwx doesnt have a car anymore and scooters are a loottt safer than motorcycles (if my two seconds of research is correct).
so! wwx won’t abandon chenqing and he did most of his work using scrap parts so he goes back to the wens and is like wen ning my best bro check her out and he’s like oooooooh and they start modding chenqing together. wen qing doesnt know why wwx is constantly over at their shop all the time but jc keeps arguing with wwx and wwx grows more distant with his family and friends bc he’s making ~bad decisions~ and a motorcycle is a gateway to idk teen delinquent shenanigans like smoking and doing graffiti so he’s kinda ousted from respectable rich people society and wen qing is like i have two (2) brothers now and they’re adorable not that i’ll ever tell them that. and wwx modding chenqing got him a reputation in yiling like everyone saw him walk in one day and then drive out with this sexy sexy bike so people start coming to him for mods and stuff and wwx earns the title yiling patriarch and wen ning, his trusted best friend and helper, gets called the ghost general bc idk he helps a lot but the customers never meet him. so they become some dynamic duo for car and bike mods!
anyway,, yzy delivers him an ultimatum one day: the car or the bike (or more accurately: the family or the bike) but wwx can’t drive the car anymore so he just gets quietly disowned and drops out of school. (we’ll save jzxuan the suffering in this au he can keep his car). he goes to the wens and theyre like hey whats up? wait no you cant live in a scrap heap,, not even if you buy a tent,,, just live with us please. and then wwx gets adopted by the wens and idk i want them to have a happy ending so wwx and wn go off and do some actual mechanic and modding training with some expert (sqdcfgt imagine if it was the real baoshan sanren who just happened to be in the market for some apprentices and saw wwx and wn’s work and was like them and then later realised it was her grandson). so they get their apprenticeship and they disappear off somewhere for a year or two - when wwx had been disowned he’d deleted everyone’s contacts and was like if they text me i’ll add them back but im not gonna have a contact list cemetery. (no one contacts him).
eventually the 13 years pass and wwx has been helping the wens raise their little nephew a-yuan who is showing a real aptitude for being a mechanic even though he’s just a kid and just generally enjoying the quiet life of being a mechanic while doing fun mods and lil baby projects. then one day lwj’s car breaks down while he’s driving through the area and he calls up the local mechanic and guess who rocks up? it’s wwx. and then we get to have them dance around each other and wwx being like lwj doesnt trust me, he’s just sitting here and watching me work all day ): and lwj is like dont let him go dont let him go dont let him go,, and eventually they get their romance but this is way too long already so im im gonna end this here
i didnt mean to make this an entire au but i adored your idea so much anon so i kinda had to!!
#mdzs#modao zushi#wei wuxian#wangxian#lan wangji#wen ning#wen qing#my aus#asks#cql#the untamed#i might come and add a read more later but i dont have time now sorry!#Anonymous
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We obviously need your song by song analysis of evermore please!
i got asked to do this about four times so here it is.....much anticipated. i know. please note that when i say that i hate her or despise her i don’t actually mean that. but i do
EVERMORE
OK LETS GO
WILLOW - ok, groovy first time you hear it, right? has a strong rumbly wiggle. let’s VIBE. the low of the verse, the high of the chorus…oh my goodness! what is she doing. she’s just out there! wow. “wherever you stray i follow” is a banger. “life was a willow and it bent right to your wind” with the overlay oof let’s go.!!!! a shockingly strong first entry of the record…best one since “welcome to new york” maybe!!! let’s just say it!!! for some reason “i come back stronger than a 90s trend” throws me off though…i don’t know. it’s just so moody pop, no one is doing it like her!!! i hate her
CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS - every time i listen to this song i listen to it four times. not a joke. it’s perfect. i don’t think i need to convince anyone! it’s perfect!!!!! what are you doing? taylor swift, the most dramatic bitch, has been writing dramatic bitch songs since she was fourteen and yet, somehow, she contrives to write even more dramatic things as she ages. this song is a JOKE. there are not ENOUGH songs about denying proposals! it’s just simple and sad. oh my god. it’s insane. the fact that she wrote this with her boyfriend (i have a running theory that they are married, we are going to refer to joe as her Perfect and Glorious Husband from now on) …… come on. the ENTIRE BREAKDOWN. “YOUR MIDAS TOUCH ON THE CHEVY DOOR / NOVEMBER FLUSH YOUR FLANNEL CURE / THIS DORM WAS ONCE A MADHOUSE / I MADE A JOKE WELL ITS MADE FOR ME / HOW EVERGREEN OUR GROUP OF FRIENDS / DON’T THINK WE’LL SAY THAT WORD AGAIN / AND SOON THEY’LL HAVE THE NERVE TO DECK THE HALLS THAT WE ONCE WALKED THROUGH” ……. concluding with that absolute stabby killer “what a shame she’s fucked in the head” oh my god……….. and the song resolving in a very adult “you’ll find someone else” god
GOLD RUSH - ok so like this song is like ok it’s got the same groovy high /low that’s happening on willow but it’s so different! it’s so good! the pulse of the beat propelling the whole thing through and then the falling apart “oh what must it be like to grow up that beautiful”……………..ok. the visceral image of “my eagles t-shirt hanging from the door” …………. i admire very much taylor’s oncoming gift of moving through high/low imagery…… i love her so much? it’s so HARD. “my mind turns your life into folklore” beautiful! BEAUTIFUL! also i have some belief in me that this is about karlie kloss but i shall not dive into that hole.
TIS THE DAMN SEASON - oh so i’m supposed to LIVE with this song EXISTING. WHY!!!! HOW……..oh my god………..taylor was like, yes, i’m going to write a song about a famous girl going home and banging her high school flame for a week and jack and aaron were like oh ok. “i parked my car between the methodist and the school that used to be ours.” she is such a joke. “you could call me babe for the weekend” like ok emo!! emo!!! OK. I LOVE THIS SONG
TOLERATE IT - taylor really gave us the most depressing track 5, but it’s absolutely a banger and i love her! she is just vibing! oh my god. what a specific emotion to pinpoint with this song….it’s such a gift. no one is hitting this space
NO BODY NO CRIME - this song has no business being on this record but in the BEST WAY, like how daddy lessons mysteriously appears in the middle of lemonade. oh my goodness. this is just pure country revenge song. taylor was like oh actually i haven’t forgotten my roots and i hate men more than i ever have. and she got haim to sing with her. and it’s so good. the low “i think he did it” oh my goodness. this song is a joke. how is it real? it’s just a perfect radio song. it reminds me very much of “before he cheats” but it’s a lot more sonically calm
HAPPINESS - similar to “tolerate it” and i think “champagne problems” this song is beating on an emotional bush that is really really hard to hit the head of. like, so she collabed with the national and bon iver on this record and previous obvi, and i LOVE them, but their music can often be very………impressionistic? perhaps? is how i might put it. it’s sometimes hard to get a note of specificity from it. imo. but taylor loves a fucking story bro. and she has figured out how to tell made up stories. she can’t be stopped now. like…this space of a breakup and knowing that it’s for the best and being sad in this way? name a pop star who has a song this nuanced. for real! god. i despise her. “across a great divide / there is a glorious sunrise”
DOROTHEA - the other half to the far superior TIS THE DAMN SEASON and a banger all the same. it has the bouncy joy of the most buoyant national songs. in the same vein as the also far superior BETTY, she has her sweet dumb boy slurry and less intelligent voice. i love that she paints these narrators this way, it’s just nothing she would have ever reached for ever before this period. she has a Perfect and Glorious Husband now and she has begun to understand teenage boys, FINALLY.
CONEY ISLAND - i have upon many occasions opined that i love the national VERY MUCH. i once went to a festival with my gf and her sister to see them even though i was expressly not invited and you know what despite the fact that it caused a lot of angst, i got to see the national play TERRIBLE LOVE in the middle of the night and I SCREAMED IT. so like, listen. what is matt berninger doing here, to me, specifically????????? i was somewhat hesitant about how their voices might blend, but it works astonishingly well. and i think that it’s so wonderful, i can’t. the imagery of a dreary coney island…..”sorry for not winning you an arcade ring.” as taylor always proves, the bridge is spectacular. “were you standing in the hallway / with a big cake / happy birthday”……”and when i got into the accident / the sight that flashed before me was your face / but when i walked up to the podium / i think that i forgot to say your name” sorry to yOU calvin. she had ISSUES. and now she has a Perfect and Glorious Husband. also “sorry for not making you my centerfold” ok kaylor
IVY - this song is about emily dickinson and i DARE you to tell me that i’m wrong. I DARE YOU. I DARE YOU. you’d be wrong! embarrassing for you. taylor finally writing a probably legitimate queer song and it’s about fucking emily dickinson is so on brand…..it’s dripping with poetry and groove and she’s so fucking dumb i hate her so much. her narrative of ivy and poetry and the lakes district…….ok taylor. i know. i know you watched all the dickinson things that came out and you identified with her. the gentle sway of the “oh, goddamn” and the “oh, i can’t”……i CAN’T EITHER TAYLOR !!! i CAN”T TAYLOR!!!! “oh goddamn / my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand / taking mine but it’s been promised to another / oh i can’t / stop you putting roots in my dreamland” TAYLOR. and then she says, “oh you didn’t realize this wasn’t gay?” “i want to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed” like @ emily yourself taylor “he wants what’s only yours”……TAYLOR. give me the entire catalogue of emily dickinson songs!!!!! i can’t do this. “springs breaks loose / but so does fear” “i’d live and die for moments that we stole / on begged and borrowed time / so tell me to run / or dare to sit and watch what we’ll become / and drink my husband’s wine.” taylor if you see this post, a, i love you, b, i need you to tell me about ivy, and c, PLEASE can i have tickets to your next tour in the year 2025 or whenever because my gf never buys me any to your shows……….i love this song if it isn’t clear. i think i’d love it if it wasn’t gay
COWBOY LIKE ME - ok this will sound weird and if you’ve read this far i’m going to assume that you don’t care about me being weird…but this song reminds me of the fanfiction STAY THE NIGHT by lynnearlington (maybe u’ve heard of it). please reply if you think about this and feel the same. “never wanted love / just a fancy car” “you had some tricks up your sleeve / takes one to know one / you’re a cowboy like me” the opening line re: the tent-like thing reminds me very strongly of the fourth of july at our family’s country club and they set up a tent over the parking lot and this song just makes me think of that vibe????? i don’t know. i have vibes. i love this song a lot, which is impressive because it follows after the gay euphoria of IVY. perhaps this is because it gives me its own gay euphoria. “now you hang from my lips like the garden babylon” ???? is one of the most gay, seductive, brutal lyrics i have ever heard. she wrote that down and was like, oh yeah, vibez, hundo p. she did that to me
LONG STORY SHORT - this song is an honorary sequel to I FORGOT THAT YOU EXISTED from the lover era (honestly i’m still in the lover era). but i actually think this song is better! so we are taking that. “actually i’ve always thought that i looked better from the rearview” ok taylor let’s access that feeling! “no more keeping score / i just keep you warm” is like, stupidly sweet. rip to calvin but now taylor has a Perfect and Glorious Husband.
MARJORIE - made me cry, simple and beautiful. one of the more personal songs on the tracklist! and something that i had never considered that she would write about, but i think the quarantine period has allowed a lot of us to dig into our feelings, so….vibez. we’re vibing!
CLOSURE - this song’s production sounds a lot like bon iver’s recent productions, very tech-y and repetitive and spare. rip to karlie kloss but taylor has a Perfect and Glorious Husband and karlie’s legal last name is kushner so who really won? hmm? i love “i’m fine with my spite / and my tears / and my beers / and my candles” the inclusion of candles is just. vibez. there are four candles lit rn in our apartment!
EVERMORE - i think this song is very intriguing and i’m still puzzling with it! the simplicity of her depressive gray November phase and then the very ebullient and bold bon iver interlude……..really has a manic/depressive, sad/angry vibe???? it feels so on brand for this pandemic quarantine…..and it works shockingly well, except for that i’d rather listen to the bon iver part for 10 minutes more. “all my waves are being tossed / is there a line that i can just go cross” and then taylor’s sort of call and response with his interlude……should just be the whole song. but it’s still good. that’s how annoying she is
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Wassup? I'm new in the comics scene, and I've been thinking about something. Have you watched Hbomberguys's video on Killing Joke and how he talks about the importance of nuance and subtlety? Well, I don't take issue with him but with the idea that these are important. I'm personally going for something that's just cool and fun. Is this okay or do I need to do some more thinking?
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Comics are art, but they don’t have to be ~*Art*~. You can make a silly comic about a dude with a disco ball for a head named Doctor Funkenstein, and it doesn’t have to be a withering critique of neoliberalism or whatever to have value. There are a ton of great comics out there that are light and fun and cool and don’t have any deeper message beyond “My OC superhero Overkill beats up all the bad guys and has unprotected sex with a bunch of girls with huge tits”. That’s a completely okay and valid thing to do with your comics if that’s what you want to do, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
You still need to think more about nuance and subtly, though, because even if your comic isn’t arty or high-class, it should ideally still be good.
For example, there’s a comic I like called Latchkey Kingdom. It’s a fairly light and fluffy adventure comic with jokes about the zeldas and the soulsbornes and the hippity and the hoppity and all that jazz. And it has a chapter that opens with this panel.
I’ve praised this panel a lot in the past. It’s great, because there are all these subtle nuances that mean that even if you’ve never read Latchkey Kingdom, you have a solid understanding of who this person is. She has an incredibly fancy chair and a fancier dress, and she’s literally looking down at “you” with a smug expression and amused pose, so you can instantly tell that she’s high class and maybe a bit of a jerk. If you’re a little more perceptive, you might notice that her chair has a crown on it, indicating royalty, and that she’s wearing very practical boots, hinting that she’s perhaps a bit more outdoorsy and practical than the dress alone would indicate. She’s an arrogant snooty princess with a hidden adventurous side, and you can tell just by looking at her. (It is in a featureless void, but featureless voids are under-rated and there’s a perfectly good background shot on the same page)
Here’s a scene from the movie Fargo. In this scene, Jerry is meeting with some bank execs who he believes are going to loan him $750,000 which he needs for yadda yadda, and he realizes that his assumption was not only wrong, but moronic, and that he’s not even a player in the game he thought he was about to win. I’ve linked the whole scene but all you really need are the first fifteen seconds.
Because Jerry is so out of his league here that he doesn’t even have a chair to sit in, he has to awkwardly sit on the arm rest of a chair that’s facing the wrong way, and the second he starts getting comfortable on it he gets BTFO by the main banker guy. This is followed up by the famous Parking Lot scene where Jerry has to scrape the ice of his windshield, throws his ice scraper in a fit of rage, and then has no choice but to pick it all up and go back to scraping. This isn’t a deep arty metaphor, it’s a visual indication of how impotent and powerless Jerry is, but it’s famous for how it captures Jerry’s weakness in such a clever and subtle way.
A comic that wanted to establish a guy as a loser but didn’t think about these subtle details as much as the Coen brothers might, I dunno, just have him walking and then he falls down and then someone points and him and laughs like Nelson from the Simpsons because ha ha what a loser.
Because if you don’t think about subtle and nuance, all you have is flat and broad, and flat and broad isn’t very memorable. If your character has a disco ball for a head and is a disco-themed supervillain, that’s a very silly idea, but if you show his bedroom and he’s got like one desk next to a bed, you’ve passed on a chance to make the character more interesting. If your comic doesn’t have depth, than it doesn’t reward me for being invested, and if I’m not rewarded for getting invested in your comic, I’m not gonna.
But if there’s stuff to see and notice and think about, I’m going to get invested, your comic is going to get its hooks into my brain, and even if you do something really weird or dumb like naming a major character Yiffy Longstocking Lalonde Harley, those hooks will keep me reading.
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One Shot: Dessert
Here's some smut and romance. The first bit of this was published previously. I'm finally finished. 😁❤️
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"I love summer…" Robert had been eyeing the top of Dana’s powder blue off-the-shoulder dress all night, and now he has made his move. His large hands engulf her brown shoulders with the slightest touch. He has approached from behind, and his breath wafts against her neck like a barely there breeze on a hot day.
They’ve walked through the parking lot to Robert’s Aston Martin after a lovely dinner at his favorite Indian restaurant. The food was good, but not as good as his hand on her thighs under the table, or her bare foot exploring his lap after she’d liberated the bold appendage from the crystal-encrusted stiletto sandals she was wearing. Also to be savored by Dana was the moment when Robert slid an extra key for his place across the table to her. It was a pleasant surprise, but they already rarely spent nights apart, except for when Robert was with his bandmates in their marathon creative sessions to birth the next album. It was the logical next step, and Dana couldn't have been happier.
He kisses her neck several times and trails a lazy tongue in the cup of her ear. “Forgive me for not bringing the Land Rover,” he whispers. “We could’ve been taking that naughty fun during dinner a step further right now.”
Dana turns to face Robert. “It can still happen…” On her tiptoes she hugs Robert’s neck and coaxes his mouth open with her tongue. He moans with delight as his hands slowly canvas the bare skin of her upper back. He savors the kiss, letting Dana play the role of temptress while he merely goes along for the ride.
“How?” Robert asks. His overcast blue eyes are glazed over, and his wicked smile punctuates his question. He’s curious. Open to any suggestion from Dana.
She takes the keys from his pocket and opens the door on the passenger side. “Take us somewhere secluded, and I'll show you what I mean.” She hands Robert his keys, sits in the car, closes the door, and winks at him through the window.
***
Robert opens Dana’s door, and she steps into the night. The air is a little cooler now, but she knows that the sensation will disappear soon enough, once she's in Robert's arms.
The mood in the car had been one of wanton excitement. Robert joked about what Dana had in mind for their rendezvous, and she smiled coyly while she massaged his cock through his black dress slacks. He knew that she had loved his look at Knebworth--the dark pants, the black shirt with the white pattern of exclamation points--and he’d worn the outfit for her. He’d even tied the ends of the shirt at his waist again, a sartorial touch that only Robert would've dreamed up.
Dana adored Robert’s youthful look of flowy shirts and the tightest jeans she’d ever seen on a man, but there was something so sophisticated and mature about these more dressy clothes. Between the clothes and his slightly shorter haircut, now with bangs, Robert had evolved. He was ready for the 80s, ready for Zeppelin exploring new horizons, and ready for his relationship with Dana to become more serious. Neither one of them was especially gunning to get married anytime soon, but officially living together was an exciting prospect.
“Well done, Robert!” They’re parked behind an abandoned gas station and convenience store. Robert had briefly considered pulling off the road for their tryst, but he didn’t have the stomach to roll his prized car into the grass.
The location isn’t glamorous by any stretch of imagination. The windows and back door of the abandoned store are boarded up, and glass litters the ground, remnants of green beer bottles that had met their demise on the asphalt. But the spot will do for the down-and-dirty coupling that's on the horizon. In a few minutes, the setting will cease to matter.
He notices that his trousers feel uncomfortably tight. While driving, his need had grown rapidly with each passing minute, and now that he doesn’t have to focus on the road, his breathing has hastened and he’s barely controlling himself.
He wraps her in a gentle hug after helping her out of the car. The scent of Guerlain Nahema on her skin immediately calls to mind earlier times in her arms. His heart races when he thinks about how good it feels to be enveloped by her, inside and out.
He sweeps her curls off her shoulders and looks into her dark, almost black, eyes. He can tell she's past the point of no return in her desire for him.
He would love to be seduced by her, as she'd promised, but the stream of his primal thoughts has taken over, urging him to act.
“Now, I know you had plans in mind for me, Dana love, but you know what they say about best laid plans…” He backs her against the car door, grasps her face, and kisses her with an intensity that catches her off guard.
“Oh! Robert…” Her surprise turns to satisfaction as he kisses down her neck. While his lips are busy, he pushes the top of her dress down and his hands find their way to her breasts, then his fingers to her nipples, which harden to his touch. Her hands are holding his slim waist, and she moans at the feel of the cool car window glass on her back and every heated point of contact that Robert is making with her body.
One of his hands begins to rove down to the hem of her short dress, and then under the fabric. He tuts softly at the feel of her lace panties and stops his tease. “Let’s get you more comfortable, yeah?” He crouches to remove the underwear.
“How are you feeling love, hmm? Are you ready?” He chuckles as he fingers her and feels her squirm.
“Beyond ready,” she says with a gasp.
“Me, too,” he says as he stands and places her panties in his pocket.
With one more kiss, he takes her hand, leads her to the back of the car, and bends her over.
Behind her she hears the sound of Robert’s zipper going down. He nudges her legs wider apart and guides himself inside of her at a shallow depth.
“You know I’m having my way with you once we get home, though. Right?”
“I know, Dana. And I can’t wait.” Robert’s thrusts are still slow, but he’s getting deeper and deeper.
“Good.” The word is nearly lost in a soft moan as Robert plunges inside of her fully.
Dana grips the car and savors the rhythm of each jarring thrust. She shifts her legs and angles her hips to feel every sinful nuance of Robert’s length and girth. Being fucked by him is every bit as good as the many ways she enjoys being on top of Robert.
She begins to formulate an itinerary of pleasure for when they get home. Sitting Robert on the couch and kneeling to lick and suck every inch of his manhood. Straddling his lap and milking an intense climax out of his cock with her sex. Showering together after it’s over. There’s something exciting about being intimate in this rundown outdoor setting, but nothing compares to time spent at Robert’s place. It has already felt like home before he gave her the key.
Dana isn’t sure if it’s Robert’s fucking or her thoughts about her future with Robert, but she feels acutely alive and deeply satisfied. Even more so when her climax arrives forcefully, as does Robert’s moments later. Every second with Robert, with or without sex, is bliss.
"Home, now, my new lady of the manor?" They've straightened up and returned to the car. Robert winks at Dana and turns his key in the ignition.
"Yes, let's go home."
He turns onto the road. "You know, dear, since we're enjoying a new level of our relationship, we should probably christen all the rooms again…" His eyes are on the road, but one of his hands is drawing teasing circles on her thigh.
"Yes. It's only right. She pats his hand on her leg.
She fishes the house key out of her purse and holds it in her hand, turning it over, examining it, accepting that it's real, a sign of the beginning of a new phase with Robert. She curls it into her palm. She will open the door when they arrive, in a symbolic rite of passage.
They chatter idly on the way home. She marvels at how mundane it is in that moment, two committed lovers driving home. She realizes she could get used to it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.
#Robert plant#One Shot#short story#short fiction#My writing#fan fic#fan fiction#Brownskinsugarplumlibrary
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romance book recs!!
romance is my feel good genre, and it’s also usually somewhat easier to read during stressful times, so here’s a list of some books that are either romance or have a romance element i feel like mentioning.
(EDIT: I STAYED UP TILL 2 AM DOING THIS HELP. this is why some of the comments. don’t make any fucking sense.)
romance books and authors:
CONTEMPORARY:
1. The Bromance bookclub series by Lyssa Kay Adams (A group of men form a bookclub dedicated to romance books in order to understand women, improve their relationships and become better men. It’s funny, cute, and all about dismantling toxic masculinity one romance book at a time)
2. Mariana Zapata books (The queen of slowburn romance. The only book I’ve read by her is ‘Under Locke’, but ‘From Lukov with love’ and ‘Kulti’ have rave reviews. There is so much build up and SO much sexual tension with a great pay off)
3. Milly Johnson books (A uk author whose books are primarily set in the north, these are total feel good books. Not so much graphic and more romantic, but her characters are great and her plot lines really hook you in.)
4. The Unhoneymooners by Christina Lauren (Super cute, quick enemies-to-lovers story about a bridesmaid who has to go on a honeymoon with the best man when the bride and groom get food poisoning. Obviously this means the holy of holies: fake relationship!)
5. Well met by Jen De Luca (Oh my gosh! Super fun, the characters are just wonderful especially our heroine. A hate-to-love romance set at a renaissance fair! All about overcoming the limits you set on yourself and rethinking your first impressions.)
6. Katherine Center books (My personal favourites are ‘How to walk away’ about a woman who falls for her PT after a near fatal plane crash. And ‘Happiness for beginners’ about a woman taking part in a wilderness trail with her brothers annoying best friend. She writes such great plots and you really feel all the emotions!)
7. Mhairi Mcfarlane books (my personal favourites are ‘Here’s looking at you’ about a woman who comes face to face with her high school bully years later - only he doesn’t recognize her. And he’s not awful? Don’t worry. I know how that synopsis sounds. He’s not excused his actions, but you also understand how he’s grown and changed. It definitely gets you in the feels though. As does ‘You had me at hello’ Which is about a couple from university meeting again years later. God this woman can write angst and yearning!!)
8. A part of me by Anouska Knight (On the same day she and her husband have been accepted into the adoption process, their marriage implodes. This has such a cute romance which follows hate-to friends- to love and it’s v funny)
9. Southern Eclectic series by Molly harper (Just as it sounds. Southern small town romance with a great, quirky cast of characters)
10. Maggie’s man by Lisa Gardner (writing as Alicia Scott) (An escaped convict kidnaps a woman from the courthouse to act as his hostage whilst he tries to prove his innocence. Surprisingly funny and warm. Maggie as a heroine is an absolute joy. They’re sort of chaotic together and it’s a wild ride.)
11. The Mister by E.L James (LISTEN OK - SIT BACK DOWN - It’s not winning awards but it’s actually decent! I was skeptical, but I will admit I was won over. I mean parts are cheesy but it’s so addictive. Basically a rich man falls for his cleaning lady - but it’s also about the yearning. It’s also quite action packed as there’s danger, drama and a chase across europe to get the girl.)
12. RECENT Colleen Hoover (Now, you may enjoy older CH books. Personally I find them very problematic. Now I’ve really enjoyed her recent books though. Especially ‘Without Merit’ and ‘It ends with us’ and ‘Regretting you’. High angst, high drama, dark topics for all of her books. But you can tell she’s matured with her writing. She isn’t for everyone but they’re addictive, fast paced reads.
13. The Austenland duology by Shannon Hale (You might have seen the Austenland movie - The cutest, cheesiest, sweetest, campiest movie ever. Well there’s a book! It’s about women who go on a holiday and live their own Jane Austen story with actors. The first book leans towards Pride and Prejudice and Mansfield park. The second book is more Northanger abbey and Emma.
14. Brigid Kemmerer contemporaries (She is an auto-buy author for me, especially her contemporaries. She writes the best teenage characters, the best teenage boys I’ve ever read about. Her characters are real, she writes about kids trying their best, struggling, and being good, and kind, and the world not being kind to them. Usually the books have a pov from both the female and male love interest. I would rec any of them tbh. ‘Letters to the lost’ comes before it’s companion novel ‘More than we can tell’. I loved ‘Call it what you want’ with has modern Robin Hood elements!!!! seriously she is my favourite YA contemporary author.
15. Sophie Kinsella books (If you haven’t picked up her stand alone novels then what are you doing???? she is the queen!!!! Personal favourites are ‘Can you keep a secret’ and ‘I’ve got your number)
16. A quiet kind of thunder by Sara Barnard (I love her ok. Her books are short and sweet but she packs a punch. TBH these aren’t primarily romance, they’re more just about teenage girls but this one has a good romance element so I’m putting it on here. It’s about Steffi, a selective mute who sometimes communicates with basic sign language who is assigned to look after the new boy at school Rhys, who is deaf.)
17. Meet me at the museum by Anne Youngson (GORGEOUS! moving, tender. A lonely housewifes strikes up a correspondence with a widowed museum curator in Denmark. Oh gosh. I just love this one. It’s about friendship, love, grief, second chances, the choices we make. Seriously love this one and it’s not that long.)
FANTASY:
1. Sorcery of thorns by Margaret Rogerson (Elisabeth has grown up in the great library, protecting grimoires with powers and fearing sorcerers. When a dangerous grimoire is released, she’s forced to team up with an enigmatic sorcerer and his demonic servant in order to save the world.)
2. Sky in the deep duology by Adrienne Young (A viking inspired story about a warrior who is captured by the tribe she is at war with. Such good tension and it’s also got a lot of action. Battle couple romance! Mutual respect! Hate to love!)
3. The Rose Garden by Susanna Kearsley (I’ve reread this book once but will end up reading it again. It’s a time travel romance about a woman staying in cornwall dealing with the death of her sister who is transported back and forth to the 17th century. It’s a favourite. The romance is wonderful but the stakes are really high too. I also love ‘Belleweather’ by the same author)
4. An ember in the ashes series by Sabaa Tahir (Oh god, the romance. THE ROMANCE! it’s so much. The angst, the pining, the longing. The first book follows Laia, part of a slave class in a roman inspired world. She begins spying in the top military academy and meets Elias, a reluctant soldier. This is a proper fantasy series with only the first three books out, but it’s so great.)
5. Alias Hook by Lisa Jensen (Let me just copy the blurb ok: “Meet Captain James Benjamin Hook, a witty, educated Restoration-era privateer cursed to play villain to a pack of malicious little boys in a pointless war that never ends. But everything changes when Stella Parrish, a forbidden grown woman, dreams her way to the Neverland in defiance of Pan's rules.” I MEAN COME ON. a gorgeous adult fairytale with love and redemption at the center.
6. The Mediator series by Meg Cabot (Obviously Meg Cabot is the most iconic and we stan. But this series is my absolute favourite by her. About Suze Simon, a kickass, no nonsense mediator - Someone who helps ghosts move on to the other side. Sometimes by force. She has to move house and ends up sharing her room with a 100 year old hot ghost named Jesse. The tension. The angst. THE BANTER!!!!)
7. House of Earth and Blood by Sara J Maas (a half fae half mortal girl tries to solve a murder with the help of a fallen angel. It’s a LONG book, but for me personally it flew by. It’s a big new fantasy world but the romance has a great build. Overcoming grief! Being normal together! Being in danger together! THE UST! the characters are so good. I ahven’t been this impressed by a new series for a while)
8. Cursebreakers series by Brigid Kemmerer (yep, she gets another mention. This one is a beauty and the best retelling about a man forced to relive the same season over and over, becoming a literal beat, until a girl from our world can break the curse. The second book, following secondary characters, is my fave so far. But both feature kickass ladies and those small romantic moments BK is so good at)
9. A court of thorns and roses series by Sara J Maas (a fae inspired beauty and the beast retelling. The only time you support a ship switch. Also the secondary ships are getting their own books and oh my god. I’m so excited.)
HISTORICAL/CLASSICS/MILLS AND BOON
1. Jane Austen (The original rom com queen, obviously. Pride and prejudice and Emma are faves. Also I have a major soft spot for the alwayc chaotic and underrated Northanger Abbey)
2. North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell (Actually might be my favourite classic ever. Often described at an industrial p&p. Margaret, from the south, comes face to face with the harsh reality of the world when she moves up north and comes face to face with a brooding millowner. There’s obviously a lot more nuance than that but. THE PINING!!!!!! THE MISCOMMUNICATION! THE DRAMA!)
3. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer (You might have seen the film. Please also read the book. Told entirely in letters. The sharp witted author Juliet Ashton falls in love with Guernsey and it’s characters whilst researching what happened there during the war. Funny, moving and romantic.)
4. The Veronica Speedwell series by Deanna Raybourn (A butterfly hunter foils her own kidnap and is paired together with a reclusive natural historian. They solve mysteries together. They can’t admit they wanna sleep together. The tension.......unbearable. See also the Julia Grey mysteries by the same author)
5. The warrior knight and the widow by Ella Matthews (So last year I discovered Mills and Boon and I have no shame about it whatsoever. This is a medieval beauty and the beast retelling about a woman being escorted to her fathers estate by an enigmatic and scarred knight. She’s hoping to convince her father to let her steward her own lands, and of course trying not to fall for her escort.)
6. The bareknuckle bastards series by Sarah Maclean (A badass, brooding trio of siblings who rule the underbelly of Covent Garden fall for smart, beautiful women. Opposites attract, Good girl/bad boy, strong women, banter. Super fun historical romance)
7. Redeeming the reclusive earl by Virginia Heath (I just read this and it was seriously cute!!!! And book where the hero blushes even once is a good book in my opinion. Basically aspiring antiquarian named Effie barrels into the life of a new earl - who really just wants to be left alone to be grumpy and sad and disfigured. ALONE. But Effie wants to dig on his land. And she won’t take no for an answer. She also talks A LOT.
8. A family for the widowed governess by Ann Lethbridge (Technically this is part of a series but you don’t need to read them in order and this is the best one. A widow who is being blackmailed accepts a governess post. She can’t tell her employer about the blackmail especially when she starts falling for him.)
9. The bedlam stacks by Natasha Pulley (I read watchmaker and didn’t like it but you might like it. This one also FEAUTRES A M/M ROMANCE. I know this list was super straight im sorry. Anyway this is about a botanist falling in love with a priest in the jungle.
10. The wilderness series by Sara Donati (Think outlander without the time travel and also not set in scotland. Basically Last of the Mohicans fanfiction about Hawkeye’s grown up son. An english woman moves to america when her father promises she can be a school teacher there. Little does she know he actually has plans to marry her off. Things get more complicated when she falls for Nathaniel Bonner, a white man raised native american and who’s daughter and extended family is Native American. Like outlander there’s romance, adventure, history. But unlike the outlander books the love interest is a decent guy (i say as if i don’t love the tv show)
STUFF THAT REALLY ISN’T ROMANCE AT ALL. BUT I SHIP A SHIP.
1. The Lacey Flint series by Sharon Bolton (Lacey Flint is a police officer who becomes involved in the hunt to catch a Jack the ripper copycat. There actually is a strong romantic element with the other lead police officer.)
2. The last hours duology by Minette Walters. A novel about the black death and a closed estate lead by a woman who’s trying to protect her people. There’s also a kind of murder mystery. But she also has a close relationship to one of the surfs that I got super invested in.
3. The Strike series by J.k Rowling (I know we don’t stan anymore but. This series about PI and his assistant slowly growing closer? Becoming best friends and partners? Not acknowledging any feelings for each other?
#books#book recs#literature#romance#romance books#romance reads#penvenens#romance recs#romance reader#historical romance#probably forgot loads
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