#to be fair. i was writing this with at least three characters in mind so i'm tagging all of them. free of charge | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cloudcountry · 11 days ago

Text

SUMMARY: when your favorite member of their house isn't them.

WARNINGS: kaito's gets a little intense!! but its very canon typical. subaru is a little manipulative ngl.

COMMENTS: i am STILL getting used to writing these guys so i am sorry if they are out of character!! please have mercy!!

Jin’s scowl is more sour than usual. He storms up to his room and slams the door shut, jamming his hand in his pocket in search of his cigarettes. The last thing he needs to see right now is you with Tohma, hanging off his arm and making small talk about how lovely the tea smelt and how good he was at chess. Rage twists and burns in his stomach but you’re the last person he wants to take it out on. Even if Tohma will forever hold your affections, he doesn’t want you to think poorly of him. He thinks it would rip him apart.

Tohma isn’t certain what you see in that first year with the silly blonde hair that follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy. Kaito can’t protect you when worse comes to worst, he can’t stand up for you the way Tohma can. He knows it's underhanded, throwing jabs at his poor underclassman, but he can’t help it. Not when it comes to you. Perhaps, one day, you will see how foolish this is and come running into his arms.

Luca respects the captain a lot, and he knows you do too. It doesn’t give him any bad feelings until you see Jin and call him over, your feet dragging you toward the captain and away from him. Luca thinks you may take one, two, maybe three steps away from him, but you walk until Jin meets you and then you turn back to Luca, beaming at him in a way he’s never seen before. Oh, he realizes, you must like Jin quite a bit to have a smile reserved just for him.

Kaito’s one job is to defend your honor, to keep filthy no good men away from you! After all, he’s the only one you should be considering going out with, and any other man couldn’t treat you like he can! So why...why do you look so happy with Luca? What has he done wrong? Is it his cowardice? His lack of money? Was he not calm enough for you? He sees the way you blush when Luca compliments your hair, brushing his fingers over your cheekbone sinfully. It’s not fair, it's not fair! That should be him touching you like that!

Alan thinks his first years have some real potential. He’s glad you’re taking such good care of them, especially Sho. Actually...you seem quite attached to him. Alan briefly wonders if it’s his food truck, and that’s why you’re always eating food with him, but he realizes that that is very much not the case when he catches the two of you smiling and laughing on Vagastrom’s couch. Sho’s arm is slung over your shoulders and you’re leaning into him, smile never faltering. You’ve never looked at him like that.

Sho doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t know why you’re hanging around Leo so much. Of course, he knows he’s only saying this out of petty jealousy, since he’s been friends with Leo since forever, but doesn’t that give him the right to complain at least a little? What does Leo have that he doesn’t? Did you like his followers and fame? He tries his best to grit his teeth and focus on his food, but the sound of your laughter rings constantly in the back of his mind. This sucks.

Leo has never been so emotionally charged in his life. It’s embarrassing honestly, how you cling to Alan and bat your eyelashes at him like he’s actually worth your time. The captain isn’t smart, he isn’t sharp in the slightest and you’re acting like he’s your savior. It makes him want to gag every time he sees you two, your arm linked with his, a dusty blush on his cheeks as you squeeze him closer. Gross, he can’t believe you feel comfortable touching him like that in public. It totally doesn’t bother Leo at all!

Haru knows better than to get in Towa’s way, and frankly, he wouldn’t dare. You two are precious together. Whether you’re dating or not he doesn’t know, but Haru does know that out of everyone in Jabberwock, you are absolutely the closest with Towa. He’s happy to see his friend happy, really! That’s enough for him! He just wishes that you would respond to his texts as fast as you respond to Towa’s...

Towa is alarmed, first and foremost. The interloper? Do you like him? Is it romantic? Is he your soulmate? Oh, no...Dandelion, you can do so much better, he promises! Ren won’t be able to give you half the things Towa can offer you. He isn’t embarrassed to be by your side or shower you in affection or work hard for your sake! He’d do anything for you, and oh does he mean anything.

Ren thinks it’s disgusting. You’re enamored with Haru. He’s caught you two holding hands, quite literally skipping through the meadows with Peekaboo while he sits inside, hunched over his phone. He scoffs, tearing his eyes away from you and your shimmering smile, and tries to kick the sound of your laugh out of his mind. He is, unfortunately, unsuccessful. Ren throws his head back and groans, searching his brain for any reason why anyone would like that boundary breaking clown of a captain. He comes up with nothing. But then again, the list of reasons why you would like him is about the same, is it not?

Taiga isn’t bothered. He’s always unbothered, if you ask him. That’s why when he sees you fawning over Lulu, he doesn’t bat an eye. Yeah, he’s a pretty guy. If anything, you have good taste. He doesn’t want to be treated that way, though, least of all by you, because that would be such a headache and he doesn’t need to deal with you all the time...right. Right. This is how things should be, of course.

Romeo is infuriated. It’s unthinkable that you would choose to admire that bossy first year over him! He calls you into his office time and time again, bringing up meaningless tasks for you to complete and it should be an honor to serve him! However...the second your phone rings you snatch it up with pure glee on your face and excuse yourself, cooing Ritsu! into the receiver with so much affection it makes him sick. Who do you think you are!? Fico is not to be ignored!

Ritsu tries not to feel too upset, watching you with the captain. It’s ridiculous to think that someone who regularly blows off his work and insults him would catch your eye! Of course, he respects the captain...and he needs his signature so he can protect him if a case does arise...but at the end of the day, that has nothing to do with you! Ritsu does not know how to classify his emotions, so he simply stiffles them, having no need for soft squishy feelings. He needs to be sound and logical at all times, lest bias take him by storm.

Subaru’s heart aches. When did you start getting along so well with Zenji? When did he become your favorite person? Subaru thought you two were getting really close after he told you what his stigma was, and he was so happy to have someone who didn’t care about any of it. He was elated to have someone who wanted to be his friend, but ever since you’ve started to see Zenji that’s been taken away from him. He doesn’t like the stabs of jealousy that pierce his heart, it makes him feel evil, so won’t you come back and fix things if he looks at you with all the heartbreak he can muster? Won’t you come back to him?

Haku doesn’t mind, honestly. Sure, he might make a few comments about you and Subaru being close, and if you were perspective enough you could definitely pick up a bit of sadness from his words, but he’ll never be upfront about it. He’ll still tease you, flirt with you, say suggestive things just to get you wound up, but it’s not the same anymore. Not when you find your home at Subaru’s side, leaning into his during assemblies, leaving Haku’s side cold and empty.

Zenji thinks it’s beautiful, watching love bloom between you and Haku. It’s a new source of inspiration for him! You, and your beautiful eyes, your soft smiles, your bright laughter, and before he knows it his inspiration is only you. He feels guilty, confessing to Haku that he is finding so much creativity in you, and Haku is so easy and patient and kind to him. Zenji doesn’t think Haku gets it, but maybe he does. Maybe he does, and isn’t bringing it up for a reason. And so Zenji aches, showering you in compliments tenfold, being unable to hold all of his affection inside lest he burst.

Edward agrees that Rui is very helpful. You seem to praise him a lot, and such praise is deserved, even if Edward likes to act like he doesn’t recognize what Rui does around the dorm. It’s Rui who resets his YouTube password and fixes the WiFi when it’s down. It’s Rui who cleans up his room and makes those delicious drinks. And apparently, as you have been so kind to divulge to him, Rui is also very sweet to you, always giving you compliments and making you special drinks to suit your exact preferences. It’s interesting. Very interesting.

Rui playfully winces every time you shoot him down, saying that you’re spending time with Lyca today or that you’re eating lunch with Lyca or that Lyca invited you to go for a walk with him. Rui, to his credit, bites his tongue when you turn on your heel and leave him standing there. He loves the thrill of the chase, the allure of someone who plays hard to get, but he knows that isn’t what you are. You’re someone with romantic feelings for a guy that isn’t him.

Lyca is concerned, to say the least. Edward isn’t the type of man you should be hanging around! He’s old and dusty and a total flirt, which makes him all the more filthy in Lyca’s eyes. No, don’t hang off his every word with that smile of yours! Don’t praise him for being brave! Don’t help him to bed when he starts to cough, he’s faking it! Ugh, why don’t you ever listen to him anymore...? Lately that moth-eaten Casanova has been taking up all of your time, and Lyca really doesn’t like it...

Yuri’s brow is wrinkled with frustration that, for once, does not come from working his ass off for days on end. It comes from you, chattering away with Jiro and praising him for his accomplishments. It makes an ugly monster in Yuri’s stomach twist and he knows it’s jealousy, knows it’s bad for him and his research. He slams his hands on the table and commands that you leave in a fit of anger. You look startled, then upset, then you yell something back before storming from the room. He slumps down in his chair, head in his hand, and fights back the tears that follow.

Jiro doesn’t mind, honestly. He’s just there to help Yuri out wherever he can. It makes sense that you adore Yuri so much, he is really smart, just like you say. You tell him he’s pretty and Jiro watches Yuri fumble, cheeks turning pink. It makes Jiro smile, seeing Yuri so happy, even if he doesn’t quite understand why a small part of him feels upset. Maybe you should call him pretty too, and then that feeling will go away.

290 notes · View notes

ohsohoney · 8 months ago

Text

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part One

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Hey! First time writing for Em so I figured I'd use a side account and see how it went? Honestly this is a whole series in my mind so might add onto this first part soon! An oc character but can be read as a reader insert if you prefer:)

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

Warnings: Lots of swearing, dark humour

Masterlist

I was mortified.

More so than I’d probably ever been, in truth. All because of a stupid video that had been taken a couple of years back when I’d had one drink too many on a holiday I’d always dreamt of.

To be fair though, the majority of the blame lied heavily on my younger sister’s shoulders, who’d found the stupid thing whilst reminiscing through old memories and thought it would be hilarious to post online. Forgetting about the millions of fans who would soon see it– and not just mine, it would seem.

No, because that just wasn’t how the internet worked, was it? And when a newly nominated artist, who had only been in the game for a couple years, was filmed rapping an old noughties classic instead of singing like expected, it was basically bound to go viral. Didn’t help that I was a Londoner through and through and had the accent to prove it, making the whole video that much harder to watch. In truth, I continued to cringe each time I was reminded of it, which was practically anytime I opened up social media or witnessed the guilty expression that continued to mar my sister’s face.

“Stop doing that.” I huffed at her later on when the worst of it still continued to storm on, almost whining actually as I looked away from my phone screen and down at the food I wasn’t really eating, just picking at. I was supposed to be mad, infuriated even, but it was proving to be a fucking chore when she kept on looking at me like that.

“Doing what?” Lottie retorted, not even attempting to wipe the culpable look from off of her face. She was currently residing back at mum’s now, seeing as how she had school and I’d only just landed back home, but I’d give it a day before she was back here again. My flight over had been strenuous, it always was when flying to and from Cali, but still I made time for her– even after the most recent stunt she had gone and pulled.

“Don’t do that either.”

I’d meant to sound scolding but the soft laugh that escaped me truly was accidental. I couldn’t quite help it, I knew that being mad at her wouldn’t solve anything now and that she hadn’t really meant any harm by posting the video. That was just the type of person she was, she acted before she thought things through and didn’t ever think much for the consequences. Then again, she was still only fourteen and her putting the drunken moment on her Instagram story had just been one of those sibling type moments, the kind where you’d rip the piss out of one another simply because you could.

“I mean it, Lotts.” I sighed around the words, eyes flitting back to the screen and the way she was chewing on her lower lip. “It’s being sorted and, I don't know, I guess it’ll die down sooner or later. Mila reckons so anyway. We’ll give it a day or two, hey?”

A day or two did pass. And no such thing happened.

I’d been cooped up at home ever since I’d touched down at Heathrow, having jumped in the first cab available and fallen asleep the second I’d gotten in through the door. I’d been working out in LA for a couple weeks with a few other writers, just messing about with new sounds and ideas for the next album I eventually wanted to release. So I hadn’t been witness to the media catastrophe Lottie had created until later the next afternoon when Mila, my manager, had all but mowed down my front door, having called my phone three dozen times and gotten a guy she was currently seeing in the city to come buzz my intercom. It had been a wake up call and a half to say the least.

Still, she had assumed it would all die down fairly quickly, went as far to say that it could do wonders for my career– even with me being visibly tipsy– after having had the absolute gall to say that I hadn’t sounded half as bad as I thought I did. I’d cackled hysterically into the phone at that, then had somewhat of a meltdown, in utter disbelief over the apparent reaction she claimed the video had gone and garnered. Because I was absolutely not looking. Knew that if I did there would be too large a chance that I’d check myself into the nearest psychiatric unit.

But as I said, a couple of days had passed and typically something like this would have eventually blown over when the next big story hit the headlines. White girl can spit a verse, who cared? Only then the VMA’s had happened and shit hit the fucking fan.

I hadn’t attended, shit like that had always irked me. I could perform in front of a crowd of thousands and step off feeling as high as a kite, but stick me on a carpet and force me to interact with cameras, questions, and people? That was where I drew the line.

At the start, I had tried. I’d been new on the scene and people had reasoned that I would just end up being another one hit wonder, so the label had figured it best if I got myself out there, if only to interact with other artists and producers in similar circles.

It had gone down a treat– like a cake being knocked over at the wedding of the year. Maybe even worse. I didn’t like to linger too long on it.

But I’d tried again and again afterwards, although it had only proven to worsen my mood each time and forced me to retreat, avoiding my team and the responsibilities I had lined up for a short while after. It was only following a particularly uncomfortable night that Mila had called it quits and had a contract drawn up stating that I only had to attend a certain amount of events a year. It had been at that moment that I’d realised just how fucked I would have been in this industry without her.

Even so, life still continued on without me and the VMA’s were just another show I would be mostly avoiding, only making a statement at the end of the night online for the nominations I’d been gifted.

It was around midnight when I heard the scream.

Lottie was staying with me, typical for whenever I was back in London for a few weeks at a time, and so I’d felt my heart literally drop to my feet at the very sound of her screech and legged it across the entirety of the house. At first, I’d thought she’d slipped and fallen, maybe cracked her head open on a counter. And then the thought of an intruder had crossed my mind whilst I’d gone skidding over the landing. So anyone could understand why I was so worked up when I finally threw open her bedroom door only to find her simply sat there on her phone, hand covering her mouth.

“What the hell is your problem? It’s just gone twelve, Lottie! I thought something had happened!” I rebuked her, chest heaving as I dropped the heavy bookend I’d managed to pick up somewhere on my way over down onto her desk. “Shit.”

Her eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them though when I finally did get around to catching my breath and chanced another glance back at her.

“I was literally just about to fall asleep.” Which really meant that I’d been getting into bed to scroll through my phone or read a book when I’d heard her shout. “Then you screamed as though Freddy Krueger was stood at your window.”

“Elia.”

I blinked, Lottie rarely did that, used my entire name and not the usual shortened version or whatever other epithet that came to mind– and truly, there was a large variety, the shit I’d heard this kid come out with was insane. But I shook my head at the thought and quirked a brow at her. “What? Did someone die?”

“No,” She answered me, dropping her hand away from her face even though her jaw was still gaping, “But I just might.”

Rolling my eyes at the theatrics, I exhaled and walked over to slump on the end of her bed, figuring that something had happened between her and one of her friends, or maybe some lad she might’ve been speaking to. “And it deserved a scream like that? Honestly Lotts, just be thankful this place doesn’t have any neighbours listening in through the walls.” I told her, thinking back to my own adolescent years and the woman in the flat beside ours, “We’d have someone knocking at the door in under a half hour.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes then as she scoffed at me– like I was the one being dramatic here– before she then shook her head and shuffled hurriedly over the mattress to sit closer. “No Lia, just listen, look.”

Confused, I sighed and tilted my head when Lottie moved to shove her mobile in my face. I squinted at the sudden contrast, showing off my age and the horrific tragedy that was my eyesight, and tried to make sense of whatever it was that she was so hellbent on showing me.

From what I could first make out, it was just a Twitter thread, but then Lotts then clicked on the main video at the top. I waited as the clip buffered for a second, then a familiar face panned into focus and I felt my brow furrow. I peered over at Lottie for a split second before her eyes were widening in retort and she gestured her chin back towards the screen.

I narrowed my own eyes in turn, but watched on.

It had to be a coincidence, I reasoned. That of all people it was him that Lottie was currently showing me.

“Well, aren’t we in for a show tonight! Eminem is in the house, people!” An interviewer started, she was a tall, leggy blonde who held a too big microphone too close to her chin. “How are you feeling?”

I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was to see him on the VMA’s carpet, not after the comeback he’d made late last year with LP 2, but I was, eyes caught on the bleached buzz cut he’d since reverted back to for the album’s release. Fuck, I’d be so pissed if it came out that he was performing tonight and I’d gone ahead and missed it.

Lottie thumped my shoulder, hard, realising fairly quickly that I hadn’t really been listening, and so I scowled in retort but gritted my teeth to keep from thumping her right back. She might’ve been my sister, but I had well over a decade on the kid and was marginally her guardian, just not in writing.

The rapper had seemingly just finished commenting on a question the tall blonde had asked him and so I forced myself to pay closer attention, brain whirling as I wondered what could have possibly been so important that it had Lottie screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night.

“I feel that!” The woman practically beamed at the rapper, head nodding along to whatever he’d just said, “But it’s good to hear that you’re enjoying being back. In truth, I wasn’t sure I’d catch you here tonight, there’s been a lot of buzz surrounding you at the moment and not just because of the album!”

My heart stuttered in my chest. Actually, I was pretty sure it had gone and fallen out of my arse, especially when the interviewer continued to press on the topic and it appeared as though the man in question understood exactly what she was getting at. His stoic facade cracked just a tad and– there! A smirk. An ever so slight crook of his mouth. I shot a startled glance over at Lottie but her gaze was fixated on the screen.

“I mean, have you seen it?” The interviewer prompted whilst he simply stood there, fisted hands clasped before him. No sign of the split second curve he’d just had on his lips. “The whole world’s been wondering about your thoughts on the singer!”

And there it was.

“I can’t,” I started to say, turning away from the phone just as a rush of nausea flooded through me, but Lottie held strong, hand coming up to catch my shoulder so that she could position her phone back in my eyeline. “Lottie–” I tried. Please.

“Just listen.” She persisted, face so serious.

Immediately I wanted to rescind my earlier statement. This was now my most mortifying moment. In fact, I wanted to hide in the nearest cupboard and never come out again. How the fuck was I going to show my face in public, not to mention at the next event, after this?

I swallowed thickly, entirely unprepared to hear a word he had to say about me. I mean, who would be? This man was leagues above a majority of the industry, me included. Never had I ever even thought that he could hear my name in passing, let alone listen to one of my songs playing in some shop he was coincidentally in or a random radio station. But here he now was, rolling his lips as he pondered over a question which concerned that stupid fucking video.

“I hate you.” I whispered at Lottie, mostly in hopes to cover up whatever he was about to say, but also because I was embarrassed beyond belief. And this was all her fault.

In the time spent since the drunken video had first gone up and now, I had yet to even think about him ever seeing it. Because the idea was that far fetched. But this was me, so of course he had.

“I’ve heard it.” Marshall confirmed, his head dipped in a barely there nod. My throat cinched. I wondered briefly how quickly I’d be able to tie myself a noose.

“And?” The woman prodded and internally I cursed her future bloodline, hoping that she'd somehow spawn the next antichrist or that her grandchild would become a shit-headed politician.

The man in question merely hummed, hollowing out his cheeks. “I was surprised, I have to admit. But she’s good, even when wasted.”

“I wasn’t fucking wasted!”

I hadn't even realised I’d spoken out loud until Lottie snorted on a chuckle. I turned towards her, brows raised high, “What? I wasn’t. You were there!”

I rolled my eyes when she didn’t deign me with some sort of assent but my head snapped back over to where she still gripped the phone when I heard him speak again, his voice echoing throughout the quiet bedroom.

“Then again, her shit goes hard. So it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.”

That heart of mine that I kept on talking about? Yeah, I had zero clue as to what the fuck was going on with it now, only that my chest was wound as tight as it possibly could be and my eyes stung as I withheld the urge to even blink.

“You’re a fan?” The woman asked him, appearing genuinely surprised by the notion, even though it sounded more like a declaration rather than the question it was.

Marshall hummed, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder when a group shuffled on past them, disrupting the interview. It didn’t deter the woman though and I couldn’t blame her, no matter how much it pained me.

“So, could this mean we’ll be seeing a new featured artist on whatever you put out next?”

I made some sort of inhuman sound at that, but barely moved a muscle. And then I all but shutdown when the rapper's wide eyes flickered over to peer straight into the camera’s lens, “I mean, if she’s down.”

The next scream that was emitted once again came from Lottie, but I couldn’t think to scold her for it, not when I was hardly even functioning and wanted to implode myself.

The girl toppled over onto me, shaking my shoulders whilst she squealed unabashedly. “If. She’s. Down!” She repeated, squealing with excitement, “El, this is insane! How are you not screaming too?”

The air I forced from my lungs came out in a breathless chuckle as I clung to the forearm that was still wrapped around my collar. In truth, I didn’t know how the hell I was supposed to react.

“Figure you’ve screamed enough for the both of us.” I replied faintly, not really thinking but somehow managing to carry on, mostly out of sheer shock. I glanced her way, “I feel a bit sick.”

Lottie just shook me harder and when we eventually went falling down onto the duvet in a mess of limbs I wondered what I was going to do with the knowledge that I’d just been given. God. He knew who I was. The shock of it was almost like reliving my first time on stage all over again.

That night I ended up listening to Lottie rant on and on for a good while after whilst she scrolled through her Twitter feed and the rest of the internet. Mila eventually intervened, calling after having seen it too, and was as smug as ever. “Told you.” She’d said the second I’d hit the answer button and I hadn’t had the heart to play it off or act as though I hadn’t seen it either.

After the interview eventually finished trending and stopped being posted here, there, and everywhere, I was left with a flow of new followers but also a nightmare of opinions spouting from every corner of the planet on any comment section I had to offer. I forced myself to come off most apps I had downloaded after that and resorted to gaining my daily entertainment, and any real news, from Lottie. Which seemed sad, in retrospect, but honestly? It was more than a little self-serving and I’d even managed to get a shit load of stuff done.

I worked on a couple new songs, sticking to what I did best, but my mind did end up drifting away every so often, back to a conversation I’d had with Mila and Travis at the label a couple days after the media storm had passed. It seemed they all wanted me to try implementing a few new concepts into the music I was currently working on before we started to draw up ideas for the next album. Travis reasoned that even attempting to add a couple freestyles into the motions whilst I went about writing would do me wonders later on.

I just felt uncomfortable with it all, really. I’d never been a rapper. I mean, I loved it. It was mainly what I’d been brought up on, having grown up in an area where every kid on the estate was either attempting to become the next big thing or just blaring the biggest hits out of their car stereos. But that was just it. I listened and sang along, had even built up an extensive collection which I was immensely proud of, but the label were now aiming for this next album to make it onto a Grammy nominations list. It was all they had been fretting over since I’d somehow managed to chart the last one– although a single number one and an almost throw away making it to number seven didn’t make me all that hopeful.

Even so, it forced me to wonder how it would all work if I started to switch things up now. I could appreciate all genres but I didn’t wanna become the next hopper just to appease the people yessing me and then fall off.

The entire concept had me confused and so I had taken to keeping my head down for a while longer.

Lottie had headed back to mum’s earlier that morning, seeing as I was due to make an appearance in Paris for Fashion Week, attending the Vogue show alongside Vivienne Westwood. An utter dream, yes, but also still an incredibly daunting reality. Even so, it was something I couldn’t quite worm my way out of even if I had wanted to– see, with that contract there still came clauses.

I’d been prepping for my upcoming early morning flight most of the day, showering later on than anticipated just so that I could pack my case and eat before I eventually climbed into bed. Hoping to somehow get a couple hours kip.

I’d thrown on a robe and kept the speakers blaring once I’d eventually jumped out from under the spray, wet hair curling at the ends as I worked on throwing something quick together in my kitchen.

It wasn't long before I went and took the bowl I’d just made out into the living room with me, simply so that I could curl up on the settee and wrap up the few emails I’d been working on earlier. I was just nodding along and humming to the next song that played through the overhead speakers when my phone started to buzz against my ankle, shooting a funny feeling up through the bone. I was quick to pick it up, wrinkling my nose at the feel and not paying much mind to the caller, figuring it had to be either Mila or Lottie.

“Hello?”

There was a short pause as I shifted the phone against my ear before a voice eventually sounded, “This Elia?”

Frowning, I casted a quick glance at the phone’s screen to find a number with an unfamiliar area code staring back at me. I let my gaze stray on over towards a clock I had hanging on the far wall only to find that it had just gone eight.

I fumbled for a moment, “Um. It is, can I ask who’s calling?”

A low cough rumbled through the line before the same voice spoke again, I shuffled to set my laptop off to the side on the sofa, brow furrowed. “It’s Em– Marshall.”

Suddenly my head felt so very empty and my mouth was working around words that couldn't seem to find their way out. Em. The Em?? Fucking, Em?

I’d obviously been quiet a beat too long, drowning in the sudden panic that had shrouded me, because he spoke up again, “That Nas playin’?”

I shot a startled glance over my shoulder to where the fancy sound system was installed, the biggest reason I’d gone and purchased the home, in truth, and was immediately reminded of the music I had piercing through the air. Clumsily, I rolled off of the corner of the settee so that I could stumble over to turn the thing off, doing exactly that before I was forced to blink at the sudden silence that greeted me.

I winced and was quick to turn the music back on, keeping it low. All the while I still held my phone close to my chest.

“Uh, yeah. Hi!” I blundered helplessly after a moment, carding a hand through my damp hair as I stared at the empty wall before me stupidly. I wasn’t sure what to say, let alone do. I could sort of wrap my head around the interview, his brief mention of me. But a fucking phone call? It was on another level.

He chuckled though, enough so that I felt myself flush bashfully at my obvious awkwardness and forced my body to move back towards the sofa, if only so that I didn’t have to stand on shaky legs anymore.

“Hi.” He mimicked, voice low albeit a tad amused.

I smiled. Unable to do anything but, in all honesty, as I lowered myself down onto the cushions, vaguely aware that I should probably be saying something else now that he’d gone and replied, but was simply more than a little caught off guard by everything.

“Sorry, I– Well, I didn’t expect your call. Or anyones really.” I murmured, trying my best to shake off the nerves that were apparently wreaking havoc on my brain to mouth filter. “I just jumped out of the shower, had yet to turn off the stereo. Sorry.” How many times had I just apologised? I wanted to scream.

“You’re good.” He assured me, voice unlike what I probably would have expected and so I blinked once more at the sound of it, reminded that it was actually him I was talking to. But all that was fluttering through my head was ‘what the fuck are you doing calling me?’ “Nice choice, I gotta say. This an alright time for you to talk? I don’t wanna disturb you much.”

My eyes widened at both the compliment in song choice and well, him. Then withheld another sudden urge to scream, the hand not holding my phone clenching into a tight fist against my chest. “No, no, of course not. I mean, you’re fine! Not disturbing me at all.”

His next reply sounded more than just a little mirthful, “Sure ‘bout that?”

I willed myself to relax and took an inconspicuous breath as I pulled my legs back up under me. “I’m sure.” I told him, laughing lightly at myself for being so socially inept– or maybe it was just this entire scenario I’d been shoved into. “How’d you even get my number anyway?”

I hadn’t meant for it to sound so forceful or abrupt, but it had been yet another question my sluggish brain hadn’t been able to find an answer to.

“Mila?” He answered me, and I blinked stupidly at the name. “We had a mutual contact, figured I’d chance askin’ her instead of gettin’ lost in your DM’s. That cool? She said she’d let you know.”

The conniving cow, I thought to myself, though I wouldn’t have put it past her to have reasoned with herself that I would’ve probably freaked out if she had told me beforehand, before then having proceeded to just let my phone ring out whilst I stared pitifully at it. She knew me all too well.

“She did not.” I replied through a baited breath, “But no, yeah. You’re alright, just caught me off guard is all. You’re probably the last person I expected to call, if I’m being honest here..”

When I heard him laugh once more I grinned, all too pleased with myself. It was a low gruff sound, not deep enough to be sarcastic or ingenuine, but rather warm. It surprised me.

“Oh yeah? Even after everything that’s gone down lately?”

My eyes slipped closed at the instantaneous reminder and I winced. The video. Honestly, in the whirlwind that wasn’t just my life at the moment, but this phone call too, I could have almost forgotten about it.

“I still can’t believe you saw that.”

Marshall let go of another amused huff that I figured to be a chuckle, breathing in deep enough that he forced me to wait on his next words. “I don’t lie. I meant what I said. But tell me, how many drinks d’you have in you?”

I curled my tongue against the back of my teeth in hopes to keep from grinning too hard, feeling a slight sting at the tip. “I was tipsy.” I argued pointlessly, knowing it would be a tireless venture, “I’d only had a couple.”

He hummed, seemingly not convinced.

“It was years ago, too!” I felt the need to tack on, the rosy hue the alcohol had given my cheeks sprung to mind and made me wonder. My face wrinkled as I dragged a helpless hand across it. “Who even sent it to you?”

“A couple people, actually.” Marshall ended up revealing and his words sounded playful enough that I could almost picture the curl of his mouth. “My daughter was one.”

Without thinking my hand flew up towards my mouth and I shook my head as I let it rest against my palm. “You’re not being serious.”

“Dre too.”

I let go of a hissed curse and crumpled a little bit in my seat before laughing stupidly at myself. If I couldn’t talk myself out of this then I supposed I would just have to get over it. I hoped thinking sensibly would allow me to actually follow through on that sentiment, but I very much doubted it.

Marshall laughed again, slow and easy almost as though he’d shared it with me a hundred times before. “I wasn’t kiddin’ neither. ’s why I called.”

Pulling my head from out of my hands, I wet my lower lip, mind promptly flashing back to the clip Lottie had shown me. “What’s that meant to mean?” I asked him, treading cautiously.

“Listen.” He began, pausing only briefly to inhale before he then added, “I’m workin’ on another album–”

“No.” I interrupted, eyes suddenly wide and alert, “Already?”

A tittered snort followed the disruption but my mind was already reeling.

“You’re not fucking with me?”

In all honesty I had prepared myself to wait a couple more years for another drop, hoping for him to feature or for someone to send for him if only so that he’d make a track in reply. I’d been obsessed with his recent work, even going as far as to add it onto the tour bus playlist late last year. It had actually been played so much the roadies and the band had threatened to rip the system out. But a new album? Fuck. I hadn’t expected it.

“Who else knows?”

There was a slight click on the other side of the line. Or scuffle. “As of right now? Like six people.”

I swallowed down the understanding that then hit me, but my stomach lurched at the very thought of it. “And I’m one?” I chuckled, holding back the hysterical laughter I felt bubble as my hand fell over my heart, “Wow, I feel honoured, Mathers.” It was teasing, the rib I meant, though my eyes still widened when I realised what I’d gone and said, not wanting him to take it the wrong way.

I needn’t have worried.

“As you fuckin’ should be.”

I gave a real laugh at that, almost a full-belly type shit. But could you really blame me?

I was still smiling as I went to retort, humming with it, “God, you really just went and sprung that shit on me.”

“Hold you to keepin’ it on the low for now.” Marshall said, reminding me how paranoid the press and Hollywood had made him out to be in the past. I wondered how much truth there was in the sentiment. I mean, the man was almost a recluse– not that I could blame him, I was pulled from the same sort of cloth there– but to put a secret like that in my hands? It had to take some amount of faith.

I nodded seriously, even though he couldn’t see the gesture. Seemed he could hear the sincerity in my answer though, “‘Course.” I told him and then chewed on my lower lip for a second before a soft snicker escaped me. “That the only reason you called though? I mean, as honoured as I am to be one of the infamous six, I’m surprised you just phoned to let me in on the know. Have I just been roped into some sort of celeb elitist group? Weird initiation.”

His huffed laugh was breathy and made my mouth twitch that little bit more.

“Nah. You always this weird though?” Marshall wondered and I bared my teeth in a light grimace, figuring I’d gone too far with that one. Or maybe.. I'd just hit the mark? I snorted lightly at the thought.

“It was an honest question! I’ve heard horror stories.” And wasn’t that the truth, events and parties weren’t all about the awards and just getting trollied. Some of those fuckers were as strange as people could come.

The man clucked his tongue, although I could hear the slight smile in his sarky response. “Uhuh. Sorry to disappoint but nah, initiation starts in the belly of LA. Gotta dissect a virgin and drink Ciroc out of their intestines. Funnel that shit down.”

The snort I gave in turn was ugly and loud enough that it forced a hand to fly up and cover my mouth, but it didn’t appear to bother the rapper none, who chuckled before clearing his throat.

“Change this shit to Facetime.” He said not a second after, swiftly cutting short my absurd amusement. “Then we can talk about the album.”

I fumbled for a moment. “I look a mess.”

“Good thing this ain’t a fuckin’ fashion show then.” He only pressed, “You think I give a shit what you look like right now?”

That struck an odd chord in me for some reason, but I didn’t want to linger much on the feeling. “No. But I do, dickhead. It’s half eight at night, I have sudocrem on my face and I look like a dog off of Lady and the Tramp.”

I was so flustered by the very thought of acquiescing to the man’s demand that I didn’t even think much of the name I’d gone and called him.

“Again, do I give a shit? And what did you just call me?”

I paused, reeling back to whatever it was I’d just spouted at him. Upon rehashing my words I felt my tongue press between my lips to keep from laughing loudly, if Mila or Lottie had been there I’d already be strung up by a pair of metaphorical balls.

“You heard me fine.” I brushed it off, if he wanted to call me out of the blue and act all chummy then chummy was what he’d get.

Besides it wasn’t like I’d meant the term maliciously, I used that type of endearment with everybody. Something my manager had tried and failed to force out of me time and time again.

“But back to this whole ‘seeing my mug thing’. Not happening, mate. Why couldn’t you have called like, six hours ago? I looked like an actual person then.”

“Dickhead.” He muttered beneath his breath, barely even loud enough for me to have heard him and I could only guess that he was shaking his head with it, hopefully somewhat amused. “You ain’t an actual person then?” He said in reply, forgoing the name calling for now, “Figures, you give off lizard vibes.”

“Fuck you!” My laugh was sudden, jaw having dropped a tad at the quip. “Lizard vibes, the fuck are you then? And yes, an actual person! You can’t just call people, drop a bomb, and then demand things!”

“Shit typically works.” He quipped all too quickly that it had me shaking my head around another quiet smile of my own. “Just entertain me though, for a moment.”

My head fell back against the arm of the sofa, eyes casted towards the high ceiling which loomed above. I couldn’t quite believe I was actually considering it.

He didn’t even have to goad me before I relented. I huffed, blowing a strand of hair from out of my face as I sat back up, “Fine. Just gimme a sec.”

He hummed.

Elbowing my way off the settee I skidded over to the closest mirror, dragged a hand through my mostly dried hair and made sure that I didn’t have racoon eyes from any lingering mascara I’d had on before my shower. The patches of sudocrem would have to stay though, I deemed, seeing as he already knew about those.

I gave up on the preening and sighed as I fell back onto the sofa, thankful for the dim lights the living room offered in that moment. It was just as I was switching the call though that a thought hit me, making me question if the reason he’d asked me to start the Facetime was due to him wanting to give me the option to turn it down or simply because he had no idea how to do it himself. “Still there, old man?”

A scoff echoed into the room before my phone screen stuttered and I was left staring at the sharp lines of his face. It wasn’t like I hadn’t actually believed it was him I was talking to, but seeing the man was another thing altogether. He was a real person and that idea alone had me reeling.

I wrinkled my nose almost shyly around a smile when that sharp gaze of his slid away from something behind the camera to meet mine. He tilted his head to look me over, the hood of his jumper moving with the motion.

“I was right about the lizard thing.” Was the only greeting he offered me, jutting his chin out as he feigned all seriousness.

My mouth dropped open upon hearing him and my tongue quickly flicked out towards a canine to keep from biting back at him. There was humour written in the gesture though, even as I moved to narrow my eyes. “He’s got jokes! Reused ones, I might add, but jokes nonetheless.” I snarked, lifting my eyebrows at him in exaggeration, “Hilarious.”

His mouth curled very, very briefly, but I was quick to work out that it was all in the eyes with him. They held a certain amount of mirth as they flickered over my face. I wondered what he saw.

“Suits you though. Even with all the…” He waved a hand over his own face, probably referencing the white dots I had littered in a few places.

With a shake of my head I raised a hand to my chest, feigning a fond appreciation for the sardonic comment. “Is that the famous charm the world’s heard so much about then? Really know how to make a girl feel special, Mathers.”

His eyes slitted but still shone with a slight glaze, he hummed deeply in retort. “Best believe it. Why d’you think I’ve gotten divorced twice?”

A low whistle escaped me before I then laughed, eyes squinting with the strength of it. “Figured you might just have a kink for courtrooms.”

His tongue swept into his cheek at my boldness, fighting back a real smile as he glanced away and then back again. “I’m down bad for a good Judge. Spank me vibes, you know?”

I chuckled outwardly at that, amused by his quick witted replies. But that in itself didn’t surprise me, it was well known just how hilarious the man could be, his stoic demeanour only prodding that revelation further.

That sternness his face seemed to consistently hold softened though in that next moment and I watched on as he shuffled a little closer to the camera, sat somewhere indoors with enough natural light that he could have only been in his kitchen. It hit me then how wild this whole thing suddenly was. “What’s with the last name anyway?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his ask. “Um,” I fumbled, a slight wrinkle forming between my brow, “What do you mean, me calling you Mathers?”

He hummed and I had to think about it for a second. Ultimately I ended up gifting him a shrug, “Don’t know. Just feels strange to call you Eminem or whatever.” I laughed lightly at myself, hand falling to my knee to toy with a loose thread on the hem of my robe. “What do people usually call you?”

It was his turn to shrug then, his being a singular and fluid motion whereas mine had been more thoughtless. He was watching again though, the wide eyes I was so used to seeing in old interviews where he was always playing a part were now gentler, narrowed sure, but softer and slightly wrinkled at the very edges.

I tugged on the frayed thread, wrapping it around my finger enough to whiten the skin before I had to let it go again. “Is Em okay? Or just Marshall maybe?” I queried, watching him too.

“Whatever you want.” He murmured and it was then that I noticed he’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of him because a pair of hands came to rest at the bottom of the screen just as he pressed further into the counter he was sat at.

I wrung my lips to one side, teeth biting into the inside of my cheek enough to keep from smiling much more than I already was. “Most people call me El or Lia. Elia just started to feel unnatural away from, you know, everyone else.”

It was the worlds now, as well as one of few reasons I had for the stigma I felt around my own name.

The man jerked his head in a short nod in response whilst his fingers intertwined against a marble countertop. “So we should just slide that into the writin’ credits then? Or you finally gone take me up on that offer of a feature?”

You know that odd feeling you get when you’re on the tube or a plane and so suddenly your ears just pop and there's this ringing sound that floods the single sense? It just happens, out of nowhere, and you blink. So all you can immediately focus on is the sound. The odd feeling of it driving waves deeper and deeper into your skull. And the only way you can recover is by holding your own breath?

That was what that question felt like to me.

“What?”

His eyes were alight, akin to a low flame of flickering amusement and perhaps hope. “You deaf now too? Know you heard me.”

Of course I fucking heard him but that didn’t mean I understood. “This is for real?”

Finally, he let go of a dulcet chuckle, almost a ringing sound in and of itself. “You gone make me repeat it? You in, or not?”

“How is that even a question?” I breathed back to him, my hand shaking against the hem of my robe. “Yes! God, if I ever say to no to an ask like that you better fucking shoot me. What the fuck, Marshall?”

That chuckle again.

It was unlike anything else, the only sound I could hear around the blood rushing between my ears. Stupidly, I pinched my thigh and released a stuttered breath when the twist of skin radiated a short snap of pain up my leg.

“That the go ahead then?”

I must’ve looked so incredibly starstruck but I couldn’t even bring myself to care, this was unreal. I nodded, almost frantically at him. “Of course that’s the fucking go ahead! Are you sure about this? I mean, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I mostly write radio shit.”

“Your earlier stuff ain’t.” Em shot back, the quip startling me enough to snap my jaw shut because not a lot of people ever dug that deep. But he continued on before I could think to hone in on the slip, “‘sides, your lyrics are what I fuck with. That shit makes you think, has you lingerin’. Playing with words is the aim, I want people thinkin’, leachin’ onto each syllable and every phrase. You do that.”

The air in my lungs lurched.

I could only offer him one reply, “When do we start?”

307 notes · View notes

teddywesworl · 1 month ago

Note

different anon but re: sex scenes ask, i’m curious to see how you lay out things to outline for continuity of characterization, and what the drive and stakes are in a scene to avoid the sexual archetypes. would you mind sharing what that process looks like for you? really admire your technical breakdowns of writing (yes even and especially when they end up being ‘controversial’)

ok so. I had to take this ask to a word doc to get all my thoughts in order, so that’s your fair warning about how involved my answer is going to be.

First off, I gotta say I always think it’s funny and strange which “takes” of mine get people in a twist, because it’s very frequently the really basic foundational stuff that you would be taught in the first week or two of any introductory fiction writing class. One time, multiple people blocked me on twitter for saying that every paragraph should serve the whole and that readers will get bored if you go on tangents that have nothing to do with the core drive of the story. There was a qrt with the ‘no fun allowed’ robot. I was basically explaining what “kill your darlings” actually means, but even that was too much.

That said, I think the key to continuity of character in sex scenes is very simple: treat sex as any other action, and treat sex scenes like any other scene.

Naturally, that’s easier said than done, because it contains within itself a pair of mandates:

Get your character fundamentals down before attempting to apply them to sex, and

Deconstruct your own relationship with DHSM archetypes.

Yes, sorry, the almost three hour long Contrapoints Twilight video really is the best framework I’ve ever encountered for breaking down cultural norms concerning sex in fiction (and irl tbh), and I think it’s required viewing for anyone who really wants to deliberately subvert those norms.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Step one: character fundamentals.

In the simplest possible terms, good smut is character work. You’re taking blorbo and putting them in a situation. Often, this is a deeply vulnerable situation wrapped up in a lot of emotions. What kind of emotions are they feeling? Do they feel vulnerable? How do they respond to that vulnerability? Are the blorbos boning out of love? Affection? Frustration? Fear of loss? Is it a hatefuck? Multiple of the above? That’s layer one.

Next layer down: are both (or however many) parties here for the same reason, or are their motivations and experiences different? Everyone in a story has their own drives which may be in conflict with one another or, at the very least, play off of one another in interesting ways; the same principle should apply to sex scenes.

Example.

This is from chapter 2 of baseless fabric:

Rook’s fingers bury themselves in Lucanis’s hair, her nails scraping his scalp. “I’ll show you,” she says, and then—oh, yes—tongues and teeth and spit! Rook’s arms around Lucanis’s neck. Arching backs and sweet sighs and a pleasure that fogs Lucanis’s mind. Rook pulls at Lucanis, and Lucanis tries to keep his hips away. He is embarrassed at how quickly he has grown hard; he is alarmed that he could be so forward, so presumptuous as to expose himself in this way and to seek this kind of pleasure in her. Why? asks Spite. It is for her. She came to you for this. Lucanis struggles against this reasoning, though he knows that Spite is correct. That strange despair deep within grows fat on this knowledge. He is still afraid, and it was such long and difficult work to accept that he would never be desired in this way by a person he desired in turn.

Three parties are involved in this scene: Spite, Lucanis, and Rook.

Spite has no sexual attraction or sex drive per se, because he is a non-corporeal entity to whom those concepts are kind of alien, but he enjoys physical pleasure and has an emotional attachment to both Lucanis and Rook, so there’s no reason to believe he wouldn’t enjoy sex. He experiences everything Lucanis’s body does, and he has a front row seat to the inner workings of Lucanis’s fucked up little brain. In the video game as written, one could argue that Spite’s core drive is essentially to help Lucanis first survive and then recover from extraordinary trauma (out of. Spite. literally). He picks apart Lucanis’s fear and self-hatred and exposes all of it to Rook, in full confidence that Rook can fix it.

Lucanis, meanwhile, is a big ol’ demi virgin who (I was just talking w @ofcrowsanddragons about this last night) has come to view his own basic human needs as monstrous. It’s dangerous for him to need anything. Even sleep! He’s had both physical and emotional vulnerability drilled out of him from a very young age! He can’t let anyone know he needs! What if his needs are exploited? What if someone notices he needs something and takes advantage? For Lucanis, I imagine that allowing himself to be vulnerable in a safe, controlled way that feels good, with someone he trusts entirely, would be… woof. Very intense.

Rook is the wild card in terms of fanfic and character study, because, as a customizable PC, she could be anything. And she might be physically undescribed in my fics, but the character choices I’ve made aren’t by mistake; I’m writing about The Lucanis Romance, after all, and that provides opportunities for Rook to play both partner and foil. And so: my Rook is sexually experienced, shameless, and a bit vulgar, and she grew up poor. She’s Lucanis’s opposite in a lot of ways, and she serves to highlight his hangups by contrast. He talks down at himself for “seeking pleasure in her,” while her desire for him is uncomplicated. She wants this guy. She cares for him. It feels good when he touches her. On its own, maybe that’s not super interesting fodder for fiction, but she and Spite force Lucanis to reckon with his irrational self-talk and maladaptive coping mechanisms. She can get away with being a bit two-dimensional, because her main function in the story is to challenge his perspective.

The climax (lol) of the fic is arguably the following line in chapter 3: “The despair of fulfillment, the anguish of joy—he thinks he is not made for such things, and so he fights them, even desperate as he is to submit.” Everything in this first encounter between Lucanis and Rook builds toward that final evolution of the idea that Lucanis fears his own emotional needs and resists their fulfillment.

Et voila: Lucanis’s character is examined and has the opportunity to develop through sex!

Still, I admit, all of this is easier said than done. Character study of any kind takes practice to get a feel for, and writing effective character-driven sex requires that you be aware of your own relationship with culturally imposed norms.

Step two: becoming an archetype understander

Watch the Contrapoints video if you haven’t. Yes, in full. I promise it’s worth it. But if you want to save it for later and keep reading this post now, DHSM stands for Default Heterosexual Sado-Masochism, and it’s an extremely useful framework for understanding how patriarchal romantic and sexual roles are organized.

Natalie Wynn defines DHSM as “a division of sexuality into bipolar roles,” as follows:

She goes on: “In reality, none of these roles are interchangeable or even necessarily correlated. Being masculine does not imply being a top, and neither imply being dominant. […] But in DHSM, these roles are assumed to be bundled together and assumed to belong to the sexuality of men.”

I contend that when we are reading E-rated fanfiction and we cross that jarring threshold from in-character plot to out-of-character smut, we have most often just encountered the author deferring to cultural sex scene-writing norms prescribed by DHSM. And, importantly, the sex scene doesn’t have to be heterosexual for DHSM to be in the room!

One of the most important things you can do as you’re writing sex is to ensure that you are aware of the cultural pressure to conform to this false dichotomy. Notice I didn’t even say ‘don’t conform;’ there are certainly ways to examine & play with DHSM while nominally conforming to it. However, DHSM is omnipresent as a basic assumption in mainstream romance and romantic subplot, and you may be surprised at the extent to which the average person automatically reaches for it while writing. In fact, once you start seeing it, you may not be able to stop.

One of the things I really like about Lucanis as a character is his relationship to DHSM. He’s an assassin, arguably a professional predator. He is extremely rich, and he ends the story with a nation-shaping amount of political power. He is also, quite literally, possessed. His whole personal arc is about his fraught relationship with agency. His romance arc requires that you, the player, pursue him to a much more dramatic degree than any of the other companions, just to get to the point of acknowledged flirtation. He breaks the assumed role. He looks like the Latin Lover trope sprouted wings; but that’s not him.

This is, frankly, why a large proportion of the Rookanis ao3 tag bums me out: there’s so much fic in there that pulls back toward that assumption of bipolarity, flattening him as a result. Lucanis as an aggressive or dominant lover does nothing for me, because I feel that it misunderstands his approach to intimacy.

Now what?

I’ve just said an embarrassing number of words about writing pornography. But how does one synthesize all this stuff?

Here’s an exercise I recommend:

Pick a pairing of your choice and consider each character’s relationship with the DHSM dichotomy. Deliberately run down those columns above and decide which character more closely matches each descriptor in each pair, individually—if they match either, which they may not! Examine the ways in which that pairing might break bipolarity.

Then, try to come up with a sexual scenario that demonstrates that break in DHSM. This is a valuable exercise because it attacks both points simultaneously: it forces you to think of your character fundamentals, and it directly challenges the archetypes.

To use the same baseless fabric example, Rook is clearly the pursuer, but she’s got an exhibitionist streak, and she very much desires penetration:

She leans back, rests her weight on her hands, and deliberately opens the vee of her thighs. Her chemise drapes across them, and it hides very little. There is a shadow beneath, intensified by the flicker of the hearth, and Lucanis’s eye is drawn inexorably down—

Later in the same scene, Spite's POV refers to the act of penetrating Rook as surrender:

The body knows what to do. The instinct for it is ancient and innate, and the rhythm is made at the conjunction of Lucanis’s flesh and heart and mind. It is surrender, a hopeless exposure of underbelly and throat, and it feels good. Lucanis plants one hand on the table and rolls his hips.

Lucanis also acknowledges, multiple times, that he had his own preconceived notions about how sex is supposed to go, which Rook has challenged. For example:

Rook hums and smiles and closes the narrow gap between them. What begins as a simple press of lips develops into the luxuriant slide of tongues, Lucanis pushing the hem of her chemise up so he can bury his hand between her thighs. Rook hooks a knee over Lucanis’s hip and tugs him in until he acquiesces and thrusts into her. It is all slow and lazy. Soft. It feels the way Lucanis always thought it should, except in the ways he couldn’t have foreseen. His body aches from the violence of the previous day, and Rook’s must, as well; the pleasure cuts through the pain, colors it, transforms it into something almost sweet. Rook’s arms coil around him, and she makes the most beautiful little sounds.

(Uh oh, buddy! That's a little masochistic of you!)

If you are working deliberately to improve your character-driven sex scenes, I strongly recommend starting with short (up to like 3k words) ficlets as practice. Pick a trope or two to toss in for extra “put the blorbos in situations” sauce. Forced proximity! Drunken confessions! Hurt/comfort! Fuck or die! Etc. All great fun. Alternately, sometimes you will simply be possessed by the knowledge that certain characters will have certain kinks. Like Lucanis and somnophilia (you get it, right? I don’t even have to explain why. Isn’t that neat?).

As a side benefit, doing this exercise thoughtfully will make you better at character writing more generally. No, really. Spending this time analyzing characters’ relationships to intimacy will help you understand what makes them tick in so many other ways.

Let me sum up.

So, in summary: good smut is character work, and you need your character fundamentals first. However, cultural norms impose the division of sexuality into bipolar roles. Breaking that bipolarity subverts a subconscious expectation, adds tension and interest, and forces both writer and reader to really think about the characters in front of them.

Does that……. Does that answer your question about process?? I swear I didn’t start with the intent to write two thousand earth words about this. And also, I don’t typically sit down and think to myself “how will I break DHSM today?” I have enough practice at this point (and a deep enough obsession with the function of social power) that my disdain for DHSM automatically inserts itself into basically everything I write. I do think these two pieces (1. character first and 2. fuck DHSM) make up the foundation of how I approach smut, though, so hopefully this has been a useful response!!

#anon #2200+ words if you're keeping track #i'm realizing now while formatting the post after copying from word #that i literally didn't even touch on like. what makes smut hot #OH WELL that wasn't the point #character drama makes smut hot. to me #power exchange makes smut hot. to me

56 notes · View notes

munariplans · 10 months ago

Note

Hello there, Your writing deserves a Michelin star. I eat it up every time and I’m NEVER disappointed. Thank you. If I may, I’d request (in a very polite and “no pressure” tone) a fic about Natasha and spider-reader regarding the Odesa mission Natasha outlines in The Winter Solider or a “first time” fic for the couple if you are comfortable.

Keeping doing what you are doing. You are great at it. In the meantime, I will be talking to Michelin about getting you more stars.

odessa | natasha romanoff

synopsis: based on the request for the odessa mission above! plus a backstory and a little character exploration of our spidey!reader, wherein the mission highlights a little of their dynamic too.

natasha romanoff x reader

word count: 3.4k words

a/n: i'm back :) thank you everyone for your patience, and i hope you enjoy this one.

masterlist

a thumb brushing over your own. her knee pressed up against yours. her scent calming your senses down. natasha was beside you, red hair a stark contrast to the all-black tactical suit. on her face, was a comforting look. she didn’t smile, but she didn’t need to. her being there was enough.

“you okay?” you knew she knew something was troubling you deeply. but for the sake of the mission, yours and her sanity, and the engineer sitting behind the both of you at the train station, she didn’t ask. you thought she did it so naturally, being able to comfort you.

you didn’t know it was taking all she had in her not to freak out. she wasn’t sure if this was what people did, or how best she could do to comfort you. she could only reciprocate what she found she liked best when you comforted her. but in the presence of everyone else, she couldn’t do the last thing you always did for her; pull her into the tightest hug and let the world itself disappear away. she knew the both of you needed to be half-alert, at least.

natasha felt like she was the one breathing out a sigh of relief when the wrinkles in your forehead disappeared slightly, your own thumb rubbing hers back. “yeah, i–i’m fine.”

“do you want to talk about it…?” she was pushing her luck.

you looked back at the engineer. he was asleep. the contact for the rental car wasn’t due to arrive in an hour. natasha looked back at him as well, and offered you a small smile, “ninety percent of the mission’s done anyway. simple in and out, get him transported back to SHIELD. makes me wonder why fury asked us both. maybe he felt guilty for sending you away on that undercover for so long; let us have a little bit of a workcation together.”

your mind was screaming at you; but you shrugged and gave her a smile back. “yeah. maybe he did.”

she didn’t know that you and her had separate missions, after all. while hers had been to sneak into the research facility and escort the engineer out, and transport him safely back to SHIELD, you had been informed that there would be…obstacles, in the way. you just didn’t know when.

you remembered the meeting with fury well. you had told him, that with such a statute and reputation the winter soldier had, that you weren’t confident of taking him alone, especially in a place so out of your element. but he had reassured you that you would be fine, and that you should focus on your own assignment when the time came, while natasha focused hers solely on the engineer. you had thought it wasn’t very fair. natasha deserved to know of any dangers, at least, that might pop up, but fury insisted that since it was one of her first few missions as a team lead, he hadn’t wanted to shake her confidence. you had no choice but to comply.

turning your attention back to the hand holding yours, you squeezed it for a moment, then said, “when we get back, can we…just…have a break around the chrysler building? the rooftop, just you and me?”

natasha nodded. she understood. and she didn’t push.

—

when the three of you finally reached odessa, you sat with the engineer as natasha convinced the guards to let you through without passports. knowing russian, aided with a heavy handed helping of flirting and subtle lowering of her zipper, definitely did wonders. and while nervous as you were, spider-senses tingling all over for the winter soldier, you still managed to let out a less-than-annoyed tsk when she returned, taking great care to zip up the rest of her suit and glaring at the guards behind her.

“careful,” she smirked, hand reaching for your cheek to turn your eyes to her, “they won’t let us through if they don’t at least find it believable that they can have me.”

“no one else can have you,” you replied, but she was already walking towards the car, hips swaying purposefully so, and another wave of irritation crept up upon you, “no one, you hear me?”

natasha waited for the engineer to get in, before chuckling and looking back at you. ��are you getting in, spidey?”

when you had safely passed the borders and began driving on the snowy, white roads, natasha unbuckled her seatbelt for a minute, before pulling you in from your attention on the road to steal your breath with her lips. it was only when the cherry from her lipstick had fully melted into the heat of your mouth did she let go, panting just as hard as you were. you were very thankful the roads were empty.

“god, i love it when you get jealous,” she muttered.

to her displeasure, however, the engineer behind let out a disgusted scoff, and murmured, “you guys know i’m here, right?”

“yes, and we don’t mind returning you right back to HYDRA if you complain one more time,” you replied.

—

at a gas station pit stop, natasha knew it was wrong to pry, but she caught a glimpse of your wallet as you paid for snacks on the trip, and an old, almost-faded picture of a younger you next to an older woman was all that her eyes could zero on. you were in a new, freshly-ironed SHIELD uniform, and the woman had her hand on your shoulder, grin mirroring yours. natasha had never seen her before.

you shut the wallet promptly after, and natasha trailed behind as you both returned to your car.

about an hour into the drive later, with the engineer’s soft snores behind the both of you, and natasha’s own eyes drooping, she knew she had to keep the both of you awake somehow.

“you can take a nap, it’s okay,” you told her, but she sat up, the sight of your wallet on the dashboard reminding her of her curiosity earlier.

she angled her head to face you, admiring the older, finer lines on your face that grew more beautiful as time passed. the younger you couldn’t compare to the sight she was treated to now.

“you always this good-looking, or did something happen when you were younger, to turn you like this?” she decided to start.

a tint of red on your cheeks, you chuckled nervously. “um…i don’t think….no. i’ve always been like this.”

“was SHIELD your first job?”

“my first job was when i was twelve. worked for a car mechanic near my place. then i took up newspaper delivery, then a restaurant, researched for my university, and a ton of other jobs,” you said sheepishly, “i wasn’t…that well-to-do.”

she let her thumb caress your cheek. you relaxed a little more. “what did you study?”

“quantum physics. full-ride scholarship, or i never would’ve been able to afford those years.”

then, after a beat of silence, you continued. “it was also where fury found me. recruited me to SHIELD intelligence then. i guess you could say it was my first official job. i wasn’t…uh…wasn’t supposed to be front-facing, you know? i wasn’t a combat agent or anything, just the intelligence. i was in intelligence for five years.”

“what changed?”

you looked at her through the mirror, eyes carrying an emotion natasha could not quite figure out. you looked away again, before sighing. “intelligence got bombed one day, everything was on fire. i was helping my teammates escape, was one of the last few out, and a burning pillar fell on me. i almost died then, paralysed from the waist down. i guess nick felt bad, that the medal of bravery he awarded could only do so much to my current situation. felt even worse when he saw my mother crying by my side. he gave me a second chance.”

“the spider serum.”

“it was experimental then, i believe the number of exclusion of liability clauses i signed reached the hundreds. i was lucky it worked. there were a few others…not so lucky ones.”

natasha reached over the console to where your leg was shaking, and she ran her palm up and down, helping you regain your sanity. “thank you for telling me.”

“it’s not–” you never finished your sentence, because in the next second, your senses overloaded with warning signals, and your hands moved quicker than your brain in swerving the car, the steering wheel jammed to the left so the bullets that you barely saw incoming landed on the car’s tires instead of the glass and right at the engineer. you remembered the engineer screaming as the car skidded off of the cliff, and you remembered jumping out right then to shoot a hanger web to save it from falling completely and crashing onto the ground.

you groaned as you gripped onto the web, feet planted on the ground as you tried pulling the car back up. you have to be quick, quicker than this. he’s here, your mind ran through those thoughts, but your arms were burning. you pulled little by little, hoping natasha was protecting the engineer down below, and the car was moving. it was probably a minute before it was near the edge, and you had one last pull left to bring it up again.

but of course, right as the wheel of the car barely touched the ground you were on again, a blunt force came ramming to the side of your head. you could hear the metal whirring of the winter soldier’s metallic arm as you felt the webs slip from your fingers, sending the car right over again.

—

luckily, the last of your webbings managed to catch on the railings of the edge of the cliff, preventing the car from crashing, but merely hanging precariously in the air.

the blaring pain in the right side of your head was all-too-consuming, but you managed to recover and gather yourself quickly enough, to see him in full view, stature almost twice of yours, face looking down to where the car was hanging. then, the winter soldier raised his rifle, and taking aim, you flew off from where you were to tackle him, throwing him off as the bullet landed astray. he grunted in annoyance, fighting you off as you tried snatching his gun off of him. your legs were straddling his torso, holding him down as the gun was wrestled between the two of you. from below, natasha was holding onto the engineer’s arm, watching the fight as she tried to figure out an alternative escape plan; rather than merely relying on you.

but when the winter soldier felt the gun finally slipping away from his hands, instead of pulling it back, however, he gave one final grunt, before pulling you in. the air was knocked out of your lungs as he slammed the both of you against the railing, his metal arm then travelling to your neck, squeezing as tight as he could.

natasha watched in horror as you struggled against his hold, her heart dropping to the pit of her stomach as the winter soldier began choking you. it didn’t look like a fight you could win, and her hand went to the handgun in her thigh holster, taking a leap of faith and shooting at him.

the bullet riveted off his metal arm, but it was enough. the man took his eyes off of you for a moment, and zeroed in on natasha. unfortunately, it meant that he noticed the engineer behind her too, and immediately, he threw you off of the cliff, and came closer to her. she wished she had the capacity to worry about you, but she was immediately obligated to protect the engineer first.

she angled her body over his, heart pumping in her chest as the winter soldier took aim again. from how she was shielding the engineer, and the angle the winter soldier was at, there was no way he would have a clear aim. he wouldn’t take the shot.

surely not, she thought, as his gun clicked. surely not, she thought again, as the look in his eyes became empty, almost as if he was seeing through her. surely not. he pulled the trigger.

the last thing natasha could register was the burning sear on the side of her stomach, before she was falling straight into the sea below.

—

on your end, you caught the moment right as the shot was fired, and immediately jumped off of where you landed to catch both bodies falling through the air before they hit impact and broke the surface of the water. while you were thankful that natasha’s distraction worked, it was even more horrifying to have to pull her body out of the water beside the engineer’s, your eyes fixated on the gaping wound on her stomach.

you dragged them to shore, and it was then that you noticed both of them were bleeding out, the wound on natasha was bigger than you imagined, and the bullet was still lodged within the engineer, you were sure, as he grappled with a neck that was drenched in red. he was struggling to breathe, mouth opening and closing desperately as the blood loss incapacitated him.

you were cruelly reminded of your own assignment to capture and / or kill the winter soldier, as you glanced upwards to where he was, half-expecting him to be gone already. but he was there, standing still and watching you. almost as if he was challenging you. the hatred rumbling in your heart could not account for the disappointment you felt in already failing the mission. he held eye contact with you, gun no longer aiming at either you or natasha, but instead tucked into safety. his head tilted for a moment, you heard a car pulling up a few seconds later, and he broke eye contact first. entering the car leisurely, he made his getaway without pursuit.

you contemplated giving chase, swinging upwards and taking him down. killing him with your own bare hands, for what he did to natasha, stuffing his own gun down his throat–

natasha shuddered underneath you, and those thoughts were gone as fast as they came, replaced by the instinctive need to stay and make sure she makes it out of this alive. you gathered the first aid materials from the boot of the hanging car, cursing when you dug through the kit and only found the bare minimum. half a roll of bandages, stitches, and some antiseptic. barely enough to only keep one of them alive.

when you made it back down, the engineer was seizing, and you had to turn him on his side and stabilise him for a brief moment, the coldness in your fingers not merely from the frozen waters you had just come out of. natasha, clutching onto her side, managed to notice your dilemma, and the materials you had, and her hand reached out for yours.

she was shaking, and on the verge of bleeding out, but her hands were more steady than yours. she knew. she shook her head as you began grabbing the antiseptic for her wound.

“save him. they…they…need him more,” she choked out, eyes darting between you and the engineer, but the tears brimming in your eyes barely noticed it. you swallowed down a broken sob, looking between the two one last time, before making your final decision.

fuck the assignment. fuck fury, and SHIELD, and anyone else who was going to punish you for saving natasha, anyone who even thought of saving the engineer over natasha, anyone who thought natasha was more dispensable than the engineer. you let go of natasha’s hand, and began working on her, despite her protests. the antiseptic splashed onto her wound, the stitches came weaving through her skin, you tuned out everything else to save the woman you loved first.

even the engineer groaning beside you. even his hand gripping faintly on your suit, him pleading, “i…have a family…a kid…back home. p-please.”

a kid back home. i’m killing this man with a kid back home. you were the worst person in the world, you were sure, as you spared a look at him, his lips blue and pale by then. natasha had used up all the supplies then, so all you could do was hold his hand, angling him at a half-sitting position against your body, and murmuring i’m sorry to him about a thousand times.

“...please.”

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” you were killing the main objective of the mission. you were killing an innocent man because of your own selfishness.

his blood was on you, literally and figuratively, as your hands could only do so much to press against the bullet wound and try to prevent him from dying so soon. but it was imminent; he was never going to make it back, and you and him knew it. the bullet was still lodged somewhere in the back of his neck, and life was leaving his eyes.

you held him until he took his last breath, still apologising.

—

when you reached out to check on natasha for a moment, her skin was getting colder then, too. the stitches and bandages could only hold for so long, and her condition would drop steadily if you didn’t make a move soon. there was no time to wait for help to arrive. so you made the final decision to rest the engineer’s body to where emergency services could easily find him, made a call for help, and promptly brought natasha home first.

—

it was inevitable that you were suspended for almost a year for what you did. you had taken the brunt of the punishment, and volunteered to take natasha’s end of it too. fury had never looked more disappointed, and upper management had a field day berating you for your poor decision-making. you distinctly remembered one of them yelling at fury that you were the reason why they should implement a relationship ban among agents.

you should have known better. you knew you should have done better, as well. more than blaming the winter soldier, everybody could see that it was your own self that you placed the heaviest blame on. the team also knew you would have almost lost yourself, if not for natasha.

she gave you a second chance this time, making clear that you were the only one she would trust to help her get back on her feet, to help her heal. you were reluctant to ever leave the training grounds, to even let yourself handle any other mission other than getting back stronger and better, but she was there. she always was, and she ensured that you wouldn’t regret saving her instead, even if she also thought it had been a difficult choice.

when you lay in bed each night after her recovery, tracing the scar on her stomach and killing yourself in your own mind, she would run through her fingers through your hair, reminding you to get out of the headspace. when you doubted your abilities even in training the younger agents, she would back you up. even when you made the weekly visits to the engineer’s home back in the states, helping out his wife and apologising for your failure to her family. she knew even supporting his child financially for the rest of his life wasn’t enough for you.

odessa was probably the biggest failure in your career as a SHIELD agent. and there was no happy end, or satisfying outcome, you would have achieved then. but at least having natasha through the journey of your recovery from that, helped your growth and acceptance in part.

when she would be asleep beside you most nights in the years after, you would often sneak out and, in the quite space between your balcony and the rooftop of the building, tell yourself that you would have done the same thing over if you were placed in the situation again.

natasha liked to think of herself as cold, her personality and actions as impersonal as things got. she was never sure she was doing right by you, or able to comfort you as much as you comfort her. but clearly, she was quite the opposite.

most nights when you came back after your hours alone, pondering over the day of the incident over and over again, you would look at her sleeping figure on your shared bed, and think to yourself how no one was able to know you the way she knew you. no one came close.

she was your sanctuary as much as you were hers.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel cinematic universe #natasha romanoff x spidey!reader

290 notes · View notes

prismatoxic · 1 year ago

Text

okay, shipping brainrot from my last post aside, i'm still thinking about the shapeshifter arc. the other sites i use don't have inline posting or do but it's clunky, so i guess i'm theorizing here. some of this may seem obvious; bear with me, i'm not trying to be patronizing, just working through things. this will probably be long.

(edit: i've since learned there's canon explanations for all of this. regrettably i don't like them. enjoy my ideas of what would be better maybe? but keep in mind i wrote this before i knew it had been explained anywhere else.)

(edit again: i've done a 180 and come fully around on the canon explanations! i have a lot of thoughts about them but this isn't the post for that. anyway i'm disabling reblogs, sorry. you can still look at this if you want)

laios reveals what he knows of shapeshifters, and that they function on memory:

no one ever really suggests in chapters 39 or 40 who thought of which fake except in the case of which ones laios must have thought of, but i want to posit who i think each one came from, and what it means narratively if i'm right. so, mostly a thought experiment/character study that i could be wrong about or that was never meant to be clearly defined in the first place. but maybe fun to think about? (i'm sure other people have done this before too, but i think it'll be fun to write up.)

from the outset, i think it's worth mentioning that chilchuck knows all three laios fakes are, in fact, fakes. two chilchucks say this, but the one on the right is the real one. senshi and marcille immediately corroborate this, though we can't tell which of them it is except that it's not any of the really obvious fakes.

what i think this suggests is that, brought to the surface, the warped perceptions of the rest of the party that chilchuck, senshi, and marcille have can be easily discerned when compared with the real thing. each of these laioses is from one of them, but they immediately figure out none of them are right with the real laios right there in the room. this is important.

as for who's who...

i think it's fair to assume that giant laios is from chilchuck. laios is the tallest member of their party, at six feet; while chilchuck sees marcille and senshi as their correct heights, laios is a giant to him, and his bulky armor doesn't help. that's why, even if this is his perception, it's glaringly obvious that it's wrong as soon as it's made physical. it's the only big one, and easily falls into the camp of "doesn't seem to know much about monsters" that the others also do.

stupid laios is, i think, from marcille. because the giant one is so likely chilchuck's and i don't think senshi sees laios as someone who stupidly wants to eat everything (even if senshi's opinion of him isn't stellar right now, "i have to eat it" wouldn't be paired with being an idiot to senshi), it tracks that marcille would be the one to remember him this way. to someone who doesn't appreciate their monster eating and otherwise thinks he's an idiot just as much as the others do, dumbly muttering about eating things seems like a reasonable portrayal of laios.

feminine laios, then, is from senshi. i think his physical perception of the other party members is the most off-base; this is likely because he's known them for the least amount of time, and his idea of what they look like is based more on their races than anything else. i think the resemblance to falin might not be intentional--someone suggested to me the other day that the dwarf perception of tall-men is probably more feminine in contrast to how Macho dwarfs are. i think that makes sense (if it ever comes up canonically, i haven't seen it yet). laios and falin do just... look like gender-swapped versions of each other, also. so if senshi sees laios as a feminine person, well... that just winds up looking like falin.

so this leaves us with only the real laios. confronted with their perceptions of him, his friends can immediately tell all three are incorrect.

moving on, we eliminate the three most obvious fakes from the rest of the party, starting with marcille:

if we take into account what i just said about senshi, i think this is his. racial stereotypes about elves being what they are, him not knowing the party as well as the other members do... she stands out, and that's why.

now this is where things start to get interesting.

the next two fakes to be eliminated aren't so blatantly incorrect that they can be struck right out at a glance, but it's not hard to notice the flaws when you look closer, and chilchucks A and B are the ones to point it out. chilchuck is naturally observant; most of his fakes seem to emulate this. (the one who addresses the fakes is A, the real one, but B is proving himself able to pick up on the things A notices. this is important.)

notably, chilchuck and senshi assume these must be laios's versions of them.

we can assume this is correct, if we want to. we can take the framing of this as being an intentional reflection of the truth.

or... or... we can look a little deeper. we can wonder if, perhaps, this isn't a reflection of laios, but a reflection of his friends and what they think of him. laios may not immediately notice the problems, but i don't think it's because he doesn't remember these details. i don't think laios sees much of anything in vague terms; he's observant in his own right, but in ways he doesn't really recognize, nor does anyone else. i think he was so focused on their faces and mannerisms that he didn't notice the bigger picture, glossing over something because so many other factors are at play.

senshi and chilchuck think laios doesn't take notice of things, but the vast majority of the shapeshifter arc is about them and marcille not trusting laios's judgement as it is, given how things went recently. is it possible there's more to their assumptions here than what the text explicitly says? i think so!

so then who do these two belong to? marcille, i think.

if we assume dumb laios is hers, then we can also assume her perceptions of the others are kind of broad and vague. she doesn't think poorly of them, necessarily (at least not in as obvious a way as she does with laios, who, i'll remind you, she's currently upset with), but she doesn't commit unimportant details to memory, like chilchuck's neck band or the damage to senshi's helmet.

we've got three more "obvious" fakes to get through, and laios offers another lore tidbit on how the shapeshifters work:

anyway, the first of the next round is marcille again, setting the stage for how these three next fakes are eliminated.

marcille changes her hairstyle all the time, so this isn't a surprise. the last one pictured here winds up being our next fake, as indicated by her grimoire:

so the fake marcille in this section is the one with the most visibly different hair texture (who even draws attention to this), and the spellbook that's woefully incompetent. i think she's from chilchuck.

he's observant, as i said before; even if he didn't commit her hair to memory, he did remember the stuff she's said about how important hair is to magic. maybe that's why the texture is so striking. more importantly, chilchuck isn't wary of magic quite the way senshi is, but he also doesn't understand it. the general tone of the low-quality grimoire also just... sounds like the way he'd frame something like that. (plus, the "how to turn back time" bit is a thing he specifically called her on when she suggested it a few chapters ago.)

so the next fake chilchuck and senshi are revealed via their tools:

i think the chubby-cheeked chilchuck with the simple lockpicks is from senshi, and i think the ordinary-looking senshi with the simple cookware is from chilchuck. the former speaks for itself--senshi sees chilchuck as a child, and knows absolutely nothing about picking locks. as for the fake senshi, chilchuck has a decent mental image of him but knows nothing about cookware.

so now we're down to the final three fakes, and there's only one person left who they could be from: laios. nobody thinks this, not even laios himself, but i want to explore the concept because i think it has extreme merit. the three remaining fakes have some key similarities between them, namely in that they're all close enough interpretations that making a distinction is difficult. they look a tiny bit different, but both the real people and their fakes make plausible cases for why they're the actual person. i want to talk about why i think laios is the one who made that so, and what that means about him.

chapter 39 ends with all his companions--real and fake--doubting his skills. seeing a pattern?

chapter 40 opens with laios determined to regain his friends' trust in him...

...while his friends (and their fakes) talk about how he's liable to like the fakes more, because they're monsters.

this is a needlessly cruel interpretation of laios, but after how things went post-falin-rescue, it's not a surprise. they see him as reckless and single-minded, more interested in the things he's weird about than in the people around him.

laios is really bad at talking about what he's thinking--not because he's hiding it, but because it doesn't occur to him that it's important. meeting the lunatic magician in the paintings is a prime example of this, but he does it a lot. they likely have no idea why he told toshiro about falin and the black magic; to them, laios was being flippant with sensitive information, not worrying about their safety. to laios? he was trying to get help. he trusted toshiro, and his perception of their friendship made him think the information would help them gain an ally who cared about falin as much as they do. he wasn't trying to put falin or marcille in danger--far from it, in fact. but he didn't tell his friends about his thought process. he didn't think it was important to share.

(he's autistic but we all know this. moving on)

so, we have laios's plan: the pairs cook together, while he watches for behavioral differences to discern who's who. it doesn't occur to him, or anyone else, that the people he's watching for mistakes are his own perceptions of his friends. and now we get into the meat of why i wanted to write this post.

assuming i'm correct... let's talk about laios's view of his friends, and how he challenges those perceptions.

starting with my favorite, chilchuck:

chilchuck A, of course, is in fact the real one. this is a pretty significant character moment for him too, in my opinion; we know he has difficulty expressing his emotions, and that a lot of his conflicts so far have stemmed from that. the fact that "chilchuck B asked for help with a menial task" is a gotcha moment to him is... telling. not only because it's so obvious to him, but because it's not obvious to any of his companions. he thinks they know this about him, but he's never openly expressed anything to make them think this is an issue he'd have, in addition to having sought help in the past.

his "convictions and pride and all that" seems to them like someone trying to convince them of something, not someone reminding them of facts he assumes they know.

anyway, back to laios. if we accept that chilchuck B is made from his memories, this suggests several things. first of all, chilchuck B is, despite his softer eyes and willingness to ask for help, still a fairly accurate portrayal of chilchuck. he's easily annoyed and he's observant, two traits chilchuck is known for. i think the reason chilchuck B has the kinder eyes and the more gentle disposition is because to laios, those things are indicative of someone being a good person, and he very much thinks chilchuck is a good person.

we know laios isn't especially good at reading people in general. thus, his idea of who his friends are is skewed in broad strokes, but not in the ways they think. he knows who chilchuck is, but he also associates chilchuck with his own ideas of what makes someone "good", which results in a chilchuck who's less rough around the edges. confronted with this--the real chilchuck asking him if he can tell--laios compares the two and thinks, reasonably speaking, the nicer one who trusts him has to be the friend he respects so much.

senshi and marcille also want to accept this chilchuck, likely for similar reasons. they also respect and care for him; they've seen him go through a lot. laios's ideal of him is just that, ideal. in a roundabout way, it's only their deep fondness for who chilchuck really is that makes them want to see him this way.

next up, we have marcille.

the fake, marcille A, is a radical departure from what makes chilchuck B a fake. laios notes that the real marcille is exactly the same as she always is. the reason, then, that marcille A confuses him--and the others--is that after everything they've been through, their perception of her has changed radically.

if we look back to senshi and chilchuck's marcilles, it's readily apparent when they're eliminated that both interpretations hinge on the knowledge that she performs black magic. senshi's tries to use it to prove herself; chilchuck's has a grimoire loudly proclaiming it's what she does. contrast this to marcille A: she doesn't mention black magic at all, and her grimoire looks strikingly similar to the real one.

that's because laios doesn't think her performing black magic changes anything about who she is. her doing so proved her to be just as dedicated to falin as he himself is, and the knowledge that her goals involve it doesn't faze him. (additionally, marcille has been teaching him magic, and falin had tried in the past. though his image of a grimoire is flawed to someone experienced, to anyone else it looks fine.) thus, marcille A isn't a flagrant black magic wielder; she's someone who's been fundamentally changed by what they--and falin--went through.

let's go back to chapter 27:

chilchuck and senshi are appalled, and will continue to be. while they ultimately don't prevent marcille from doing this, and care enough about both her and laios (and in chilchuck's case, falin as well) to be in tentative support, this changes their view of her in a negative way. she's dangerous now, in a way she wasn't before, but she's still marcille--goofy and a little reckless. thus, their views of her, and the illusions that result.

laios's opinion of her changes for the better.

she is, all at once, both competent and loyally dedicated. she will stop at nothing to help falin. whatever goofiness she exhibited before now is gone, replaced by the cold demeanor of someone who is doing something extremely dangerous for reasons that are inherently selfish, but ultimately too important to reject.

thus, we return to marcille A: cold, sharp, dedicated. not reckless or goofy, but methodical and haunted. she may have returned to "normal" since they left the castle town, but laios's opinion of her, and understanding of her love for falin, has been forever changed.

so faced with the real marcille--still silly, still whining, still frequently annoyed with him--he's confused, because that's deeply familiar, but it doesn't line up with what he knows about her now.

the truth, of course, is nuanced--these things are true about marcille, but only under duress; it's similar to how laios becomes a competent leader when the going gets tough. she has this within her, but it's not her default state of being. still, the shapeshifter picks up on the strongest memories laios has of her, this new interpretation of someone he thought he knew.

now then--onto senshi, the punchline of this particular joke about the differences between the copies. i still think it says a lot.

i think this one speaks for itself, though i find chilchuck's agreement interesting. senshi is the newest member of the team; little is known about him. laios happily notes that senshi "always looks cool" while chilchuck says he looks normal (and chilchuck B insults the real one). laios sees senshi this way because he thinks senshi is cool as hell, and this manifests in an idealized version of a face he's not as familiar with as he is with chilchuck and marcille.

this is clearly comedy, but it also speaks to the same desire to see the best in the rest of the party. marcille is the only one who notices likely because her opinion of senshi isn't so romanticized. chilchuck's senshi, of note, wasn't a perfect replica: we don't see much of him after the obvious fakes are hauled off, but he's a little squashed (he's the top one):

which indicates that chilchuck's visual memory of senshi is already flawed. if we compare this to giant laios and the marcille with the unique hair texture, it tells us chilchuck's attention to detail is more specific than the others'; he can remember the hole in the helmet, the importance of hair, but he doesn't quite see the bigger picture. giant laios is also surprisingly... rugged? which i imagine has to do with chilchuck's perception of him as a tall-man. (or maybe how he clearly has trouble seeing laios's face half the time, lmao...)

anyway. laios thinks senshi is super cool and chilchuck has an imperfect idea of what senshi look like as it is. (i wonder if chilchuck is some degree of faceblind? not enough to not recognize someone at all, but can't pinpoint specifics.)

and so, we arrive at the moment of truth.

so let's go over what i'm theorizing here... all the remaining fakes are illusions based on how laios sees his friends. the illusions manage to make mistakes that reveal the truth to him, but i think the reason for that harkens back to what laios said earlier... the illusions are being updated over time.

laios isn't considering any of the things that give the fakes away until this moment. if it had taken a little longer to resolve things, maybe they'd have started course-correcting, but they aren't given the chance. laios makes sure they aren't--he acts very quickly. even as he presents the three pairs with his findings, he's aware that everything will fall apart as soon as he does... and he's banking on that. while the shapeshifter illusions defend themselves from being killed, he gets right to the heart of the matter in the only way he knows how: confronting the actual monster involved.

when all's said and done, laios reveals how he figured it out:

potentially of note, all of these details happened before the red dragon fight. chilchuck fighting a mimic and revealing his history with them, senshi gushing about the dungeon's ecosystem, and marcille being attacked by the undine weren't super recent memories. when laios brought them forth in his mind, he had a delay before the shapeshifter updated its illusions.

well... except with marcille. marcille A actually didn't show her hand so easily; it was the real marcille's carelessness that proved her identity.

but what this suggests is that, when confronted with the realities of marcille versus his idealized version of her, laios had to make a choice: did it make more sense for her to have been radically changed by the revival and subsequent loss of falin, or was the presence of a marcille he knew so well proof of an illusion? she was the one who was the most different, and as such, the contrast was the same one that eliminated all three laioses at the start: with the real thing in the room, the fake became apparent.

so, to reach a conclusion: one again, laios has proven he's not as scatterbrained as his companions think, but this time he did so on a more personal level than usual. to them, he reveals that he knows their quirks enough to define them by such when they're otherwise faced with convincing copies. to us, the readers, if we accept what i've suggested here... he's revealed a lot more. he respects, admires, and idolizes his friends, all out of fondness: he wants to see them in an ideal way, whatever that means for each of them as individuals.

anyway thanks for coming to my TED talk

#dungeon meshi #extensive spoilers for chapters 39 and 40 but also a little bit 27 too #I REALLY LIKE WRITING META SORRY. THIS IS LONG #tox.txt

308 notes · View notes

heart-of-ep · 10 days ago

Text

Elvis: Through Her Lens (Chapter Three)

(Elvis Presley × OC Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis Presley

Read More Here: Elvis: Through Her Lens - Click here!

Prompt: You are Minnie Jones, an aspiring photographer working for the LA Sentinel. Your chief editor is looking for a story that will help boost the popularity of the paper, so an opportunity comes knocking when Colonel Tom Parker approaches him with a new 'snowjob.' After a tentative first meeting with the Colonel, and his star Elvis Presley, you are hired on to follow Elvis around as his personal photographer in an attempt to catch lightening in a bottle twice with the earlier success of the Alfred Wertheimer photos. Along the way, you develop a close bond with Elvis, leading to complications in your relationship when the issues of his marriage and eventual drug usage start to put a strain on your relationship. Constantly fighting your ever-growing feelings for him, you are swept up into the whirlwind of Elvis' world which forces you to see the King of Rock 'n' Roll through a new lens.

Tags: Slow burn. Angst. Drama. Friends to lovers (sort of).

TW: None. Cussing?

Rating: PG-13 (ish) (may get spicy but won't be explicit as I don't enjoy writing smut lol but cursing, possible violence, and infidelity will appear throughout the story)

Word Count: 5.6k

Author's Note: Alright yall, things are starting to kick off with this chapter, and I'm very excited about it. It's quite a bit longer than the previous two chapters so I hope you enjoy!

I have to say, I had a blast researching the Houston Astrodome cause 1970 is a major hyperfixation for me, and I actually learned a lot while looking up all the info for this chapter (and the next 👀) so I'm just gonna be living vicariously through Minnie. 🤭

I apologize in advance for the slow burn nature of this fic, but I promise things will get spicy/angsty soon! ♡

Elvis at the Houston Airport for a press conference on February 25th, 1970.

After reviewing the contract with you, and making sure you were absolutely sure that you still wanted to do it, Pierce had you sign it, hesitating to sign it himself. He was more than a little skeptical of Colonel Tom Parker, which you couldn’t necessarily blame him for. You did your best to reassure him once the two of you left the Hillcrest home.

“Don’t worry, Pierce. The Colonel might be a bit…strange, but Elvis seems interested in the project.” You told him as he drove you back to the office to collect your camera and film before heading home to pack.

“I just can’t put my finger on it, Minn. He just rubs me the wrong way.” Pierce frowned before sighing. “But I suppose Elvis seems nice enough. Though, I wouldn’t fall for his charm. He’s had a fair few scandals involving women he works with.” He pointed out.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not worried about Elvis Presley seducing me. For one, he’s married.” You reminded him.

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s stopped people in the past.” He said sarcastically.

“Pierce, I’ll be fine. I’ve been around my fair share of charming men, it doesn’t mean I’ll fall for it.” You said, though you secretly knew that Elvis was very different from any other man you’d ever met.

Different and very beautiful.

You shoved the intrusive thought from your mind, refusing to let yourself get hung up on how good looking he was. You weren’t about to be one of many other women who fell for the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. After all, you were there to do a job, and you weren’t going to get distracted along the way.

Once you collected your things from the office, you quickly drove back to your apartment to get your clothes packed. Elvis would be in Houston for at least a week for the Astrodome shows and any of its corresponding press conferences, so you needed to figure out everything to take. And you weren’t familiar with Houston weather which presented a problem of its own. After a while of debating what to bring, you decided to call up your girlfriend, Vivien to get her advice, and quite frankly you just needed someone to talk to about all of this.

“Elvis Presley?!” Vivien practically squealed, causing you to pull the phone away from your ear.

“Yes, Elvis Presley.” You said, rolling your eyes as you lifted your suitcase up onto your bed.

“Wait, hold on, Minn. You can’t be serious. I mean, you’re kidding, right?” She asked, sounding skeptical now instead of excited.

You frowned a bit. “Why would I be lying, Viv? Look, it's not a big deal.” You paused for a moment. “Well, it is sort of a big deal, but it’s just a job. A very exciting job, but a job nonetheless.” You explained.

“Just a job? Minn, are you sure you’re not high right now?”

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes again. “I know it’s a lot, and I am excited, but I have to keep a leveled head about all of this. I don’t think Elvis wants another screaming girl bothering him.” You pointed out.

“Hm…I suppose you’re right, but this is still a huge deal! God, do you know how much I’ve dreamed about meeting Elvis?” She groaned. “Tell me, does he look just as good in person?” She asked curiously.

You hesitated for a moment, thinking back to those beautiful blue eyes of his, his soft pouty lips, and that full spirited laugh that made you feel warm inside…you quickly snapped out of your daze before the thought could go any further. “I uh…I didn’t really notice.” You mumbled.

“Sure you didn’t.” You could just hear the smile on her lips.

You sighed. “Can we focus? I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear. Business or casual?”

“Well, you’re not exactly going into the office.” She pointed out. “Besides, you’ll be traveling with Elvis Presley. You have to pack in style.”

You wanted to tell her that it was silly to dress to specifically impress Elvis, but you figured everyone in his company (especially the women) dressed to fit in with his style. You recalled seeing a few photos of Elvis with Priscilla in the paper and remembered how pretty and stylish she looked. But you quickly reminded yourself that you were working as his photographer, nothing else.

“So when are you leaving?” Vivien asked as you pulled out a coat from your closet, the only coat you owned, and folded it up neatly into your suitcase.

“Tomorrow.” You sighed. “Pierce is losing his shit, you know. He thinks this whole thing is going to end up exploding in our face because of that manager, Colonel Parker.” You shook your head as you sat down on the edge of your bed.

“Pierce always has a stick up his ass.” She reminded you. “Besides, you’ve done celebrity pieces before this. I can’t imagine this will be any different. That is unless you plan on sleeping with him.”

“Viv!” You shot back before shaking your head. “I’m starting to think that telling you about all of this was a bad idea.” You muttered.

“Oh, trust me it wasn’t a bad idea. And you’re going to keep me updated on all of this.” She said as a matter of fact.

You frowned a bit, but realized she was probably right. It’s not like you could talk to Pierce about any of it. You glanced at the clock, sighing when you noticed how late it was already. “Thanks, Viv. I’ll call you once I get settled in at the hotel.”

“Just try and have fun, Minn. I know it’s your job, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

You nodded a bit and smiled. “Yeah, I’ll try. I’ll talk to you later.” You said before hanging up the phone. You sighed and looked over at your suitcase before pushing yourself to finish packing the rest of your clothes, placing your extra packs of film on top.

You had no idea what to expect when you showed up at the airport tomorrow, but you knew it would be the beginning of something new and exciting.

~*~*~

When you showed up at LAX in the morning, after Pierce picked you up from your apartment, you could hardly contain your excitement. “Just think about it, Pierce. We’re going to have photos that no other paper in the world will have. The LA Sentinel will practically fly off the shelves.” You grinned.

“It better, or there won’t be an LA Sentinel.” Pierce muttered. “Just keep your head on straight. And don’t let this Presley fellow distract you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Pierce, you act like I’m just going to bend over the moment I see him.” You shot back. “Elvis Presley might be the world’s biggest flirt, but all I care about is getting the perfect picture.”

“I suppose. I guess if any woman can reject his advances it would be you.” He smirked a bit.

You slapped his arm playfully, smiling again as he parked the car on the private hanger that the Colonel had directed you to meet them at. You were surprised to find out that Elvis didn’t have a private jet, even Frank SInatra had that, but that didn’t stop him from being able to borrow one to fly him and his whole crew to whatever city he needed them in. You looked up at the jet as you stepped out of the car, ignoring the general nerves that attacked you every time you had to fly somewhere, and instead focused on the excitement of the whole situation.

You immediately noticed a couple cars already parked and waiting around the jet, a handful of men that you assumed worked for Elvis standing around waiting for him to arrive while someone loaded the luggage onto the plane. Pierce pulled your suitcase out of the trunk and walked with you over to the group, his gaze immediately searching for any sign of Elvis or the Colonel.

“I don’t think it would be such a bad thing if that Colonel got left behind.” Pierce muttered, and you jabbed him in the ribs, an amused smile crossing your face. You almost wished he was tagging along so you wouldn’t be going completely solo, but you knew you didn’t have much choice. The chief editor couldn’t exactly leave the office for a week. “Looks like Presley has six shows lined up in Houston, so you’re going to be pretty busy, Minn. Remember, we need to get photos that no one else will have.” He reminded me.

You nodded. “I know. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.” You smiled confidently.

He nodded and cracked a small smile. “I know you won’t.” He said before clapping me on the shoulder. “Keep your head on straight. Remember, a reporter trusts no one.” You nodded, though you didn’t exactly take that too close to heart. Unlike an official reporter, a photographer was meant to get close to their subject.

You turned your gaze away from Pierce and surveyed the group of men, immediately recognizing a couple of them from Elvis’ house. Charlie, the shorter fellow, was standing around laughing and talking with the other guys and standing close to one of the Cadillacs was an aging gentleman with grey hair and a small mustache. You didn’t recall seeing him at the house, nor did he seem to fit in with the other guys, which struck you as curious.

You only looked away when you heard a car pulling up behind you, glancing back to see the white Cadillac from yesterday coming to a stop. You immediately felt your heart leap in your chest (for some inexplicable reason) and quickly stood up a bit straighter as you clutched the handle of your suitcase. After a moment, the door to the car opened and first stepped out the Colonel, much to Pierce’s dismay, and then the other door opened and out stepped Elvis, glowing and smiling just as he had the day before.

The first thing you noticed was his attire, as it was incredibly different from what he had on the first time you met him. Unlike before, this outfit was anything but casual, and it much more accurately represented the stylish and over the top nature of Elvis’ more recent wardrobe from the International. He wore an all white, karate gi inspired ensemble, with a bright red ruched shirt underneath and around his neck, much like his stage wear, he wore a printed scarf that hid his exposed chest underneath. A karate style belt hung low around his waist, tied at his hip in a knot, pulling the whole outfit together with the clear inspiration. It was really unlike anything you had seen someone wear before, but you resisted the urge to snap a photo too quickly.

When you looked up at Elvis, you noticed he looked a bit more tired than he had yesterday, dark circles under his eyes and a bit of sweat on his brow. You casted him a concerned look, but he smiled through how unwell he seemed and walked over to where you were standing. “Hey, Minnie Mouse.”

You rolled your eyes. “Hello, Elvis.” You said as you shook his outstretched hand before looking at the Colonel as he hobbled up behind him, one of those comical cigars sticking out of his mouth as he approached Mr Pierce to discuss something with him in private. When you looked back at Elvis, he was still staring at you, sending a shiver running down your back. “Um…I’ve never been to Houston before.” You said in an attempt to break the ice.

“I’ve been all over Texas.” He said as he directed me toward the stairs leading up into the plane where the rest of his group was waiting. “I think you’ll like it.” He reassured me.

You glanced back at Pierce, catching his gaze for a moment before you looked forward and smiled as Elvis began introducing you to the different guys. “This is Minnie Jones. She’s a photographer that’s going to be accompanying us on the trip to Houston.” He explained before gesturing to the men. “You met Charlie already at the house. This is Red and Sonny, they work as my bodyguards. Joe, he’s my road manager. Gee Gee, Jerry, and Cliff, they help keep everything running smoothly. And this is Lamar, he’s my lighting technician and a general pain in my ass.” Elvis said, laughing a bit at his own joke, though Lamar didn’t necessarily seem amused. “And this is my father.” He added as he gestured at the older man you had noticed earlier. Now that they were standing next to each other, they looked very similar.

You awkwardly waved hello, doing your best not to seem completely out of place. “I know all of you are probably used to a bit more privacy, but just pretend I’m not even here. That’s what most politicians do before I snap a real embarrassing photo.” You said jokingly.

Elvis laughed out loud, and soon the guys were laughing too (something you noted as interesting) before he just looked at you and smiled. “She’s funny isn't she? Don’t worry, Minnie Mouse. You’ll fit right in.”

You felt a little more at ease, nodding as you followed Elvis up the steps onto the plane, the guys following behind as they carried yours and the rest of his luggage on board. Elvis moved along to his seat towards the back of the plane, and quickly made sure to keep up, clutching tightly onto the strap of your camera bag.

“Have you flown before, honey?” Elvis suddenly asked as he leaned his hand against the carry-on cubbies overhead, looking down at you curiously.

You nodded a bit and looked away, unable to meet his piercing blue gaze. “A few times, yeah. Though it doesn’t really get any less scary.” You admitted before opening your camera bag. “You don’t mind, do you?” You asked, trying to be courteous regardless of why you were there.

He smirked a bit. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” He teased you before he slipped down into his chair, crossing his leg over the other as he looked out the window.

You watched him for a moment as he leaned on his elbow, chewing on his fingernails as his leg bounced up and down in what seemed to be a nervous tick. You checked to make sure there was film in your camera before raising the lens to snap a photo, smiling a bit at just how human he looked. “Does everyone know that the king of rock ‘n’ roll bites his nails?” You asked as you sat down next to him.

He snorted, turning his gaze back toward you. “There’s a lot of things people don’t know about me.” He said vaguely.

You raised an eyebrow at him before sighing. “I bite my nails, too.” You said after a moment. “Bad habit I’ve had since I was a kid.” You shrugged as you showed him your nails.

He viewed your hand, chuckling a bit before he held out his own hand. “I guess we have at least one thing in common, Minnie Mouse.” He smirked a bit.

You smiled, already feeling less nervous. Something about being so close to him just made the unease inside of you disappear. You raised your camera again, snapping another photo of just his hand before you took the opportunity to look at the rings that decorated his fingers. A beautiful golden ring sat over his pinky finger, engraved with an intricate embossing and set with a glimmering black sapphire gem while another gold ring in the shape of a lion head sat next to it on his other finger. Dangling across his wrist hung an ID bracelet (once more in gold) with his name encrusted in diamonds along the band, somehow looking perfectly sensible on him and not at all gaudy.

You looked away when you suddenly felt the plane start to move, your nerves instantly returning as you grabbed hold of the arm rest instinctively. You chewed on your lower lip as you sunk back into your seat, but then you felt something warm settle over your hand. You looked down, swallowing a bit when you saw Elvis’ hand now resting softly over yours, the cold metal of his rings grazing over the top of your fingers.

“It’s okay, honey. As long as I’m here, nothin’ bad will happen.” He said, and from the look in his eyes, you believed him. You believed he could somehow control the weather and ensure a safe flight all the way to Houston. You ignored the flutter in your chest and the way his touch sent electricity running up your arm, and instead just focused on the warmth of his hand as the plane took off, suddenly feeling a lot less terrified.

The rest of the flight ended up being rather uneventful, and once you were up in the air, Elvis had let go of your hand and went to chat with the other guys about the upcoming shows and the press conference planned for later that day. You were glad for the space, unsure of how to feel about the weird feeling he had left you with, and focused on snapping some photos from your seat. It surprised you to see how relaxed he seemed, even with a camera around. You assumed he was probably used to it by now.

When you arrived in Houston, you could practically see the excitement radiating off of Elvis as he found his way back to his seat. “You alright, honey?” He asked as the pilot started to descend for landing.

You nodded, thankful for his presence next to you as you rested your hands on the arm rests. “What about you? This is your first time performing outside of Vegas isn’t it?”

He sighed, glancing out the window at the city below. “Yeah, it is.” He pursed his lips. “I’m not sure what to expect.” He admitted. “What if nobody shows up? Vegas is a helluva lot different.”

“You’re Elvis Presley. People will show up.” You said as a matter of fact. “Besides, I’m pretty excited to see what you’ve got up your sleeve.” You teased him.

He relaxed a little, smiling as he looked at you. “Thank you, Minnie Mouse.” He said before once again holding your hand as the plane hit a few bumps in the air.

Once the plane finally landed, you were happy to have your feet firmly on the ground and breathing some fresh air that didn’t smell of Elvis’ musky cologne, which you definitely didn’t notice while sitting with him. You followed him down onto the tarmac, and from a distance you could see a large group of fans that had already gathered nearby at the small terminal in an attempt to see Elvis up close and personal.

“I thought we were going somewhere, man.” He said with a grin as he waved at them before his bodyguards led him toward the airport terminal with his father, Vernon, and the Colonel following closely behind.

Waiting inside the airport were several reporters and photographers from different news outlets where a press conference was set up. You stood off to the side, watching as Elvis sat down at a table to answer their questions. He did it with ease, and it quickly dawned on you how natural he was at speaking, despite his stutter and the nervous way that he coughed and joked through some of his responses. It was charming and instantly made him feel a lot more personable.

Once he finished, he snapped a few photos with the Mayor who had come to welcome him to Houston before he was whisked off to a car waiting out front to take him to the hotel. The Colonel and Vernon accompanied the two of you with one of the guys driving while the rest took a separate vehicle. On the ride there, you tried not to pay attention to the way the Colonel seemed to be watching you like a hawk, squirming a little in your seat at the heavy air that hung in the car. During the flight you noticed just how little Elvis seemed to talk to his manager. Whenever you overheard a conversation between them, it was always about business, and even now, Elvis made no attempt to start a conversation.

Needless to say, you were thankful when you were finally able to check-in at the hotel, already exhausted from the day of travel. Elvis made sure everyone got a room a floor down from his penthouse suite to make things easier, but when you took your hotel key and started walking toward the elevator, you felt Elvis’ hand around your wrist.

“Wait up, Minnie Mouse.” He directed his smile down at you as he flicked his wrist at Charlie. “Charlie, take her luggage up to her room.” He said, his gaze fixated on you. “It ain’t too late yet. Why don’t you come up to my room?”

You swallowed, the invitation feeling far too intimate, even if you logically knew it didn’t mean anything. For some reason, though, the look in his eyes sent a shiver down your back, his fingers still softly gripping your wrist as he waited for a response.

“Well, honey?” He asked softly.

Damn it, Minn. Just say no.

You stared at him for a long moment. “Sure.” You heard yourself say, barely even recognizing your own voice.

Jesus Christ, this is a huge mistake.

You weren’t entirely sure what had come over you, or why you decided to say yes, but before you could even process what was happening, you were standing in the middle of Elvis’ lavish suite while he sent one of his guys to grab the two of you dinner from downstairs. You didn’t hear what he ordered, but right now you couldn’t exactly focus on anything, least of all food. You folded your arms across your chest, chewing on your nails as you instantly thought of everything that could possibly go wrong.

Calm down. He’s just having dinner with you.

Logic told you that you were probably right, but you weren’t about to forget who it was that had invited you upstairs for dinner. You remembered what Pierce had said about his reputation, causing you to pace a little as you waited near the sofa. He was probably just being courteous, and knowing Elvis, he couldn’t exactly go downstairs and have dinner in public without causing a commotion. But the lack of anyone else being present in his suite made you worry that this was just his way of trying to make a move on you, his marriage be damned.

You glanced across the room, watching as Charlie left the room to go pick up the food before Elvis shut the door behind him. In that moment, you resolved to keep your chin up and not allow his charm to instantly disarm you.

He’s just a man. A very beautiful and charming man, but just a man.

When he turned your way and walked over, his long strides closed the space between you in seconds, leaving you a bit flustered when he suddenly stopped in front of you. “You can sit down if you want, honey.” He said, gesturing to the sofa.

You glanced at the lush piece of furniture and simply shook your head. “I’m okay. I’m still a bit stiff from the flight.” You said as you folded your arms. “What did you order?” You asked after a moment.

He smiled. “Steak. It seems to be the only good thing they’ve got on the menu.” He said before sinking down onto the sofa and crossing his leg over the other. “You seem nervous, honey.” He noted, looking me up and down with one sweep of those brilliant blue eyes.

You frowned a bit. “Well, a married man invited me up to his suite for dinner, alone. Most women might be a bit nervous.” You pointed out.

His expression shifted a little. “Miss Jones…I-I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” He said, suddenly the southern gentleman you had met a couple days prior. “It’s not exactly easy for me to find privacy outside of my room. I just thought this would give us an opportunity to talk a bit more.” He explained.

You felt yourself blush a little out of embarrassment, realizing you had definitely miscalculated his intentions. “Oh…I’m sorry, Elvis. I just thought…” You trailed off, quickly shaking your head before you decided to sit down next to him on the sofa. “I guess I’m not used to men having manners.” You smirked a bit.

He chuckled, glad to see you relax a little. “You’re a smart girl, Minnie Mouse.”

You smiled a little. “You must be excited.” You said, deciding to change the subject. “Everyone seemed pretty amped up at the press conference.”

He nodded. “This is the make or break moment, honey. If these shows fail…” He whistled as he made a downward motion with his hand. “Fourteen years shot to hell.”

You furrowed your brow a bit. “Why do you think they’d fail?” You hadn’t seen Elvis perform live, but you also knew that he was an absolute powerhouse. After all, this man was able to captivate audiences all over America for more than a decade through the silver screen. And the NBC TV Special was a raving success. You remembered Vivien forcing you to sit down and watch it with her when it aired. Needless to say, you couldn’t picture him failing at anything.

You watched his brow furrow a bit, as if he was contemplating what to say. “What if I just can’t bring it in like I used to?” He finally said, shaking his head as his leg started to bounce up and down in that little nervous tick of his. “There’s a lot of folks out there listenin’ to all kinds of music now. What if I just can’t shake it anymore?” He looked at you, surprising you a little with the vulnerability in his eyes.

You bit your lip for a second before sighing as you reached over and touched his hand. “Elvis, I can’t sit here and tell you what will happen, but I do know that you’re one of the most loved and adored stars in the world. I mean, my best friend just about fainted when I told her I was going to be working with you.” You smiled at him. “Trust me, you can still bring it in. Besides, I know I’m pretty excited to see my first Elvis Presley show.”

He seemed to relax a little, a boyish smile crossing his lips. “I’ll make sure I give you one hell of a performance.” He winked.

You laughed a little before looking over your shoulder when you heard a knock at the door followed by Charlie walking in. “That must be the food.”

“Better be a damn good steak. I’m starvin’.” He grinned before getting up and walking over to see the food that had been brought back.

Once we had our food and gotten the chance to eat, the rest of the night went by like a blur. You found yourself talking to him about the most mundane things, whether it be your frustration of being stuck taking photos of politicians, or the fact that living alone in LA definitely wasn’t all it cracked up to be. He listened to everything you had to say, his focus solely on you the entire time. You couldn’t recall ever having a man give you so much attention, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered. It left you with this strange feeling that you didn’t really want to acknowledge yet.

Elvis also opened up about his life, giving you the background of how he started out in Tupelo and then moved to Memphis as a teen before eventually beginning his rise to fame at Sun Studios. The way he recounted it felt like he was explaining something that had just happened yesterday, and he really seemed proud over his earlier success during the fifties. It was only when he began talking about his movies that his tone soured. He didn’t completely dismiss them, admitting that even his movies had fans, but he knew that he was capable of doing more. He wanted to do more. But he didn’t linger on the topic, deciding once again to speak about something he was proud of as he brought up his success with the NBC TV Special and his debut in Las Vegas.

“I missed the contact with a live audience.” He explained. “The electricity you get from performing in front of an audience…it’s like nothin’ else.” He said as he sat back against the cushions of the sofa.

You smiled as you curled up on the other end of the sofa, folding your knees up against your chest as you watched him. There was a glimmer of excitement that twinkled in his eyes whenever he talked about his music or performing. You could tell he loved it, and you knew he just wanted to give his fans the best that he had. It was so earnest and so real, something you hadn’t really experienced with any other celebrity that you had met.

“Well, I have a feeling you’ll blow their socks off.” You teased him before reaching over and grabbing your camera off the table. You raised the lens, snapping a photo of that little smile on his lips before he made a funny face for the camera and you snapped a photo of that too. “I think that one is worthy of the front page.” You giggled.

“Nah, honey, second page at best.” He smirked, but the smile slowly fell from his lips and he regarded you with a long look that took you off guard. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

You bit your lip before nodding. “Of course.” You sat up a little straighter.

He looked you up and down, his blue eyes surveying you carefully as he leaned his cheek against his fist, his other hand drumming its fingers against his knee. “You said you weren’t really a fan before, so why did ya take the job? Ain’t a photographer supposed to feel passionate about their subject?” He asked curiously.

His question struck you as odd, but you figured he probably did have a point. And the more you thought about it, you weren’t sure why you had been so drawn toward saying yes. Aside from the obvious reason for progressing your career, you had never really thought much about Elvis Presley prior to Pierce’s proposition. But something about him drew you in. You just knew that it wasn’t an opportunity that you could pass up.

You were silent for a long moment, and you could sense his growing impatience as his fingers started tapping faster against his leg. “I guess it just felt like the right thing to do.” You said quietly, looking down as you fiddled with your hands. “You changed the world, Elvis. I just figured it was time the world saw the real you, whatever that may be.” You shrugged.

Something flashed in his eyes, disappearing far too quickly for you to register what it was, before he laughed, running a hand through his hair as he looked away. “Damn, Minnie Mouse. Are ya sure you ain’t a poet or somethin’?”

You smiled as you relaxed a little. “I did ace English in high school.” You joked before you glanced at the clock and saw what time it was already. “Shit…it’s almost three in the morning!” You said as you quickly stood up. He looked up at you, clearly not seeing the issue in that. You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed, or how inappropriate it was that you were alone with a married man for several hours in the middle of the night.

“You’re not leavin’ are you?” He asked as he stood up, taking a step toward you.

You bit your lip before sighing. “Elvis, it’s late. We’ve both had a long day.” You said in an attempt to reason with him.

He pressed his lips together, but he relented and took a step back. “You're comin’ to rehearsals tomorrow.” It wasn't a question. “Just make sure you're ready, honey.” He said before leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You blushed, your heart skipping a beat as the sensation of his soft lips sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Don't worry, I won't miss it for the world.” You said quietly as you looked up at him before quickly stepping past and walking to the door.

“Goodnight, Minnie Mouse.” You heard him call from behind you. You paused at the door, looking back at him for a moment and smiling a bit as you caught the boyish grin that flashed across his face.

“Goodnight, Elvis.”

You weren't entirely sure how you even made it back to your room, feeling so deliriously tired, but also so…happy. It was a strange feeling, and you didn't really want to acknowledge the reason why you were feeling that way. But as you fell asleep in your plush bed, all you could see in your dreams was the warm smile on his lips or his ocean blue eyes that were deep enough to swim in.

Yes, you were certainly delirious.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated! Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list ~

Taglist: @60svintage @moonchild-daniella @ken-kenzie-zie @presleyhearted @eapep @i-r-i-n-a-a

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis aaron presley #ep #tcb #graceland #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #elvis × reader #elvis × oc #elvis in vegas #elvis fan #elvis through her lens

36 notes · View notes

ordinaryschmuck · 2 months ago

Text

What I Quickly Thought About What If...? Season Three

Salutations, random people of the internet who are already scrolling past this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and comics and cartoons.

You know, it’s a LITTLE crazy to me that What If…? is one of the most hated MCU shows…and yet not that crazy at all. I kind of get it, this is a show that’s basically dumb fun where the writers play with the heroes and villains in the MCU like they’re action figures. If you’re looking for interesting ideas and concepts, you’ll SOMETIMES get it like with Doctor Strange destroying his universe to save his true love or Hela trying to figure out who she is other than a Goddess of Death..but the majority of the time, you’ll just get Thor being a party dude, Nebula going full Bladerunner, and a big buff lady punching a demon wizard in the face with the power of infinity–I will keep saying that until it stops sounding awesome.

What If…? is not a show for everyone. You need to be in the right mindset and the right kind of person to enjoy a show like this. Dumb fun only works if it matches what YOU consider to be dumb fun. As for me, though? I loved it. I enjoyed the hell out of Season One, I found Season Two to be a HUGE improvement, and I really looked forward to Season Three. It’s just a shame, though, that Season Three is the FINAL season…which makes no sense to me.

What If…? is a concept that could go on for MULTIPLE seasons, at least EIGHT for sure. I get that maybe animation is expensive or maybe we’re wrapping up this multiverse shit next year so we can move onto the X-Men, but COME ON! You can’t make a show about showing all the different possibilities in infinity and then just say, “That’s it. We only get three seasons.” It also puts a lot of unnecessary pressure in these last eight episodes. If this is a final season, then these need to be the best, brightest, most EPIC final What Ifs in the SERIES. The question is…are they? Well, let’s run through them. Though, keep in mind, we ARE gonna have to talk about spoilers. I'll TRY to keep the big things secret, but what's considered big anymore on the internet. I could say two characters kiss (They don't in this) and that'll be enough to drive people up the wall. So, to keep things safe...

Spoilers Ahead.

What If…The Hulk Fought The Mech Avengers?: Alright, so we have Avengers fighting giant Hulks in giant mech suits. I would definitely say we’re off to a good start…if not for the fact that it has pacing problems out the wazoo.

Yeah, poor pacing has ALWAYS been What If’s…? main issue. The show was originally intended to have forty-minute episodes, but got shaved down so the MCU needed to fill their quota for Disney and the company’s shoddy streaming service. The writers never got used to that and, in episodes like this one, you can really feel it. I mean, this is an episode of MECH AVENGERS fighting GIANT HULKS. It should easily be epic, but there’s too much time fast-forwarding through the epicness so we can get to the next cool thing or the next heart-to-heart. The final fight as the team pulls a Voltron (RIP Netflix show) feels more like a montage instead of a big, epic battle, with most of the team practically being non-existent. I mean, this is the first time we’re seeing characters like Moon Knight and Shang-Chi since their debuts, and they do basically NOTHING. The most memorable thing Moon Knight does is press a button. THAT’S IT. The majority of the time isn’t on this team of Mech Avengers, but instead on Sam Wilson and Bruce Banner…Which, to be fair, is actually the part of the story I liked. The relationship these two have makes a lot of sense when you think on it and it really sells the tragedy of a character like Bruce far better than recent MCU entries have. But, just like everything else in this episode, we rush past this friendship. We’ve got great moments like Sam consulting Bruce about being The Hulk and that final heart-to-heart feels like it SHOULD mean something, but there wasn’t enough time to build up this relationship or to show how good it was for them. We’re constantly TOLD they were friends because the episode didn’t have enough time to SHOW us. I don’t know, this SHOULD have been a SMASH, but with so much going on and not enough time to let it flow naturally, it all feels more like an episode you can PASS.

What If…Agatha Went to Hollywood?: Huh. So, for the first time ever, the MCU is acknowledging certain stories I’d figured they’d sooner let audiences forget. For one, we have The Eternals, a movie not many people liked, myself included. On top of that, we have acknowledgment to Agent Carter Season Two of all things, taking the plotline of Howard Stark making movies and using it as the main crux of this story. It shouldn’t surprise me, these writers are CLEARLY Agent Carter fans given how they shoved Peggy Carter into the spotlight again, but it still amazes me that the MCU is FINALLY giving some form of nod to what is really an underrated series…In Season One. Season Two’s not as good.

Now, outside of those acknowledgements…I feel like this story is a LITTLE hindered by the fact that the writers of What If…? didn’t get a chance to know what would happen in Agatha All Along. The plot of this story is that Agatha’s trying to gain the power of a celestial, and knowing what her life was like in Agatha All Along and what she lost, it would be interesting to consider WHY she would want the powers of a god. There would have been such a fascinating angle to go with that, but because animation is a lengthy process and you can’t edit an episode to fit a story that wrapped up two months ago, there’s no way they could have fit in what happened THERE into HERE. They barely had time to explain what happened to the other Eternals, saying they were taken care of off screen so we can rush through parts of this story. Again.

That being said…I still had some fun with this one. Seeing Agatha ham it up was a lot more entertaining in animation than live-action, with animators looking like they’re having the time of their lives making her move around and have facial expressions like an over the top Disney villain. She may not be AS compelling of a character like she was in her own show (Which had NO right to be as good as it was), but again, the writers probably didn’t have enough time to factor that in. All the information they had was from WandaVision, and ran with it by making Agatha more of an outrageous villain than before. And her interactions with Kingo, the one of the few characters I kind of liked in The Eternals, was surprisingly enjoyable. It’s two egotistical immortals trying to outperform the other, with the chemistry shooting sparks through the roof. Not ROMANTIC chemistry, mind you. That “Not my type” line is just…hilarious. Regardless, they’re what makes this episode fun, taking elements from the weaker side of the MCU and creating a bigger story out of it. Would it have benefited if this season had more material to work with in regards to Agatha All Along? Most definitely, yes. But for what they had, it still shined bright.

What If…The Red Guardian Stopped The Winter Soldier?: I really want to like this one. I REALLY do. It’s the loud and boisterous Red Guardian teaming up with the quiet and professional Winter Soldier. There should be comedy GOLD with their interactions, and while there ARE…there’s not enough to make this episode more than “Okay.” The execution is really what holds it back, as David Harbour’s performance often makes the Red Guardian more ANNOYING than endearing a lot of the time, aside from a few bits with Bucky. Speaking of, it’s weird how Bucky isn’t…the same, cold killer he was in Winter Soldier and the opening of Civil War. There, he often acted robotically, matching the arm that Hydra and the Soviets gave him. Here though? He’s biting Alexi’s leg, quipping, and acting just as jovial as Alexi does sometimes. The only time it makes sense that he acts more human was when he flirts with a cashier and explains it away with him saying his “Deep-Cover Mode” activated. That’s not the BEST excuse, but it works enough. I get that this hypnotized assassin would have been hard to write around and explain why he’d team up with Alexi, but I also feel like there would have been MORE comedic opportunity to have Alexi try and interact with someone who doesn’t talk much or barely acknowledges his presence. Treat it like a kid trying to befriend a killing machine, there’s comedic potential there. It’s definitely more digestible than Alexi being the one to break Bucky’s conditioning.

Yeah, that’s a thing that doesn’t sit right with me. You can argue it was the power of friendship that broke through to Bucky in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, but it’s not just that. It’s the POWERFUL friendship between Bucky and Steve that no time nor conditioning could have broken, making something kind of beautiful in a movie about spies and espionage. So to have a guy Bucky barely knew in a DAY AND A HALF to be the one to free him spits in the face of Bucky’s story, his relationship with Cap, and his entire character development. It’s what stops me from really ENJOYING this episode, as it takes leaps and bounds of logic that feel greater than any other What If. Especially since there’s a way to help that. You have this guy dressed up as a red version of Bucky’s best friend. You can find a way to write that into why he changed gradually, even if it means having Red Guardian SUBTLY act like Steve. Definitely better than how he USUALLY acts.

It really is the characterization that stops me from enjoying this episode. Alexi and Bucky feel more like they’re in a Lego parody instead of an alternate timeline in the MCU, and it holds back the enjoyment a LOT…That being said, there are SOME things that I do enjoy. While the characterization isn’t the best, there are the occasional fun and somewhat endearing moments the two share. It’s also kind of cool to see Bill Foster’s Goliath again as he chases after these two idiots across the country, and his interactions with Ranger Morales (Not THAT Morales…Maybe) are surprisingly adorable. Speaking of which, Ranger Morales might be the best character in this entire thing, with her being the only one who benefits from the screwball comedy because, you know, she’s a new character. She’s allowed to say she wrestled a bear with her bare hands or collected slot machine tokens in her hat because she’s not someone with far more interesting and compelling stories being ruined for a comedic episode. And, to this story’s credit, there IS something interesting and compelling as it reveals WHO gave up information that got the Starks killed. I’m not gonna give it away, but it’s a great detail that offers more lore than I could expect from a series that isn’t really canon but CAN offer plausible information that COULD be canon. And, yeah, it makes me enjoy a certain MCU villain a LITTLE bit more because of how despicable his actions are.

In the end, there are SOME good stuff that makes this a fun experience, but if you’re not a fan of the Red Guardian’s characterization or ESPECIALLY the Winter Soldier’s, then you’re going to likely wish someone wiped YOUR memory of this adventure.

What If…Howard the Duck Got Hitched?: Darcy laid an egg in this one…I wouldn’t expect crazier from an episode about Howard the gosh dang DUCK.

Despite all its flaws, What If…? really was the best way to adapt an insane character like Howard the Duck into the MCU. His wackadoodle adventures and storylines work fine in a comic universe where characters are allowed to get as silly as they want, but I feel like She-Hulk proves that MCU fans aren’t ready for goofy nonsense that suits the character. So to have him go on an occasional oddball adventure within a non-canon series, it works so that the writers can get as weird as they want with it. And holy shit-knuckles, do things get fuckin’ WEIRD.

Aside from Darcy laying a FUCKING EGG (How the hell is that even possible?), you have every powerful person in the universe chasing after the damn thing because it is, inexplicably, the most powerful thing in all of infinity and they all want it for different reasons. Dormamu’s cult wants it to host his body, SHIELD wants to keep it out of the hands of everyone, and the Grandmaster…just wants to eat the damn thing. Now, HOW is it possible that Howard and Darcy’s egg turned out to be the most powerful thing in existence? Fuck if I know, but it is BONKERS and I love it. It’s just so funny seeing all of the mightiest and most threatening beings in the MCU all chasing down an egg of all things. And I don’t know about you, but something about seeing the two most boring MCU villains slapping each other so they can get to it first is…It…It just tickles me, okay?

And I know I complained about characterization in the last episode, and that still applies…unless the story is about Howard the mother fucking DUCK. Characters can get as weird as they want because that’s just how things work with him. But even then, there’s some genuine heart there as Howard and Darcy try their best to be good parents for their precious little egg. I would never think that a story where Howard and Darcy start a family together could turn out so wholesome, but gosh dang it, these writers are really trying to sell it. Their personalities work off each other better than I could have imagined, with Howard being an angry but good-hearted doof while Darcy perfectly toes the line between being the only sane person there and just as insane as everyone else. It works far better than I thought it could, really endearing me to the comedy as I watch the insane lengths these two would go to protect their child. I wouldn’t expect an episode about Howard the Duck to be one of the best in the season, possibly the series, but I guess it’s true what they say. When you’re outta luck, go duck…Or someone says that. I don’t know.

What If…The Emergence Destroyed the Earth: Hey, look! An actual DARK episode of What If…?! Are you fuckers HAPPY NOW?!

I say that as if it’s not something I wanted either, but I will admit that I would love just a BIT more dramatic stories in this show. Strange Supreme’s origins and Ultron’s victory are the best episodes of the series for a reason, even if I still wildly enjoy the goofy antics we usually get. It allows the writers to tell a tragic ending to a universe while, occasionally, showing the true strengths of our heroes. Something about Black Widow and Hawkeye still trying to stop Ultron despite living in a dead world–A dead UNIVERSE–shows that you can kill anything and everything, but you can’t completely kill a hero’s spirit. Something similar happens in this episode, though going for a different tactic to tell this tragedy.

It opens right away with The Watcher telling us that this story doesn’t have a happy ending. So, with every tense situation Riri is in, it makes you think that THIS is the moment when the worst happens. Yet the episode does a good job at always giving just the TINIEST bit of hope, making you think that The Watcher might be wrong and that she could maybe save the day. Although, it may have played its hand a little TOO much that The Watcher might do a certain something, but even then it plays with expectations a little, making you wonder if he’ll even do what you expect him to. It’s a decent attempt at playing with emotions, all while fitting into this extra dark world.

Speaking of, this is definitely the most intriguing universe that The Watcher presented. The idea that life still exists despite the Earth cracking apart is such a cool sci-fi concept that works best in a superhero world. Science will likely call bullshit, but I for one love seeing this literally broken world, watching debris and parts of people’s old lives float around the Earth’s messed up gravity. Things get more interesting as we get to see who the big bad of this story is, and I’m pleasantly surprised to see that it’s Mysterio. I don’t hate him as a villain, but I wouldn’t have expected him of all characters to control what’s left of Earth. Yet the writers go all the way that they could with a concept like this, showing us a much darker version of this villain and going further with what his abilities are capable of. The episode does a good job of showing us how Mysterio’s illusions were capable of taking over the planet, and I applaud the attempt.

I also love how much this episode endears me to Riri Williams. I wasn’t a huge fan of Ironheart in Wakanda Forever, feeling like she was the weakest part of that excellent movie. Here, though, I’m starting to see how a character like her could be fun to watch. Her determination to try and fix what’s left of the world and to keep fighting back no matter what it might do to her is the right kind of motivation to make me enjoy ANY hero. It’s simple, but effective enough to know that Riri is capable of such inner strength. I will admit, though, that I don’t really care for her supporting cast. In this episode in particular, it really feels like the writers just picked random names out of a hat and just inserted those characters into the story. No one other than Riri feels like they’re meant to be there as none of their unique personalities are allowed to shine through like hers. You could have replaced them with anybody, and the effect would still feel more or less the same.

That being said, I still think this is a winner here. It’s the exact type of dark story that fans have been demanding, all with a little hope shining in that darkness. Maybe it’ll make fans happy, maybe it won’t, but nothing in What If...? rarely does. I had my fun, and I’ll continue to have it no matter what Twitter says.

What If…1872: An episode where Shang-Chi and Kate Bishop are local heroes in the wild west? Sure, why not. This show’s done weirder…In fact, it’s kind of why I have some objections with a part of The Watcher’s opening narration. “Think less of ‘What if’ and more ‘What the hell,’” has basically been this show’s motto for a while. This is just putting two heroes in a different time period without some nonsense with Captain America smacking a time stone. Meanwhile, two episodes ago, we had Darcy lay an egg. I think it’s safe to say that this isn’t the first time we said “What the Hell?”

With that said…this is another good one. And it’s easy to see why. It’s a wild west story featuring two characters that have NOT made that big of an appearance since their introductions. AGAIN. As someone who absolutely LOVES Shang-Chi’s movie, it’s actually nice to see him kicking ass like he used to while the animation is allowed to have him fight with crazier moves. And Kate Bishop was a lot more entertaining to me this time around, acting as a cold and stern markswoman with actual skills instead of the bubbling and awkward character like most of the Young Avengers the MCU portrayed. She felt more like a unique character, and a badass one at that. Even the villains are pretty awesome in this, with Sonny Burch being a great, twisted fuck and The Hood being an ominous mystery even if the twist became a BIT predictable.

Speaking of, I have…mixed feelings towards that twist. Because I do kind of like the tragedy and internal conflict that Shang-Chi faces when met with who The Hood is. It feels like a taste of what COULD happen in a Shang-Chi sequel, whenever the fucking hell that will happen. But, at the same time, the episode started off as if it was about tackling AmerIica’s dark history in how we abused the immigrant workers to make it the country that it is. I was SO ready to give the MCU brownie points for tackling subject matter that isn’t easy to discuss…and then immediately ripped those points away once it revealed that the culprit is an immigrant too. Now, it’s not a COMPLETE loss. There’s this implication that the twist character is under some kind of control from The Hood itself and we’ve still got white boy Sunny being all kinds of okay with the enslavement of Chinese immigrants. BUUUUUUUUUT I still feel like this is the MCU starting off with an interesting, dark story to tell but pulling back because…reasons. Believe it or not, that happens more times than you think

Regardless of my thoughts on the twist, though, I enjoyed this one enough. It’s a decent wild west story that finally utilizes characters that the MCU refuses to touch despite throwing so much money into bringing them into the spotlight IN THE FIRST PLACE! Here’s hoping to seeing more Shang-Chi and even Kate Bishop in the future…

What If…The Watcher Disappeared/What If…What If: Might as well lump these two together as they’re more of a two-parter than any other finale. Even the Ultron episode of the first season still felt more like its own thing even though it set up the first big crossover. Here, though, both episodes are definitely part of the same story, one that a buddy of mine actually predicted we’d get: “What If The Watcher Was Put On Trial?”

Through this final story, we learn more about The Watchers, especially the one we’ve been following throughout the series. We get more of an idea about their oath and WHY The Watcher would want to break it. My favorite part is that he doesn’t hate his role in the multiverse. He loves his job as a Watcher and he doesn’t resent his higher ups for trying to take the job away from him or kill him and the ones he loves. He only gained a new perspective of what it means to watch and wants to share the lessons he’s learned, with the crux of the conflict coming from the fact that the other Watchers believes he’s going too far in protecting “lesser beings.” Speaking of, I liked the group of “lesser beings” formed in this two-parter. Byrdie is a kind of fun little tinkerer, it was GREAT to see Kahhori again despite her being a little TOO quippy, Storm as the Goddess of Thunder was AWESOME, and, of course, the big buff lady named Captain Carter proved just why I love her so much. I mean, she took a Watcher and fuckin’ body-slammed him into the dirt over and over again. Why the FUCK should I hate someone that awesome?

Speaking of, I’m…torn about my feelings towards the final battle. On the one hand, it was VERY epic and my monkey brain clapped at all the punching, kicking, and laser blasts that happened. On the other hand, I feel like the strongest parts of both episodes where the slow, character moments. The Watcher defending himself, Captain Carter voicing how she feels out of place in the entire multiverse, and even ULTRON going through a sort of redemption that works far better than I could have expected. That last part is the most fascinating of all, as we get to see what happens when a machine completes its objective, but his human mind allows him to reevaluate everything and change because his universe was allowed to exist. I feel like, as awesome as the final battle is, it would have been a more fascinating finale if we got MORE of that from other beings in the multiverse. Like, maybe if we got others that The Watcher helped or interfered with coming to his trial, defending him or going against him in some way, bringing the whole series together in a close. BUT, at the same time, I get why they didn’t do that. If this is the final episode, you gotta end it with a bang. And a big flashy fight is PERFECT for the kind of show that this is…but it could have been flashier.

We went from the starring characters in every episode teaming up to fight Ultron, to Captain Carter and Kahhori fighting against the most powerful beings of the multiverse, to…a random assortment of heroes plus The Watcher fighting three other Watchers. If this is the series finale, then bring in EVERYBODY for this one, big epic showdown as they defend the being that gave them importance. Instead, we have four heroes with one of them being introduced in THIS two-parter. As cool as Storm is, we know NOTHING of her or how she got that hammer. She just…does so the finale can have that extra cool factor. Even though I feel like it was on the right track when it brought back Infinity Ultron to join the team. It’s actually BRILLIANT to find a way to bring the first big bad in the series and make him an ally…Only to kill him off within the first few minutes of the final episode. You see what I mean? There’s a good idea to tie this series all together into one epic finale and what they do is…good enough, but not perfect.

With that said, I still find this a fitting enough end. Captain Carter gets to go out swinging to protect those she cares for and for all of infinity, while The Watcher realizes he’s more than just a voice or a faceless narrator who observes the fragments of the multiverse. He’s Uatu, and he’s the protector of infinity to make grander universes to observe, with brief flashes of the multiverse him and the others saved to prove. And…it’s really too bad we won’t get to see any of those.

Were these the best stories What If…? had to offer? Well…Not really, no. Aside from maybe one or two, it is, admittedly, not the BEST the show could make. Or the best stories they could have possibly made. It’s still enjoyable, but, once again, I can see why it’s not best for everyone.

…IT IS NOT THE WORST MCU SHOW, HOLY SHIT! The amount of people who bitch and moan about how awful the show is…makes me question reality, I’ll say that much. I genuinely wonder if there’s something wrong with ME or there’s something wrong with THEM with how VENOMOUS they get towards this show, especially with Captain Carter. I mean…what is with the hatred towards Captain Carter? They’re acting like the writers are FORCING fans to like her when…people like me just like her. And you wanna know WHY I like her? In fact, you wanna know WHY I liked What If…? Especially in this season? Because the writers give more of a shit about these characters than the MCU does.

Villains are allowed to come back and be better threats than they were in the movies.

Tony Stark can go on an intergalactic adventure instead of fighting evil billionaires.

Hela can look into who she is beyond a goddess of death.

Riri Williams can be an actual hero instead of a side character that’s forced into a spin-off.

Howard the Duck can be an actual character.

And Peggy Carter? She’s not someone who has boys fighting over or for Steve Rogers to win as a trophy. She’s not carefully tip-toeing through situations and appealing to men for the sake of getting THEM to get shit done. She’s a big, buff, BADASS woman who will do whatever she wants and wins like a fuckin’ CHAMPION because she is CAPTAIN GOSH DANG PEGGY CARTER! I don’t give two shits if you think she’s an industry plant. Ninety-percent of the heroes you LOVE are industry plants. THE FUCKING AVENGERS WERE INDUSTRY PLANTS! It was a collection of superheroes that weren’t doing well on their own, so Marvel just lumped them all together into a team, labeling them as “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.” AND YOU CALL THEM THAT TO THIS DAY! Just admit that it’s sexism that makes you hate her. You’re still annoying, but at least you’re honest about it.

Like What If…? or not, it’s at least USING these characters for more than what the MCU offered, especially the ones that the franchise refuses to touch because Kevin Fiege didn’t think ahead about how to use characters he spent millions to produce for the big and small screens. And I’m going to genuinely miss it for that reason alone. I had so much fun with this show because I got to see these characters I love go on more adventures they couldn’t in the main timeline. If it’s not your cup of tea, that’s fine. I can live with that. But don’t act like it’s a STAIN on the MCU when the MCU HAS GONE LOWER! It’s not the writers fault that they wanted to have fun instead of making YOUR fan fics come true. You want to see what happens if the other half got dusted? Write your own fan fic about it. Because if you don’t think What If…? has good writing, what makes you think it’ll deliver those high expectations to you. YOU are not the person this show is catering to. Deal with it.

As for me, I’ll miss this show. I genuinely will. It was fun while it lasted, but I guess fun can’t last forever. The only question now is…What’s next?

#what if #what if season three #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #captain carter #what if spoilers #uatu the watcher #riri williams #howard the duck #darcy lewis #shang chi #kate bishop #agatha harkness #peggy carter #mcu reviews #quick thoughts #what i thought about

32 notes · View notes

juniperpyre · 4 months ago

Text

how does writing james as south asian change his character?

i've seen a few people discussing this recently—how they don't like the hc because no one seems to account for how much this would change his character.

i agree! i write canon james as indian (usually hyderabadi but there's a few fics where i've changed that) but yea it can be difficult to reconcile him as the popular golden boy in 1970s GB with the racism of 1970s GB. not to say anything about the subconscious racism that often comes with this interpretation of his character.

we never really see james. we see him in snape's and voldemort's memories, and in harry's dementor-induced recollections, not in-person.

there are a few character traits we can pull out: arrogant, clever, athletic, loyal, brave, cruel, self-involved. when i think of james potter i try to imagine what an eton boy would be like if he actually took part in self-reflection. these traits connect to him being popular and talented in a way that makes severus jealous.

he's the masculine ideal. james naturally fit into the idea of a what a man "should be", with the exception of his race if you hc him as south asian. men do not have to be kind, they have to be powerful. his rivalry with someone in a lower class—and it should be noted that severus' main rival is james, not sirius—and his subsequent wins cement his class status.

so, severus and james' rivalry. if you take the canon white, half-blood, working class severus and a hc of south asian, pureblood, upper class james, you have tension between these three markers of status.

my impression of GB society is that class operates cross-generationally, in a way it follows genetics. social class in england (and a lot of parts of south asia) was seen as a marker of your inherent status and worth.

so severus is white, but he's got a muggle dad, he's working class, and he's far from the masculine ideal. james is south asian, pureblood and upper class while being the masculine ideal. their dynamic in this context could be seen as either trying to assert their status, though i think it's severus who is consciously doing this. james just sees most people as less than him and sirius.

severus may also be more jealous of james than sirius because he doesn't think james deserves his status, it should be severus who is raised beyond what his birth entitled him to! severus' ideology is blood supremacist, and though he hates sirius at least sirius acting like he's better than severus is par for the course. it's not as embarrassing as james potter's superiority complex.

but, how did james develop a superiority complex in a world that actively oppresses him? the same way me and my bestie did. meeting young, understanding each other, being naturally intelligent, and having no one else who really gets it. prongsfoot 5eva. james even has an advantage neither of us had, being the only child and being spoiled. open your minds. oppressed people can be arrogant assholes.*

but how did he get popular? this is a better question. honestly, i think charisma, money, and the "rebel" aspect of james made him intriguing to a lot of people.

when it comes to integrating the greater world politics of the period, i hc that due to the collaboration of some upper caste families in india during the colonial period (historical fact) there's a fair amount of south asian wizarding families that have middling status. this makes it easier for him to integrate into the hogwarts social sphere.

the social mores of muggleborns and half-bloods who interact with the muggle world would also be impacted by the multiple civil rights movements of the 60s and 70s. generally young people put on a rebellious, progressive veneer, so this melts into general hogwarts society.

all of this to say, i think james fits the social roles of a pureblood man with a "rebellious" edge that is appealing to young people, and if he is south asian part of that edge is because of his race. that's gross! it's realistic, imo. he doesn't deviate too far from acceptable until he joins the anti-fascist militia. i think most of us understand what it means to be the "acceptable other"

i don't think james being south asian weakens his role in the story as the perfect man. that role is deconstructed, and the contrast of james having more social power in the wizarding world and lily having more social power in the muggle world is interesting to me.

tbh, i've been hc james this way since i was a teenager and didn't think it out until the last few years. i really like the hc but i needed it to make sense to engage with the canon in a complex way.

*this is a joke. i understand that this is complicated and discrimination will always have an impact. i just also think a lot of you see oppressed ppl (esp. poc since this is such a white fandom**) as pure angels and it's weird. most of the ppl making the initial argument at the top of the post are NOT being weird about it

**i am a white american so take what you want from that

#m #james potter #text #my hcs #open to critique/discussion #marauders #hp meta #m: meta

33 notes · View notes

breezybeej · 8 months ago

Text

The Verity by Colleen Hoover Post

I want to put some of my highlights and notes here so I can reference them without needing the images on my phone. Warning: this book sucks and you will see some really stupid and weird shit in here.

This is the description of blood splashing on Lowen (the main character) after she witnessed a man get run over. I've seen some car accidents. I don't think it's very common at all for someone's head to pop like a water balloon in these circumstances.

What is cryptic here? He (Jeremy, the romance option) has seen worse than a man getting run over. I think it's pretty straight forward, babe.

This is from Verity (jeremy's wife, a comatose woman). Most of her stuff should be taken with a grain of salt for plot reasons but some of these are so ridiculous on their face that you can't really save them

Unlikely.

Licking someone's thumb like a postage stamp is just so FUCKing SExy

I cared, I heard, and I minded. Please don't talk about getting fingered at steak 'n shake

Meeting Jeremy makes you want to jump off a cliff????? Well, to be fair, me too, girl

Why is this how you describe it, Lowen. You are reading her autobiography but you are thinking about her underwear.

Okay, I love this one because there's a lot happening. 1. He walks backwards A LOT in the first half of this book and I don't know why. 2. He was on his way to the kitchen to heat up leftovers but they were already done when they arrived? 3. He pulls out a plate of pizza. So in one very short paragraph we have pizza said three times. I think this book wasn't carefully edited.

So what does that mean. If someone has a plate of peas and they do this, I imagine them poking and prodding and scooping but pizza? Is he like... picking it up and putting it down? Sliding it around the plate?

It's just SO weird to go with your wife to her first pregnancy appointment for the baby you squirted into her, isn't it.

So this is again Verity writing from opposite land but like. They very much do have sex constantly so does she feel this way or not.

This one really bugs me just because she flubbed the parallel structure on "with a broken wrist" and "covered in blood" like the reason we have mechanics for parallel structure is that the sentences feel clunky without it.

I lost count, I didn't highlight every one, but I think this is in the book at least 10 times. Colleen does NOT trust you to remember this.

Lowen, why is this a dammit. Why is that messed up. What.

Just like Layla in the other book, Layla, Lowen is a girl who knows how to eat and she's quirky for eating tacos

So why didn't she just list the vegetables. It would be faster. "He grabbed cilantro and onions." or "He grabbed onions and peppers." Like... Colleen, you live in texas and you write about tacos in your books more than once.

People hate me for suggesting Lowen is bi but..... i mean.... she was diggin through Verity's drawers too, you remember.

Why did anyone let her say epic burn in a book. Why does she use epic again moments later.

Ope, I got this one though.

Thankfully Verity has two breasts.

That's how I felt reading this book. You DO get a feeling that Colleen partially wrote this to call out her haters.

Don't say that

Here's another line that gets repeated like 6 times. I don't even know why. It doesn't play into the plot or the themes really.

God isn't that insane. Who does that. Also this is Verity Opposite land so... does she wear lingerie often?

Babe. What.

Someone pointed out that license picture are usually the worst pictures of you possible. That makes this so much funnier imo

When you say "He groans" as a single clause, it makes it sound like he's disappointed. "Ugh, babe you forgot your bra AGAIN?"

#quotes #verity #colleen hoover

57 notes · View notes

wretchedwitchpussy · 3 months ago

Text

Final thoughts on WWDITS:

They tried doing way too much with the little time that they had left and they didn't put enough time into wrapping things up properly. That's it. You could have cut all of the new characters that they introduced in season 6 and just focused on wrapping the things you already introduced, but that didn't happen. It was pretty sloppy in my opinion.

I fully thought that Colin punching Guillermo was a sign that he was an EV right? I was like what else could they possibly do with that? But without that pay off...what was the point of him doing that actually? Just beating the shit out of Guillermo? That's fucked up and there wasn't a point to it. There wasn't a point to a lot of the stuff that I saw on screen this season. Speaking as someone who was really into Nandermo, there was no ultimate payoff to the Guide and Nandor, not even them ending up together, which would have been unsatisfying to me as a viewer but at least they would have done something with a storyline that they already had going instead of just letting it fizzle out for no reason. At least there would have been a point.

There were so many good storylines that they just let die after season 5. And for what. Like. What was the point of Laszlo having his emotional catharsis with Sean? What was the point of Nandor desperately wanting a romantic life partner (which, btw, I don't think it's fair to say that Nandor's found what he wanted via crime fighting with Guillermo, because his want throughout all of the seasons was specifically FOR a romantic partner. It just seems like another way to badly resolve something that they didn't know how to resolve)? What was the point of [insert any dead unresolved plot point here]?

To me most, if not all, of the plot points this season as well as the way that the ending(s) occurred felt shoehorned in and kind of didn't make sense. A pretty good political message about immigrants making up the lifeblood of America? Awesome! Oh it was done shabbily and played off as a joke? Also the guide is MAGA? Oh okay. Also congrats on fucking up a character THAT badly with some of her last words on the show. Why not. Inasfar as shoehorned in to cover up bad writing, Nadja just hypnotizes the audience so that we get a satisfying ending, instead of the writers putting in the work to set up a good ending? Okay I guess. As a result, at least to me, it felt so rushed. I just wish they had finished up the very good storylines they had already set up instead of trying to do more when they knew this was the last season.

It was also pretty sloppy to me that they decided to do multiple endings, poorly, instead of just picking one and committing to it and doing it right. It just seems like they couldn't make up their minds at all both throughout the show's run and regarding the ending. I honestly don't really care that Nandermo, in my opinion, isn't even canon. To me, you have to show that sort of thing and not just coyly allude to it? I'm not going to call it queerbaiting or shipbaiting because honestly I don't want to get into a discussion about that, I mainly think it was just poor writing. I wish that they had done anything definitive with them instead of copping out with three endings (one of which is it was all a dream? bsffr), since, love them or hate them, they DID set them up as the "main couple" of the sitcom.

I also find the alternate endings thing kind of insulting to the fans? I guess? Like the fans didn't need you to do that. The fans can write fanfic and make alternate endings to the show themselves. I guess I just wanted something definitive instead of something simpering and pandering, which is kind of what it felt like to me.

I understand that people felt like it embraced the fans and told the fans that they loved them, but to me, that messaging feels like feel-good pandering to cover up the fact that they didn't know what they were doing with the show, and that they didn't know how to end it.

(@brewhay u wanted my thoughts on the finale lol)

#wwdits spoilers #wwdits #what we do in the shadows spoilers #what we do in the shadows #nandermo #nandor the relentless #nandor wwdits #nandor what we do in the shadows #nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #guillermo de la cruz #wwdits guillermo #guillermo what we do in the shadows #the guide wwdits #wwdits nadja #nadja of antipaxos #lazlo cravensworth #lazlo wwdits

30 notes · View notes

veinsfullofstars · 8 months ago

Note

for your childhood friends au, do the kids have any favorite foods?

Ooooh, okay okay, so this is something I’ve actually given a fair bit of thought to (maybe too much thought given how long this thing got, haha). I love little details like this in character writing - it makes them feel so much more alive and well-rounded, y'know? The kiddos have preferences as varied as their personalities, and I’m just itching to get into it, so… let’s get into it! (Also, just to be clear, I did pull some of my food headcanons for MK and DDD specifically from source material and the wiki, but most of this kinda just comes right off the dome.)

When it comes to food, Para Dee is probably the most milquetoast of the bunch (though that’s hardly a bad thing). Neither a voracious eater like Dedede nor an avoidant one like Meta, he enjoys food about as much as the average Waddle Dee, more than fine with his three square meals a day (maybe a snack if he’s good). His tastes primarily lean towards savory or bitter flavors, anything from a warm bowl of stew to a nice crisp salad depending on his mood (meaning that, of the four of them, he’s the most likely to eat his veggies... and enjoy them). He’s not the biggest fan of sweets (probably due to that fact that his father is a baker and routinely saturates their home with the heavy scents of vanilla and mixed fruit), but he does have a soft spot floral teas and hot chocolate, especially during the colder seasons. He doesn’t mind sour flavors in small amounts (meaning if someone gets pickles with their meal, you know they’re going onto Para’s plate), but spicy foods? Forget about it. His poor little stomach has no tolerance for spice, to the point where even a little too much pepper has him breaking out in a sweat (something Bow teases him about mercilessly).

If you asked him what his absolute favorite food is, he’d have a hard time choosing... but he'd probably say his father’s caramelized onion soup, a much-beloved dish at their dinner table and a favorite at every community potluck. It’s never quite the same when Para makes it (many years into the future with a family of his own), but it still sparks warm memories of holidays and togetherness with each cheese-laden spoonful.

Then, on the opposite side of the spectrum, we have Bow Dee, our tiny terror with a metabolism and appetite to rival those of her bigger buddies. If left alone and unoccupied for too long, she’s been known to sneak into locked pantries or climb high, off-limits shelves looking for any snacks she can get her grubby little mitts on (a habit she probably learned from watching Dedede). That said, she can be rather picky about which foods she’ll scarf down, especially in her youth when she would literally pick through her meals for the bits she liked and ignore the rest (much to her mothers’ chagrin).

If asked about her favorites, she’d say she likes protein-packed foods the most (omelets, jerky, trail mix, whatever will fuel those boundless energy reserves of hers in the saltiest, most flavorful manner possible) but refuses to touch veggies, pickles, and bitter flavors in general (at least in her childhood, growing a little more adventurous about food during their time overstars). She likes sweets as much as the average high-energy kid, partial to citrus fruits and sour candies especially (she likes how it stings a bit when you eat it, almost like it's fighting back). And, beyond all that, Bow loves spicy foods. Full stop. If it ain’t spicy - or spicy enough - she’ll find a way to make it so. Chili flakes, hot sauce, whole peppers, whatever she has on hand - it’s going in there, and Nova help anyone who tries to stop her. A bit ironic given her natural affinity for Water, though maybe that’s what gives her such a high tolerance for capsaicin. Or maybe she’s just that badass (as she likes to brag to her buddies, watching them steam out the ears from a single jalapeño while she’s already chomped down seven). And before you ask, yes, this has landed her in village clinic on more than one occasion. High tolerance or no, she definitely does not have Dedede’s cast-iron stomach… or Meta’s self-restraint. (We don’t talk about the Ghost Pepper Fiasco.)

Speaking of picky eaters, Meta has a… complicated relationship with food. He’s never had much of an appetite, often going (unsettlingly long) stretches of time without feeling the need to eat, only doing so if someone reminds him to (or if he gets too woozy, whichever comes first). He does need to eat, of course… just not nearly as often as everyone else does, it would seem (a byproduct of his peculiar biology, perhaps?). It’s an excuse he’s used often to get away with skipping meals, sometimes substituting in lighter foods like breakfast bars or Energy Drinks to keep his strength up (though this is hardly a long-term solution). He also finds certain textures and tastes difficult to deal with, even turning down entire meals if just one bite feels off. It makes eating with company - already an awkward experience thanks to his introversion - that much more uncomfortable, sitting there with a full plate while everyone else chews and chatters around him, wishing he could disappear as swiftly as his hunger (a habit that still crops up even in adulthood, though he has learned to push through it for the sake of politeness). Honestly, he could write a whole dissertation on how the act of consumption is a burden upon the living and no one should be subjected to it… and then he remembers chocolate exists and takes it all back for a while.

That’s really the one exception to his food trepidation: sweets. Perhaps it comes from living in Dream Land where sugary foods are so plentiful, the forests rich with apples and berries, the scent of pies and pastries wafting from windowsills, even the lands themselves named after foods of all sorts. Or perhaps it stems from his earliest memories, a helping hand and a bar of something indescribably sweet and rich, the first he’d ever tasted… Whatever the case, it’s stuck with him, a livelong love of sweets and sweet-adjacent foods, one that narrows, refines, and changes over time into preferences for chocolate, coffee, and other foods with light but flavorful consistencies. Not that this stops his friends (and later his crewmates) from hounding him into eating more nutritious meals once in a while, too. It's frustrating, but he knows they mean well, and he gets better about listening to their advice with time.

And finally, whipping to the other side of the scale once more, it’s Dedede, the penguin equivalent of a vacuum, willing to eat literally anything you put in front of him (including things you probably should not eat). He wouldn’t say he has many strong preferences - all food is good food in his eyes - though he does appreciate a good bone-in steak or similarly hearty dishes like seafood or pasta, and he could never pass up a nice rich dessert (especially cakes).

More than the taste, though, it’s really the act of eating - a pastime even more beloved than sparring or sleeping - that brings Dedede comfort, whether it’s through cozy communal meals with neighbors, the thrill of food-based competitions with friends (ones that will later inspire Dream Land’s famous Gourmet Races), or just to deal with the boredom (and loneliness) when he’s stuck on his own. It’s possible he gets this behavior from his mama, a little on the heavier side herself and known for her own cast-iron constitution back in her wrestling days (not to mention prone to spoiling her “darlin’ baby bird” and his friends with extra treats all the time). Meanwhile, his papa - a stickler for decency and discipline - is constantly reminding his son to slow down during meal times, wondering if he’s even tasting the food he’s shoving down his gullet (a blunt but well-intentioned criticism given the many, many tummy troubles Dedede suffers in his younger days). He never manages to fully tame his massive appetite (certainly not helped by the more decadent lifestyle he later adopts as a king), but he does at least refine it over time, learning from Para of all people about the joys of savoring meals rather than always inhaling them outright.

Phew, alright, I think that’s about it. Thanks for the question! Hopefully I didn't go too in-depth for such a simple one - I was having fun with it and might've gotten carried away again, haha. Well, at the very least, it'll give you guys some nuggets to chew on in the meantime (pun super not intended).

Sketches started 06/25/24, finished 06/27/24. | Childhood Friends AU Masterpost

51 notes · View notes

askew-d · 8 months ago

Note

Fanfics ideas, cause you love MXTX works . Your top 3 fav MDZS characters will be besties with who (in your opinions) if they were in other universe, with characters from TGCF & SVSSS? Hope my questions are not confusing.....

hi, anon! sorry i’m terrible late for this ask. hope you don’t mind :) i am not sure i can provide great fanfic ideas, but here’s my opinion about who’d be besties with who in the mxtx universes, and i added more than three or favorite characters, by the way:

1. wei wuxian would create a group of besties with xie lian, shen qingqiu and hua cheng (and get together really often with nie huaisang group of friends)

wait up! i mean, wei wuxian would get along with xie lian because of his obvious fair morality principals and they would eventually get along with shen qingqiu for their intimate experiences with their husbands. if shen qingqiu was frustrated with luo binghe, of course xie lian and wei wuxian would share advices. wei wuxian would love to hear xie lian's lifetimes of stories and xie lian would love to hear his in return. shen qingqiu would slowly warm up to them.

and now, why hua cheng? i personally do not see hua cheng warming up to a human other than wei wuxian. not only because wei wuxian is a demonic cultivator, but also because wei wuxian would always thoroughly respect xie lian and have him like a great friend because he also has been treated like shit by others and understands xie lian. i think hua cheng would appreciate that. shen qingqiu would not judge xie lian either, so i guess they would all be ok nicely hanging out.

and they would spend time with:

2. nie huaisang, shang qinghua, shi qingxuan and sha hualing

you cannot tell me that nie huaisang would not become friends with sha hualing. they are both capable of everything. nie huaisang would be a little scared of her at first? surely. but something would happen, perhaps a case in which only he could help her out, and they would end up turning into acquaintances bordering into friends. one hand helping the other (perhaps not always for the greater cause).

anyway, shang qinghua and shi qingxuan though? personally, i think they would hit it off right at the first sight. shang qinghua would help him with writing, even, and open a new word for nie huaisang.

3. jiang cheng would slowly start being friends with feng xin, mu qing and liu qingge (even if none of them will admit it)

jiang cheng? admiting he made friends with those angry idiots mu qing and feng xing who cannot stop fighting? admittng that he made friends with that weirdass liu qingge? and vice versa? no, they will never say it. but fairly enough, i think jiang cheng would end up getting drunk one day, they would all start complaining, being angry, hitting things over, discussing over those gays kissing at their feet all their time, and the next morning, they would just grow an inch closer.

they would still roll their eyes at one another every time they are in a social conference. they would still be tsunderes even if they just spent an afternoon hanging out gossiping back and forth. yet, i think they would grow closer, and in a life and death situation, they would fight together like reluctant sworn brothers.

4. lan wangji would befriend ling wen, mobei-jun and luo binghe

lan wangji and ling wen i think its clear that they would be nice friends, helping each other and having tea together. mobei-jun would just be there because, if shang qinghua must have his time to be with nie huaisang and other human friends, at least hanguang-jun is one human that he tolerates for the simple fact that he does not talk much. so that is enough for him. luo binghe would only become close to lan wangji because they would trade nice recipes for their husbands. and also, it would be nice if lan wangji also helped ling wen, binghe and mobei-jun out with understanding how human works. they would be so confused and would want explanations of human experiences from hanguang-jun (one time or another, i can swear that mobei and luo binghe would want to receive advice towards their sex life too).

5. lan xichen would grow fond of yue qingyuan and he xuan

lan xichen, my dear! for you, i think you would have a good friendship with yue qingyuan, only. with he xuan, i think its horrible to say that he xuan would seem to be a wise guy, so you would become close to him, you would have tea together, only for at the end you have another disappointment to discover that he isnt exactly who you think he is and another time you will be crumbling in sadness, so i will not say it. but there, i will leave you all with this angst side. or perhaps you would get along with shi qingxuan better because he sure been through this whole experience just like you, huh.

6. the juniors would be besties with shang qinghua, shi qingxuan, lan qianqiu, ning yingying and ming fan

do i need explanation for this one? hahah, they would all love to learn more from shang qinghua and laugh at his antics, follow around shi qingxuan just like ducklings, be impulsive with lan qianqiu, play around the town with ning yingying and judge others with the company of ming fang. perhaps beat some that threaten their superiors in the middle :) would love to check their shenanigans.

42 notes · View notes

a-kaash-me-outside · 2 years ago

Text

not fair - ch3

in which your boyfriend is perfect in every single way... except for one and kei can't just sit back and watch you suffer... previous | ch3 | next [masterlist]

// "you ruined me too, i guess." ~ ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ ᴋᴇɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 7589 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter/tw: 18+ minors dni super nfsw!, cheating (seriously, major plot point), a bit heavier angst in this one guys, use of character first names, degradation, choking, face-fucking, dom/sub undertones, face slapping, stop light system, squirting, dirty talk, name calling, coming twice, plot-heavy, cross posted from ao3, afab reader she/her pronouns, this is actually the chapter i stopped at before being commissioned to write the last three parts

send an ask and i’ll add ya to the taglist! ~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

You hadn’t spoken to Kei in almost 4 months, not at all.

You went from messaging him daily, constantly, seeing him 5-6 times a week, getting coffee with him, having him come over for dinner, hanging out with you and Tadashi to absolutely nothing. You couldn’t help yourself when you were around him, couldn’t stop thinking about him when you weren’t around him, so you had to cut him off. After that night, coming home and crawling into bed with Yamaguchi, his arms wrapping around you, they didn’t feel right. They weren’t as strong as Kei’s. Everything that he did reminded you that he wasn’t Kei. You could feel every mark that Kei had left on your body and you were missing him so much that your heart physically hurt. It had to stop.

When Yamaguchi asked why you guys weren’t talking anymore, you almost started crying. You told him that you guys had gotten into an awful fight and that you couldn’t talk about it. Though it was technically a lie, it seemed convincing enough. Every time that he would try to ask about it, you would get emotional, tears flooding your eyes and heart feeling heavy. He stopped asking about it after a while, just accepting that you weren’t ready to talk about it. He was kind like that. He was conflicted, not knowing whether or not to drop everything with his best friend. You encouraged him to go see him if Tsukishima wanted to and he did.

Everything about Yamaguchi was kind and sweet and everything that you should have wanted, but not being with Kei for the past few months really showed you how difficult it was for you to be with someone like that. Tadashi would listen to you rant about your favorite TV shows, make you breakfast in the morning, tell you all of the things about you that he loves, but every inexplicably nice thing that he did made you miss Kei’s antics even more. You missed when he would make fun of the plot holes in your garbage TV shows, how he would groan at you and throw things when you tried to ask him to make you breakfast, how special he would make you feel when he would tell you the things he loved about you. You were convinced that it was just your obsessive mind, that something was wrong with you.

Not above everything else, but a large chunk of the reason that you missed him, was how great you were together in bed. Nothing was the same without him. You barely even wanted to try to make yourself come. Even when you succeeded the few times that you did, you felt less satisfied after you finished than you had when you started. It didn’t matter how hard you tried or what you did, nothing compared to how good he was at it and how much he cared.

You had gotten used to the fact that you would never be satisfied again. You never should have fucked him the first time. You were fine with the situation that was happening, at least you could make yourself come. Ignorance truly is bliss, you guessed.

Except, there was one night, one fateful night, when you were in bed with Yamaguchi, on all fours as he fucked you from behind, that you actually felt pleasure for the first time in months.

“How is it, sweetheart?” he asked, his breathing sporadic despite only inserting himself into you a few minutes ago. You tried your best to sound into it for his sake at least. The endearing name that came out of his mouth, once belonging to him, but now, even 4 months void of hearing him say it, it was still Kei’s. You wished you’d never told him the name because now it’s all you can think about.

He angles down, accidentally grazing your g-spot, something he has never done in your relationship, ever. It’s not as thoughtful as when Kei does it, nor as harsh, but it sends the smallest amount of pleasure into your core as you inhale deeply. It’s been so long since you’ve felt actual pleasure, that it just slips out of your mouth. It’s the first thing that your body thinks of when you feel even the smallest amount of satisfaction.

“Fuck, Kei.” As soon as it leaves your mouth, you’re hoping that the rest of the room is loud enough to cover it. You want to crawl into a hole and never be seen again. Even with Kei out of your life for 4 months, the second that you feel good, he’s all your brain can think about. Tadashi slows and you know how badly you’ve fucked up.

He stops, still inside of you, as he asks, “What?” You don’t know what to do, what to say, you’re frozen in time. When you don’t reply, he pulls out of you, getting up from off of the bed, repeating himself, but adding your name to try to pull you out of your own head. “(y/n), what?” He doesn’t have to ask what. He doesn’t have to ask you to repeat yourself, he knows exactly what you said.

All of those years of not being suspicious about you and Kei have come back to haunt him all at once. His voice is stern, now, growing impatient. This is a side of him that you’ve never seen. He’s not even angry, just confused and evidently hurt. “(y/n).” His tone is cold and pained.

“I-.” You feel so small as you choke out one word. You want to rewind time, not just to before you moaned Kei’s name, but to back before that night that you admitted your deepest secret to Kei, the night that you weren't able to turn back from. Your hesitance and lack of words are speaking absolute volumes to him as he scoffs at you, putting his clothes back on and pacing around the room. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, putting your underwear and shirt back on, looking down at your feet to avoid his eyes.

“You what, (y/n), tell me, what?”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can manage to say, a genuine, whether he thinks so or not, apology. It’s genuine, but what exactly are you apologizing for? Even you don’t know.

Tadashi takes a deep breath, turning to you and stopping in his tracks. “Did you really say it? Please, (y/n), tell me that I wasn’t hearing right, that you said something else and my ears deceived me, please.”

You know that if you were to tell him, he would believe you. You wouldn’t even have to explain yourself, he would just understand and he would trust you and you guys would crawl into bed and he would hold you and you would wish it was Kei.

“You said it, didn’t you?” He sounds so defeated, sighing softly and swallowing, tears in his eyes. “Can you at least just tell me that you were just thinking about him for whatever stupid reason? That it was all in your head? That it wasn’t based off of anything that actually happened?” You wish you could. He waits for you to talk, waits nearly 30 minutes in complete, agonizing silence. The awkward air never settling, just getting worse and worse by the second.

“You have to say something, (y/n). I deserve to know.” He doesn’t even sound angry. You want him to sound angry. You want him to scream, to throw things, to slam the door as he leaves, but even after you’ve cheated on him, he’s still just a genuinely kind guy who’s just hurt. He refuses to say another word, sitting in silence for another 10 minutes before you start to speak up.

“I did…” You take a deep breath. “I did say it, by the way.” You admit to the first issue at hand, something that he definitely already knows, so you continue on. “We… Kei and I…” You’re trying to find the right words, but nothing is going to sound right coming out of your mouth. “We slept together.”

Everything is silent. You can’t even hear each other breathing.

“Why?” he asks, bluntly. He deserves to know, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him the actual reason, but he’s repeating it again, “Why?” He repeats it again, begging to know this time, “(y/n), why, please.” He keeps asking because you’re staying silent. The word why is flying around your head so much, fogging your thoughts that it just slips out of your mouth.

“Because you couldn’t make me come,” you admit, louder than you should have. You didn’t want to play the victim here, you weren’t the victim. It was the worst excuse that could have been said. You try to backpedal. “I- I just… You couldn’t… make me come and he could. So we slept together, but only twice before I-.”

Yamaguchi is taking in the entire situation that’s unfolding in front of him. He looks hurt and confused and the anger that you’ve been expecting this whole time is still nowhere to be seen. “That’s a shitty excuse,” he interrupts you.

“I know. I didn’t… I wasn’t trying to excuse myself. I just-.”

“Twice? You slept with him twice?” he asks.

“Yeah, only twic-.”

“ Only twice? Wow, thank you so much for only sleeping with my best friend twice.” He’s getting annoyed at your responses, at himself for sticking around, for being stepped on. You wanted to add that he wasn’t just Yamaguchi’s best friend, he was your best friend too, he was your best friend first, but that didn’t sit well. “What that means, (y/n), is that you did it once and then you did it again because you didn’t feel guilty enough to stop after doing it once.”

You’re quiet again. Nothing that you say is going to fix this. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s where you were a few months ago, isn’t it?” He put the pieces together, connected the dots. “You weren’t out on a walk, you were cheating on me with Kei.” He doesn’t even wait for confirmation. “Was that the first time?”

“Dashi, no, I-.” You don’t want to tell him, you can’t tell him that you fucked on your bed when he wasn’t home, that you didn’t wash the sheets because it reminded you of that night, that you would get nervous, but excited wondering if Tadashi could see the cum stains on your side of the bed.

“Where?”

“Here,” you admit as fast as you can. Tadashi scoffs, grabbing his bag and shoving things into it, muttering as he does so. You sit on the bed quietly, watching him race around the room, but not trying to stop him. “You fucked him here, in our home, in our bed, where we sleep . Fucking unbelievable. This whole time, I knew that something was weird between you two, but I never said anything. I trusted you, (y/n), I trusted you.” He shakes his head, grabbing clothes, electronics, his wallet, anything that he can grab, and shoving it into his bag.

“I can’t fucking believe you. I mean, I thought I couldn’t believe you. I…” He stops himself, taking a deep breath and looking into your eyes. It’s only now that you can see how red they are, tears spilling out of them in heavy drops. Yours are dry.

“I don’t… I’m sorry.” It’s Tadashi that’s apologizing. You reach out, gently placing your hand on his shoulder and rubbing your thumb into it.

“Dashi, don’t apologize.” Part of you thinks that this means he’s going to set his bag down and crawl back into bed with you and be the little spoon until you both fall asleep. Another part of you knows it’s already over.

“I love you,” he says to you, looking into your eyes. You can’t bring yourself to say it back. You stand up, urgently.

“You should stay here. I’m going to go. I can’t… I can’t be in this house. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.” Even though he has his bag packed already, even though it sounds like he was ready to talk and to give you a second chance, your chest is feeling tight. You had to get out of that room, out of that house. Hearing him tell you that he loves you made you feel sick. It doesn’t sit right in your stomach at all.

“If you leave right now and go to Kei’s, I’m done. We’re done.” It’s the most sturdy sentence that Tadashi had ever said, not riddled with fear or sorrys, just stern.

You don’t even bother to grab a bag like Tadashi did or to say goodbye as you left or to look back at him standing exactly where you left him. You pushed past him and out the door, desperate to get fresh air into your lungs.

Tadashi knows exactly where you’re headed when he notices that you didn’t even grab the car keys from the counter. He doesn’t know what he expected.

The air is much colder than you anticipate it being. The large amounts of it that you’re taking into your lungs to negate the feeling of panic in your heart burn as they fill your chest. Not once during your time in the room with Tadashi did you cry. Watching how upset and sad that you had made him didn’t even make your eyes water, but out on the street, taking that familiar walk that you had taken so often, but not recently, the tears started to form and fall from your eyes.

By the time you make it to his front door, your vision is completely blurred and your lungs hurt so much from heaving that you’re contemplating holding your breath forever. You don’t even know what you’re doing here. You hadn’t called or texted. It was nearly 3 in the morning. You knew that he would be sleeping. You hadn’t talked to him in months. How did you know he would even let you in?

You knock on the door with as much strength as you can muster, 4 light rasps against the wood. You wait for a minute before trying to knock again. When there’s still no answer, you ring the doorbell once. You’re about to give up when you hear the soft click of the unlocking of the door, a tired Kei stands in front of you, his glasses not even on his face as he squints at you. His eyes open wider when he realizes who it is. “(y/n)? What are you doing here?”

It’s cold outside, but you don’t make the move to try to get inside. He hasn’t invited you in yet, and you’ve lost the privilege of slinking past him and taking off your shoes and walking into his room without question when you broke off all contact with him for 4 months.

“He broke up with me.” You sniffle at the end of your sentence. Saying it out loud makes a sob erupt from your chest. Your legs feel weak as you bring your hands up to your face, crying into them, your entire body shaking.

Part of you feels bad for bombarding Kei like this, but you didn’t know where else to go and you definitely couldn’t have stayed. If you had to look at Tadashi for one-second longer, you would have told him everything, even the parts that he definitely doesn’t need to hear. You feel your wrist being pulled inside, Kei shutting the door behind you before continuing to pull you into his bedroom. It looked exactly like it did those few months ago, the bed disheveled from Kei leaving from it so quickly to answer the door. You were laying there with him a few months ago, about to kiss him. You wish you would have kissed him.

Kei pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you so tightly that you can’t move. You feel so secure, so safe. You can’t stop crying, wetting his shoulder from the tears. He rubs your lower back with his palm and your shoulder with his thumb, comforting you. You can feel him hesitate, but ultimately press a kiss into the top of your head. You melt into him.

“It’s not his fault. I cheated on him. I know this, but I just… I should be sadder, Kei,” you say into his shoulder.

“You’re sobbing, what do you mean?”

“I’m not sobbing because I broke up with Tadashi.” You’re treading on thin ice here, but your emotions are completely getting the better of you, pushing you forwards. “I’m sobbing because after he broke up with me, my chest felt lighter. After he broke up with me, the only thing I could think about was you and how I wouldn’t have to hide or lie anymore. He gave me a choice, Kei. He told me that if I left and came to your house that he was going to break up with me, that we were through.” You pause. “And look where I’m at now.”

Tsukishima is silent, his arms around you beginning to fall weakly off of your sides.

“Fuck,” you breath, pulling away from him, sitting on the edge of his bed, and putting your face in your hands. “I was so good at hiding my feelings, Kei, suppressing them so fucking well, and then we spent that night together and- and I couldn’t get you out of my head again.” You grab a fistful of your own hair in frustration. “I mean, fuck.” You pick your head back up, tears slowing, resting your chin in your hands.

He sits next to you but still doesn’t speak. You continue talking, scared of what will happen when the air settles around the conversation. “I was happy. I was content. I-,” you pause, “I didn’t have to sit and wonder if the guy that I’m in love with cared about me in a way that involved more than just sex.” You’ve said all that you could say.

It’s quiet. The atmosphere is calmer than it was back at your house. You steady your breathing, not that it matters, because Kei’s next sentence knocks the wind out of you.

“I wish I would’ve kissed you that night,” he admits to you, his voice low. “I’ve regretted it every day since you left. I thought that maybe, maybe if I would’ve kissed you, you would’ve stayed or- or you would’ve just known.”

“Known?” you ask, innocently.

He exhales sharply, almost resembling a laugh. “Known that I was fucking in love with you.”

The tears that had started to subside came back with everything they had, your whole body wracked, shoulders heaving as he said those words. Even though he was sitting right next to you, he felt miles away. All you wanted was for him to wrap around you. You wanted to crawl into his lap, to feel his fingertips on your scalp again, to feel him give you any contact at all.

You’ve thought about that night endlessly, spent hours awake remembering how he looked underneath you. Even after the thoughts of your incredible sex subsided, after they faded into the back of your mind, after you pushed them back there, you couldn’t get the look in his eyes out of your head. You kept watching them, replaying in your head, as they flickered to your lips and lingered, how they didn’t look hungry, but yearning.

You don’t know how to reply, but you need to speak. You need to tell him something, anything, to remind him why you’re here in the first place, why you chose him overworking it out with Tadashi, anything to get him to move closer to you and hold you.

Or maybe you don’t need to speak. Maybe you don’t need to say anything to get him to move closer and hold you. He had just done the hard part. He told you that he was in love with you, or, that he was in love with you. Was he still?

You looked up at him, saw his head hanging like he’d made a mistake, his gaze stuck on the floor while he fiddled with his thumbs. You turn to him, nudging underneath his arm and crawling into his lap, exactly where you wanted to be. You sit in his lap, curled up in a small ball, tears still overflowing from your eyes.

He doesn’t move for a minute, worry creeping up on you as he doesn’t react to you being in his lap, but then he wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on the top of your head. Your ear is pressed against his chest and you can hear the dull thumping of his heart. You time your breathing with it, your tears slowing as they synchronize.

You’re aware of how little has been said since he confessed to you. You want to tell him something that will make him feel more at ease for having said it. “I wanted to kiss you too, that night. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” It’s quiet again, but you know that he hears you. He tightens his grip in response, nuzzling his nose into your neck as he rests his forehead against your cheek.

Kei turns you slightly so that you’re facing him, legs wrapped around his waist as he holds you up with strong arms behind your back. You’re staring into his eyes again like you were four months ago, but you’re not riddled with conflicting thoughts, you’ve never been more sure of anything in your life.

Before you even start inching closer to him, Kei’s facial expression changes just slightly. “Can I ask?” He pauses, waiting for you to give confirmation for him to go on. When you do, he continues, “What finally did it? Why did you guys finally break up?”

You had told him that you guys had broken up, had come over his house at 3 in the morning sobbing, had told him that you chose him over Tadashi, but nowhere in your mind did you think that you’d have to tell him why exactly you broke up. You flush red recalling the events. It was somehow more embarrassing recalling them, about to say them aloud, than to actually have gone through them. “I- Well, I mean-,” you stutter over your words causing him to look confused.

“You don’t have to tell me, for whatever reason, I know that we haven’t ta-,” he starts, but you interrupt him, shaking your head.

“No, no. I want to tell you, Kei, but you… you can’t laugh.” Your eyes are pleading.

“Tch, well when you say that, you know I can’t promise such things.” You’ve missed his little tongue clicks.

You take a deep breath. “He was fucking me.” You take another deep breath, avidly avoiding Kei’s eyes and evidently piquing his interest. “And he hit that spot.” Your cheeks are burning as you take another breath to steady yourself. “And I said your name.”

His jaw drops, head tilting to the side as he tries to conceal his cockiness, his disbelief, his bliss. You bury your face into his chest, the warmth of your cheeks worsening by the second. “You said my name while he was fucking you?”

“Kei, you don’t understand,” your voice is muffled by his shirt, “I hadn’t gotten off in so long, hadn’t felt like actual pleasure since that night, and so, and- and he-.” You’re stumbling over your words, but he doesn’t say anything. “He hit it on accident and I just couldn’t help it. It was slipping out of my mouth and I’ve never wanted to hide more.”

He leans back, pulling his chest away from your face as you look up at him. His head is tilted back and he’s laughing at the whole situation. “I told you that I couldn’t promise anything. Wow. He hit it by accident?”

You nod at his question. Nothing about this situation is funny, but seeing Kei laugh makes you start laughing. You want to feel worse about it, but it’s just the two of you in this secluded room and being with Kei for the first time in months, you feel truly happy again. You push him slightly, the corner of your mouth tugging upwards as you bury your face into his chest again. “Don’t be mean to me.”

Kei brings his hand under your chin, lifting your head until your gaze meets his. No matter how hard you try to avert it, he moves you to match it. He rubs small circles into your chin. It sends shivers through every part of your body. “I’m sorry. I’m not being mean. I’m flattered, really.” You melt into him, letting your chin form into his hand before looking at his lips so obviously that if he didn’t get the hint, you’d start crying again.

He knows, of course, he knows, but he asks anyway. “Can I kiss you?” His voice is soft but audible.

You nod gently, making sure not to disturb his hand on your chin, “Please.” He brings your face to his, carrying it with his fingertips before meeting it halfway. When his lips first touch yours, the first thing you notice is how different they taste from before. Without the sex driving the kiss, it felt less desperate, less like it needs to happen and more like it is just supposed to happen. Your eyes flutter shut, your body threatening to start shaking if you don’t deepen the kiss. You need more of him.

You place your hands on the sides of his face, pulling him closer, your face squished against his as much as it could be. This kiss was completely different in every aspect. You were no longer with Tadashi, this wasn’t just a meeting for a hookup. This was your best friend, who ( is? was? ) in love with you. The two words switch back and forth in your mind, asking if he is still in love with you.

You pull away, much to your own dismay. His lips almost start to pout when you’ve pulled away until he sees how serious you are. You have to ask. You have to know. “Are you…” You pause, rewording the question, “You said that..” You take a breath. “That you were in love with me.” He turns red as he nods. “Is that… like, you were, but aren’t anymore? Or like you were and still are?”

He blinks at you slowly, the red fading off of his face as a smile replaces his nervousness. He laughs, shaking his head and putting his lips back on yours. “I don’t think I could ever not be.” You not only hear the words but feel them against your lips. Your hands are back on his face, desperate to kiss him so hard that you can’t breathe.

You roll off of his lap, your hands still on the sides of his face guiding you with him, pulling him on top of you. The kiss is still innocent enough, despite the position you find yourself in. He’s hovering over you, his hips directly above yours. You snake your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer into you. You open your mouth slightly, letting your tongue slip out and swipe against his lip, hoping with everything in you that he lets you in.

You can tell how surprised he is to feel your tongue, but he lets you enter. Without the smashing of your teeth, the fighting of your tongues, you explore his mouth, running your tongue over his and the back of his teeth. You moan into his mouth as he places a hand on your hip, rolling up against him softly. You can feel him growing hard at the contact. He grunts as he rolls down against you in response.

You move your mouth from his, kissing down his neck and sucking at the base. You were surprised at how much he reacted to this. All this time, he had abused and riddled your neck with marks and bruises, but he wanted them just as much. You bite into his soft skin, sucking on an area gently, running your tongue over it lightly, using your bottom lip to rub the spot as well. You pull at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side. You run your hands down his chest, down his toned stomach, just feeling his skin as you nibble on his collarbones. Kei is moaning into your ear at the feeling.

Your hands move down to his boxers, only the thin fabric separating his growing length and your hand. You palm him as you kiss his neck again. His breath stutters in your ear as he thrusts into your hand. You begin to start taking them off when he pulls away suddenly. You look up at him, confused and worried. “Kei?”

“(y/n),” he breathes, “I- I want this so badly. I want you so badly, but you literally just got out of a relationship an hour ago. I don’t want to take advantage of you or have you do something you’ll regret tomorrow.”

You shake your head, your eyebrows furrowed. “Please, Kei, I’ve waited so long to do this right. I know this isn’t ideal. I know what happened. I get it. I know, but… please. I want this,” you say, looking directly into his eyes. “I could never regret spending a night with you. I never have and I never will.”

He mulls over the situation, thinking carefully before confirming again, “Are you sure?”

You nod again. “Yes, yes, Kei. I’ve missed you so much in every way possible.”

He caresses your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb over your jawline. “Is this just a hookup?” The question stops everything in you. You pull his face back down to yours, kissing everywhere but his mouth as you repeat the word no over and over again.

“No, god, fuck, Kei, no. No. I want you so badly, but not just because you can make me come so fucking good, but because I want to be that close to you again. I want to feel you inside of me and I want you to hold me after.” You don’t know if the words you’re saying are too sappy, but they’re true and they work. Kei kisses you this time, pressing his lips against you hard, but not rough.

“How have you survived these past months without me?” he asks. You giggle at the question, but then exhale, almost defeated.

“Barely, honestly,” you admit. “I’ve come twice by myself and they were the worst orgasms I’ve ever had.”

“We’ll have to fix that, then, yeah, baby?” For some reason, the pet name makes you feel warm. He had called you it before, but it felt different now like he meant it more. The thought of him calling you baby outside of sex just added to the fire. You nod at him, resuming your kiss. As you’re building up the moment again, Kei pulls your shirt off, releasing your tits from your shirt and massaging them as he devours your tongue.

You roll your hips against him again, feeling him almost completely hard already. You needed to feel his skin. You grabbed the waistband, gently tugging it down as far as you could from your position underneath him. You took his cock into your hand, stroking the rock hard length until you could feel even more blood rushing to it. Everything that you’re doing to him is getting a much bigger reaction than before, but you love it. You pull away from his mouth just long enough to spit into your hand, slicking his cock with the saliva, your fist gliding over it much easier now.

Kei isn’t speaking, which is unusual, but you’re looking up at his face in the times when your lips are apart and you’re looking at the concentration on his face. It makes your heart flutter. “Pants off,” he says, but it’s not demanding. The short phrase is just desperate . You move your hand from his cock to undo your own pants, sliding them off with your underwear. You wrap your fist back around his cock, but not before dipping your fingers into yourself, moaning softly at the contact. You use how wet you are to lubricate his cock, your fist moving faster now. When he sees you do so, hears how wet you are when you push your fingers inside of you, feels the wetness on his cock, he twitches, pulling your hand away and pinning it down on the bed.

You look up at him, somewhat confused. He looks almost embarrassed. You pull him into another kiss, wrapping your legs around him, his cock brushing only slightly against your lips as he groans into your ear. He holds your hips in place, pushing you back onto the beg, unwrapping your legs from him. He owes you some sort of explanation, but he wasn’t going to give it to you without keeping you occupied.

He reaches down, still towering over top of you, bracing himself with one hand. “I haven’t come since the last time we were together,” he explains, avoiding eye contact with you. “You ruined me too, I guess.” The words shake your entire being. You blink at him, eyes open without knowing what to say.

Your mind is distracted as he rubs two fingers between your lips, curling them around your pussy, pressing into your hole ever so slightly. You want to grab his wrist and shove his fingers inside of you. You think if he did that, you might come on the spot. You missed his fingers so much, missed any part of him being inside you so much. He uses his thumb to rub your swollen clit, the small circles making your heart race. Seeing you underneath him, squirming and wriggling from the small movements, a cocky smile spreads over his face. He missed seeing you like this.

All at once, he shoves his fingers in, your pussy completely swallowing them up to the knuckle, slamming into your g-spot with such purpose. You clench around his fingers. “Kei, fuck, again, please, just once more, again.” You can’t believe how pathetic you sound right now, asking him to do it once more, knowing it’ll push you over the edge with how little you’ve been pleased lately, with how dissatisfying your sex life had been.

He listens to you, pulling his fingers nearly all the way out, and then slamming them back into you, pushing as hard as he can to get as deep as he can. His thumb hasn’t stopped messily flicking over your clit as he does so. You’re rolling your hips on his fingers as you come for the first time in months. These little movements shouldn’t have made you come so fast, but you couldn’t help it. His eyes are wide as he notices that you’ve already come. He rides you through your orgasm, pumping his fingers in and out of you quickly. When you’re finishing coming, he doesn’t stop, so fascinated by how quickly you’re getting there. Your pussy feels so sensitive already, but you can feel another wave of pleasure about to wash over you and you welcome it. He curls his fingers up, hitting your spot repeatedly with his long, slender fingers. He’s watching you the whole time, gaze strong as he slams his fingers in and out of you, inserting another finger right before you come. His fingers don’t make you feel nearly as full as his cock, but it’s a start.

The pleasure from his fingers inside of you and his thumb on your sensitive clit are too much. The pressure building in your lower stomach releases all at once, spraying the bed beneath you as you scream out his name in repetition. He pulls his fingers out of you, using his entire hand to rub against your clit faster than anyone ever has as you finish coming. You’re sweating from how hard your body is clenching, your hands making fists into the sheet as tears blink from your eyes.

You’re feeling even more sensitive, but Kei puts his fingers back inside of you. “Kei, Kei, I can’t, I can’t come again, fuck.”

“You remember the rules, yeah?” he asks, making sure that you don’t actually want him to stop. You nod at him excessively, holding his wrist in place and rocking your hips on his fingers when he slows down to check. He smiles at you, continuing to finger you. You can see his arm start to shake. He hadn’t slowed down once since he started hammering his fingers into you and you’re so grateful for it. The continuous, never letting up, pleasure that he’s created makes your orgasm come even quicker than you think it’s going to.

Just as you’re about to come for the third time, he removes his fingers and slips into you, grunting as he does so. You feel every inch fill you as he pushes into your tight hole, stretching even further for him as he hits the back of your walls. You gasp for air as you feel his complete length inside of you, rubbing against your walls. His hand is gone from your clit, but he’s penetrating you deeply. You come around him, gripping onto his cock like a fucking vice as you cry out. He thrusts into you and pulls out, looking obviously labored from how tight you’re clenching around him. He’s muttering a string of fuck s as he does so.

“Kei, fuck, thank you, thank you, fuck,” you mutter into his shoulder, running your fingernails down his back, wanting him closer, deeper.

“You’re so tight, baby, fuck. You’re so tight and you’re all mine,” he says. There’s no mention of Tadashi, no nicknames that remind you of him, only saying things that are just the two of yours. After you’ve come, he slows his hips, fucking into you slowly, but hard, never breaking eye contact with you.

His hand is in your hair, using it to pull you on to him slowly. A small part of you was convinced that the only reason that you and Kei’s sex was so incredible was because it was rough and degrading and hot and though it can be all those things, it doesn’t always have to be. You’re realizing very quickly that you don’t need Kei to fuck you really rough for you to enjoy it, for both of you to revel in it.

His slow thrusts don’t last very long as his breathing starts getting quicker. His hips pick up speed again, pushing so deeply into you that he can feel every part of your pussy wrapped around him. His thrusts are getting messier, stuttering instead of keeping the perfect rhythm that he normally does. His arm is shaking to hold himself up.

“Fuck, (y/n), fuck, baby, fuck, I’m going to come. Fuck, fuck, will you come with me, baby? Will you come on my cock while I fill you? I need to feel you clenching around me, milking the cum that’s already coming out of my cock, coaxing more and more out until you can taste it, please, baby, fuck.” All of the dirty talk that he held back from during comes out in this moment. His words bring you right to the edge. Feeling his cock ache inside you, looking into his eyes as you nod helplessly letting the orgasm echo through your entire body. You can feel it in every part of you as you squeeze around him, doing exactly what he asked of you.

He didn’t demand anything of you, only asked nicely, even throwing in a please. Even still, you wanted to do whatever he asked of you, especially if that thing was coming on his cock as he came inside of you. His cock is throbbing, pulsing with every slam into you, with every stream of cum that comes out of his cock as he fucks it into you. Your moans are straggled as you try to speak, to thank him for everything, to just say his name. He’s moaning into your ear, a murmur of dirty words and your name repeated over and over again. It’s mostly gibberish, except a “thank you” that slips out among the rest. You feel flush all over as he sloppily fucks into you for the last time. You feel the cum drip out of you as soon as he pulls out.

Despite how tired you feel, you know that you have to go clean yourself up so that you can actually sleep. You just assumed you would stay the night, but maybe that’s not what he’s expecting. You make your way to the bathroom, waving him off when he tells you to stay and that you can fix it tomorrow. You hear him in the other room, changing his sheets on the bed and getting dressed again.

When you enter into his room again, having brushed your teeth with the toothbrush he still kept in his medicine cabinet, you see him pulling one of his old volleyball shirts out of his drawer, tossing it to you as you walked in the room. “For tonight. Figured it’d be better to sleep in than what you had on.” You smile, a warmth spreading from your chest to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“Thank you, Kei,” you put the shirt on, taking in how soft it is and how much it smells like him.

He climbs into the middle of the bed, keeping the covers thrown to the side for you to get into bed with him. He pats the bed beside him when you seem hesitant. You slowly make your way over, getting into bed. He throws the covers over top of you before turning onto his side, looking at you with sleepy, but happy eyes.

“What?” you ask, the attention making you blush even harder. He shakes his head, not saying anything, so you ask again, “What?”

“Nothing,” he waves you off, pressing a kiss into the side of your head and flipping you so that your back is flush against his chest, snaking his arms around your waist.

“Tsukishima Kei,” you flip back around, staring him in the eyes, “What?”

He laughs at how serious you are, moving a piece of hair out of your eyes and kissing your forehead. “I just think you’re pretty, that’s all.” Your eyes widen in surprise as you flip back over, pushing yourself back into him, hiding what a dark crimson your skin had turned. He laughs again at your reaction, his hand resting on your hip and massaging it as he kisses the back of your neck.

He wraps his legs in yours, pulling you closer to him. You can feel his breath on your ear but you don’t mind. It’s silent for a moment, but despite how tired you are and how dark the room is, you can’t seem to sleep. Your eyelids feel heavy, but there are words that need to be said that haven’t been. “Kei?” you ask quietly, seeing if he’s still up. He hums into your back evidently awake from the response time but getting sleepier by the second. You place your hand on his, squeezing it gently as you turn back around to face him.

His eyes are shut, lashes fluttering softly at your movement before opening the tiniest bit. Your face is so close to his that it’s killing you not to kiss him right now, but you need to say it first. He needs to hear it first.

“I love you, Kei.”

His eyes open wider now, he inhales slightly sharper than before, but a smile rests on his face. He leans forward, pressing his lips against yours for a moment before pulling away, a pout instantly forming on your face. “Hey,” you voice your concern, but he just raises his eyebrows.

“Fine, fine, I won’t tell you that I love you too or that I’m so glad that everything happened the way it did despite how messy it was or that I want to fall asleep with you every night,” he says, shrugging, but pressing his lips back into yours again. He’s so good at everything he does. You want to keep kissing him, but more so, you want him to continue to tell you nice things.

He spends the rest of the time that you’re awake telling you all of the things he’s never told you. You exchange secrets, you laugh, you kiss, you cry a little bit, you kiss some more, you kiss even more. Eventually, the sun peeks out from the horizon casting a bright, but soft pink, glow into Kei’s room. You press your face into his chest, hiding your eyes from the light at first, but then finding so much comfort in the contact, in the heartbeat. It calms you into a sleep. He massages his fingers into your scalp, petting and smoothing your hair.

This entire time, everything you wanted was right there in front of you, but now you had it.

“Goodnight, baby,” he says softly into your head, “I love you.”

Your heart beams.

taglist: @daddyjackfrost @karasunoya @girlwith-kalei-do-scope-eyes @itsmeteiiteii @omiivr @cyueksims @kei-tsuki21 @ks-tsukki @snazzyturtles send an ask and i’ll add ya to the taglist! ~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader smut #hq smut #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x female reader #toriwritesshit #not fair!

506 notes · View notes