#there’s something wrong with the drawing but I can’t pinpoint it so I’m posting anyways | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

normal-thoughts-official · 3 years ago

Note

you talk a lot about magnus and camille dynamic and how they started and all that great meta content that you know i love but here's a question that idk if you ever got: how long do you think they were together? bc i can't think of a specific timeline and personally i love the one you talked abt at some point how she was pretty much right after asmododo or something like that, so he went from one type of abuse into another... but how long was he there? was camille with him for 20 years? 80? 130? any theories?

ugh that's a complicated one because i don't really have an answer for that and i think about it often as well

altho i think you got confused about her being right after asmodeus, i definitely don't think she was. i mentioned it my post about the timeline to say that magnus COULDN'T have been born close to the 1800s because that would make it asmodeus and camille way too close and that can't be the case because it would imply camille is basically the only person he dated before alec doajsdoaj and we know that's not true cuz there's also other ppl like george and etc. it was more a point in favor of "early to mid 1600s" for his birth date

anyway! let's go through this. i mentioned in another post that i think he got together with camille right after george, and that i think george died around the middle of the US civil war, which lasted from 1861 to 1865. so let's say they got together around 1863. now, we have a few pieces of information:

magnus mentioned that he hadn't been with anyone for "almost a century" when talking to alec. i know i think magnus is time blind but he can't be TOO off here. that was in 2016 so that would make their breakup date be a little after 1916 if magnus remembers correctly

literally the only thing about the timeline in that time period that i can remember is that one picture there was in his file of magnus surrounded by girls at a party, which looked to be in the 20s to me. since camille was an abusive asshole probably sabotaging his every chance to meet people, that couldn't have been when they were together. so i'd say 1920 is like, the limit for when they could have broken up. it's up to you whether or not you think magnus would be jumping into his party animal role immediately after the breakup or if it would take some time for him to heal; personally i think both make sense (i think she made a huge number on him so it would make sense for him to take a while to get back to that kind of thing; on the other hand, a lot of people turn straight to being party animals after breaking up abusive relationships, especially because for so long abusers have kept them from doing anything fun. so both work imo) so it's up to you

conclusion: they broke up in 1920 at the latest, so the max you could go for is 80 years, if you go with a timeline where camille was right after george (george can't be after camille because magnus has had no relationships after camille, but there could have been a bigger gap between george and camille than i personally hc). it could still be less tho, because we literally have NO information whatsoever on what happened between 1861 and 1920. even if you go with "they broke up and magnus immediately went full party animal" (which is perfectly valid), it's also entirely possible that this happened in say, 1901 and that pic just happened to be from the 20s, years later. but i also don't think it could have been a lot earlier than 1901 because magnus said almost a century, implying less than a century between the year they broke up and 2016. and while i do think that any immortal would lose track of time after a while and mingle years and decades together, nevermind adhd time blind icon magnus bane, if they had broken up in, say, 1880, magnus would remember that over a century has passed, if anything because so much has changed since then. so i think for him to say that the breakup should have happened in the 20th century at least

so that's the analysis from what we've seen in the show. personal opinion! i think 80 years makes sense, but is a bit much. it makes sense because there does seem to be a pretty obvious gap in magnus' file from the 1860s to the 1920s and then it goes back to having many pictures of him, and that "disappearance" makes sense in the context of him being in an abusive relationship (which limits your interactions and going outs by a lot). it does seem to be a bit much because magnus is at max 400, so, if they had been together 80 years, that would have been 20% of magnus' life spent with camille. or 1/5. added with all the time with asmodeus, it seems to be... a bit much dioadsoaijd and like look i'm not judging, i know abusive relationships can last many years and decades even for mortals, nevermind immortals, but i just don't like the idea of it lasting this long personally, especially because i think it makes him getting with alec seem actually a bit soon considering how long the abusive relationship lasted, and that's ignoring asmodeus' abuse on top of it

so personally, i like it morenif its around 40-50 years. i think it makes sense. it would mean the breakup was sometime around the 1910s, and while, okay, there is a gap in his file that seems to only end in the 20s, we must not forget an important fact: shadowhunters are stupid. so i actually think it makes sense that like, magnus emerges from his abusive relationship and is still getting back on his feet, and shadowhunters just don't care. like who is that guy? oh some warlock, no one's heard of him since like the 1860s lol. whatever happened to him? who cares. anyway, we love racism

and then around a decade later it turns out that magnus is healing enough to be a pain in their ass; say, that is when he becomes HWoB, or simply that they are reminded of how powerful magnus actually is once he is back in activity, and so they go back to like, investigating him and updating his file. so the file gap could be explained in that case. it also actually makes more sense that it would take shadowhunters a while to pay attention to him again, and since magnus was healing from an abusive relationship, the time it would take for him to draw their attention might well be around a decade

and with 40-50 years of an abusive relationship that would mean magnus has spent 10-12% of his life with camille; which is a LOT of time (for comparison: my first abusive relationship lasted a little over a year and i was 16 at the time; that makes it have lasted around 6% of my life at the time, and it did a HUGE number on me, taking me almost 3 years to have a relationship again), but not quite as much as a full 20%. not just that, but him taking "almost a century" (it would actually make it be a little over a century in this timeline, but again, magnus is immortal and time blind, so give him a break) to get with anyone again makes sense. that would be around double the time he's spent with her before he heals enough to be with someone else. that tracks, because abuse fucks you up fast and unfuckening yourself up takes longer. magnus isn't even fully unfucked up (which is okay, he doesn't have to be), but for him to be ready to take such huge steps as he is taking with alec, i think around double the time he's spent with her spent on healing makes sense

(again, i'm mostly going off my own experiences here; my abusive relationship lasted almost a year and a half, my next relationship was almost three years after the breakup. so almost perfectly double the time before i was ready to have another relationship. and again, i know recovery isn't the same for everyone and a lot of factors go into this, but i just think a timeline where he's been with her for 80 years and then gets with alec less than 100 afterwards is a bit too fast)

i still think 40 years is kind of a very long time to be in an abusive relationship and like holy shit i cant even imagine, but also i mean, mortals have abusive relationships that last that long and to an immortal itd feel like less time, and it does seem to be what best fits the timeline, so

and yeah i think those are my thoughts dadsajdsa

LAST MINUTE EDIT BEFORE THIS IS PUBLISHED CUZ IM NOT REDOING THE WHOLE THING: i got an anon today saying that magnus said something about not having seen camille in 130 years (link) which i didnt/dont really remember but i trust that theyre right and im wrong because i dont remember a lot of shit from this show. 130 years before 2016 would be 1886, meaning that if they broke up at that time and got together right after george's death as i personally hc, that's a 20-year relationship. that sounds like it fits the timeline as much as any other to me, and like i said in that ask, i think it makes sense that magnus would play it down to alec by saying "almost a century" instead of how long it's really been cuz it's a bit too vulnerable, and plus, we know one of the ways he protects himself is by not letting people pinpoint exactly some important dates from his past, particularly his birthday and etc

and okay i know that 20 years together, then 130 years recovering is a huge difference, but also i think with twenty years together as opposed to my comparatively short abusive relationship the scars of abuse would deepen a lot and quicker, so maybe it makes sense that it would take a longer time to feel confident enough to get to dating again. plus, like i said, there's no real math to be had in that process, everyone is different, has their own history and recovery process and etc so it's not like there is a deadline. so actually scratch everything i said above im going with this timeline. the one thing that doesn't track with that is the gap in his file but also like i said shadowhunters are stupid, so. yeah 20 years together is probably closer to it

in the end its kind of a relief cuz i was like "holy shit 40 years is so LONG" so... yeah udndidn

#me: i don't really now. also me: gigantic essay with lots of numbers and a relatively narrow time gap as a result #sh #shadowhunters #magnus bane #camille belcourt is an abuser #camille's trash party #magnus bane meta #anti shadowhunters #abuse tw #death tw #mentions of war #meta #ask #some-thrilling-heroics #there is too much math in this post tbh #q #adhd magnus bane #time blind magnus

14 notes · View notes

ask-artsy-oncie · 3 years ago

Text

So I’m kinda in a meh/apathetic headspace in regards to my mental health right now. Maybe it would be best to just let some thoughts out.

Firstly, I do want to apologize for making stupid, borderline inflammatory posts and throwing them out there onto tumblr dot com, I know that’s never the best course of action. However, I really, really do not appreciate anons sending vague “are you okay”s at me. If you’re not close enough to me where you can’t PM me (relatively) face-to-face, then I really wouldn’t like random inquiries about my mental health from you. Maybe it’s just because I don’t 100% trust anons (I’ve been here for a decade, I’ve seen some shit, can you really blame me?) but I think I ought to make myself clear on that. Are we clear on that? cool.

I don’t know... I’ve felt so lost and tired recently, moreso than usual.

I’ve always had a massive complex about annoying people, being too self-indulgent, not having good ideas or opinions or what-have-you. People who have known me for a while almost definitely know that. I don’t think it all necessarily exists in a vacuum, either I have a genuinely hard time coming up with objectively good ideas. Sometimes I’m just straight-up “head empty” mode. I’m also often really opinionated and sometimes intend to die on hills that people aren’t really meant to die on (or are even necessarily worth dying on). I can get way too wrapped up on meaningless things because my brain is too hyperfocused on this one thing, or maybe something I rely too heavily on for comfort is... I don’t know how to put it.... put at risk? Challenged? I have a lot of mental issues and real life issues, though I’m not claiming to be massively oppressed or anything, but I tend to cling to comforts a little too desperately. And I’m not just talking about like. Media. Just comforts in general. Sometimes I’ll spend too much of the day laying in bed. Sometimes I cling to old relationships or old forms of relationships or I constantly worry about the day I’ll inevitably no longer have the same relationships I have now.

I’ve known I needed therapy for a while now. I’m waitlisted and everything, but I need to go about actually choosing a therapist to see and I’ve been dragging my feet on that so I guess that’s my bad. I’ll get to it. Shit’s overwhelming, yknow?

Anyways I know I have a lot of these flaws and problems and I think my horrible anxieties about being too annoying and whatnot is just a really extreme form of self-reflection. Maybe. Not entirely sure. Maybe a therapist could tell me.

I get way too passionate, way too easily, and it’s almost always followed by a super intense period of shame, like, to the point where I’m desperate to isolate myself and destroy my relationships with other people, because then at least I’m actually trying to destroy a relationship by being a bad person, rather than someone leaving me for... I don’t know, being too happy? Caring too much? Talking too much? Just. Shit I have less control over.

I’ve tried putting a cap on it, suppressing everything. Trying not to indulge too much, trying not to be so happy and talkative, straight-up deleting messages I think might be too annoying the second I send them. Trying to be inoffensive through being unnoticeable. I’m trying to do that now, honestly. It’s why I joked about deleting my blog. All it does is hurt and make me go fucking nuts because I’m bottling up a lot in doing that, I know. I’m just not fully convinced I don’t just deserve to feel that way.

There are a lot of points in my life where I’m convinced that my best course of action in succeeding or keeping people from being put-off by me is to just sit down and shut up and draw what I’m told to draw. To just completely lose my agency in drawing. It makes sense, when you feel like you don’t have any good ideas of your own, you just illustrate others’. And there are many, many points where I have done this out of a place of love. Fuck, most of what I’ve drawn for Lolly’s writing has come out of a place of genuine love, not just for her work, but for her. A lot of what I’ve drawn for Bethany (for any REAL long-time followers reading this) has been like that, too. But there are also points where it honestly just feels like my only purpose is to be a tool through which others may visualize their whims. That if I dare inject too much of myself into things, they’ll be permanently ruined. And then there’s the shame I feel in having wanted to impart a piece of myself into a work - a demerit for being too selfish or self-important to deem my whims anywhere near good or important enough to be included.

I have so many ideas. So many opinions and thoughts and feelings and genuine insight that I’ve suppressed or deleted because I either feel like that’s what’s expected of me, or I’m straight-up told that my thoughts and opinions are bad and wrong. Like. Fuck me for having opinions on animated media levels of being shut-down. And you know, I’ve noticed something in the past decade of being an insufferable opinionated prick about things like that - that it’s actually easier for me to enjoy media when I’m allowed to be negative and critical of it. When I am allowed to just share my thoughts. And I don’t mean like, without being disagreed with, I mean like, in an environment where I’m made to feel like I actually can share these thoughts. When I can pinpoint and analyze what I didn’t like or what made me upset, it can be a lot easier for me to then move on and be able to focus on aspects that I genuinely do like. Like, holy fuck, it is SO much easier for me to pick-and-choose aspects of a certain sequel film that I actually like and feel comfortable saying I like than it was for me to do with the original, because I no longer have an incredibly toxic person in my life (or at least, in my life as much).

But that doesn’t mean I haven’t had this kind of experience since then, like. There are STILL things I struggle to move past because I have been made to feel like I just can’t fucking talk about them without being insufferable (sorry if I’m overusing that word - it just feels like the best word the feeling I’m trying to describe) or just straight-up ruining something for someone I care about. Keeping shit like this in does crazy shit to me, for real, and there’s still a large part of me that tells me “Fuck you. Suck it up. None of this shit matters.” Y’know? Because in the grand scheme of things, I know it doesn’t. And then there’s the shame that comes from having cared so much in the first place. It’s a fucking cycle. There’s some shit that’s just irreparable ruined for me because of this and that SUCKS.

I don’t like losing comforts. Fuck, I hate it, really. And I’m not talking about new comforts coming along and catching my attention as an old comfort begins to wane, I’m talking like. Destroying relationships, feeling SO MUCH shame surrounding a comfort media that it’s too difficult to enjoy it no matter how hard I try, or having too hard of a time disassociating a comfort with a horrible event or person. And it’s feeling like at LEAST one of these is starting to happen to me again and Good Gods it’s just. It’s so terrifying.

But who do I tell? When my primary worry is annoying or offending or hurting people? Y’know? I can’t just vent to one single person to this all the time, that isn’t fair. But it gets to a point where my brain tells me “No, you can’t talk to ANYONE about this because that’s rude and wrong and a true friend wouldn’t do that. There’s a reason why you can make any number of concerning posts, messages, private ramblings, whatever, and the people you’re closest to won’t ask you what’s wrong.”

And, yeah, honestly, I do think it’s true that the people I consider my closest friends won’t read this. I actually don’t believe the average person will read this, or at least get this far. I genuinely do just talk too much and it’s a lot for most people to deal with. Otherwise, I talk too little, and probably enter the “you should be able to read my MIND” level of expectations, which, of course, isn’t far. I understand, I swear I do, it just takes some time to come to terms with every time I get wrapped up in my stupid mental stuff. And I also promise that I try to give these people the same kind of response I want, y’know? I try to look out for any worrying behavior and try to offer an ear and help in any way that I can. I don’t think expecting the same in return is fair, I just worry about any of them being like me, and I’m willing to play to that if it’s necessary. I’ll break quiet streaks for that shit, y’know?

Honestly, these stupid quiet streaks are probably more unbearable for me than they are even noticeable for most people. It sucks. I just wish my mind was normal so I A) wouldn’t have these insecurities to begin with, because B) I would never end up exhibiting the behavior to warrant such insecurities.

There’s so much shit I want to talk about, to analyze, or explore, that I want to share with the world, or at least with people I love, that I probably never will because my stupid brain has already decided that all this stupid shit is better kept to myself where it can rot and be forgotten eventually. Which is fine, in the grand scheme of things, I guess, because I functionally have never really been the guy who comes up with ideas (at least, good ideas) I’m just the pencil, the one who I guess makes things visual? I can’t even bring myself to say “I bring the ideas to life” because that’s pretentious and untrue. These ideas are already alive because they come from brilliant minds.

I don’t even think it’s fair for me to call myself a character designer unless the characters are my own. Otherwise, I’m just following the directions of a much more competent conceptualizer (there’s a reason my characters barely have any... well, character). That’s the reason why I removed my unearned credit as the character designer for Ty from Swindle’s description, because I really don’t deserve that kind of credit. It’s why the asks about the designing process of Ty have been left unanswered, because, fuck, what do I even say? “I just did what Lolly told me to do, just like I did with all of Swindle. Please don’t give me that kind of credit, I know I falsely ascribed it to myself earlier, and I want to rectify that”? I guess I could have, actually, now that I’m typing this. But people always get fucking upset with me when I try not to take credit, even when it’s shit that isn’t mine!! So I don’t know what to do!! I don’t know what to fucking do!!! Because I just don’t fucking want to make people upset or unhappy!!!!!!!

I’m sorry, this post is too long and I’ve worked myself up and I’m no longer apathetic. I’m gonna go cry myself to sleep so big win for my complexion, honestly.

Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I guess getting this shit out of my system is probably best to do in a big tumblr post no one will read.

I don’t want anons about this. If I can just ask one thing. Please.

#do n/ot reb/lo/g #rant #vent #long post #probably won't delete tbh #i don't know it's the most competent i've been about weird mind shit for a while now #so maybe it would be best to just leave it

2 notes · View notes

msindrad · 4 years ago

Text

an insanely long crazy-ass post about the dollars trilogy, I’m so sorry y’all

I FOUND THIS POST. I DID IT. I FOUND IT. JESUS. I spent the entirety of my yesterday searching for it.

I’m going to tag everybody who participated in this discussion and whose posts I‘ve found while searching for this discussion on the off-chance that they still might be interested in, yeah, discussing these films.

@clinteastwood-blog @geekboots-blog @istadris @sybilius @bleak-nomads @thenotsobad-thebad-andtheugly @bloncos @mcicioni-blog @unrealthings @stephantom @colonelmortimer

Also, please feel free to ignore me and my analytical outburst if you don’t feel like talking about the films or talking about them with my crazy hyperfixated ass specifically, lol. I didn’t mean to be rude by calling you out of nowhere, it’s just that sometimes people get excited when there is an enthusiastic newbie in the fandom and gladly return to their beloved canons.

Anyway. The dollars trilogy.

I’ll start with The Good, the Band and the Ugly (and will probably make myself instantly unlikable by nitpicking things, (sigh)).

As stupid as it might sound – the film being an absolute masterpiece, a cultural milestone that is timeless, epic, work of genius, love it, will write and draw about it with pleasure etc. – I’m kind of inclined to find the GBU the weakest film in the trilogy storywise. Don’t get me wrong: the plot is interesting and strong, every scene is entertaining, smart, and instantly quotable… But.

There are a few things that make the story, taken holistically, weak to a degree, especially in contrast to the other two films. Now, let me explain my bold-ass claim.

The first reason I couldn’t even pinpoint for myself until my best friend asked me: yeah, it’s all cool and fun, but what has really changed at the end of the film? They stopped the battle/blew up the bridge (kudos for the pacifist message), they killed a few folks on the way including Angel Eyes, but what did the story amount to in the end? Was their relationship changed? Have they themselves learned something about life, universe and everything? Tuco is still on the rope, Blondie still shoots the rope. They both got their money, split it 50/50. Sure, now it’s an insane amount of money but will it make them reconsider their ways of life? I don’t know, and I don’t necessarily think so. They’re really back to square one. If you consider the graphic novel The Man With No Name canon, then (spoiler) Blondie gives his money away to help rebuild the monastery of Tuco’s brother, and Tuco himself doesn’t really invest his share in anything other than booze, and sex, and troubles, so. Then, Angel Eyes got killed off, but he had even less backstory/character arc than, for instance, Captain Clinton, not to mention that his image, as memorable as it was, kind of lacked certain complexity, so, does it really matter storywise (although he is a great, stylish character, but I hope that you get what I mean)? (Note: Angel Eyes should have been the film’s ultimate personification of the war (inhumanely ruthless, only interested in money, extremely goal-oriented etc.), which, the war, kind of is the main antagonist of the film if you think about it; but the way he was used in the plot, the way he acted, and was generally presented, communicated it only in a limited way, imo).

Everything about the adventure was fun, smart, entertaining, one of the best films ever made, I agree 100%, and I rewatched it with pleasure many times. But I believe that stories have to bring about some palpable change in their world in order for them to be successful and finished. The GBU, in my opinion, doesn’t do it because it doesn’t want to be a story-story, and it’s fine with just letting its characters exist in a magic Western/a cowboy fantasy/a fairy tale. And I guess it’s also one of the reasons why the story didn’t go anywhere from the GBU – there is nothing to add to a basis like that. And I can’t help noting that it’s super ironic that the only film in the trilogy that truly seems to be all about money-money-money has no “dollars” in its title.

Another thing that I think is super important: there is almost no female energy or presence in the film. And it’s not even a matter of representation that bugs me, although I think it’s very important. It just feels like there is a deficit of something vital that renders everything even sort of unrealistic. In AFOD we have Marisol and we have Consuelo Baxter, and they’re relevant for the plot, and they have goals, motivations… lines. In FAFDM we have Mary, who has only a few brief moments, but she’s memorable, endearing, and she has a small story/motivation of her own, and we also have Mortimer’s sister, who is EXTREMELY important, and who also isn’t just symbolic, she herself makes a plot-relevant decision on screen, although a really horrible one from my personal moral standpoint. In the GBU we have what? A prostitute that’s beaten up by Angel Eyes (I never watch this scene), another woman at the hotel where Blondie stays in that is shut up and called an old hag or something like it, and another woman that makes a comment about Tuco’s hanging. None of them are memorable or have motivations on their own, and to me it makes the film lacking some really important counterpoint in terms of dynamics etc.

And nobody needs me to describe all the things that the film is awesome at because everybody knows that the film is one of the best films ever made, so painfully gorgeous that it’s difficult to praise it. So, I’ll move on to the other two films but will briefly talk about Tuco and Eli Wallach.

Eli Wallach is considered one of the best actors ever to appear on film for reason, so, I’ll just say about my personal impressions from his performance: he really made me emphasize with Tuco. His acting is incredibly rich, nuanced, concentrated, and, imo, just leaves you no choice but to think of Tuco as a real complex human being, not a film character. And Tuco is a superb character. Over the course of the story he gets to be loathsome, humane, funny, silly, terrifying, and cunning, - often all those at the same time. That’s one hell of a captivating character who’s just very, very interesting to watch and to analyze, regardless whether you like him or not.

Then, we have A Fistful of Dollars. I’m a huge fan of classic adventure stories that are gen, plot-driven, and have smart main characters figuring out a way to get what they want without being destroyed by other characters for wanting or trying to get it in the first place. I think it’s very difficult and very rewarding to write a good story in this genre. AFOD is exactly this kind of story, and this kind of stories is only as good as their protagonists’ maneuvers are. And Joe is, like, a tactical genius (the barrel! the fire!). And it’s much better to rewatch the film to remind yourself of how smart he is than have me talking about it, so.

But apart from that he is also humanized by his deeply personal motivations that appear completely irrational especially in contrast to his clever manipulations of the Baxters and the Rojos. And he doesn’t do it egotistically, to “get the girl,” which wouldn’t make him particularly sympathetic one way or another. Sure, he makes a good buck at the end, but his primary motivation still is justice for Marisol and her family (and then protection of his friend). Additionally, Joe gets his fair share of punishment for providing said justice, which further humanizes him and kind of makes you worry about him. And Silvanito with his scolding, humor, and skepticism helps with it a lot, too.

And then, there is the fact that the film wants the audience to either want to be Joe or want to be with him, sometimes both at the same time. Everybody on screen is a single Joe’s wink away from swooning because how he practically oozes charisma (only Silvanito is immune to his charms). I can’t blame them, though.

And I also want to point out the last lines of the film: Joe says that he doesn’t want to get involved into politics because that would be too much for him, and I think that it’s very fitting. The film just showed how cool he is, but he knows his limits, and he knows that he operates on a different plane.

So, all in all, it’s a masterfully done story.

Finally, we have For a Few Dollars more. I love all three films, but FAFDM is my favorite, there’s no doubt about that. I’ll start with the fact that it’s perfectly structured and perfectly balanced. We have three big players, Mortimer, Manco, and Indio, and the film shows how dangerous and how smart each of them is, so that the conflict between them ends up being very, very suspenseful. Not to mention the fact that it takes Manco and Mortimer almost 40 minutes, I think, to finally properly meet – by that time we are already speculating who will be the winner in the end, how will they react to each other, how will they interact, how will they work together etc. We get to know them quite well first, and then their relationship allows us to explore their characters even deeper through their interactions, their differences, and their similarities. For some time, storywise they become a single unit. While the story of Indio’s assault on Mortimer’s sister is revealed parallel to the plot.

Indio himself is terrifying as hell without being cartoonish. He is a really dangerous, broken man that is also methodical, smart, and ruthless. He is so bad that he kills the opponent’s family just to make him bitter enough to draw on him. And he is so bad that he is okay with killing off his own gang.

Speaking of which, Indio’s gang is colorful. He has interesting interactions with them at the beginning, in that church. And Klaus Kinski made his Wild stand out to me. I swear, the moment he almost cries in that saloon when Mortimer takes away his cigar, I feel bad for him every single time. And when he recognized Mortimer, it was tense. He even had a cool witty one-liner after Mortimer said that he should come to him in ten minutes to help him light that match and smoke: “In ten minutes, you’ll be smoking in hell!”

By the way, Indio’s tendency to get unnecessarily physical with his gang looks even more unnerving when he touches Manco to check his wound/shares a smoke him with some clearly visible eroticized subtext, which gets even creepier when you realize that he is a rapist. I swear, I was worried about Mortimer when I saw the film for the second time – that is even though I knew the plot – because Manco brought up that family resemblance between Mortimer and his sister, and we all know what Indio did to her.

What else? I could bring up all sorts of things, the action, the final duel, the small smart details that allow the plot to happen the way it happens (e.g. how Manco manages to hide the bag with all the money on that tree before Indio’s gang capture him and Mortimer – only to re-collect that bag at the end of the film), the humor, the street kids and all the other cool-cool secondary characters (Joseph Egger’s informer probably is my favorite), the opening sequence and the title card (oops, already rambled about this one) really, anything and everything including the perfect chemistry between Manco and Mortimer.

But I’ll just say that the music in this film is special to me. Every single composition by Ennio Morricone is special, unique, memorable, and intriguing, it’s true, and so it feels redundant and banal to say something like this. The Ecstasy of Gold is almost extraterrestrial, the main theme of Two Mules For Sister Sara imitates actual mule sounds, how genius is that, etc., and you must be dead to not be enticed and mesmerized beyond words by the main theme of the GBU, which is a hymn of all spaghetti Westerns now, a universal call for adventure (I feel like a bad person saying this, but I’ve always wanted to joke that Ennio put sexy back into the “waah-waah”… no, I regret nothing).

BUT. To me personally, the music in FAFDM is as personal as the film itself, and dare I say even more important to the story than in the GBU, despite the theme of the GBU being a kind of Greek choir throughout the film. The personalized sounds for Manco and Mortimer accentuate their personalities to the point where they almost create a reflex in you. The pocket watch chime is literally part of the story and plays a huge, crucial role in the plot! And it’s decidedly one of the saddest musical scores I’ve ever heard. It’s minimalist, mournful, and yet also nostalgically bittersweet. It feels like a reminder that there’s no going back whatever that might mean in the actuality. And the famous moment where Manco asks Mortimer whether his question was indiscreet and Mortimer says that the answer could be… I feel personally touched whenever I watch the scene. For me, it doesn’t feel like just an amazing scene, it triggers some deep emotion that is hard to express and almost gives me the urge to cry. Something along the lines of respectful and compassionate “I’m sorry that it happened to you,” “I’m sorry that I can’t help you.” The feeling of personal tragedy is conveyed infinitely better than a three-volume backstory ever could.

And then, there is this huge potential for all the stories about Manco, and Mortimer, and Blondie, and Tuco, and Angel Eyes, and even Joe to explore... Well, I better stop here.

So, yeah. It turned out to be a crazy long post, and I‘m grateful to anybody who reads it till the end. And if you haven’t watched these movies please do. Cheers.

42 notes · View notes

ravenbrenna09 · 5 years ago

Text

masterpiece

Title: masterpiece

Square Filled: Soulmates AU

Ship: Robbe IJzermans/Sander Driesen

Trigger Warnings: None applied

Created for @skamevents

So, Soulmate AUs are my absolute favorite trope of any AU ever and I love reading all of them. I love the names on the arms, having the same symbol, I love seeing color only if your soulmate is nearby, but one of my favorites is being connected by their skin. And, with Sander as an artist in canon, I absolutely HAD to use this one. Soulmate AUs absolutely FASCINATE me and so I had to do this one.

Now, because this fic ended up being WAY MORE than what I wanted it to be, it physically will not fit in this text box, so I will be putting the first scene of the fic into this with a read more link at the bottom (note: this is the same scene as my masterpiece snippet that I posted a few days ago). So, I hope you enjoy the rest of this chapter.

...

Read on AO3

...

Thursday was not Robbe’s day.

Thursday was, by far, Robbe’s longest and physically draining day. While his first class of the day didn’t start until a little before 12:00, his day wouldn’t end until about 23:00 which was when the library closed down. To add to his torture of a long day, thanks to extending his own shift so Amber could be picked up by her mother on her way home from work, his classes on Thursdays were particularly draining, filled with dry teachers that talked to the board and ignored any and all questions.

Letting out a sigh, Robbe turned to his introductory essay which was pulled up in another tab of the computer in front of him. The head of the department didn’t care about them working on homework, as long as their other jobs were done first, and Robbe had already put up the remaining books in the library, straightened up the desks where the student workers sat, and filed away a stack or two of files for one of his superiors.

Now, that all of his librarian work was done, at least until someone returned a book to the circulation counter and he would go off in search of its rightful spot, Robbe could focus on this essay, or a story, that his writing teacher had assigned as an “introduction” to their mindset as writers. And, the topic that had been chosen by his other 25 classmates was soulmates.

He let out a breath of air, burying his face in his hands.

Robbe hated soulmates.

Or, rather, he hated the idea of soulmates.

As a kid, Robbe would sit and watch his mother doodle on her skin with her favorite pen, watch the curve of her letters, her small doodles of flowers, appear on the exact same spot on his father’s hand. His parents would smile at each other, love in their eyes, and tease each other when the other got a stain on their hand because it affected both of them.

To little six-year-old Robbe, soulmates were everything that he had to offer and he thought that he didn’t have one because doodles never appeared on his skin. His mother had giggled at him, informing him that his soulmate’s doodles wouldn’t appear until after he reached puberty. Little Robbe had been confused as to why he had to wait, he now knew that the changing hormones and chemicals in the body at puberty that caused the connection to show fully, but no one, not even people researching and studying soulmates, could pinpoint how soulmates are chosen or when.

To present-day, eighteen-year-old Robbe, soulmates were crap.

His parents had been soulmates, had fallen in love, and got married, having Robbe shortly after. For the first eight years of Robbe’s life, his parents had been happily in love with one another. His father loved being home, loved cuddling his wife on the couch, to the point that Robbe would call them disgusting and throw a pillow at them and they would laugh. Then, his parents started fighting about little things, small minuscule details that shouldn’t matter. As the years went on, the fights got worse, louder and louder until Robbe couldn’t sleep at night anymore, sneaking out of his house and going to his best friend’s house to crash. Then, his father left them alone, found another woman who made him happier, and his mother spiraled, leaving Robbe caught in between, trying to help her.

His parents were soulmates and they had fallen out of love.

If the one person that you were destined to be with was supposed to leave you anyways, what was the point of having the ability to connect with them on a physical level?

Letting out a sigh, Robbe reached out, typing angrily. Soulmates are fucking stupid.

“Woah there,” Zoë teased, walking up with a cup of coffee in her hand.

Zoë was a barista and one of Robbe’s roommates. At the beginning of the year, Robbe had moved into the three-bedroom flatshare with her and a senior, Milan, because Robbe was not going to live with his dad, not after what he did to his mom, not with him and his new girlfriend. It was a minor miracle that the two of them had been so willing and that his father had been so understanding. His father wanted him to live in the dorms, but it was too expensive for Robbe. He was barely surviving month-to-month as it was and living in the dorms would be almost double the cost.

“What’s wrong?” Zoë questioned.

“What isn’t wrong?” Robbe questioned. “Of all the topics my writing class had to pick for our introductory assignment, they picked soulmates.” Zoë scrunched up her nose, understanding. “And, I can’t think of anything to write other than soulmates are fucking stupid.” As if she didn’t believe him, he turned the screen towards her and she stood on her toes to look, letting out a light breath through her nose. He let out a sigh, straightening the computer back. “Think that will get me full points?”

“I doubt it.” Zoë laughed. “Here, it’s from Chloë.”

“Again?” Robbe questioned. Chloë was a barista at the café, who had a crush on Robbe so obvious that even he could see it, which was saying something. When it came to realizing people having feelings for him, he didn’t have the best track record. Despite the fact that Robbe had several relationships, almost all of them had been as a result of the other person making the first move. “How many times have you told her that she’s not my type?”

“Robbe,” Zoë laughed, reaching out to pat his head with a tone that says many times. “I think the only way she’s going to be convinced that you aren’t interested in her is if she finds you making out with a guy. Not that I can blame her. You are a cute boy. Whether you want to admit it or not.” Robbe rolled his eyes before spotting the purple writing on the back of her hand. Zoë caught his gaze and scoffed. “My soulmate’s latest ‘conquest’,” she remarked, pivoting the hand towards Robbe so he could see.

Had a good time tonight was followed by a phone number, only the final digit was smudged.

Robbe knew that he had a soulmate, of course, but his soulmate wasn’t the type of person who slept around a lot, or if they did, they didn’t have girls writing numbers on the back of their hand in hopes of a second round.

On his sixteenth birthday, his best friend, Jens, had jokingly drawn a poor excuse of a birthday cake and sixteen candles on the back of his right hand (and Robbe will never admit to anyone how disappointed he was that it didn’t show up on Jens’ hand). Within an hour, as he sat in his biology class, his soulmate, whoever they were, had drawn an arrow to it and wrote awful, zero stars on booking.com before proceeding to draw a perfectly drawn cake, in pen, with the exact number on the candles, on the back of his left hand. The drawing looked perfect, meticulous, and every year, on that same day, another cake would appear on his hand with an additional candle.

Robbe had a soulmate.

Even if he didn’t want one.

Zoë let out a heavy sigh, pulling him back into the world of the present. “Every morning I wake up with a new number on my hand is another morning I question if you have the right idea,” she admitted, staring at her hand. “Soulmates are crap. I’m always half-tempted to call the number, tell her that he’s just going to find someone else, but what’s the point, right? Plus, it’s missing a digit.”

“Save a woman from getting her hopes up, probably. But, don’t worry,” Robbe remarked. “I’m sure he’ll get his head out of his ass soon.”

“Excuse me,” a voice remarked, over Zoë’s shoulder.

The two of them pivoted to find that a blond-haired man was standing behind them. The man was stunning, absolutely breathtaking as though he had been carved from stone. There was a black-beanie resting lightly on his head, covering the strands of white-blonde hair that poked out from the edge, and he had a pair of bright green eyes that were slightly hidden by the black-framed glasses on his nose. He was dressed in a pair of denim jeans, black converse, and a t-shirt with an artist that he didn’t recognize beneath his black hoodie.

Robbe felt his breath catch in his throat.

Looking like that in a hoodie, glasses, and a beanie was ridiculously unfair.

Especially to Robbe.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation,” he continued, pushing up his green bag further up his shoulder. “But, I need to check out this book for my art history class.”

“Of course,” Robbe replied, his voice cracking a little. There was a knowing look on Zoë’s face, a familiar eyebrow raised that she generally reserved only for Milan, as she shuffled to the side, taking the coffee with her. The man stepped forward, placing the book on the edge of the counter, and Robbe took the book from him, eager to make sure their hands didn’t touch. “Sorry about that. Do you have your id?”

“Yeah, it’s in here somewhere,” the man replied, digging his wallet out of his bag. He found it, handing it over to Robbe, their fingers brushing ever so slightly, almost like it was on purpose. Robbe felt a jolt shoot up his hand as he took the id in his hands, switching to the electronic check-out system, typing in his student id number and scanning the book. A name popped up. Sander Driesen.

Once Robbe had deactivated the electric security in the spine, he placed his id on top of the cover and slid it across the counter, “Here you go.” Robbe kept his hand on the other side of the book, making sure to pull his own hand away before Sander reached out to grab it. He took the book from the counter, grabbing his id and slipping it into his pocket. “It’ll be due on the 17th of next month.”

Sander sent him a grin, a slightly confident, slightly wicked grin, like he somehow managed to know the effect that he was having on Robbe and his already jumbled mind, almost as much as Zoë did. “Thank you, Robbe,” he remarked. At Robbe’s confused, puzzled look, Sander’s eyes dropped down to his chest and Robbe looked finding his nametag, wanting to slap his forehead. He glanced towards Zoë, who was still hanging off to the side with her chin against her palm, and Robbe thought he saw his eyes flicker down to her hand, recognition in his eyes, but then, Sander was smiling at her and saying to her, all confident and charming, “Sorry about interrupting your conversation.”

“It’s completely okay,” Zoë replied. “I was about to leave anyway.”

Sander moved off, grinning at her, and Zoë handed Robbe his coffee, a knowing glint in her eye as she boosted herself up over the counter to press a kiss against his cheek. He shoved her away, wiping away the residue of her signature red lipstick, and Zoë ran out the door, giggling all the way and promising to save him some leftovers from dinner. Robbe let out a sigh, trying to return to his essay on stupid soulmates, but found his eyes looking for Sander, who had disappeared.

Read The Rest on AO3

#brenna's soulmate au #brenna writes #my fic #my writing #sobbe #rosander #wtfock #wtfam #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #skamevents #skamevents bingo #i decided to participate after all and soulmate au just happened to be on the bingo card #so like that was a win for me #sobbe fic #rosander fic #wtfock fic

136 notes · View notes

kashimos-hajime · 5 years ago

Text

promises, promises | t.s.

summary: You loved him, and he loved you, and then a boy and girl went off to war and never came back.

WARNINGS: mentions of PTSD and war flashbacks, swearing, drinking, also they’re both idiots pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!doctor!Reader word count: 4.8k

a/n: my first peaky blinders fic!! i’m absolutely hooked and i wrote this right after watching ep 2 so forgive any out of character dialogue/actions/etc. for some vibes, listen to shrike by hozier.

The knock on your door, three raps and a pause in between each as long as a pendulum swinging, is just as he’s always done. It’s enough to let you know who’s at your door, as if the hour wasn’t telling enough.

A part of you aches to go to sleep. The other knows you can’t anyway, so you abandon your post by the fire. You give the kit you have resting on the cabinet a passing glance before making your way to the door.

“Thomas Shelby,” you greet the man before you. He doesn’t look right and you frown, eyes raking up and down his figure. He stands straight as he does, hands at his sides but his face is milk white, stark against the tear drops that are beginning to drip down his cheeks. Not injured then, or maybe he’s just hiding it well. In the rain, his mop of hair is darker than ever. “Must be a blue moon.”

“Evening, love,” he mutters and his eyes flicker from your face to the hallway behind you, bathed in shadow. The black is chased by the spilling orange from the fire you have crackling in the night, and you cross an arm over your chest, feeling almost indecent in your robe. “May I come in?”

A soft ‘of course’ slips by your lips and you step aside, watching the man step in and you try to pinpoint what it is that makes something inside you crawl.

Ever since the war, nothing quite shakes up Thomas Shelby anymore, and yet here he is. Shaken.

“Are you alright, Mr. Shelby?” you ask as he unbuttons his jacket and you catch the water trail that follows his wake. The rain patters at your windows and you tell yourself it’s a chore that can wait for the morning. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” You do not know which question he answers. He thrashes it off, tosses it onto the coat hanger and you walk into the drawing room to poke the fire, to pour him a glass of his poison, to wait.

“Would you like something to drink, then? Warm you up?” You set the poker down, stand, turn to see his eyes, unusually glossy in the firelight as they dance over his surroundings. He pulls off his hat, that Shelby hat of his, and wipes at the rain along his brow. “Mr. Shelby,” you begin because now it is unnerving, how the air shifts and how he is quiet.

Thomas Shelby is a quiet man, but not quite like this.

“Mr. Shelby,” he repeats, low and deep and it is then that his laughter cracks the air. You stand by the fire still, unsure of what to do. You haven’t seen him in weeks and here he is now, in your drawing room and laughing.

You stay silent.

“Mr. Shelby,” he says again, quieter, somber-like. His eyes flicker to yours, lock like he can’t quite look away and you watch the fire play games in the blue of his eyes. “You never called me that before.”

“You’d rather I call you Sergeant Major?” you bite back, all at once bitter and sad. It’s too late in the night for him to speak of a time that neither of you can go back to now. “Rather I ignore the fact that all you’ve ever seeked me out for was to satisfy your need for opium? Rather I pretend like your visit is my prayer fulfilled?” You don’t have to. Your heart had sung at the sound of his knock but you cannot say that. “Or that this isn’t the first time you’ve spoken to me in months?”

“As if you’ve done the same for me,” he growls and he sinks down onto the settee. You almost want to bark at him, stop him from spilling rainwater on your pillows, but he crumbles in a way you can’t explain.

“You don’t know a single thing,” you murmur, sitting down beside him. He barely looks at you and your fingers itch to reach for him but instead, you curl them into a fist and look into your lap. “For all your wit, Mr. Shelby, you don’t know a bloody thing about what I’ve done for you.”

“And what have you done for me, love?” he asks, scathing. His eyes dart to yours and the glowing orange plays dangerously across his godlike structure, shadows dancing beneath his eyelashes and across his cheeks. A fire rests in your belly at his words, heat coursing through your veins as he definitely looks at you like you’re an offense to his eyes and like you’re some goddess and everything that confuses him made flesh.

“I went to war for you,” you whisper. He blinks, but he does not look away as you stand. All of a sudden, the confession has made you parched. Walking to the liquor cabinet, you pull out your father’s whiskey and pour yourself a scorching glass. You hope it’ll tame the fire that pools in the base of your skull, and that it’ll chase the memories away. “Not for Arthur or John, but for you.”

You take a pull, let it burn you all the way down to your empty stomach and grab the handkerchief left beside the glasses, turning around again to look at him. He still stares back but he almost looks empty.

“I sewed you shut time and time again. I went down into the trenches at night to bring any scrap of good I could afford to spare and stitched up your friends even though my father forbade me from going down there.” You walk towards him, whiskey in one hand, handkerchief in the other. He sits still and silent, and you pause to take a breath, the fire beginning to wane. You set down the glass. “I wrote to your sister and Aunt Pol, lied for you when you were bleeding out on my stretcher.” You sink beside him. Leaning in close, you can smell the smoke and the racetracks imprinted into his shirt as you raise the handkerchief to his face.

“I never asked you to.”

“As if you needed to,” you murmur, dragging the cloth over his cheekbones, and you watch his lips part, sinfully so. “I know your mind better than I know my own.” You run the handkerchief across his nose, to his other cheek. You focus on the task at hand, and not the heat of his skin or the haziness in his eyes. Not the way his lips part, watch you as if bewitched. “It’s why I know I’m nothing but a friend to you.”

“You know nothing, love,” he murmurs, almost shocked, and you can feel his hand at your thigh, tentative and heavy all at once. It trails up your body, drags your thin robe up your thigh and a shiver crawls up your skin.

“You came here tonight for a reason, Tommy,” you whisper, heat flashing in your cheeks at your own slip, your lips quivering at the soft sigh that escapes his own. How easy it would be to kiss him now. Your handkerchief stalls on his cheek after a gentle swipe across his brow and temple, his soaked hair still dripping. “And it’s not to talk about times we wish we didn’t have.”

“I just… needed to see you. I’ve missed you.” A kind of bitterness floods your tongue and you flinch, stung. You twist away to the fire and suck in a breath, his hand falling off your leg when you detach yourself from his heat. Bile crawls up your throat and you shake your head. A resentful smile curls your lip and you pull your robe tighter around yourself, standing to approach the fireplace. Sitting on the footstool nearby, you grab the poker and stir the flames. You are an idiot to fall for his wiles and charms, again and again, with nothing to show for it. To wait on him, desperate for him to look your way even for a moment. To be thrown face first into your and his shared reality when he just says the wrong thing—

“Of course you have.” You shake your head. “‘Course you bloody have when it’s convenient for you.” You stab a log violently, the tumbling of wood rattling your thoughts. He only ever comes when something’s gone wrong, when he wants a resemblance of a simpler time, when he wants something he won’t let me give him—Your mind is a whirlwind as your mouth runs. “I’m done playing your games, Tommy. It was an awful kind of fun when we were just a boy and a girl, but that was before the war.” It’s a great task not to look at him, to read his face and wonder. “Now, go home instead of hanging around here like you belong.”

“I did once,” he says softly and you wish it weren’t true.

You finally turn to stare at him, trace the sharp curve of his cheeks and the cut of his jaw. Features you know well enough and once dreamed to lay kisses upon. Then you drag your gaze to the beginnings of darkness beneath his eyes. The war has stolen him away from you. “You look exhausted, Tommy. It was nice seeing you, truly, but go home.”

You turn back to your fire, the crackling and the tumbling of the logs filling the emptiness in your chest as you wait for his steps to begin and fade.

“What are you fucking doing?” you ask roughly when a minute ticks by and then another, and he still hasn’t left your heart or your home.

“You call yourself a game,” he says, as if something turned on in that brain of his, but it sounds more to you as if he’s stalling for reasons to stay. If he talks enough, he will convince you—the both of you know it.

You don’t turn to look. “Go home.”

“Is that all you think you are?”

“Tommy, I’m warning you. Leave.”

“You think you’re only a game to me?”

“What else can I be?” You frighten yourself with how loud your voice is yet you cannot contain it. “Thomas Shelby doesn’t want any girl after the war.” You are grossly venomous and loud enough to fill every empty room. It shakes you and a reverent silence hangs in the air. You can’t remember what has made you so scorned, but perhaps it’s the keen knowledge of knowing that tomorrow is not certain, the knowledge that Thomas Shelby has never loved you the way you loved him and yet he still dangles promises in front of you. “That’s the word around the street. And it’s true, isn’t it? It’s the awful truth.” Your words float, hushed and dainty again across the flames, nearly consumed by the fire. You cannot let your rage grow more than quiet.

If you do, the tears will come, and you’re awfully sick of crying for men you’ve lost.

“You’ve never wanted me the way I wanted you to, Tommy,” you whisper, the yawning ache in your chest splitting you in two. “And your promise was made out of fear.” The silence that meets your words make you look at the iron poker in your hands, the handle ribs pressing into your palms. “But there is no war, no fear, no uncertainty of tomorrow.”

A shadow casts over the mantle and you look at the silhouette warily. Glass clatters against wood.

“No reason to hold you to your word,” you mumble, ashamed that you hold so much to his words—words he must’ve said in a desperate time, words that still linger in your worst and best nightmares. By his silence, you realize he has not forgotten either.

“So we resort to passing glances, then?” His voice sends chills down your spine. It’s a sharpened sword coated in honey, and you relish the way it twists your gut. The shadow crouches beside you and you can feel his heat seep into you. “Lingering touches, fires in bellies we can’t feed,” he whispers, the words kissing at your neck as he leans in towards you. His hand, open and large along you arm, pulls the poker out of your hand and you sigh, turning your face away. Metal clatters to the floor as the taste of whiskey pushes into your lungs. He’s drank it all, yet he’s sober as a priest. You know it takes more than one glass to get Thomas Shelby drunk. “Promises we can’t keep, since we’ve already started it seems.” His eyes are dark and bitter, angry, and you swallow the fire he stokes inside you.

“Tommy—” Your breath shutters in your throat and you crane your head to look only for him to be there, blue eyes half-mast and lips just parted. His fingers trail up your wrist, brush against the sleeve of your robe—“you don’t want me.”

“Trysts when we’re too drunk to see straight ‘n’ moaning the wrong name when we’re in bed with other men ‘n’ women. It’s what you want, eh?” Up and up his hand, further into your sleeve until he touches the pulse point in your elbow, feels your heart racing and a sigh flutters past your lips. His other hand grips your jaw, fingers heavy and warm. “A dirty little secret. A little game, is that what you want?” Your eyes widen and he narrows his own. “I asked a question.”

“Fuck you, Shellby.”

“I loved you.” His words hiss like smoking coals and you let out a soft whimper when he squeezes your jaw. “I fucking loved you.” His fingers wrap around your arm and you lean into him, hypnotized as his fingers grip your chin harder. The blueness of his eyes, the smattering of fine brown hairs across his forehead, the smell of him, and the heat of the fire, it draws you forward.

Your lower lip catches between your teeth as he leans in closer. You can taste his breath on your tongue. “Then why?"

”We both know you deserve better than me,” he whispers, words hot against your lips. If you slant your mouth just so, you’d feel him everywhere. Your skin prickles as he cocks his head, eyes on your parted mouth. “No matter how much I have loved you, it wouldn’t have been fair, turning a bride to a widow. And before,” he chuckles as he repeats it and you feel the heat rise to your face. “You bloody think I had a chance with the surgeon’s daughter?”

“You bloody could’ve,” you reply stubbornly. His fingers on your chin trail down to your neck, a featherlight presence but one that makes you warm. “My father stitched up every one of your brothers and you, and adored you like his own sons. He wouldn’t have cared.” A wave of melancholy washes over you and you wrap a hand around his wrist, pulling his hand away from your neck. Your fingers slip into the crevices of his, insistent. “Damn shame he couldn’t have a chance to stitch up Finn.”

“Be thankful. I don’t want him to end up like me,” he whispers and you smile slightly, knocking your forehead into his.

“Would that be so horrible?” you ask softly and his eyes flash to yours, eyebrows rising. “You’re a good man, Tommy. Even if you don’t see it that way.”

“Because I’m not.” His eyes close, breathing in deeply as his hand cups the back of your neck, tangles in your hair. “I don’t want you getting caught between Blinders business, love. I can’t allow it.”

“I can take care of myself, Tommy,” you promise. A sort of bravery sends your hand through his hair and you hold his head to yours, eyes closing. “I know what your business is like.”

“Love,” he sighs, and the corner of your mouth quirks up.

“I can be on your payroll. A surgeon’s daughter is a valuable asset. It’d be understandable why I have protection and I’d be nothing more than a service.” His silence causes your smile to spread. “Aunt Pol always said you only ever listened to me.”

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” he quotes half-heartedly and you pull back. His eyes flutter open as you stroke his cheek, tracing the curve of his cheek. “And I’ve no doubt she’d be happy to hear I’ve spoken to you again.”

“Exactly.” You stroke the hair carefully away from his eyes, watch as he sniffs and holds back his cough from the rain. “You ought to get warm. Give me a moment and stay by the fire.” Your lips press against his temple for a moment and he freezes. Before your liquid courage can leave you, you rake your fingers through his hair again and stand. You bring another glass and the bottle of whiskey before grabbing a rough old blanket from the closest guest room. “My father’s clothes might fit,” you offer, pouring him his glass. He takes the glass and you sigh when he downs it like water. Draping the blanket across his shoulders, you add, “They’d be warmer.”

Now, without the jests and banter between you two, Thomas Shelby is cold and quiet once again, and you sit on the footstool, pouring yourself a glass of whiskey. Glancing into your liquor, you watch the fire play in it.

“The spare rooms are always open to you and your brothers, and your Ada, too. You ought to sleep, Tommy, and get warm.”

He doesn’t respond and you half think he doesn’t hear you so you quiet yourself again, watching the fire and picking up the poker to jostle the logs.

“I don’t want to be warm,” he says at last. “And I don’t want to sleep.”

“And why’s that?” You set down the poker.

“Because all I hear is the picking and the shovellin’, and I don’t want to hear it.”

He sits before the fire like a man watching the sunrise and the orange heat that blasts at the both of you has begun to dry out his hair. You reach for his hand, but then think better of it.

“It keeps you up, too,” you say, a terrible knot in your throat squeezing you tight. “My father said it’d happen. Happens to boys and men too after something like a war.” You down your whiskey and let it scorch your stomach before turning to pour yourself another glass. “Never said it happens to women.”

“And we volunteered.” He turns to look at you, lips parted and eyes dark with a certain kind of humour. “What do you hear?”

“The screams.” You clear your throat as you catch glimpses of blood and broken bones. “The moaning and the sound of bones breaking. It’s all I ever hear, but it’s at night when it’s worse. Silence with my thoughts, and all that.” He’s gone noticeably stiff and you blink, turning away. “What about you? What’s made you come to my door of all places?”

“I needed company.” You wait for him to elaborate. “I put a bullet through my horse’s head.”

“The horse you bought from the Lees?”

“Yes.”

Your lips press together. You know what the Lee family is capable of. Heard it enough from talk between patients and whispers on the street. Reaching forward, you touch his hand. His skin is still freezing cold and your heart wilts in your chest. “Tommy, I’m sorry for everything. For the war, for my distance, and for your horse now, too.” His hand twists beneath yours and fingers interlace as he sips his whiskey.

“Nothing you have to be sorry for,” he says, turning to look at you. You pull your hand away and he looks down. His hand curls into a fist and you watch every vein along the back of his hand go taut. “You’re angry with me.”

“Of course not.” It shocks you that he can root out the thoughts you hadn’t known lingered in your head. You were sure you buried your previous thoughts far down deep enough they couldn’t surface, yet you shouldn’t be surprised. You weren’t his best friend, but he was yours. You were open to him like none other. “Why would I be angry?”

“I promised to marry you, didn’t I?” He sets down his glass. You note the dark dust along his fingers and an involuntary shudder passes down your spine. Your heart thuds in your throat and you swallow it down, turning the glass in between your hands.

“Tommy, stop.”

“Promised to be the man you loved. Promised to I’d come back. And then I never did.”

“Tommy—” You twist to set down the glass with a hard clack. Just the mere words, the call of his promise to the forefront of your mind makes the embers of your rage ignite. Perhaps he had been distant and different and nearly unrecognizable, but you can still see glimmers of the Tommy Shelby you’d known.

“I failed you, didn’t I?”

Enough.

“Stop it, right now.” You slip off the footstool and fall to your knees beside him, grabbing his hand. “You didn’t fail anyone.” When he doesn’t even acknowledge your words, you squeeze his palm. “Tommy, please, look at me.”

“I’m tired, love,” he whispers, voice breaking and a quivering breath is sucked into your lungs at how his eyes seem to shine in the burning light. “I’m fucking tired and all I can see is the tunnels.” The blanket slips off his shoulders and you hasten to pull it up again as he turns to look at you. Water slides down his cheeks and you cup his face, thumbs swiping away the tears.

“Come on. I’m not going anywhere.” You urge him to stand and make sure his blanket does not fall from his shoulders as you guide him to the nearest bed. He trails like a ghost, fingers barely entangled with yours as you help him through the darkness.

Your mind turns over, remembers wet, dirt-smeared lips against your cheek, the top of Tommy’s head as he descended down into the tunnels, a harsh whisper grating against your ear. You lead him through the dead and damaged once, just like this through the darkness, to see Freddie who you’d stitched with your own fingers.

War seemed much simpler than this.

“I don’t care about your promise, Tommy. Not really,” you confess finally as you lead him to the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress and wood creaks beneath his weight. You sit beside him. “I suppose I’m clinging to pieces of myself that I can still recognize.” A cracking smile pulls at your lips when he turns to look at you and you brush hair out of his face, palm cupping his cheek. “We’ve both changed, and we can’t go back. All we can do now is to understand this is who we are now.” His hand lands heavy on your cheek and you smile, leaning into it.

“They stole the light from you,” he whispers and you turn your cheek away. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the life you wanted.”

“Our time has past.” You know it now. You had been so desperate to be the girl you once was, so desperate for any semblance of what was that it blinded you to the truth. The Tommy Shelby you’d known and loved with all your very being is all but gone, and you… you are a husk of the girl you once knew. You look at him again and reach up to touch his wet cheek. He’s warmer against your palm now and half of you thinks maybe. Maybe there will be a chance when we are both older, when we are not in a million pieces that are barely holding together by a thread. “But I still love you, Tommy.”

“And I you.”

“Then, that’s enough.” You lean to kiss his cheek but he turns just enough that your mouth meets his. For a moment, you are startled by how hot his lips are and you catch your eyes closing before you remember who he is, and who you are, and what mustn’t happen. Your lips linger for just a moment more before you pull yourself away slowly, watching his half-lidded eyes flutter open. A sorrow lives there, one that mirrors the ache in your chest. Of missed chances and lost time, you know it is a written tragedy. “Goodnight, Tommy.”

“Goodnight, love.”

His confession follows you long after you leave his room and his kiss lingers on your lips, burning. You wonder if he lays awake, staring at the ceiling as you do, listening to the war in his head as you do.

You hear the hours tick by and the sound of shuffling, grunts in the other room of your guest. Black edges your vision and your eyes begin to slip close.

The floor creaks.

You jolt into a sit in your bed, the blankets pooling around your waist as your gaze darts to the door. You had been slipping in and out of a light sleep, your mind hazy as you try to gather your bearings, calm your heart. A swelling sensation in your throat, you slip out of bed and amble over to the door with a half-hearted sigh.

Your home’s old enough for you to know that a mouse could disturb the floors and stairs. Your hand rests on the doorknob and you take a deep breath, wondering if it’s even worth checking every nook and cranny of your home just to be sure there’s no German soldier lurking in the shadows.

You know your mind won’t quiet until you do, but the exhaustion chaining your limbs to the ground says otherwise.

A quick search, you tell yourself. Then sleep. Or hours staring at the ceiling until it comes.

You twist the knob and pull, open the door again for the second time tonight to Tommy Shelby’s face.

“Tommy,” you utter, almost startled but the very sight of him settles your heart. His eyes flash in the moonlight. His shirt is wrinkled and sweat dots his brow in a fine sheen, and the both of you stand there, on opposite sides of the door, an invisible line between you, one he does not dare to cross and you think, What a tired man, what a lost boy.

Your name barely breezes past his lips, fragile and cautious, and you reach out to touch his wet cheek. He smells like whiskey still, and tears and sweat, too.

You step to the side as an invitation you hope he takes. He does and he crosses the invisible boundary between two souls as your heart slows. Whirlwind thoughts freeze and a warmth floods your body. His fingers hook on your wrist and he drags you to follow him.

Your mind turns over again, this time feeling bloodied fingers smearing warm thick red over your cheeks and the bone-crunching grip of a soldier as your father dug a bullet out of his leg. You remember a time when you walked just like this, through darkness, through the trenches at night as Tommy lead you to the sick and dying.

He sits down and you watch his face catch the silver moonlight, eyes blue-grey like frozen iron and he tugs you onto the bed beside him. You feel your joint weight dip the mattress. He is cold and all limbs, lean strength wrapped around shrapnel bones and you adjust the pillow beneath your neck as you lie down beside him. The sound of soft breathing fills the air and shadows swallow his face when he turns away from the window to look at you.

When he looks at you, it’s almost as if everything is drowned out.

He turns on his side, thumb dragging over your cheek and lips and then closes his eyes, breathing in deeply. He smells the girl that clings to the sheets, a soft supple scent that chases away the muddy torchlight in his head as his hand trails down to find your fingers.

You are stronger than he remembers, ironwire muscle wrapped with thick stone skin, and when you lean forward just so and his forehead meets with yours, he lets out a sharp exhale. It is as if you take some of his burden, whether he likes it or not.

“Promise me, you’ll stay,” you whisper suddenly, “not as a lover, but just as my friend. That would be enough.” His eyes flutter open, barely. He’s exhausted and in your bed, surrounded by everything that is you, he knows he can sleep for ages. Your eyes are still shut, your eyebrows knitting together as if you cannot watch him react in some poor way. Half a smile curls his mouth and he just barely, the tiniest sigh in his breath, answers.

“I promise.”

#fic: promises promises #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x yn #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #my writing

384 notes · View notes

zrtranscripts · 4 years ago

Text

Season 9, Mission 7: Scream

Scream and Shout

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Oh, my calves are killing me.

PETER LYNNE: Yeah, as the dairy farmer said to the... other dairy farmer?

SAM YAO: Yeah, dunes aren't the easiest, are they? It feels like I'm trying to get up a down escalator. Still, we must be near our rendezvous with Mohammed now, mustn't we?

JANINE DE LUCA: That was the message we received via coded transmission from Miss Spens. Mohammed Boujettif, a fixer based in the city of New Agadir, will meet us at coordinates a short distance from here. He'll wait for one hour, no more.

PETER LYNNE: Well, we're still a good day's journey from New Agadir, though. Um, question. Does anyone find it a little suspicious that he wants to meet us so far from the city?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: I've been rereading Amelia's info packs about New Agadir. It's supposed to be very hard to get inside the city. Citizens of the Maghreb Protectorate - that's the nearest official government - generally get let in. Everyone else needs friends inside - or favors from - the criminal networks that really run the city. Amelia said the place is like post-apocalypse Ipswich used to be, before the Last Riders razed it. Maybe Mohammed's going to introduce us to some friendly New Agadirans.

PETER LYNNE: Or he's going to rob and kill us, and maybe eat us! I don't know. Listen, sorry. It's just, it's all gone fine for the last few days. You know, camping in the desert. Janine's rain water collectors. Our maps have actually been accurate. And hang on, not been pursued by anything! I mean, it's going to go wrong now, isn't it?

JANINE DE LUCA: In my experience, little goes wrong in quite the way one anticipates. We must get into New Agadir. That is where the Death's Hand mercenaries are expected to be, and that way, we can enter Red Scorpion base. So we must attempt to make contact with Mr. Boujettif.

SAM YAO: Shame Veronica's not here to triangulate our position, really. She's back in my tent, said she wanted to avoid getting more sand in her circuits. Got the compass, Frances?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Yep. Yes. It's uh, that way, towards the tree. The-the one that looks like... the only tree.

JANINE DE LUCA: Very good. Come along, everyone. Run!

PETER LYNNE: Well, here we are at the tree. Got to say, I mean, of course the desert as a whole is beautiful, but in terms of your actual landmarks, it's kind of... a bit weak, maybe?

JANINE DE LUCA: Miss Dempsey, are we still on course?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Sure are. Oh, uh, heading confirmed. We must continue straight on towards the uh... more sand.

PETER LYNNE: See what I mean?

JANINE DE LUCA: There is rather an abundance of sand, but also an abundance of stars. Goodness me, just look at that sky. Perhaps I'll satisfy entry 48b on my bucket list, ��Witnessing the entry of a meteor into the earth's atmosphere.”

PETER LYNNE: Yeah, we humans call that a shooting star. Never seen one?

JANINE DE LUCA: Perhaps I never thought to look up.

PETER LYNNE: Oh, well, you should have said. I would have laid one on for you.

SAM YAO: Oh, all the constellations. Never seen them so clearly before. Mum used to point them out to me. There's Orion. There's Cassio-whatsit. And there's the Big Dipper... or is it the Plough? Are they the same thing?

PETER LYNNE: And look over there, it's the Hurry Up Man, tapping his star watch.

[distant scream]

FRANCES DEMPSEY: We should definitely hurry up. What was that?

JANINE DE LUCA: A hyena.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Oh. Are they very dangerous?

JANINE DE LUCA: In numbers, yes. Provided we leave the area before the pack answers its summons, we'll be fine. Come on. The coordinates aren't far, but progress is slow. We must run as best we can.

JANINE DE LUCA: Are you absolutely sure these are the coordinates?

SAM YAO: Janine, Frances ran Dearg for four years. She can probably read a compass.

JANINE DE LUCA: I... Yes, quite. I'm sorry, Miss Dempsey. I'm merely concerned that the mission be a success. Your navigation has been unimpeachable. I didn't want you to accompany us here, but you haven't yet been a hindrance on our mission.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Oh, uh, thanks. I-I think.

JANINE DE LUCA: It's Mr. Boujettif who has let us down. You were right, Peter. It's hard to imagine why he would bring us out here if not for malevolent purposes. We must be on our guard.

PETER LYNNE: And it's pitch black. Never seen a sky cloud over that quickly. Cold, too. Let's get going now.

JANINE DE LUCA: I concur. We will have to abort the mission, find another way into New Agadir. Miss Dempsey, which direction back to camp? I've got rather turned around.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: I uh... hang on. [flashlight rattles] Damn! Torch is on the blink.

PETER LYNNE: And we're much too far from New Agadir to see the city lights.

[distant scream]

SAM YAO: That's not a hyena. Bloody hell, must be Mohammed! Come on, he needs our help. Head for the scream, run!

SAM YAO: The screaming, it stopped. I hope that doesn't mean... which way was it coming from, Five?

[muffled screaming]

PETER LYNNE: There it is. See, I swear that was coming from the other direction a second ago. God, I just wish it wasn't so dark. I can't see a bloody thing.

JANINE DE LUCA: We're close to the source of the scream. I know our instincts are to render aid as swiftly as possible, but we must approach with caution. Fan out. If the threat is still present, we will surround it. [footsteps through sand, muffled nearby screaming] Almost there. Slowly, everyone. Slowly...

[FRANCES DEMPSEY stumbles in the sand and shouts]

SAM YAO: Frances, you all right? Five, can you see her?

FRANCES DEMPSEY: I'm okay, Sam. Just tripped over something. [muffled screaming] I... Oh God, the screaming's coming from underneath the sand. It must be Mohammed!

SAM YAO: Dig! Everyone dig! [sand shifts] It's definitely a person. Crap, they feel cold.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: [flashlight rattles and clicks on] Torch is back on.

[flashlight clicks off]

PETER LYNNE: And off again.

JANINE DE LUCA: I found his head. Frances, shine the light by my feet.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Ah, hang on. [flashlight rattles and clicks on] There.

[very nearby scream]

SAM YAO: That's not Mohammed, it's a really decayed zombie. A screaming really decayed zombie. Run! Everybody run!

[zombie screams]

PETER LYNNE: Okay, so running screaming from a zombie, yeah, used to it. Old hand. Running from a screaming zombie, that's new. Oh, and it's so dark, I can't see my own hands. Does anyone know where we're going?

JANINE DE LUCA: Our only objective is to lose our pursuer. We shall just have to do without light.

SAM YAO: What kind of zombie is that, anyway? Why is it screaming?

PETER LYNNE: [laughs] Maybe it looked in the mirror. Tends to do it for me.

JANINE DE LUCA: We've not encountered this variation before and should not engage until we learn more about it. Our cure might well prove ineffective against its bite. Keep running!

[zombies scream]

SAM YAO: Oh, to our left, there's another one. There's loads! Oh crap, they've got us surrounded. Hey! Ooh, maybe if we scream, they'll think we're zombies, too.

JANINE DE LUCA: I don't think that will prove effective, Mr. Yao. No doubt they're adept at distinguishing predator from prey. Listen, to the right. The quality of the sound is different, reverberant. A ravine, perhaps. Can you hear that?

PETER LYNNE: Well, I'm not a bat, so no. Uh, not that... I mean, I'm not saying you're a bat, Janine, obviously. Um, just only in terms of the exceptional, impressive hearing. [laughs] And of course, the leathery wings. I mean... Right. Uh, sorry.

JANINE DE LUCA: I suspect my improved hearing is an effect of the nanites. However, you've hit upon the crux of my plan, Peter. It's only an educated guess, but that will have to do. I'll lead you through the gap in the screams and into the ravine. With me, run!

[zombies scream]

JANINE DE LUCA: Yes, it is a ravine. I've found the wall. A river must have run through here long ago.

SAM YAO: Ah, yeah. Would that be attrition, do you think? Or abrasion. Um, what's the other one? Hydraulic something. And that's all I can remember from A-level geography. Except lateral moraines. What even are they?

JANINE DE LUCA: Mr. Yao.

SAM YAO: Sorry.

PETER LYNNE: Haven't we sort of... trapped ourselves? Uh, you don't know what's at the end of the ravine, or if there even is an end. Just sort of wondering, what are we doing?

JANINE DE LUCA: I suspect the zombies are using echolocation to hunt. The screams bounce off our bodies and alert other zombies in the area to our location.

FRANCES DEMPSEY: Ah, I see. So if the echoes are pinging around the ravine, that'd sort of baffle them. That's clever, Janine.

JANINE DE LUCA: The zombies are entering the mouth of the ravine. Listen.

SAM YAO: Ugh, that's horrifying. Is it working?

JANINE DE LUCA: We'll have to trust that it is, but even if they can't pinpoint our location, they will stumble into us eventually. We must push deeper into the ravine. Peter, take the vanguard. Runner Five, draw your sidearm, protect our rear. Run!

[zombies scream]

JANINE DE LUCA: We seem to be losing the screaming zombies. Keep moving through the ravine until we can no longer hear them and then we will try to find a way... Peter, stop!

PETER LYNNE: What? Oh! Ah. Oh. The massive hole in front of me. Um, did you hear the hole, Janine, by any chance?

SAM YAO: Oh, I wonder how deep that... [pebbles clatter into hole and echo in the depths] Very deep.

PETER LYNNE: And the zombies are very close. This isn't good.

JANINE DE LUCA: Runner Five, ready your weapon. [gun clicks] I estimate ten hostiles. It's far too dark to aim. Spread your shots. Fire!

[gunshots]

SAM YAO: Five’s out.

[gun clicks]

JANINE DE LUCA: My weapon is jammed. The zombies are upon us. I... I don't have a plan!

[rifle shots, zombies splatter and stop screaming]

PETER LYNNE: Right, someone's shooting with a rifle. The zombies are down. What is happening?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Up here, can you see me? The skies have cleared, to give the heavens a better view of your heroics, no doubt. Wait there, I'm coming down.

SAM YAO: Well, good thing I activated my Mysterious Stranger perk.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: What's the saying? “A stranger is a friend you haven't met yet.” Well, now we've met.

PETER LYNNE: There's another saying! “A friend is someone who doesn't lure you into a dark ravine filled with screaming undead!” ... It tends to be quite situational!

JANINE DE LUCA: Mr. Lynne is right. You have put us in danger, mortal danger. I assume you are Mohammed Boujettif?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Yes, and I'm sorry, truly. Screamers don't usually hunt here this time of year. I myself was forced to flee our rendezvous coordinates.

PETER LYNNE: But why bring us out here in the first place?

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: Unfortunately, I'm currently persona non grata in New Agadir. I'm being followed by certain agents. Should we be seen together, you'll become known associates, never to be admitted under any circumstances. If I'm to assist you in entering the city, I'm afraid you'll first have to help resolve the misunderstanding that led to my exile. And I see you are more than up to the task. So quick to figure out the screamer's hunting technique. And look, to the west! A shooting star. The heavens approve.

JANINE DE LUCA: The heavens are indifferent to our activities, but beautiful. Quite beautiful. We will help you, Mr. Boujettif.

MOHAMMED BOUJETTIF: And I will help you. Your prime minister explain the severity of the situation when she contacted me. I would love to know how she came to discover so much about me. An intriguing woman. But she informed me that without your intervention, a malignant fungal entity might swallow my country as it so nearly did yours. So I will help you to assume the identities of this band of assassins and to establish contact with those inside Red Scorpion base. Together, we will penetrate the impregnable fortress, you have my word. And please, call me Mo.

#zombies run #zrs9 #s9m7 #scream #zr transcript #zrs9 spoilers

3 notes · View notes

vendettacanons · 4 years ago

Text

⚔️ Characterization Hour : Vaas ⚔️

// It’s been a hot minute since I posted anything and I’m sorry for that. My motivation inexplicably tanked this week. I’m feeling a little better now so I’ll get around to my inbox and replies soon. In the meantime, I’ve been playing a lot of Far Cry 3 and analyzing the characters (both to pick up one or two more and specifically to study things for ship ideas and characterization of Vaas specifically).

// Mind the tags for trigger warnings. Far Cry 3 is dark as shit.

// I noted this the first time I watched the cutscenes, but playing through the game and actually getting the full context firsthand really hit different; Citra openly says that Vaas was not always the way he is now. He wasn’t always so crazy. (Granted, both of them are crazy but I’m chalking that up to some idea about genetic things that I’ll talk about later.) She says he wasn’t always a fucking maniac- the drugs turned him into that. The drugs and the unforgiving harshness and cruelty Hoyt and his work demanded of him. She blames Hoyt for turning Vaas into what he is, and she’s right. She mentions that Vaas used to live with her and the Rakyat, and that he had some kind of birthright he ran away from (meaning Vaas is likely supposed to be the one leading the Rakyat and that’s another thing I’ll touch on in a bit.) After Hoyt discovered the islands and began trading drugs to the settlers in exchange for bodies, Vaas was one of the unlucky ones who ended up getting hooked. Hoyt took a liking to him, and put him in a downward spiral.

// There’s more to this though. It’s never explicitly stated how long Hoyt has been in the Rook Islands but we can draw a rough timeline. Not much is known about Hoyt’s upbringing, but it is known that he likely started young, killing his father and joining a criminal consortium before eventually taking it over for himself. No exact age is given, but I’d clock him at 20 then. Our biggest hint to that is a line that we get from him during his fight with Jason. He states “he’s been doing this since before [Jason] was born”. This is likely in reference to attempts made on his life by mutinous Privateers or Pirates. Jason is 25, so his business has lived for about 25 years, which makes sense given Hoyt himself is 45. He must have discovered the Rook Islands later on (thanks to his Pirate lackeys knowing the oceans so well) given that he states he has connections all over the world. I’d say he’s been on Rook for about 10 years, considering he has a whole foothold on the place and a giant satellite dish (which would take years to build by hand, especially when his men are incredibly varied and probably not all experienced in design and building, much less any of the locals). He’s definitely been sitting on the property for a long ass time.

// This makes sense considering Vaas and Citra lived and survived on the island as orphans for a long time- theyre part of the native population. Going by this timeline, Hoyt arrived when Vaas was 17. Perfect timing for him to get hooked onto drugs, abandon his birthright before he was set to receive it, and putting him at an ideal age to be easily manipulated by Hoyt into something evil and sadistic. He was following Hoyt’s example, the drugs just amplified the effect of his cruelty.

// Again this is all speculation and largely headcanon considering Far Cry 3 didn’t give us any solid hints at an actual timeline.

// Branching away from the why, I wanna talk about some headcanons I have about Vaas himself. It is very plain to see throughout the game that Vaas is not entirely bad. I mean, he is irredeemably awful, but there are some points that I want to draw attention to. He obviously cares very deeply for Citra. He mentions it often how he loved his sister and would do anything for her at some point, even kill, and in a conversation with Hoyt he sounds legitimately heartbroken that she is tattooing Jason and giving away his birthright like that. He seems to have this sober moment of clarity where he feels like his sister is replacing him based on how far gone he is. So obviously, part of his emotional instability is chalked up to Hoyt’s conditioning and drugs. But not all of it is.

// Part of Vaas’ mental instability comes fro mugs parents, and Citra is proof of that. There is literally nothing known about their parents, they were abdanoned as children. But both Vaas and Citra carry something from them: mental illness. It’s hard pinpoint exactly what kind, but addiction might very well be in the genetics. Why would Vaas, who was basically a prince capable of having anything he wanted brought to him at the snap of his fingers, turn to drugs? Unless one of his parents was an addict themselves which, again, very possible considering the island’s were likely discovered by the Pirates— meaning prior to Hoyt’s arrival, drugs were still being trafficked. That would account for why Vaas got hooked so quickly, while Citra showed a measure of restraint. However, Citra betrays other things that only genetics could account for. Because the environments they’re in are so vastly different. Both Citra and Vaas demonstrate developign strange obsessions and compulsions. Citra develops an irrational obsession with Jason after he finds an artifact (one that is important to her people granted, but how quickly and deeply she develops it is what makes it so concerning). Vaas just develops obsessions with fools who end up on the island in general— Chris, Jason, etc. In Vaas’ case, it’s hazardously exacerbated by the drugs but hey- Citra wasn’t exactly tame about how she handled it either. It’s impossible to tell what the defined cause of them being so unhinged with their obsessions is given how little else they show, but there’s definitely some common illness they likely inherited.

// And before I go any further, I just want to put a disclaimer that mental illness does not inherently make people evil or more likely to commit crimes or atrocities. That’s not the case at all and that is not what Citra and Vaas are meant to portray in canon or in my own writings. Mental illness is not the reason why both Citra and Vaas are fucked up as characters. Special conditioning to torture, abuse, and kill people, treating them like disposable toys, and violent drug addictions in Vaas’ case, or as a threat against them until proven otherwise/ indoctrinated into their sacred culture in Citra’s case, are. The fact that they may have inherited some type of mental illness from their parents developed as a result of Hoyt before he even showed and it’s gone completely unacknowledged or treated is just a catalyst.

// Anyways, what is the point of all this? Why did I do this characterization assessment? Well, this is basically a long-winded way of describing a new facet to my portrayal of Vaas. One that I’ve been looking for for a while now. With all of my characters, I try not to let them fall flat and be defined by one particular characteristic. In Vaas’ case, this is very difficult. He’s so all over the place and unpredictable that writing him is easy, but actually capturing the essence of him is hard because he is often only portrayed as being one thing: insane. But after playing the game for hours and carefully studying him, I found it really interesting how Vaas has all these “breaks in his insanity”. They mostly happen when he’s talking about family. His quiets up, he softens, and his act vanishes only to pop back up when something seemingly random sets him off again. But the fact he has these breaks at all, and the way he acts during them, implies that part of Vaas— the man that he was supposed to be, is still there. His entire persona is driven by a work and drug motivated impulse to be as destructive and chaotic as possible. And he is. He is cruel, evil, nasty, and wicked. But he’s also still capable of being gentle and loving like he was when he was with Citra. He shows he still loves his family. He even still carries some of their traditions, like calling everyone “brother” or “sister”. There are moments, rare as they are, where he is free from the demands of his work and his addictions aren’t gnawing at him. There are small moments of calm in the storm that he has become. It doesn’t erase or justify the destruction that he inevitably brings. But it does exist. Because Vaas is still a man after all. And he knows there is something really wrong with him. He’s not only guilty, he is tormented by it. He literally gets on his knees and begs Jason to kill him. He knows he’s fucked up. He’s just not strong enough to change.

// TL;DR: Hoyt’s been fucking shit up since before Vaas was born. This is all Hoyt’s fault. He’s the reason Vaas is an orphan, he’s the reason Vaas was mentally unstable even before he gave him drugs and forced him to abandon his birthright and work for him, he’s the reason Vaas is such a wicked little brute that destroy everything he touches. But there are brief moments where his facade cracks and reveals he’s still capable of being the gentle loving brother he once was. He still loves his sister very much and he feels very guilty for abandoning her. He knows there are things wrong with him and he knows he can’t correct them or finish himself off by his own hand, hence why he begs for death in the end. Thanks, Hoyt.

// Looking at it, this will definitely impact my portrayal of Vaas. Probably not by default, but definitely in terms of pre-established relationships and ships going forward. I’ll mention ahead of time that nobody except Hoyt, Citra, and Vaas really know the extent of what has happened to him. Buck does to a certain degree but he doesn’t have the full story. I’ll also say this does not change the fact that most of Vaas’ relationships that aren’t business related are going to be unhealthy or downright abusive, if not for a large portion of it than for all of it. Vaas has proven that he is not above threatening, manipulating, emotionally toying with, and physically hurting people. Especially those he develops obsessions with. He might be infatuated with someone, but his infatuations are far from pure and wholesome. And stemming from that, he is not one of those “fixable” villain types. Lots of love and understanding are not going to cure him. He is not going to go change overnight because someone was nice to him. In general, I dont see Vaas changing for anyone. He’s just too... stubborn and set in his way to do so. But if he does, it’ll require some hardcore chemistry and a metric fuckton of plotting (and probably a dead Hoyt but that’s neither here nor there).

// Anyway if you read this far, you’re awesome and I love you, thanks for coming to my TedTalk. ❤️

2 notes · View notes

sluttyten · 6 years ago

Text

anywhere with you

summary: you visit your childhood best friend Johnny in Seoul for his birthday, and after years apart, the reunion is certainly one to remember

words: 6,468

pairing: Johnny x Reader

tags/warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, smut

In the last five years, you’d seen your best friend face-to-face only twice. Johnny was important, you understood that. He was always busy and he lived in another country on the other side of the globe, but you missed him. Texting him, hearing his voice (phone calls, NCT’s songs, videos posted by the group, his radio show), the brief occasions when you FaceTimed him just weren’t enough.

You wanted to see Johnny again, make fun of him to his face, be able to hug him and lean on him, so you decided to surprise him by flying over for a few days to spend his birthday with him.

“Did you get smaller?” Johnny asks when he picks you up at the airport. He’s leaning against a car, watching as you haul your suitcase and two extra bags over toward him.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” You tell him, nearly tripping when the wheel of your suitcase gets caught on a crack in the sidewalk.

Johnny grins and walks forward to help, tugging the bag from your shoulder, plucking the suitcase from your hand, and he guides you toward his car.

“So you’re here now. What are we doing?” Johnny stuffs your luggage into the trunk of his car, and points to the passenger seat.

“It’s your birthday I’m here for. Whatever you want to do.” You stand in front of him and look up, squinting against the sunlight. “I think you’ve gotten taller since I last saw you.” You stare at him for a moment longer, trying to pinpoint what it is that’s changed about him.

“And hotter, right?” He reaches out, and before you have the chance to protest, Johnny’s dragging you in for a hug, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around.

“I’ve missed you.” His words are muffled in your hair, his arms are warm and strong around you, and as you tuck your face against his shoulder, you’re reminded of feelings you’d entirely forgotten about from years and years before.

10 years old, playing video games with Johnny, trying not to knock kneed with him because what if he could tell you liked him through that simple touch? 11 years old and you fell off Johnny’s skateboard and scratched your arms and legs, and you cried and Johnny held you and told you it was okay to cry as long as you got back up again.

That crushed persisted for years, until you were fifteen and had your first kiss at a party with a boy who laughed at the dare and stole that kiss from you in an instant. You’d walked home with Johnny that night and he told you all about the girl who kissed him and how nice she smelled. That night you’d decided that having a crush on Johnny was futile. He obviously didn’t see you that way, and it would be for the best if you moved on. He had his eyes set on being a K-pop star anyway, you were sure he’d forget al about you.

But now here you were, nine years later. The crush surging back, full force.

You squirm and drop out of Johnny’s arms. “I missed you too,” you tell him, avoiding his gaze. “It’s cold out here, let’s go.”

Johnny cranks the heat as soon as you’re both settled in the car, the radio is low, just a dull murmur of voices reporting on stories that you can’t even fully hear, and he pulls out of the spot. You take a look around the car, noticing how the passenger side floor is totally clean, but when you glance into the back, there’s a gym bag, the contents of which appears to be scattered across the back seat, phone chargers, a camera bag, an umbrella, something that looks like a blanket. A few half-empty plastic bottles roll around on the floor.

“Hey, don’t look back there!” Johnny laughs, touching your arm so you look around again. “It’s a mess. I usually just throw stuff back there after practice. Taeyong’s always telling me to clean it up.”

“He’s not wrong.” You finally look around at him again, and you immediately have to shove down those annoying romantic feelings again. You forgot how Johnny looks when he drives, and it’s no different here than it was in Chicago. He drives with confidence, one hand on the wheel, staring forward with focus.

In short, he looks hot when he’s driving.

“So what did you bring me for my birthday?” Johnny asks suddenly.

“Am I not a good enough present for you? A spontaneous trip to come see my best friend for more than the five minutes we’ve managed over the last few years.”

Johnny rolls his eyes at you. “It’s been more than five minutes. I introduced you to the guys when you came to New York to see us. Remember, you had tons of time with me, but you spent most of it flirting with Yuta.”

“You know I like guys with piercings.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, you watch the way his knuckles go a little white. “Speaking of guys with piercings, are you still dating that guy?”

Only a month before, you’d been FaceTiming Johnny when your boyfriend came over. You’d tried introducing them, but when your boyfriend was overcome with jealousy, you’d regrettably ended the call with Johnny. And yes, that boyfriend did have several piercings, but not even that fact could have kept you together.

“I broke up with him like a week after that.” You tell Johnny. “He was always jealous over nothing. Especially when I would talk to you.”

“So you’re single? All ready to flirt with Yuta when I take you home with me?”

“I am, but maybe I have a new target this time.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything in response to that, but you think you notice a change in him, a tense set to his shoulders that doesn’t fade even as he starts pointing out places to you while he drives.

You talk in the passenger seat, updating him on the mundanity of your life for a bit before you start asking him about what’s going on with him.

“We just had those concerts. Right now we’ve got a little break for Chinese New Year.” He shrugs. “Practice, practice, practice all hours of the day and night.”

But the deeper you dig, the more Johnny talks, the more he opens up and soon it’s just like old times. Driving around with no destination in mind, watching the sunset burn over the city. You don’t care about stopping, just letting Johnny take you wherever, and finally he pulls to a stop in a parking lot, overlooking the river.

“Remember how we used to go to Navy Pier?” The words are out of you before you even really think about it. “That time we rode the Ferris wheel and you threw up because you were scared?”

Johnny laughs and leans his seat back a little bit. “I wasn’t scared! I’d eaten too much and the car thing was rocking too much. What about that time we went there with that group and I found you kissing that kid. He was in the band? He had glasses?”

“Oh God, please forget about that.” You cover your eyes and laugh, unable to face Johnny as the memories play in your mind.

You were pressed against the warm wall of a building, giggling a little as the guy you liked put his hands under your shirt, just touching your waist, and he kissed you. It was nice and felt risky because there were people walking by and it was almost dark out. You’d just started to reach for him, to touch him too, when you heard a voice call your name in surprise. Johnny stood a few feet away, looking at your crush’s hand under your shirt, your lip gloss smeared a little.

It was embarrassing having been caught by Johnny, and you spent the rest of that night internally panicking because Johnny saw you doing that and what if it made things weird, what if he started finally looking at you like someone who could be kissed, what if he looked at you and started wondering what it would be like if he kissed you? And then you’d imagined for a while that it had been Johnny kissing you against that wall and the idea was nice, but you’d pushed it away because you didn’t have a crush on Johnny, not anymore.

And in the present moment, in Johnny’s car, you found yourself distractedly staring at his lips again.

“I told you I got hotter.” Johnny catches your eye, and when he runs his hand through his hair, he holds the pose and turns toward you making an expression that looks totally silly, but your heart skips a few beats faster.

“You look the same to me. The same John Suh who I’ve always known.” You laugh, and watch as the expression slides off Johnny’s face a little before catching and turning into a smile. Deciding to change the subject, you tease, “So what are we doing? Just sitting in a car, watching the river? I knew you would show me fun things to do in Seoul.”

“Do you remember that drive-in we used to go to?” Johnny asks, leaning back a bit more. “Remember that time someone snuck in beers and we got drunk? Well, I did, anyway.”

“You were tipsy at the most, Johnny. But I remember you making an ass of yourself, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He reaches over and pushes lightly at your shoulder, but then he doesn’t draw his hand away, he leaves it there on your shoulder. “I just meant, we had some fun times at the drive in, and there’s one around here we could go to, but they pretty much just show Korean movies, or we could relive old times and have our own drive-in right here. I have my laptop back there, we can watch any movie I’ve got downloaded.”

“Couldn’t we have just done this at your dorm or something?” You feel a smile growing on your face. The drive-in was one of your favorite memories with Johnny.

“It’s better here, trust me. Quieter, more private. At the dorm, some of them would want to watch too and interfere with my time with you.” He squeezes your shoulder. “Or are you too tired to do a movie? We could forget about it, grab some food instead? You probably want to sleep don’t you? I just didn’t even—“

As he slips his hand from your shoulder to reach for the key in the ignition, you grab his hand and immediately calm him.

“It’s fine. I slept on the plane, so I’m wide awake. But I am hungry. Don’t you have any food in that mess?” You gesture to the backseat with your free hand.

“Some snacks. Do you wanna do this?” Johnny asks, and when you nod, he grins. “Then get back there.

You scramble into the back seat, and Johnny gets out of the car and comes around to the back, too big to be able to pull himself into the backseat. He quickly gathers the clothes and things scattered across the seat and shoves them all into his gym bag which he stows on the floor, and then he squeezes in and shuts the door.

“Just a sec.” He digs around in the mess on the floor, and a moment later comes up with his laptop, a handful of snacks, and the blanket you’d noticed earlier.

Johnny sits the laptop on the center console, boots it up, and after a moment of scrolling, selects a movie. You scoot closer to him, and Johnny drapes the blanket over you, and you rest your head on his shoulder, swept into comfort by his scent which is only slightly different from how he used to smell.

“We’re not going to get in trouble for doing this here are we?” You ask while the movie starts up. “No cops are going to come knocking, telling us to stop loitering?”

“I don’t think so.” Johnny puts his arm around your shoulders, both of you snuggled warmly together under this blanket in the backseat of the car.

It’s not quite like a drive-in experience, but it’s nice. It’s special. It’s close enough to the old times when you and Johnny would act inseparable, when you would be all over each other to the point that everyone thought you were dating even when you were dating other people. It’s comfortable resting against Johnny, feeling the vibrations of his laugh and his voice when he talks over the movie.

You like the feel of his chest under your ear, the warm solidity of Johnny, the smell of his cologne, the comforting beating of his heart. You think you could do this a hundred thousand more times and always feel the same surge of happiness and safety. And you have to fight the urge to hold his hand or touch his hair, and worst of all is when you sit up once and Johnny laughs because your hair is messed up on one side and all you can do is stare at his pretty lips and wish you were kissing him.

You quickly grab a snack to preoccupy your hands and mouth to keep from doing something stupid like kissing your best friend and ruining a decades old friendship.

Johnny doesn’t seem to notice anything, he seems perfectly content with having you snuggled against him, like this is something you two still do all the time, and it makes you wonder if there is someone he still does this with. If he has a girlfriend or a fuckbuddy or if he does this with some of the guys.

Before you can even work out a way to ask him that, Johnny grabs your hand that is holding the last bite of a melting chocolate snack cake, and he pulls it up to his mouth.

Now, you’ve never really been the sort to swoon or to act affected by one simple gesture. But.

The moment Johnny’s lips close around your thumb, sucking the small bite of cake and the tip of your finger into his mouth, you just feel weak. Your insides are all quivering—heart pounding, ancient butterflies bursting into flight, and (dare you admit it?) you feel a zip of pleasure straight down to your core.

He sucks and licks over your finger, and you feel your world constricting, shrinking from the whole wide world down to just that car and even further down to your thumb in Johnny’s mouth.

“What was that?” You gasp when he releases your hand.

Johnny, looking slightly chastised or embarrassed, doesn’t look at you. “Sorry, I don’t know why I did that, it’s just that cake smelled really good and so do you and I wanted a taste. Of the cake! I wanted to taste the cake. I should’ve asked. Fuck. I’m sorry if that was weird. I should’ve asked, but I haven’t been so close with someone like this since... you know...”

“You’re not talking about before you left?” You push away from Johnny, sitting upright.

The movie is completely forgotten now as you stare at Johnny, at his surprisingly flushed cheeks, the nervous darting of his eyes, the small fleck of chocolate at the corner of his mouth.

“Johnny, do you mean you haven’t even like cuddled with someone since you lost your virginity?” You try to keep the incredulity out of your voice.

He groans and drops his head back. “You don’t have to say it like that! And no! That’s not what I’m talking about.”

You remember it exactly like that. You remember a party while a friend’s parents were out of town, of Johnny drinking a little and flirting a lot with the pretty girl who was still somewhat new, who Johnny had been flirting with for weeks. You remember most people stayed over at the house, sleeping on floors, on couches, some on the kitchen table. The lucky ones got beds.

You remember that the next day when people started leaving you waited around for Johnny. And then you saw him walking with the girl, holding her hand, a big ass hickey on her throat, and Johnny was glowing with pride. You remember watching as he kissed her cheek and then left her with her friends before he came over to you and you walked home together.

You remember him telling you that he’d had sex with her, that they cuddled afterwards, and it was pretty good. He was sure it would be better in the future when he was less inexperienced.

You remember it changed things between you for a little while. He didn’t seem to continue things with that girl, not that you really noticed. Johnny just spent a lot of time with you, and you were glad for that because he was leaving for good soon. Making the move to Korea. So you were glad for all that time you got to spend with him, barely a moment spent apart.

And now Johnny’s looking at you again, his hand is wrapped around your wrist still, and you try not to let your fingers twitch toward holding his skin too. But you can’t seem to pull your gaze away from his lips.

Slowly, Johnny begins to speak. “I always had a crush on you, you know? But I didn’t want to live a cliche or ruin anything, so I pretended that I didn’t. I kissed other girls, slept with other girls, moved to another a country. It didn’t help. I’ve never felt as comfortable and as happy about doing nothing as I’ve felt when I’m with you. Always. So many of my personal happy memories are with you.” When you open your mouth, looking like you’re about to argue, Johnny keeps talking. “Yeah, there’s successes with NCT, but those are group memories. They’re great. But then there’s you.”

You shake your head. This is too much.

You scoot away from him, putting your back against the door, giving yourself some distance as you feel the cool glass of the window radiating through you.

“I always thought there was like, some kind of tension between us. Maybe just sexual tension since we were teenagers with raging hormones. Maybe it was romantic feelings that we needed to explore. Maybe it was just my imagination, I don’t know, but I left without going into any of that and it never got resolved and now here we are and I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me. It was this spontaneous nudge to just... taste you.”

You feel a little foolish when hot tears burst into your eyes. Overwhelmed by emotions because is this really happening right now?

“Shit.” Johnny shifts and you feel the car rock. There’s a soft thump as the laptop slides off the console into one of the front seats.

And then Johnny’s kneeling in front of you and he reaches out but he doesn’t touch you. He watches a tear fall down your cheek, and you sigh and puff another breath that rises visibly between you since it’s so cold.

“I feel stupid.” You mumble after a moment.

You can see the thoughts running through Johnny’s mind. He’s worried, thinking that you feel stupid for not seeing this, for thinking he was just your friend when he’s had feelings for you this whole time. He’s thinking you regret this trip, this friendship.

“I’m stupid because I’m crying right now. Like what is this?” You wipe at your face and drag your palms against your thighs to dry them, but your face stings with cold now. “I’m not sad or anything like that. And I’m stupid because you just said all that stuff that I had no idea about.”

Johnny’s hand, which had been extended this whole time, finally falls to rest on your knee.

“I’m stupid because when we were ten years old, I was in love with you, but I talked myself out of it because I didn’t think you liked me, so at fifteen I moved on and started kissing other people. But now you’re sitting here in front of me telling me you’ve been crushing on me for forever, that you just involved yourself with other people because you thought that I didn’t like you, and it just turns out we’re both idiots and we’re living that cliche that you wanted to avoid.”

Johnny lifts his hand from your knee, and this time when he reaches for you, he doesn’t stop. He wipes at your cheeks, at the fresh warm tears.

“You know,” Johnny tells you, and his voice has gone so soft and quiet, gentle and low. “I’ve always wanted a birthday kiss from you.”

You nod a little bit. “Okay.”

Johnny leans in, his hand still cupping your cheek. This feels so juvenile, so innocent, to be together in the backseat of the car, about to have your first kiss together. Your palms are clammy.

The first press of his lips is sweet, chaste. Almost nothing and then gone. Almost like a test.

“I thought you said you wanted a taste of me?” You whisper, managing to tease him even when you’re this nervous. You feel like if he would just glance down a little, Johnny could see your nervous heart pounding in your chest.

The second press of his lips on yours is the kiss you’ve been craving. Warm and soft; his tongue sweeping along the seam of your lips; his hand cradling the back of your neck. You open your mouth for him with a little sigh, and Johnny moves closer to you, kissing you deeper, his hand moving down to your lower back, his other hand gripping your thigh, trying to pull you from the window into his lap.

You kiss hungrily, as if making up for all the years that have passed. Johnny’s hands roam your body, mapping out the shape of you, and you dig your fingers into his hair and pull yourself into his lap.

You can feel his boner, and it’s honestly not the first time you’ve felt his boner, but it’s the first time you’ve felt it and known that it was definitely for you. You smile into the kiss and hold him tighter. You don’t want this to stop even as the temperature in the car rises and the windows steam up and somewhere there’s music playing from the laptop’s speakers.

Johnny’s hands sneak between your bodies, moving to your chest, and feeling his hands on your chest pulls the first real moan from you. How many times had you dreamt of Johnny’s hands covering your breasts, warm fingers on your skin.

“Take it off.” You tell him, and Johnny pulls his mouth away from where he was kissing your jaw.

“Really?” His hands slide down to the hem of your sweater.

You nod a yes.

He pulls the sweater over your head, huffs with mild frustration when he sees the shirt you’re wearing underneath, and when he sees the tank top under that, he actually groans. You laugh and kiss his forehead, his cheek, kiss his lips again, and Johnny tugs the straps of the tank top down your arms, pushing the whole thing down to your waist.

His fingers are nimble and so warm as they move over your skin, searching for the clasp of your bra, and when they find it, you feel the sweet relief of your bra sliding off and then Johnny’s hands on your breasts. Bare skin on skin. You moan again.

“You like this?” He asks, thumbing over your nipples. “And if I--?”

The moment that Johnny leans down and licks over one of your nipples, you feel your panties soak through with a gush of arousal. He sucks on the peak, licks once again, and then kisses up your chest.

“Are you really going to have sex with me for the first time in the backseat of your messy car?” You grip his shoulders, seating yourself higher in his lap, feeling the definite shape of his erection against you. Johnny’s hands slide down to your ass and he plants a kiss on your throat.

“Yes, I am. I should’ve done this years ago in the backseat of a different messy car.” He shifts and then your back is pressed to the seat, Johnny kneels between your legs, and checks with you first before he tugs your pants down, then your panties, and then slips the tank top that was bunched around your waist down your legs as well.

The cold air tingles against your exposed skin, hot and cold meeting in a perfect storm, sparking goosebumps all over your body, your nipples standing out the most. You reach for the waistband of Johnny’s pants and tug.

“It’s not fair that you’re still fully dressed. Come on,” You dip your fingers up under his shirt, run your fingertips over his stomach. “And also, for the record, I would not have let you take my virginity in the back seat of your car back then. You’d have done it properly. In a bed or something.”

Johnny smiles and whips his sweatshirt over his head, his shirt underneath following right after. He sinks down to cover your body with his, pressing chest-to-chest with you. “Have your standards lowered then since you’re desperate to have sex in the back of my car now?”

“Just tired of waiting.” You kiss him. “Now come on. I want to see your penis.”

Johnny can’t help but laugh then, hiding his face against your shoulder and letting out this deep belly laugh. You feel his hands pushing yours out of the way, and then the drag of his jeans against your bare thighs. And then, the long awaited brush of his fingers against your clit.

“Oh, Johnny,” Your moan is almost more of a purr, and Johnny startles a little, like he wasn’t expecting that sound to come from you, or like he wasn’t expecting to find you so wet already.

He mumbles something in Korean, and then he’s moving, sitting up again, moving you to sit up as well, then he’s maneuvering so he’s on his back on the seat, gazing up at you sitting over him like some moonlit goddess.

“Please sit on my face.” Johnny’s fingers are on your thighs again, urging you forward. “I want to eat you out, this is the best way to do it.”

You can’t argue with that, and you move forward, letting Johnny guide you a bit until you can feel his breath on your wet center.

“Anything you want to tell me first?” Johnny asks, and you feel yourself growing wetter.

“Um, I love you?” You speak the words tentatively.

Johnny smiles and when he presses a kiss against your clit, your legs almost give out and sit you right down on his mouth. But they don’t you hold on just a bit, and Johnny laughs. “I meant like, is there any way that you really like it best? But I love you too.”

“Just go ahead. Go crazy. I’ll let you know if you’re doing it wrong.” You fit the fingers of one hand into his hair.

He kisses your clit again, and this time you let yourself sink down onto his tongue, his lips, his hands supporting your ass and thighs. He licks over your center, tongue flattened, and you swear and look out the window.

The park is quiet, not many people around since it’s cold and dark out, but the street lights cast pale circles of light, and Johnny’s car is parked just at the edge of one of them. A few other cars are parked in the lot, but they’re all at the other end, and as Johnny suddenly sucks on your clit and you cry out, you’re extremely grateful there are no other cars around.

When he sticks his tongue inside you, licking at your walls, his nose against your clit, you have to throw your hand against the window to keep from crashing forward at the newfound pleasure. Your hand leaves a streak on the glass, drops of condensation trail down the window.

Johnny moans as he tastes you dripping down his tongue, smells your arousal, and feels you starting to move your hips, trying to ride his face for your own pleasure. He holds onto your hips, helping you move against his face, and soon you feel yourself peaking, pleasure washes over you, and you moan Johnny’s name, grinding down on his tongue as you orgasm.

You fall backwards a bit, sitting on his chest.

“That -- that was good.” You sit up again, giving Johnny room for him to move up, and then you settle again in his lap. His mouth and chin shine with your wetness. “Did you like that?” You ask, leaning in to wipe at his face, feeling the stickiness on your fingers.

“You taste amazing.” Johnny drops his forehead against yours. “Do you want more?”

Draping your arms around his shoulders, you nod. “You think I’m going to settle with just having had your tongue inside me? I still haven’t seen your penis, Suh. And I want to feel it inside me.”

Johnny’s hands cup your ass and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Now? In the backseat of my dirty car? What kind of girl are you?”

You swat at his chest. “Just, come on. I’d be happy to wait and have you in a bed or at least somewhere more private than a car in a public parking lot. If you want, we could just wait til we’re at your dorm.”

“No way.” He kisses you again. “And I already told you, this is way more private than the dorm. Are you okay with riding me?”

You nod. You’d be okay with anything at this point, you’re just so happy to have Johnny like this.

When he reaches between you and undoes the button of his pants and slides the zipper down, he does so slowly, teasingly. You pinch his side and murmur a ‘hurry up!’ and Johnny laughs, pushes his jeans down his thighs, and then there’s his penis, tenting his boxer briefs.

You smile up at him before you tease your finger along his clothed length. He’s hard and thick and just the perfect length. He makes a soft noise and it twitches under your touch, and you can’t stand not seeing it for a moment longer, so you reach inside, and draw his cock out through the opening in the front of his underwear.

“Ohm a gosdf” is the sound that Johnny makes when he presses his mouth to your shoulder and you wrap your hand around his erection. You run your hand over him, testing the feel, testing to see his reaction as you lightly drag your fingernail from tip down to base.

Johnny shudders and leans back against the seat, his eyes closed, his throat bare.

“Kiss me.” He tells you, and you comply without a second of hesitation.

Kissing Johnny, you’re quickly learning, is the best feeling in the whole world. It’s familiar and new all at the same time, it’s safe and warm and comforting, radiating love into every part of you, reigniting those distant reaching feelings you’d long buried deep, but now you’re letting them thrive.

So you kiss him and you touch him.

When you lift up on your knees and shift forward, Johnny puts a hand on your hip and pushes you back a little. He backs out of the kiss, but presses in again to kiss you a few more times before he regains control of himself and stops you for pushing down on his cock.

“I have a condom, hold on.” He ducks around you, reaching down to dig inside his gym bag, and he finally pulls out a foil square.

“Do I want to know why you just have that ready to go in your bag?” You ask, wiping at his glistening bottom lip as Johnny frowns down at the wrapper and tears it open.

He kisses your cheek while he reaches down and rolls the condom down his dick. “It’s a precaution. The company passes out new condoms at the start of every month. They figure if we’re going to be having sex, they want to make sure we’re being safe. Some people have a bigger stockpile of condoms than others do. There. Now you can go.”

And in that moment, reality hits you.

You’re really there. You’re really sitting in Johnny’s lap, one orgasm down, at least one more to go, his lips are kissed pinker by you, and you’re about to take his cock for the first time. This is what you’d wanted for so long, and now here it is, right there for you.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asks, and then he’s touching your face, pushing your hair back behind your ears. “If you don’t want to do this, we really don’t have to. Whatever you want. Let’s stop. We can go eat, like I said.”

“It’s fine. Sorry. Sorry, I was just thinking, like I’m really about to have sex with my best friend.” You slide your hand over one of his shoulders, feel his heartbeat under your hand, and your other hand you touch his hair, brush your thumb over his cheek. “I’m really happy right now.”

Johnny smiles and kisses you again, another sweet, chaste press of his lips on yours. “I had that moment earlier before, when you said ‘I love you.’”

You whisper it to him again then, and Johnny kisses you once more, and you cling to him, holding his mouth to yours as you reach down with the other hand and hold his cock for you to sink down on.

It’s a stretch, taking him inside you, but it’s a pleasant stretch, having him inside you for the first time. You don’t stop until you’ve taken him all in, and you hold there, getting used to that feeling.

When he flexes his hips, pushing up into you, you start moving again.

Johnny’s mouth slips from yours, and he leans back to watch you move, delicious sounds leaving his lips along with your name. And he lets you control the pace, though you can see he wants it faster, but you want to draw it out some, make it last because you’re only here for three days, and you don’t know how many times you’re going to get to have him like this before you head home.

And you would gladly draw it out endlessly, riding Johnny until he cums for you, until your legs give out, until the sun rises.

But a car pulls into the lot. The headlights sweep over the car, glaring through the steamed windows, and the other car pulls into a spot a few down from Johnny’s car.

“Oh, shit.” You laugh, sinking down on Johnny and pressing close to him. It’s probably obvious, even from the outside of the car what’s happening inside. The windows are completely fogged over, you’d felt the car moving a bit as you and Johnny moved, and through the window, you can see someone getting out of the other car.

Johnny flips you over onto your back, pressing you down into the seat, and you almost shriek in surprise, but you bite your lip and dig your nails into Johnny’s shoulders. He kisses your throat and starts rolling his hips against yours, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed.

He pushes up after a few moments, glancing through the window, and you see his face highlighting in the artificial streetlights, misty from the damp windows. He looks so handsome and you tug him down as you rise up to meet him halfway for another kiss.

There’s not much room, and you don’t even know how Johnny’s managing comfortably here in the backseat, but he keeps thrusting into you, driving his cock so deep inside you, you’re sure that you’ll still be feeling him a week later. And then he lifts one of your legs, pushing it toward your chest so he can hit a different angle inside you.

You reach up for something to hold onto, anything, as you feel your orgasm coming, and after your fingers slide through the condensation on the window, they catch on a cupholder on the door, and you hold tight, panting and moaning Johnny’s name as he fucks you right into your second orgasm.

Jolts of intensity soon have you crying out even more from the sensitivity, and you grip onto Johnny’s arms, feeling the muscles flexing under your touch, and you moan, “Cum for me. Cum inside me, please.”

Johnny swears again, and he sinks down over you, sealing his lips over yours as he pushes into you a few more times before he goes still and you feel him flooding the condom with his hot cum.

You stay like that for a few moments, kissing with him inside you.

Both of you are sweaty, pressed skin-to-skin, and you stroke the back of his neck and enjoy this feeling of being so close after so long.

But eventually, the chill of the winter night outside begins to leak back in, nipping at your skin, and you shiver and feel Johnny shiver in response.

“We should get going.” He says then, pushing up off of you, and reaching once again into his gym bag. This time he pulls out a shirt and hands it to you. “You can clean up with this. It needs to be washed anyway.” He kneels back and you watch him carefully pull off the condom and tie it off, and part of you wants to press Johnny to the seat again and suck him clean, but another part of you is hungry and a little tired and definitely cold.

You pull your clothes back on with a little difficulty in the confined space. Johnny dresses too, and when you’re both sitting in the front seat again, he grabs your hand and holds it on the center console.

“Best birthday present ever, by the way.” He puts the car into reverse and backs out of the spot, doing all of this one-handed. “Now, what should we eat before we go meet the guys?”

You squeeze his hand and look ahead at Seoul, all lit up around you, not so different from the home where you’d grown up with Johnny.

“Anywhere as long as I’m with you.”

Johnny snorts a laugh. “That’s cheesy.”

inspired in part by: omg i finally had an dream about nct. i was sharing a moonpie cake with johnny and there was one bite left and i was holding it between my index finger and thumb and johnny straight up put it in his mouth and sucked on my thumb and it was so hot. is there are a specific kink for that? because sweetie, i got it.

a/n: I was originally going to have this Johnny coming home to Chicago, but it just made more sense for it to be you visiting him. and I was going to have it be wild sex in the car but it turned all romantic and stuff instead.

#johnny #johnny smut #johnny suh #johnny seo #nct johnny #nct johnny smut #nct #nct smut #and i’m out of here now. checking out logging out whatever for the day. i’m kinda emotionally drained by things and i promised i would write #and post this so here it is. i hope you all have a wonderful weekend i’ll be back soon probabky

1K notes · View notes

beautcous · 4 years ago

Text

Thread 01 (Halloween)

Halloween was a day Sydney absolutely enjoyed, not just because she had more clients demanding her services for their costumes but also because she loved the festivities that came with it. When she heard that this festival would be this year’s Stonehill celebration it was safe to say her excitement grew tenfold. She had just finished carving her pumpkin and was about to go search for her friends who were all scattered around the beach when she heard a group of girls let out such piercing screams which she was sure effectively shattered her ear drums. Sydney looked around to see what the commotion was all about but she didn’t see much only seeing a rather large crowd gather around a tall figure. A figure she was too far to recognize until she began walking closer in the direction of where the crowd was gathered.

By now she was about a few feet away when she realized the cause of the commotion, or rather who. Out of all the people she would have expected, she did not expect Ezra Meyer to make himself known at the event. The brunette could feel her heart rate pick up just a bit at the sight of him in the flesh, she’d only ever seen him on screens and magazines. She really wanted to go over to where he was and seeing him up close but the crowd surround him discouraged her. Any other time, she would have approached him but given what he had happened two weeks when her tweet going viral and then it being discovered and read aloud by the actor on television stopped her from going anywhere near him. Of course, there was chance he didn’t even remember it or her, after all the man probably got millions of thirst tweets from women all around. Or at least she had hoped he wouldn’t recognize her. Before she could make up her mind, she felt a figure ram right into causing a gasp to leave her lips. It was when she looked up did she see a drunken male stumbling and Sydney caught him before he fell over her.

The man snapped out of his daze a moment later when his eyes landed on Sydney and a rather creepy smile appeared on his face. His eyes raking over her small frame in what best could be described as a leer. Sydney rolled her eyes, stepping back when the man finally stood up right and she was about to walk away when the man took a hold of her arm. “Where you going honey? Stay and keep me company, it’s not everyday I bump into a pretty face like yours.” Her brows rose but she shot the man a annoyed look as she attempted to free her arm. Did he honestly think that would work? “Not interested.” She told him flatly, who did not know how to take a hint. “Come on, don’t be like that. I can show you a good time.” The man then stepped closer, his hand around her tightening a bit that had her wince at the grip. “Didn’t you hear me, I’m no interested, let me go or you’ll have a pissed off boyfriend to deal with. Pointedly looking at her male friend who was not too far but had not seen her yet, but that did nothing to deter this asshole.

It was a rather normal activity for Ezra; signing autographs for his adoring fans. He didn’t see the point in whining about it, not when the fans was the reason why he had such a successful career. They made him rich, and he couldn’t be happier to be in this situation. One thing he wished he didn’t have to deal with was the screaming. He never understood why some people would get so excited over another human being. That had never been him. He liked the band Red Hot Chill Peppers, and yet, would anyone ever see him screaming for them like a deranged lunatic? Hell no. That was just lame and he had too much pride to do something so ridiculous. Did he think he was above others in this aspect, no. Only because he believed that people should be free to express themselves. He wasn’t going to be a part of the pack though. Then again, that might be why he was who he was.

Ezra didn’t just stumble into wealth and fame. He’d been doing this ever since he was an infant. He started with baby commercials. You know, like in Gerber. Except he did it for a very popular brand of Formula. Then, as he aged, he started in on acting. The parts kept rolling in, and for the longest time he was being casted as a teenager, staring and co-staring in a bunch of teen rom-coms. He could blame that on his baby face. It was both a blessing and a curse. Once he reached the age of twenty-eight however, he pressed his manager into giving him more adult roles. That was when he was given the staring role in a Sci-Fi Trilogy. After just one movie, his popularity soared. Not that he wasn’t known before, he just got way more popular now. He would admit that his popularity came with a lot of clauses however. For example; it seemed like he couldn’t go anywhere without being recognized now. Everywhere he went, people knew him. It got so bad that he had to start wearing baseball caps and hoodies if he didn’t want the attention.

After what felt like hours of signing autographs and smiling while the fans took photos with him, he was finally done. His cheeks hurt–from all that smiling–and he was beyond exhausted. As he stepped down from the makeshift stage, intending to make his way back to his car with the two bodyguards that were in charge of his care; he heard a commotion, or rather a woman’s voice trying to ward someone away. Feeling the draw to see what was going on, he made his way over there–security pushing the throngs of adoring fans out of his way. What he saw, had him reacting before anyone could stop him. Grabbing the clearly drunken male by the collar, he moved him aside and said, “She said, she’s not interested, or are you hard of hearing?” His brows furrowed as he glared at the intoxicated man;–judging by the stench of alcohol permeating from his pore–after which the bodyguards took him away. Ezra then put his attention on the lithe brunette, who’s face seemed all too familiar. Where had he seen her before? He wondered, yet instead of dwelling on the matter, he chose to focus on whether or not she had been hurt. “Are you okay, Miss? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” He spoke to her gently, not wanting to scare her even further.

Sydney recalled the very first time she’d see him on television and she had no idea what it was but she could feel this pull towards him. Why such was the case, she had no clue. Since then on, the brunette had followed all of his work tuning in each time his show was on and then to the various other projects he had accomplished in his career. Perhaps her most favorite thing to watch was his on screen interviews, and she had to admit the man definitely had a good sense of humor. Sydney had no clue what it was about Ezra that was so riveting but she couldn’t deny her curiously or her intrigue towards the actor. Of course, there was also the fact that he was perhaps the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Unfortunately, any nerve she may have gathered to approach him now went right out the window thanks to the embarrassing tweet she had posted. There was absolutely no way she’d risk him knowing who she was, she supposed it didn’t matter since she had decided against meeting him anyway. Disappointment pooling in her stomach but she quickly squashed it as she began hunting down her friends.

She had only taken a few steps when a drunken idiot stopped her path and came onto her quite aggressively and for a moment a spike of fear washed through her. Normally, she knew how to handle men who didn’t know how to take no for an answer. This bastard was about twice her size and had her arm in an iron grip that each she attempted to tug it loose, his hand only tightened in response causing her to wince at the pressure. Her empty threat that her boyfriend was around had done nothing to deter the man who leered down at her. Sydney then attempted to shove him with her free arm but he barely budged and just as his arm was about to snake around her waist, she saw a hand grab the bastard off her and freeing her arm. She hoped she didn’t look as scared as she had felt in those brief moments but her racing heart didn’t slow because it was then she finally caught the face of her savior. Ezra Meyer. She had to fight to keep the shock off her features but she supposed her fear was doing an excellent job of masking her shock. It took her a few seconds to finally get her brain to work as she realized she was just staring at him while he inquired about her well-being.

Thanks to the incident moments before, it seemed to place her fear of being recognized behind her more so when he stared at her only with concern. Hearing the gentleness in his voice did ease her earlier fear a bit, and she nodded. “I’m fine. A little bruise but nothing that won’t heal.” She said her hand covering the red finger prints the man’s grip had left. Sydney then cleared her throat and gave the actor a small grateful smile, “I can’t thank you enough for showing up when you did. I owe you one, can I buy you a drink or something?” She paused then, realizing how that sounded, “I’m not hitting on you by the way..” Feeling need to add that bit in case he got the wrong idea.

Ezra had never done this; went out of his way to help someone in distress. Not that he was a selfish individual. It just never happened to him before. Now that he was standing before the lithe woman, who’s face still looked all too familiar, he couldn’t help but feel a draw to her. He couldn’t pinpoint where he’d met her before, yet he knew that he’d seen that beautiful face. Her features were distinctive; from those full ruby red lips, cute nose, eyelashes that went on forever, right down to her dark thick brows; he swore he’d seen all of that before. She couldn’t be someone who was loose of morals, the types who would sleep with celebrities, could she? Again, not that he did that often, though he did have his weak moments. What man in their right mind could resist a beautiful woman anyway? No one. Unless they were not into women, which he totally was. He plundered into the recesses of his mind, trying his best to find out if he could remember her face, but it was no use. He had nothing. Just as well. He obviously didn’t need the answer that badly. Otherwise he would have recognized her by now.

He’d just about to forget about it when she spoke. She was saying that she was fine, but judging by how fast she made the remark, he doubted that she truly was. “You sure?” He asked, needing for some reason that was unknown to him to make sure that she was indeed truly alright. “No need to thank me,” he shook his head, a friendly smile appearing on his features for her, “I would’ve done this for anyone.” Really? Nah, he didn’t think so. She just so happened to be lucky that he was around–with a security team. He didn’t regret it however. There was also the added bonus that she was beautiful. Okay, when he initially helped her, he wasn’t checking her out. He was doing what he should be doing, which was be a good Samaritan. Her beauty was simply an added bonus. “You don’t have to buy me a drink.” He added. It was her next statement that made him realize who he was talking to. “You’re her! That girl on twitter…” The words trailed off as he thought about the tweet of him that had gone viral. He didn’t remember what she said word for word, but it definitely had a lot to do with her undying love for him. “–So you have a crush on me, huh?” He queried, his hues dancing with mirth. “I don’t blame you. I’d have a crush on me too, if I were you…” And just because he was feeling playful, he shot the brunette a wink.

Out of all the people she could have imagined coming to her rescue, never did she think it would be Ezra. But then again she supposed she never imagined she’d even run into actor so maybe today was just a strange a day. If Sydney thought Ezra was beautiful on the screen then he was even more breathtaking in real life. As she stood watching him get rid of the creep who had grabbed her, her green hues studied his sharp features, her heart pounding from her incident withe the drunk man and now because she stood just about a feet or so away from the man she admired so much. Perhaps that was putting it too lightly, no, she was a devoted follower of the actor because it was not a big leap to assume that Sydney was absolutely bewitched by him. She realized just how pathetic her thoughts were regarding this man considering she barely knew him, but it still didn’t stop the thoughts that formed in her mind towards Ezra. There was something so compelling about the man that did nothing to ease her affection for the man.

So, despite her reassurance she still heard him confirm if indeed she was fine, Sydney dropped her hand and nodded. “Yes, really, thanks to you.” She told him sincerely just as she heard his next remark which had a smile curve her ruby red lips, her eyes alight and she didn’t know why but that comment pleased her quite a lot. “My hero.” She remarked jokingly, of course, hoping she wouldn’t say something so stupid in her nervousness. The make-up artist was really good with poker face which is why she hoped her nervousness at his mere presence wasn’t so evident on her features. Her relief of him not knowing was short-lived. It was his next words that shocked her a bit, green eyes widening slightly when Ezra had indeed recognized her from her tweet. It was perhaps that moment that Sydney wished the ground would open and swallow her whole. Or a massive wave would come over to the shore and take her with it, anything was better than standing here with a shocked look on her face as Ezra called her out on her embarrassing tweet she’d done on impulse. Her lips parted but no words came out as she tried to compose her features which she did a minute or so later, but she found herself looking away not quite finding the nerve to answer him. Sydney wasn’t sure how this would go because she never expected to him to find her tweet let alone run into him. However, what she hadn’t been expecting was the remark that followed after, the cocky tone in which he had delivered them and she wondered if he was mocking her until she met his gaze and saw the mirth gleaming in his eyes and then the wink. The brunette didn’t know what it was but that cocky remark irked her a bit, dare she say also disappointed her. Brow raised at him she spoke, “I’m still in shock that you read it and remembered exactly who tweeted it. And I wouldn’t say a crush, it was just a silly little thing..” Sydney told him neutrally, “Cocky aren’t you though?” She supposed it’s not so surprising, he was an celebrity after all. “And here I thought you were a bit more humble than that.” Her words a bit blunt, “I’m sure you get millions of tweets like those everyday.”

Perhaps teasing the brunette about her tweet wasn’t the classiest thing Ezra could’ve done. He should’ve been more of a gentleman, and yet, he was still human and things like subtly and being decent sometimes just slip past him. It wasn’t his intention to hurt her or be an ass, it was more of his way to lighten the mood a little. It might’ve rubbed her the wrong way though. Not that he could blame her for her reaction. He was being a total dick. He deserved nothing less. Her response had a smile stretching upon his features. Lithe in frame she might be, but there was something else that made her stand out; the woman had gumption. He actually admired that in her. Her question had him smirking, the memory of the very unfortunate tweet coming to the forefront of his mind. He could still remember it clearly, not word for word, but the icon of the person who’d made the tweet. Ezra remembered being mesmerized for a moment, feeling that it was too good to be true. Someone as beautiful as she was couldn’t possibly have a crush on him. He should be the one who should be holding those feelings, and not her.

One thing he would admit as he stood here, gazing down on her mesmerizing hazel hues, she looked even more beautiful in person than she did on that photo. Especially with ire burning within her irises, he swore he could stand here and just stare at her. Her remark had him blinking his eyes and focusing on her words instead of her pretty face. “I didn’t remember,” he admitted, his head shaking, the cocky smirk still holding its place, “what I do remember is your face. Those eyebrows of yours. How could anyone miss it?” Did that sound like a compliment or an insult? He meant well by it, yet he did have the tendency to stick his foot in his mouth, especially when it came to being around someone he might like. Not that he liked her or anything. Of course not… That would be ridiculous. “Cocky? I wouldn’t say that I was. I’d call it excessive confidence.” He stated this while shooting her a wink. Okay, this was getting weird. Why was he acting like this? “Hey, if I wasn’t humble, I wouldn’t have rescued you just now.” The words sprang forward rather quickly much to his surprise. And technically, he didn’t do much, he simply grabbed the guy by his collar and pulled him away. The rest was done by his security team. He didn’t miss the sharpness of her tongue. Clearly, she wasn’t amused by his behavior, and to be honest, neither was he. He didn’t even understand why he felt the need to act this way. This wasn’t like him at all. “Not from someone as beautiful as you.” He told her, this time he was being earnest. Never had he seen anyone so breathtaking, and he was in the entertainment industry…

It wasn’t that his approach had been horrible but a part of her surprise came from the fact that she hadn’t expected the man to make such an arrogant remark. Nor had she expected him to hit on her right after rescuing her, she just wasn’t used to such attention from a man of his stature. Men like him didn’t hit on women like her which is not to say that Sydney believed herself to be unattractive, she was aware of how attractive she was and was told so by both genders. It was just that she didn’t deem herself to be someone that would be hit on by a man who had no doubt been with stunning models and actresses in the entertainment industry. However, she wasn’t a complete twat to deny that she was flattered that Ezra seemed to notice her, whether he was sincere or not, that remained to be seen. Perhaps the silver lining in this was that Ezra while incredibly cocky, didn’t seem like the rude and snobby types that she had dealt with on set who looked down upon others that weren’t to their social standing. Her initial hesitance to approach him just minutes before he rescued her was because she was a bit afraid that he’d be exactly the rude type.

Ezra’s constant stare did unnerve her mostly because her body reacted very strongly to his piercing gaze. She almost guilty for the way she responding to his gaze because she was dating Lucia, a woman whom Sydney was incredibly attracted to and genuinely liked that she felt as she was doing something wrong by being attracted to this man. Well, it didn’t matter because as much as she admired him she had no intentions of dating him or anything. She’d met Ezra by chance and perhaps this would be the last time she’d ever see him and that might explain her body’s reaction. She simply was not used to being in the presence of an attractive man let alone being hit on by one. “Oh god, not you too..” She muttered under her breath, but of course he’d notice her eyebrows the one thing she despised about herself as a young girl because of the attention it drew, attention she also did not care for. “See, I can’t tell if your insulting me or complimenting.” She remarked pulling his leg for embarrassing her for a moment. However, that didn’t stop the brief amusement that flickered across her hazel hues nor did it stop the reluctant soft laughter that bubbled from within. She was amused by the words but she still wasn’t impressed, but then again Sydney wasn’t easily impressed by a pretty face and a few charming words. “You have a slick answer for everything don’t you?” Before shaking her head softly, and meeting his gaze, “Well, I would say rescuing me would make you a good Samaritan but I’m grateful nonetheless also thank your bodyguards for me.” His latter words however had her freeze for a moment, her gaze snapping over to him and dare she say he looked a bit nervous? Much to her dismay, butterflies swan at the pit of her stomach but she shook of the feeling of flattery and something else that rushed through her briefly. “Well….thank you.” Sydney then cleared her throat, tearing her gaze away to look over his shoulder, “Though I wouldn’t say that’s entirely true. I’ll be honest I’m not sure what you’re trying to gain by all the compliments. I do feel like I should clear up something, I don’t have a crush on you. That tweet was just a mindless thought, with that said, I do however think you’re extremely talented in your work.” Now that bit was the truth, she enjoyed watching Ezra on screen no one could deny that.

Ezra would never dare insult a woman, especially not one that was as bewitching as she was. It wasn’t just her beauty either, it was everything about her. From the bold tweet that he read right down to the way she wasn’t afraid to talk back to him. Most ordinary people, women especially, would gawk at him, and react as though he walked on water. Not this one. She knew exactly how to put him in his place, and maybe it sounded weird to others, but he admired that about her. The urge to get to know the spunky beauty was almost overwhelming, and normally he would be a little smoother in his delivery, yet with her, everything that came out sounded wrong, as though he was trying too hard, or worse yet, as if he’d never been around a beautiful woman before. He had. Of course, he did. However, none of them made him feel this need; the pull to want a little more, to get to know how her mind ticked. He’d been drawn to her even before he ever laid eyes on her personally–thanks to her mishap on Twitter. Now that she was here, there was no way he was going to allow her to slip through his grasp. One way or another, he would see her again; preferably on a date setting. For some, he might be too sure of himself, or even cocky, but that was just how Ezra’s mind worked. He didn’t give up, especially when he wanted something. He would chase after it until what he sought after was finally his.

A sheepish smile formed across his features, and he let out a chuckle at her remark. Despite knowing that he shouldn’t have noticed, he did. Perhaps she was a little self conscious about her eyebrows, which she honestly shouldn’t. They were beautiful, just like the owner. Her eyes were what drew him in to begin with. He almost felt as though her irises were trying to tell him something. What. He didn’t know, but he knew that he wasn’t going to stop until he unearth the reason behind the draw he felt for the woman. “Yes, me too.” He told her, the gentle smile still displayed for her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it as an insult. You have very beautiful brows, and eyes.” He finally explained, not wanting her to think that he was teasing her, because he truly meant to compliment her. Though he felt like an idiot for his faux pas earlier, at least he’d tried to make amends, therefore, he wasn’t that big of a tool. Well, at least he didn’t think so. When she called him slick, he had to laugh it off–nervously. God, what was this woman doing to him? He was Ezra Meyer, he didn’t get nervous… “I don’t have a slick answer. Sometimes, my tongue gets away with itself.” He tried to reason, though he didn’t know why he even felt the need to do so, he simply felt that he had to. Odd. “No, I was here so I helped. I’ll let my guys know that you’re grateful for their help.” He smiled at her as he spoke those words, his head tilting a little as he saw her reaction changing. Ezra might not have been an expert, but he could’ve sworn he saw her blush. She looked radiant like that, and he wanted to see a little more of that blush. “Really? So are you telling me that you do this to other actors as well, tweet that you have a crush on them even though you don’t?” He clicked his tongue afterwards, and then continued, “It doesn’t sound that you’re telling me the truth here, but thank you for the compliment. I’m proud of my work, and it’s good to know that others enjoy my acting as well.” He was mostly joking around, trying to make fun of the situation, and he hoped that she caught that by the way he was smiling down at her.

This entire exchange she was having with Ezra seemed so surreal because celebrities weren’t supposed to be like this. Especially not handsome men like Ezra, they were not supposed to stand around and give this much attention to a normal person they just happen to run into by accident. This was perhaps what threw her off for a bit, more so when he outright complimented her and then point the one thing he liked but she was very self-conscious of. Perhaps what puzzled her more was the way he kept gazing at her, as if he were waiting for something but what she didn’t know. She would never vocalize her attraction to him but she wouldn’t so dense as to deny it to herself. Then a smile curved his lips and Sydney found herself watching the brief action with utter fascination before she realized what she was doing and snapped out of it. Her heart still running ahead of her as she tried to calm it, keeping her features composed she spoke, but she was sure her cheeks definitely gave her blush. “Thank you, but why I do have a feeling you say this to a lot of girls?” Referring to eyes compliment he bestowed upon her. “If you are tying to hit on me, I can tell you right now I’m not interested.” Her words weren’t harsh, rather they were a matter-of-factly. An amused smile curved her own lips when he admitted to letting his mouth get the best of him, the sheepish look on his features made him look…normal. “Hmm, you could have fooled me. Especially with the crush comment you delivered oh so cockily a few moments go. But I suppose with a face like yours, you’re used to a different response from women.”

Ezra had caught her there, and she wished the group would open and swallow her whole once more because the man made an excellent point. Sydney didn’t go around sending tweets to other male celebrities she admired, at least two the kind she had sent to this actor. The brunette could feel her face heat up once more and she cursed at herself for being so affected by this man whom she barely knew and had no interest in pursuing. But as she stood and continued to indulge him, Sydney felt that familiar pull towards him as she did every time she saw him on screen. “I guess you’ll never know, won’t you?” She paused giving him an easy shrug, “Maybe I do, would you be offended?” She asked madly curious and raising a brow at him but of course she didn’t except an answer more than she was trying to take the spotlight off her. “Even if i’m not being truthful, it doesn’t matter, now does it?” She didn’t give him time to reflect on that before giving him a small smile, “You should be proud, I think I speak for a lot of people when I say we enjoying watching you.” She could see the humor in his eyes as she stared back at him, “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you by here among us?” Gesturing towards the festivals.

It was rather astonishing to hear her conclusion of him. Of course Ezra wasn’t at all surprised that she would think of him as nothing but a player; he did came onto to her strongly. He wasn’t at all however. Although, he was friendly, he mostly liked keeping his personal life private; and it wasn’t because he had a hoard of women waiting in the wings to date him either. He just liked to keep certain things private. Hence the reason why there had been no sightings of him out on dates. He preferred it that way. Plus, if he was being honest, he never did understand why people would believe that he had a reputation of being a player; that was far from the truth. In the past year, he’d only been on one date and even then, it was more of a friendly get together. He didn’t see the point in dating anyone when he should be waiting to meet his soulmate. Besides, work kept him busy enough, he didn’t need to be in a relationship to fill a void that he never felt. Although now that he was standing before this beauty, he wondered that maybe she could be his other half. It might be possible seeing as he was so drawn to her. “I don’t say it to all the girls. Only you.” Which wasn’t a lie. He didn’t make a habit of hitting on women, he was just drawn to her. Seeing her sweetly smiling at him, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to get to know her even more. The need was intense; the pull too strong for him to deny. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to sound cocky. If I may be so bold…” He paused then, stepping an inch closer, eyes locking with hers. “–I find you refreshing.”

There was a change to her demeanor, and he could’ve sworn that she’d blushed. A part of him felt bad for possibly embarrassing her, but a bigger part of him was rather glad to see that he could silence her. It was only an added bonus to be able to gaze upon her while she thought of her next retort. His brows rose then, a half a smile forming on his lips for her sassy response. “I could investigate, you know. It’s not that hard.” He returned, though he kept his tone light to make sure she knew that he was joking. “It matters to me. I like feeling special.” There was no way she couldn’t tell that he was freely flirting with her now, even someone who was daft could tell by how he was smiling at her. If that wasn’t enough, he couldn’t seem to stop staring at her either. His gaze was stuck on her beautiful face the whole time; mesmerized that someone so gorgeous was in his presence, bantering back and forth with him. “Thanks. That’s why I do what I do.” This part made him feel a little awkward, though he loved his job, he didn’t do it for the fans, he did it for himself, because he enjoyed it. It boggles his mind still that people actually enjoyed his craft. “I was signing autographs. It makes it easier to do it in Stonehill seeing as I live here.” He answered her question without hesitation. “What about you? Are you here for the festivities or did you come to see me?” The last question made him chuckle, it also spoke of his intent; that he was simply joking around with her.

Sydney knew she making far too many assumptions considering she barely ever spotted Ezra with many women. If he was with them, he was one the few who was skilled at keeping his life private in that sense. Sydney almost hated how curious she was to know what sort of history he had with women but she also quickly chided herself because she had no business or the right to even wonder such a thing. Yes, she had a bit of a ridiculous crush on him but that hardly translated into feelings for interest not when she was dating a lovely woman herself. So when she had somewhat accused him of saying the same words to other women, her green hues had no missed his slight look of surprise. Still, despite her best efforts that compliment coming from Ezra who’d seen his fair share of gorgers women made her smile nonetheless. “You don’t, hmm, is that right?” She asked quirking a brow as her eyes gleamed and why she was standing around and flirting? with him, the brunette had no idea. Her eyes were still trained on him, mostly in a curious manner as if he were a puzzle she was trying to piece together. It was then noticed him taking a step closer whilst he spoke, and she felt her breath catch when their eyes locked. She was stunned to see that intense look in his piercing eyes that almost left her breathless. Partly hating herself for reacting the way she was just because he happened to flirt with her a bit. But his words had sent her heart into yet another frenzy that she couldn’t think of one witty remark to make that was her usual response to this sort of thing when she was flustered. “You’ve been bold since the moment you approached me.” She managed to slip out, her lips twitching a bit, “And you don’t strike me as the type to be…uncertain.” His voice softer than he had been just minutes ago.

Sydney could stand there and continue to deny it to herself but whether she liked it or not, she felt completely drawn to him. She only wished she knew why she was, she’d met dozens of celebrities she was fond of but none of them had her reacting this way as she was towards Ezra. However, for once she was stunned into silence by his words and a part of her wondered if this was all a figment of her imagination. But the way her body was responding and her heart was pounding, she knew this was very much real, that Ezra was in fact hitting on her. Worse of it, Sydney was liking it much to her dismay. If she had any doubts of his intention, well, they were all clear now as she felt the weight of his gaze on her and he refused to look away with let her more flustered. Her lips curved into an amused smile at his quick response, “You could but that would be very ungentlemanly of you, unless you aren’t a gentlemen?” She trailed off forgetting for a moment she wasn’t supposed to be flirting back with him. She knew he was jesting from his tone, before she laughed at his next words. “Ezra, you’re a hot shot actor with billions of fan. How much more special could you want to feel? I’m just one fan among throngs of them and one you barely know and came across by accident.” She explained with a slight shrug, “I’m sure your fans make you feel special every day. Ignoring how conceited you sound right there.”She let him see her amused smile so he’d see she was also pulling his leg in return. She nodded, “I’m sure thats not the only reason why you do it. You love it, don’t you? Acting, stepping into different roles that challenge you. You look like sometimes you forget there are cameras surrounding you.” She murmured mostly to herself that she wasn’t sure if he’d heard that. “That it does, you sure seemed to make the kids happy.” Gesturing to the several kids that walked by and stared at Ezra which had Sydney smiling before she heard his latter words and shook her head. Her nose pinching up a bit, “As I thought, you are far too arrogant for your own good. I should tell you, I didn’t know you’d be here so you can imagine my surprise and then my embarrassment when you recognized me.” But Sydney laughed along with him. “It’s been….interesting chatting with you….”

Ezra had never allowed himself to let go like this. Although he’d dated in the past, his affections were not freely given. It was as though there was something pulling him back and telling him that the women in his past were nothing but people he could have fun with. There was no bigger plans written in the horizon for them. Sydney was different however. The draw he felt for her was so strong, he was nearly rendered speechless by it. It made him wonder then, if maybe she was his destiny; his other half. He wasn’t a cynic, and believed in soulmates; even if he wasn’t actively searching for his, he knew that he would someday cross paths with the person who was born to complete him. He simply had faith that it would happen. “No, I don’t. You’re just special.” He reiterated, his hues still lingering with hers, hoping that she could sense his sincerity. Perhaps the bold way he came on to her was a tell. It might be his own subconscious telling him that he might’ve found his match, because he honestly had never been this way with anyone. “I know I have been, and I should apologize, but at the same time, I don’t think I should be.” He returned, his voice clear and concise, not allowing room for Sydney to mistake his intention. His body language, the way he spoke, everything screamed that he liked her. “A human being is allowed to be unsure of things. On the other hand, I’m very sure of how I feel.” Feeling bold for some odd reason, he reached out and tucked back the hair that was flowing in the wind.

Ezra’s fingers lightly grazed Sydney’s skin as he pulled his hand back, and even with such a slight action, he could feel her softness marking him, daring him to touch her once more. It was as if she was a Siren, leading him to his doom, even though he didn’t feel the least bit worried that she would be his downfall. If anything, she could probably make him shine even brighter. “Lucky for you, I am a gentleman, otherwise I might just snoop around to find out more about you.” He could still do that, hire a private investigator to unearth the mysteries about her life that he wanted answers to. But he wasn’t going to go down that route. If he was going to find out about her, he would have to do it the old fashioned way, by asking her. “Do I actually have billions of fans? I don’t think so. I guess I must be greedy when it comes to you.–Just so you know, I don’t believe in accidents. Destiny, now that I believe in. Perhaps this is just Destiny’s way to tell me something…us something.” He tilted his head down a little, allowing his face to inch even closer to the beauty. God, he was definitely smitten by her. If only he could convince her to go out with him, that would make him even happier. “I don’t pay attention to them all that much. You however, I could pay attention to for a long time.” He returned with a shrug, now biting on his bottom lip a little as he continued to gaze upon her beautiful features. “I do what I can. Signing autographs is part of the job, right? Without them,” he nodded at the hoards of children and people in general, “I wouldn’t have a job.”He wasn’t delusional enough to believe that he could do this without help, and made sure to always show his appreciation in any way he could. “I do love it. I wouldn’t be doing it for so long if I didn’t love acting. It’s like you said, I get to act out different characters. It’s really interesting.” He agreed with her assessment wholeheartedly. Acting might be mere entertainment for some, but for him, it was art, a way to express his creativity, and he was glad that Sydney understood that. “What? Me arrogant?” He gasped, feigning surprise, “I could never behave that way. I always want to be charming with you.–It’s been interesting to meet me? Is that your way of saying that you want me to get out of your face?” The thought of having to leave her so soon left a hole in his heart. He didn’t want to have to do that, but if he must, he might as well ask the question that has been itching to come out. “Would it be bold of me to ask for your phone number?” He sounded unsure as he posed the question, afraid that she might tell him no.

It had been such a long time since someone had complimented her so well, whether Ezra was serious or not was another thing it didn’t change the fact that she liked what she heard from him. Which made her feel a bit naive because his attentions were fleeting right now she might have caught his eye but she was nothing more than a passing fancy. Maybe he was curious but how long would she be able to hold his interest? Not for very long, not when there was a sea of fascinating people right in the entertainment industry. It was what made it easy for her to humor him while he flirted, sure she flirted back but not to the extent that he seemed to be. So, then why in the world was her heart racing? She chalked it up to being star-struck but this man certainly had an uncanny ability to make a woman feel so special. She tried not to focus on the way his eyes lingered on her, oh, he was really good at this. “No, I don’t think you’d be sorry neither should you be. Nothing wrong with being bold.” She told him sincerely, there was no rule against it. It was his next words that caused her to move her gaze to him, silently watching as he stepped closer and brushed her hair back. “How you feel. How do you feel anything? You just met me.” She countered, wanting to move back from his rather intriguing touch but somehow her body would not move.

His touch had been light but god she had felt the sparks of it across her entire cheek, causing it to tingle. God, she had to resist the urge to shut her eyes and lean into his touch but her embarrassment stopped her from doing anything. Sydney cleared her throat but still her feet would not move to step away from him and she felt the heat of his body slowly transfer over to her. Tucking her own hair back she met his gaze once more, ensuring her features remained neutral lest he see her flurry of emotions. Her eyes widened slightly at his confession, lips parting once more but no sound came. It took her a split second to realize he was jesting but her heart hammered once more against her chest. “Lucky for me indeed.” she murmured not quite sure what to say to that before she heard him continue and remained silent because for once her witty remarks were failing her. She’d never been in situation like this nor was she used so such attentions from anyone, let alone Ezra. “I didn’t know you believed in all of that. Its charming though, and it a bit strange hearing it from you just as strange hearing you say you want my attention.” She would be lying if she said she did, because when it came down she believed in no such thing. She believed their encounter to be nothing more than a coincidence. She wasn’t a cynic per say but she was not a romantic either but somehow she sensed Ezra was which made her admire him even more for some inexplicable reason. Why that little appealed to her, she did not know. “I don’t know what its trying to tell us, other than coincidences happen on occasion. As for paying attention to me, I really wish you don’t.” She told matter of factly, meeting her gaze to show him just how serious she was of her words. She felt like a bitch for sure, but Sydney wanted no such attention for this man mostly because she hated how she was responding to it. How drawn she was to him and it scared her beyond belief. It scared her because if he wanted to, he could easily make her do as he asked. She could not allow that.

Sydney nodded when he began speaking about how much he loved his work, she could see that passion in his eyes for what he did and it make her like him even more. Whereas people went into the business for fame, Ezra didn’t and she had so much respect for people like him. She respected people who respected that art of acting that it was so much more than looking pretty on a camera and the fame that came with it. it was why it was such a pleasure watching on screen, because Ezra put his soul into his characters. “Your cocky but your also very humble, I guess I was a bit wrong about you.” She admitted, “It really is, and I can tell how you love it. I wish other actors had the same sort of passion as you do for your work.” She blurted out without really thinking it threw, “I mean, if only people looked at acting the way you did.” She quickly amended. A laugh left her lips at his innocent look and she gave him a amused look in return, “Arrogant but yes your charming, Ezra. I bet you make ladies fall in love with you left and right.” She teased before a chuckle left her yet again. She smiled at him secretly, not giving anything away, “Interesting, amongst other things.” Letting him make of that what he would. “I don’t mean to be rude but my friends will be looking for me” She then showed him her phone that was blown with text messages form said friends. “I can’t keep them waiting.” Then he asked her for her number and Sydney stared at him a bit confused, but this man was determined if not anything. “Yes, it would be but you don’t shy away from bold. I’m not sure thats a good idea, you seem to want something from me. I don’t know what exactly but I’m sure I can’t give it to you regardless….”

When Ezra woke up this morning, he didn’t know what the day was going to be like. He went about his daily routine; working out at his home gym, having breakfast, going about the day as if it was any other Halloween. His life consisted of work and more work. He hadn’t had a day off since forever, and he was fine with it; happy even. What he didn’t expect was for all of this to happen. Everyday, he would think about some crazy occurrence that had come to pass and today of all days, he remembered the tweet that Sydney had made; the one that made him take notice of her. He could still feel the regret bearing down on him for not having contact her back then. He had wanted to, but didn’t dare go against the advice of his manager. After all, he had an image to protect; at least that was the argument his manager made. He’d decided then that he needed to put the incident in the past and not think about the brunette with the striking eyes. That’s what he remembered calling her when he gazed upon her profile photo. Little did he know that their destinies was about to intertwine. Some call it coincidence, but Ezra knew better. Their meeting was Faith’s way of saying that she was supposed to be in his life; though he didn’t know in what capacity… Still, the idea of her being his other half lingered within the depths of his conscience. He couldn’t be sure of it until he kissed her–and he would kiss her someday, he was sure of it. His gaze drifted down to her full lips, his desire to kiss her was so strong, it took his breath away. Before he could allow himself to foolishly pull her in for a kiss, her forced himself to focus on the conversation or at least try to.

“I didn’t think so either. I think you might like me better because I’m bold.” Ezra responded, a cheeky grin feature upon his face. Her question didn’t even phase him, he’d never been so sure of anything in his life. There was just something about being around Sydney that felt right. “Sometimes, when you know, you just know…” He remarked rather cryptically; he didn’t have to know her to feel the way he felt. His feelings were just there. Could this be love at first sight? He wasn’t so sure if he believed that notion. Lust at first sight, sure… Everyone has experienced that, but this wasn’t like that. He didn’t want her physically, or at least not just her body–he wasn’t a eunuch, he had sexual needs too. This went beyond anything physical. He needed to know her, every fiber of his being was yelling at him not to let her go. His hues took her in once again, taking in her lithe figure and the way she’d cleared her throat. Could it be that he wasn’t the only one feeling this pull? Did she feel the sizzle of the slight touch he’d accidentally bestowed upon her? He wasn’t bold enough to believe in such a thing, and yet, once again, his mind wondered if maybe he’d been right all along, that she truly was his intended other half. “Come on, you can’t really call this a coincidence. What is the likelihood of you getting saved by the actor you so publicly say you have a crush on?” A brow arched as the question left him, though he really didn’t need the answer. “As for paying attention to you… I can’t help myself. It’s only fair after you’ve declared your undying love for me.” God, he sounded like such a jackass here, he knew that, but instead of apologizing, he shot her a wink and smiled. She’d already thought he was cocky, so why not just continue with the role, right?

Ezra’s grin turned into a full on genuine smile when he heard her complimenting him. It felt right to hear those words coming from her, as if her appreciation meant the world to him. And the funny part about all this was, he never needed anyone’s approval before this. He’d gone into acting because he simply love it, not because he needed people to love him. That wasn’t important, and yet, hearing Sydney’s compliment sounded like the sweetest of symphonies. It was an odd feeling, one he wanted to feel over and over if given the chance. “Thanks. I like to surprise people every once in a while. I suppose it’s not always bad to be cocky as long as there’s a humble side to a person.” He added on to her remark, still smiling brightly for her. “Some people get into acting for the wrong reasons. Those are the ones that get into trouble.” It was true, the ones that only wanted fame tended to get into drugs or whatever shit that would bring them to a downward spiral. It was rather sad really. “I don’t know about women falling in love with me. Most of them just care about me because I’m an actor or because they think I’m hot or whatever.” He waved a hand around to dismiss the topic; he didn’t want women to lust after him or fall for him for the wrong reasons, he would rather not have the attention. Again, he felt discomfort creeping into his heart when she made an excuse to leave, he wanted her to give him her phone number, but Sydney was resisting his request. He knew then not to push it, even if it pained him to walk away from her not knowing if he would ever see her again. “I’m not going to push for it. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” He was more than certain of that, he didn’t want to sound cocky, but there was no way they would’ve met like this if he wasn’t fated to be in her life in some way. “You should go meet up your friends before they really blow up your phone with their text messages.” He encouraged, smiling down at the lithe framed woman.When one of his bodyguards gestured that it was time for him to leave, he let out a sigh and addressed Sydney once more. “That’s my queue to leave. You take care of yourself, Sydney. I’ll see you again soon.” Then, because he couldn’t stop himself, he took her hand and pressed a kiss on the back of it. “Till next time.” He hummed, gently released said hand and backed away from her. With a smile on his face, he headed back to his car with security surrounding him, already looking forward to his next meeting with the brunette with the striking eyes.

#sezra01 #ezra x sydney

1 note · View note

stellalux-universe · 5 years ago

Text

Notes:

Whoo-hooo! Look who's back!

I'm so sorry this took so long! December literally kicked my ass, and I tried to write, I really did. But every day I got home from work and literally passed out on my couch... so, yeah, didn't get much done over the holidays.

But I'm back and better and I'm gonna say that I'll update more regularly but we'll see. My goal is at least two chapters a month... but we'll see how that goes -hangs head in shame-

Anyways! Please enjoy and comment if you like! My resolution for 2020, besides writing more, is to comment more on fics that I enjoy instead of telling myself that I'll go back and comment later and then totally forgetting like the trash that I am.

Love you all!

-Partial smut (of fucking course with me) so NSFW friends.

Tag list of gorgeous people who requested I inform them of when I post because they’re the sweetest 😭: @smokeandmirrorz @xpoisonousrosesx and @duffshairdye

*Let me know if you would like to be added to a general tag list or just to this story and I’ll so do it!

Chapter 3: Some Like The Evil

The sunlight filtering through the windows and into the bedroom is far too bright to belong to the morning. The intense glare settles over Nikki’s eyelids, warm, orange, and irritating when all he wants to do in the world is keep sleeping. It figures that he would have been too fucked up last night to actually draw the blinds before he fell into bed.

He has nothing to do today, one of his last days off before rehearsals and preparations kick into high gear for the tour so he fights tooth and nail against returning to consciousness, desiring nothing more than to sink back into that blissful haze of slumber but it’s of no use. His mind is slowly becoming more and more aware of the world around him and as he drowsily blinks his eyelids open, he groans in annoyance when his eyes burn with the transition from darkness to light.

He wants to raise a hand to cover his eyes but as soon as he tries he finds that he can’t lift his arms, more than that, he can barely even twitch his fingers. The shock wakes him up completely enough to realize that his whole body is heavy, weighed down like lead, and an exhaustion he’s never known is suddenly apparent to him. He’s been tired before, even been exhausted before after a killer show and a long night of partying, but the bone deep fatigue that makes him struggle to even minimally move his body is unlike anything that he has ever felt before.

For a moment he thinks that he’s maybe come down with something and gotten himself seriously sick. It’s the only explanation that his tired mind can come up with because he didn’t do anything last night to explain why he’s feeling this way. He wracks his brain, going over the events of the previous day to try to find a reason for why his body feels like it’s about ten times heavier. He had felt fine when he got home, he had fucked around a bit and watched some tv, went to his studio to try to write a bit, got frustrated over not being able to write a damn thing, drank a third of a handle of Jack… passed out and went to bed. Standard practice for a night in.

But then, unbidden, his brain flashes a series of images as he tries to pinpoint an explanation; curly hair and glowing eyes looking up at him from beneath dark lashes, long slender back arched beneath him, red lips and a wicked smile and sharp teeth… no, not teeth, fangs. Fangs that sunk into the skin of his shoulders, horns tucked in amongst wild wavy brown hair, a tail that wrapped itself around Nikki’s thigh as he fucked the gorgeous demon from behind, and claws that tore down his back as he nailed him with his legs wrapped around his waist.

Remembering his dream is nothing but bitter sweet but he’s torn out of his thought process when a soft noise starts making itself known to him. That’s when Nikki finally looks down and very nearly has a heart attack at what meets his eyes.

It’s nearly impossible to him and for a second his mind is blank, he’s holding his breath and everything just stops because there, laid out and curled up on his chest, is the demon from his dream. Nikki almost thinks that he’s still dreaming but the haziness that had been over him the previous night is gone and his clarity tells him that he is more than definitely awake which also makes him realize something else.

Last night was absolutely, startlingly real.

It wasn’t a dream, or an alcohol infused fantasy, it wasn’t even a hallucination. He really spent all night fucking a demon and what’s more, it had been the single best sexual experience of his life. Even now, looking down at the demon purring, absolutely fucking purring, as he slept on his chest, Nikki thinks that he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. In the sunlight pouring over them he can see that his long curly hair is actually a dark brown instead of black like he thought last night, his skin is olive toned and lightly tanned, one hand cutely curled up by his pretty face.

None of that seems to stop the steady panic filling him though, and he has to look back up and away from the demon, Tommy- his mind supplies out of nowhere, and try to calm himself down before he loses it.

For all that he found witchcraft and religion monumentally interesting, he didn’t actually believe a single word of it. He’d had friends growing up who went to church and his grandparents had of course tried to get him involved with theirs as a way to alter his behavior during his childhood but Nikki had made his peace with the fact that there was no way any type of god existed a long time ago. He was drawn to Satanic imagery for the pure aesthetic and used it in his music and his performances as a metaphor for rebelling against the norm, and as a fuck you to general society of course. It was dark and twisted, often how he felt himself, so of course he gravitated to it but that was the extent of his involvement.

This challenges everything he knew, everything he thought he believed and didn’t believe in because if the demon on top of him right now was real, does that mean that everything else is too? Are there angels, and a God and heaven and hell? Is there a Satan and what does that mean for him if there is? Is this creature going to wake up and just slaughter him, right here in his bed in the bright light of day and send him to hell where he undoubtedly belongs after everything he has done in his life so far? Surely fucking a demon and going multiple rounds would be a sure way to get barred from heaven even if nothing else that he has done had.

He struggles to move his body again, breathing and heart rate fast in his alarm, but he can’t do much more than squirm uselessly as his body is nearly completely unresponsive. He’s so busy fighting the muscles in his limbs to try to get them to just move that he doesn’t even notice that the soft purring has stopped until he happens to look back down to try to figure out what to do about his paralysis and sees the demon glaring up at him from beneath the fringe of his bangs and if Nikki could have jumped in his surprise, he would have.

As it is, he just freezes, green eyes wide as he watches the demon blink sleepily and sit up, both hands resting on Nikki’s chest so he can arch and stretch his back like a cat on top of him and it’s because of that movement that Nikki realizes that he’s still inside of the demon, Tommy straddled across his lap and still impaled on his now soft cock and while the idea of the creature falling asleep with Nikki’s dick inside of him is obscenely hot, it does nothing to quell his current panic. He’s definitely going straight to hell for this.

Tommy finally settles on top of him, sitting up straight on Nikki’s hips and tilting his head curiously as he looks down at him and Nikki really needs to stop thinking that this literal demon is cute right now before he has an aneurysm.

“Well, you woke me up with all your panic, so you want to tell me what’s wrong Nik?” The demon actually has the audacity to look annoyed with him, big brown eyes narrowed and actually pouting as he looks down at him. As if Nikki wasn’t having a life altering existential crisis right now.

Nikki can’t even say anything for a moment, wide eyes moving over the little black horns and the thin tail that’s now lazily whipping back and forth behind Tommy, mouth opening and closing without a word coming out because he honestly does not know what to say.

Tommy gives a little sigh of exasperation, leaning over him to flick his nose in an almost playful gesture and saying, “Hello, earth to Nikki Sixx, you alive down there dude?”

That’s enough to jolt him out of his daze, swallowing his nerves and just muttering a quiet, “You’re real.”

Tommy sits back up at that abruptly, the demon looking down at him with wide eyes and Nikki notes how brightly they shine in the light of the sun, the red glow that he’s seen a couple times gone for now, before Tommy is actually laughing. It’s a boisterous, happy noise and it almost makes Nikki smile just to hear it but he’s far too incredulous to do so at the moment.

“You really didn’t summon me on purpose did you?” The demon asks with laughter still in his voice, red lips pulled back into a wide smile that shows off one small fang as it peeks over his lip, giggling again when Nikki shakes him head mutely, “You really thought last night was some sort of fever dream or something then huh? Dream of fucking demons often, Nikki Sixx?”

Nikki is sputtering at the teasing, terrified or not, this demon was making fun of him and embarrassment is not a feeling that Nikki likes, “I don’t- I just- fuck, you’re a literal fucking demon, like a real demon, a ‘from hell’ demon. You could literally kill me right now, easy, and I’d go straight to hell-”

Tommy moves swiftly, grabs his hands and pins them to the bed above his head, bending down to nip at his already sore bottom lip, “Cool it human, if I had wanted to kill you, I would have done it last night.”

That doesn’t exactly inspire much relaxation for Nikki, however, as the demon basically just told him that he more than definitely could kill him but Nikki is already moving on to the next issue at hand, “I fucked a demon.”

Tommy gives him that same sultry smile from last night and Nikki’s eyes widen when he feels his cock twitch from where it’s still buried inside of the creature. The demon nuzzles into his neck then, nipping at the sensitive skin behind his ear and giggles again, “Yes, you really did, multiple times.”

Nikki unconsciously tilts his head a little to the side, unintentionally giving Tommy more room to mark up his neck even as he says, “That was you, you did some sort of fucking demon magic to make me fuck you.”

Tommy pulls away at that, letting go of Nikki’s hands and sitting up straight, looking down at Nikki with an extremely offended expression on his face, “You got hard for me all on your own Nikki Sixx, I just kept you that way for longer than you’d usually be able to last.”

Nikki can’t argue against that, because as soon as Tommy says it, he knows it was true. He thinks about how he had entered his bedroom last night, seeing Tommy spread across his bed just like the dream he thought that it was. He had started getting hard just looking at the demon.

Tommy glares down at him, that red glow from last night back in his eyes, claws scratching lightly down Nikki’s chest as he dips down and bites lightly at the bassist’s lip, “I didn’t make you grab me by my hair and fuck my mouth until you were cumming down my throat.”

The bassist groans, both at Tommy’s ministrations and the images his words conjure up in Nikki’s mind. He should still feel afraid, but something about Tommy is just so appealing to him that he feels that fear slipping away easily. And why shouldn’t it? Nikki has always loved dark and twisted things.

He watches with hooded green eyes when Tommy gives him a wicked grin, the demon running his lips softly over his jaw as he starts to gently rock his hips against him, “I didn’t make you fuck up into me as I rode you, or make you put me on my back and fuck me until I was crying, and I definitely didn’t make you wrestle me onto my hands and knees and fuck me from behind. That was all you Nik.”

Nikki groans again as he feels himself hardening inside of Tommy, the demon making small little whimpers as he feels it too, “I can’t go again, fuck, there’s no way.”

Tommy straightens up on top of him, hips rolling down and curls swaying with the movement of his body as he laughs breathily, “It feels like you can Nik, and this is all you too, no demon magic involved.”

“Fuck, Tommy, I can’t even move my fucking body, I can’t fuck you again. What the hell did you do to me?” Nikki grunts out, trying his hardest to move his arms, or legs, anything.

The demon on top of him slows his movement then, hips gently grinding and Nikki is surprised to see the light blush light up Tommy’s cheeks as he answers, “I- I may have taken too much energy from you last night, I’m sorry.”

Nikki looks up at him in confusion, eyes questioning as he asks, “Just what the hell does that mean?”

Tommy’s blush deepens and Nikki can’t help but be endeared at the slightly flustered disposition he’s portraying. He probably shouldn’t find it as cute as he did, but it was just so different from the absolutely playful, seductive behavior he has had up until now, Nikki just can’t help it.

“Well, I’m, I’m a sex demon right? An incubus, succubus, whatever the hell you humans call us, I get nourishment from, well from-”

“From sex.” Nikki finishes for him, finally understand a little bit about what was going on, honestly relieved that he wasn’t just dying or something more dramatic.

“From sexual energy, yeah.” Tommy nods, eyes wide and still blushing as he looks down at Nikki, “I don’t really need that much, but you were just…”

Nikki raises an eyebrow at the demon as he trails off, waiting for him to continue as Tommy’s expression becomes downright petulant, “Yeah? I was just?”

Tommy huffs out in frustration, looking away as he rocks his hips a little more insistently and whines as he completes his sentence, “You were just so good, I couldn’t stop.”

The statement and the movement of Tommy’s hips on top of him have him hissing out a curse, he’s fully hard now and at this point he couldn’t care less about Tommy being a demon or what that means for his whole philosophical outlook on life. He just wants Tommy again, as crazy as that is, and he fully accepts that for right now.

“Tommy…” Nikki groans, trying to get the demon’s attention from where he’s losing focus as he grinds down a little harder. “Tommy! Fuck, I still can’t move!”

Tommy’s eyes flutter open, the little whines that had been escaping his lips pausing as he slows his movements again and looks down at Nikki with wide eyes, “Oh… OH! I can fix that.”

The demon is suddenly biting down on his own lip, catching the flesh with a fang so that blood starts seeping slowly from the wound before he’s leaning down and kissing Nikki deep and ravenous, pulling Nikki’s tongue into his mouth to encourage the bassist to explore. Nikki does his best with the limited movement afforded to his body but as he tastes Tommy’s blood he can feel his muscles start to respond, energy flooding back into his limbs until he’s able to bring his arms up to wrap around the demon and roll them over, hitching those long legs up around his waist and thrusting into Tommy’s tight, wet heat with a groan.

Tommy’s reaction is instantaneous, arching his back sharply and sinking his claws into Nikki’s shoulders as he cries out Nikki’s name. The demon rolls his hips into the bassist’s thrusts greedily, tossing his head back when the human surges down to bite and kiss at his neck, “Nnngh, Nik, Nikki, oh, y-you’re going to use up all of you-your energy again.”

Nikki can’t help the grin that pulls at his lips as he straightens to a kneel, holding Tommy’s hips up as he pounds into the demon beneath him. The obscene moan he gets, the way Tommy’s eyes roll back and his hands pull at his own hair makes him groan at the arousing display he makes, “Fuck babe, I don’t care. If, if I’m ruining my chances of getting into heaven I ain’t gonna half ass it.”

The demon moans again before giggling, reaching up to grab at Nikki’s hair and yank him back down, licking a stripe up his neck before biting at the bassist’s ear lobe, “T-trust me Nik, fuck, heaven is overrated.”

And Nikki might just be damned already because he believes it. He believes it as he fucks the demon into another screaming orgasm and he believes it when Tommy curls up afterwards into Nikki’s side and rests his head on his shoulder and he definitely believes it when just before he passes out again he manages to catch Tommy muttering, “You really are something else Nikki Sixx.”

He believes in this demon and he really doesn’t care if fucking him means he goes straight to hell when he dies, it’s a sin that is completely worth the punishment.

But when he wakes up again in the early hours of the next morning, Tommy is gone.

#shout at the devil fic by stellalux #motley crue fanfic #terrorcest #terror twins #tommy/nikki #tommy lee #nikki sixx #chapter 3 #oh my god this took me forever #i'm so sorry #i'm trash

19 notes · View notes

makeste · 6 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 210: Put-Downs, Poltergeists, and Plot Twists

Previously on BnHA: Bakugou’s team defeated class B in record time. Everyone praised them for their flawless performance, and All Might told Bakugou he got chills watching him and Bakugou got super embarrassed and mumbled something and walked off and it was in my Top 10 Cutest BnHA Moments and I love it. Then Deku came along to shower some more praise on him and the two of them went back and forth all “I’m gonna surpass you!” “no, I’m gonna surpass you!” for a little bit and that was really cute as well. Monoma took Tokage’s loss in stride and hashed out a strategy with his team that mostly consists of “take out Deku no matter what.” Deku, meanwhile, was all fired up after his talk with Kacchan, and confidently told his team they would definitely win, and this boy is looking more and more like a hero with each passing day, no joke. Round 5 started up, and All Might got a call from Gran Torino, and then we cut to Tartarus, where the guards were bitching about how dangerous All for One is, and the man in question was sitting in his cell grinning because apparently he can “hear [his] little brother’s voice.” Uh, what the fuck.

Today on BnHA: Gran is all “oh yeah now that you mention it, Nana totally did tell me about some freaky OFA dream bullshit a while back.” Apparently in the dream, a mysterious man shrouded in fog told Nana that it wasn’t “that time. not yet.” Meanwhile Deku full cowls his way through the stage on the lookout for Shinsou. Instead he finds Monoma, who activates his secondary quirk, Antagonize no Jutsu, presumably in hopes of getting Deku to respond so that he can ensnare him with the brainwashing quirk. But Deku is a smart cookie and keeps his mouth shut, even when he hears a scream that sounds like it might have come from Ochako. It didn’t, of course, but in fairness Ochako, Mina, and Mineta are being attacked by Yanagi, Kodai, and Shouda, who have combined their quirks to fling heavy objects at them all. But anyways, so Monoma is all “btw can we talk about how Bakugou destroyed the Symbol of Peace, though,” which, wow, and that does piss Deku off enough to fire an Air Gun attack at him! Or at least that’s what he intends to do. Instead what happens is... well. Something different. Seems like it might finally be That Time, now.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 224, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

so we’re opening with All Might standing off to the side and trying to tell Gran to call him back later because he’s in the middle of class

but Gran is just immediately launching into conversation about how Shimura did in fact once tell him something about “a One for All dream” omg

and All Might is all “and you’re only just telling me this now!?”

and Gran says he didn’t remember until All Might asked him about it

his excuse is that he’s old. whatever, Gran!

“so listen up, but don’t expect much”

listen mister, I’ll expect as much as I damn well please. my plot-spoiled self knows full well that in this case there is a hell of a lot to expect! and I for one am fucking excited about it!

so now we’re cutting back to Team Deku and our boy is sprinting along while the flashback dialogue bubbles recount his strategy

oh shit hold up

...so it occurs to me again that that’s exactly what triggered his first One for All: Avatar State experience to begin with though, way back when. Shinsou brainwashed him and then the Ghosts of One for Alls Past appeared for the first time and activated OFA without him being aware of it -- very much like what happened the night right before this training exercise

and now here he is fresh from that weird dream and possibly about to be brainwashed for a second time. is this really a coincidence? seeing as I’m reading a fucking manga, I’m gonna go ahead and say hell no

shit now I’m even more excited

so Iida is observing that Team Deku’s formation looks similar to Team Bakugou’s, and Sero says that’s not a surprise since they’re similarly balanced. true that

but he’s pointing out that they don’t have a Jirou -- someone who can pinpoint the enemy’s location -- so they need to be more careful

yeah, especially since unlike Team Kacchan, they’re up against Shinsou who can take out their most powerful player in a second if he hits them unawares

anyways don’t mind me I’m just gonna post this part here

so Bakugou watching Deku without that characteristic over-the-top seething rage is still such a novel thing, though. him feeling threatened by Deku’s growth was really the key thing holding that relationship back. now that that’s no longer an issue, he’s observing this match with a surprisingly keen intensity

and what I love about this is that it’s exactly what he said he was gonna do back in chapter 121. he vowed that he would observe and absorb what he sees from others in the same way that Deku does in order to become stronger. he’s watching this match so intently because he wants to learn from Deku. do I even need to say how big of a deal that is and how far he’s come? just, wow

so Deku’s coming to a halt on one of the pipes and he’s silently pointing to something

okay so he’s putting his plan of “I’ll be a decoy” into action

seems like this is his way of compensating for his team not having a Jirou. if they can’t pinpoint class B’s location, they’ll just draw them out instead

now an oil drum is tumbling out from somewhere and it seems like it’s caught his attention

who’s Yanagi. lol I guess we’re about to see, what with the HERE IT COMES

OH SHIT

DEKU IF YOU THINK FOR A SECOND THAT’S HER... COME ON MAN, YOU’RE SMARTER THAN THIS

so he’s turning around and Monoma is there

don’t you dare fucking respond you little green bean. just kick him in the head and knock his ass out. this is a training exercise, you know Ochako’s not at any actual risk. and she can handle herself. these guys are gonna be banking on your heroic instincts in the same way the previous team was counting on Kacchan to be the same self-centered asshole he always was before. you guys are so fucking strong the only way they can beat you is by exploiting your mental weaknesses

oh snap Monoma’s holding up his pocketwatches. way back when his costume was first revealed I speculated that he might use them to time his quirk, so I guess we’ll see if that’s the case? I suppose they could also be support items and have some unexpected tricks to them

anyway he’s talking a lot, as usual

a clever person would also think “I’d better not respond to his baiting here since that’s obviously what he wants”

having said that, Monoma’s not wrong. that would be a good strategy for them to actually have. but I don’t think it’s their real strategy lol

ahh, good, Deku is being clever and cautious and knows better than to respond to him

lol so Deku just go KO him already! why are you keeping your distance?? you once said back at Kamino that you could make it from where you were standing to where Kacchan was in under a second with one leap using OFA. that’s fucking fast. you’re faster than the kid who basically fucking teleported in between Kamakiri and Jirou a couple chapters ago. just zoom over to Monoma and kick him in the head. come on. do it

jesus christ Monoma knows what his strengths are doesn’t he

he knows how to fuck with his opponent, I’ll give him that

so now Deku is finally leaping toward him like I said! about time

not sure if that’s actually the case, but he’s probably not too far off the mark, and I think he’s making the best possible move here given what he knows

uh oh

what is he doing

OH FUCK ME

OH FUCK NO MONOMA. YOU DID NOT JUST

WHAT THE HELL DUDE. IS YOUR SPECIALTY BELOW-THE-BELT ATTACKS OR WHAT?? COME ON OVER AND SAY THAT TO BAKUGOU’S FUCKING FACE WHY DON’T YOU. JESUS CHRIST THAT WAS LOW AS FUCK

and obviously he’s just trying to provoke Deku into responding still! but man, what a way to do it! you’ll resort to anything, huh??

do they have sound on those viewscreens, or just visual? I feel like it’s both, though I’m not gonna stop and go back and check right this second. anyways I’m just wondering if Kacchan heard that, since we know all too well he does feel personally responsible, and now here’s Monoma trying to poke at this recently-healed wound and reopen it again. and Dad Might is probably still on the phone with Gran. damn it Monoma you better not have sent him spiraling again. I will send you the therapy bills

(ETA: so yeah, they absolutely do have audio, it was confirmed in chapter 197. so Kacchan did indeed get to hear that, and everyone else heard it too, and it was probably super awkward, and probably would have been even more so had Deku’s arm not fucking exploded with his goth red vines quirk mere seconds later causing everyone to pretty much forget about anything else.

and by the way, can we just quickly touch on the fact that Hellboy later explains to Deku that “if you wield your power in anger, the power will respond accordingly”? in other words, Monoma pissed him off so much here that he went and activated a quirk he didn’t even know he had and it proceeded to go on a roaring rampage of revenge. so what have we learned today, kids? don’t insult the boyfriend, is what.)

anyway the good thing is Deku’s aiming his air gun at him and still isn’t responding, although he does look fucking furious and no wonder

now we’re cutting back to Team Float/Melt/Stick

and we’re confirming that the “kyaah” was indeed Shinsou which of course it fucking was. Ochako doesn’t KYAA, she ain’t no fucking damsel in distress

lol now I want to see it too

so Ochako’s reminding the others to look at each other’s faces when they talk

what have you been up to Mineta

holy shit a whole fucking lot got stuck to it. what the hell is this anyway

Mina’s protecting them all with a veil of acid, which is fucking badass. Mina I love you

and now we’re cutting to Shouda for a second and he’s watching them and says “they vanished”...?

ah!!!

IS THIS A TELEKINESIS QUIRK!? AT LONG LAST???

HOLY SHIT

THAT’S LIKE FUCKING COMPRESS’S QUIRK. WE’RE GOING FULL ANT-MAN UP IN THIS BITCH. HOLY SHIT CLASS B, IT’S JUST BADASS QUIRKS ALL THE WAY DOWN WITH YOU GUYS HUH

holy shit. I love both of these, but the size quirk especially. that’s so fucking good. I wish she was in class A now, ngl. so many potential applications of this

and how many quirks can Monoma handle at once? he had three pocket watches so I’m gonna go with three. so I’m assuming he took both of theirs along with Shinsou’s, since he was also floating small objects earlier

Ochako’s a good person to have against a quirk like this, though!

and now just smack them away again! take that

NOW WHAT

what the hell

sob omg

I would just like to point out that this was a WAAGH and not a KYAA though. for the record. even when they’re being attacked by rampaging thooming metal objects, class A does not KYAA. we die like men

so here are the deets!

telekinesis quirk confirmed yessssss. this is like a way upgraded version of Inko’s quirk. so glad we finally get to see a hero do this shit too

Kodai’s quirk is so badass and I love it. though it’s too bad she can’t shrink people too. lots of hijinks potential there. ah well

and Shouda’s quirk too!

ngl, I read this and I was like ‘what.’ I had to reread it several times and then go look him up in the wiki just to make sure I got it. this is one of those cases where a “for example” would have really come in handy. but anyways I think what this means is if someone hit a baseball, then he could recreate that impact in the same spot a second time, and not only that but the second impact would be stronger by several orders of magnitude. idk it’s weird and confusing

(ETA: seeing it in action later helped me understand the concept better, but I still for the life of me can’t explain it in words lol. super cool quirk though.)

anyway so even though all this crazy stuff is going on, neither team has actually come face to face with the other yet and they’re all still attacking each other from a distance, except for Deku and Monoma. so now Ochako’s wondering what happened to Deku

and now back to All Might! damn, Horikoshi, you sure know how to cut away from something just when it was getting good

so Gran says it’s probably not what All Might was looking for, but right around when Shimura first inherited One for All, he and her had a casual conversation whilst on patrol

NO, DEKU!!

WHY DID YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH DAMMIT

WHAT’S GOING ON OH MY GOD. ALL OF A SUDDEN ALL OF MY FAVES LOOK SHOCKED

oh I know this. “plaaaaay the best song in the world. or I’ll eat your souls.” so we played the first thing that came to our heads and it just so happened to be the best song in the world. it was the best song in the world

lol okay so let’s see why they all seem so shocked. IS IT THE SPOILER!?!?

IT’S NOT? OKAY? WHO ARE YOU??

(ETA: this is just the continuation of Gran’s story from the previous page, doy.)

WHAT THE FUCK

okay then! lol. well that explains the “wtf” expressions

so what exactly was Deku about to do that OFA took over and was like DEKU NO. were you going to fucking kill Monoma over insulting your boyfriend. is there some reason OFA lost its fucking shit and activated one of his secondary quirks for the very first (or second, I guess) time, right here and right now? or is the “it’s not that time” what the old man said in Shimura’s dream, and now with Deku it finally is that time?

oh my god. even knowing a little about what’s going on, I still really have no clue and I fucking love it. this is insanely cool and tbh the Joint Training arc is like #4 on my list now and will possibly be #3 by the time all is said and done. IMO this twist is cool and unexpected and will make future battles much less boring (because let’s be honest, Deku’s last couple of fights were really not all that dynamic. this is definitely going to help vary things up a bit), and I can’t wait to see how All Might and Kacchan react too omg

just. thumbs up from me

82 notes · View notes