#what if your self is nothing but an image?? a costume?? your armor?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snorlaxlovesme · 3 years

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wishing for a shadow

Did anyone ask for a fix-it fic that actually addressed how fucked up it was to make a 15 year-old girl fight naked?

We really don’t talk about Hagakure Toru enough. I know that invisibility is a pretty well-used superpower by now, but Toru has been invisible ALL HER LIFE, ALL THE TIME. There’s so much good story potential there and Horikoshi is like, let’s have her do peace signs in the back of class 1-A pictures sometimes or whatever.

So here’s 8k words of Hagakure actually having a personality and searching for a way to have a hero costume. Cheers!

(Content warning for nudity, obviously, and implications of nonconsensual groping due to the invisible nudity. Did I mention that fighting and rescuing people naked as a teenage girl is really fucked up?)

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Toru hated her hero costume.

Or maybe it was fairer to say she hated her quirk. While everyone else had a special power that they could turn on and off at will, Toru had to deal with her quirk all. The. Time. And it was exhausting. Wearing special clothes on the train so she wouldn’t be sat on or shoved against a wall. Flicking on a designated lamp in her parent’s house so they’d know when she was home. Making just enough noise in class so that people remember she existed.

Being invisible had so many unnecessary drawbacks that early on in Toru’s life she decided there must have been a reason she was given this quirk. And maybe the reason was that she was meant to be a hero.

After all, it was the only real way to practically apply her quirk, wasn’t it? The choice was either to use her unique ability for good or fade into the background of her own life. So she chose to stand out, and what better way to do that than to apply to UA, the best hero school in all of Japan?

Newsflash: Hero school was hard. And even though no one could see them, coming back to the dorms every day covered in bruises and scrapes was not how Toru had planned to live out her teenage years.

What Toru really wanted was to be a normal girl. To go to the mall with her girl friends for make-overs and stay up way too late texting each other about which boy would ask them to the next school dance. She wanted to wear her hair in goofy styles and cry about zits and not worry about a building crushing her during her midterm exams. It was a simple dream, but Toru didn’t have a simple life. She’d thought by now she’d be over these silly fantasies, but when she saw her classmates’ modifications to their hero costumes the feeling hit her again before she could stuff it into that part inside of her where she kept her lost dreams.

Midoriya was testing out kicks at Ground Beta with his newly armored boots while Uraraka laughed a few feet in the air, marveling at her lack-of-queasiness from her new electromagnetic helmet. Toru stared forlornly at the new pair of gloves she’d received, with new colorful stitching. Her costume was….

Well, it wasn’t. The whole point of an invisibility quirk meant that she couldn’t wear a costume. It would kind of defeat the whole point then, wouldn’t it? To remain transparent, she couldn’t have any floating garments or gadgets attached to her body. Even the gloves themselves were technically a hindrance, but she needed some object to orient herself with her setting, otherwise her depth perception would suffer. It was a lot easier getting her bearings if she could tell whereabout her body was, and without her gloves she tended to move slower, not entirely sure where the rest of her body was while she moved.

Practically speaking, not having a costume for someone with a quirk like Toru’s made sense. Reasonably speaking—

“Oh! Hagakure-san, is that you?” Iida asked, embarrassed. She was lucky it was him who had run into her. His hero costume was made of bulky armor, so she doubted he felt it when he had brushed his arm against the side of her naked boob. She shrunk away.

“It’s not your fault, Iida-kun,” she said, hoping he could hear the smile in her voice and not the fakeness of it. “I’ll be more careful.”

It was hard, though. To be careful. The students of 1-A were gathered in a loose crowd in front of Aizawa-sensei, ready to hear what their mission was for today’s exercise. Toru was used to standing on the outskirts of groups to avoid being bumped into, but today she had gotten swept up in the middle. She held her gloved hands out at her sides, her default position to show everyone how much space she was taking up, but she still jumped when she felt Ojiro’s tail brush the small of her bare back. He flinched too, and sent an apologetic smile in her general direction, though nowhere near where her face actually was. She apologized again.

She hated her hero costume.

When class 1-A returned to the dorms, Toru made a beeline for her room, not that anyone noticed until her door slammed shut. She dug through her closet frantically until she found her warmest, fluffiest pink robe, and through it over her shivering body. She was so sick of this.

Aizawa-sensei was known as one of the toughest teachers of UA. He was also known for not playing favorites. But would it have killed him to warn her that they were doing underwater exercises today? While everyone else had at least some form of pants and a shirt to do their rescue dives in, Toru had to swim through the freezing-cold pool completely naked. It might have been an advantage if she didn’t have to spend most of her mental energy trying not to touch her rescue victim (Sato) with most of her body.

And coming out of the water? That was a treat. The water droplets that clung to her transparent body made her look like a sex-shop mannequin, perked nipples and all. She had no choice but to leave the training grounds immediately, nothing but wet footprints in the cement to prove she was even there to begin with. Toru waited until she had dried off before returning to class, making up a lie to Aizawa-sensei that she felt sick and hoping no one but Sato saw her dripping wet figure before she’d fled.

How come no one else had to deal with this? She’d tried to talk to Momo about it once, feeling like she of all people would understand Toru’s pain. After all, she had a quirk that required her to show a lot of skin as well. But ironically enough, Momo had responded that her quirk wasn’t so bad. And besides Mineta, all the other boys in their class were very respectful about not looking at her while she pulled back her hero costume to use her Creation quirk. Using it in public was hard, but certainly not impossible. Besides, Momo had pointed out, in the heat of hero-ing she barely had time to think about modesty. She was too focused on saving people.

Toru had left that conversation at that. Any further discussion would make her sound jaded, and that’s not the type of image she liked to project to the world. She didn’t have an actual image, so to others Toru’s attitude was all she had. So she kept quiet about how frustrating it was to have to constantly avoid being sexually harassed while saving people, all while hoping that others didn’t think she was sexually harassing them. Toru, the fifteen year old girl with a very unfortunate quirk, didn’t want to be made out to be a villain for something she simply could not help. But what was the right answer?

Toru searched the floor of her messy dorm room until she found a terry-cloth towel and then began to scrub her head with it, trying to dry off as quickly as possible and maybe just scrub the rest of this awful day off of her. The type of towel she was using would cause her hair to frizz (she watched enough beauty gurus online to know), but it made no difference to someone like Toru. The world didn’t know the incredible condition she normally kept her hair in.

Sometimes it felt like everything about her was a secret.

“Just hot soba again, Toru-chan?” Tsuyu asked her the following week at school as they grabbed their lunch trays. Even though her voice was even as she said it, Toru could tell there was concern in it. Even at lunchtime, Toru could always be found with either bread or a sweet on her tray. It had been quite a while since she’d eaten a red bean bun. She just wasn’t in the mood lately.

“Yeah, I’m just not very hungry today,” Toru told her friend, trying to sound chipper. She didn’t want to concern anyone, not in the least, but it was getting harder and harder to keep up her upbeat attitude when everything about her quirk just seemed to be bothering her lately.

Tsuyu nodded, though she didn’t look convinced. But thankfully she wasn’t the type to pry, so she led them to an empty table in the cafeteria. Toru sat across from Tsuyu and removed her face mask, a plain black one that she had bought online a few months back when she had hay fever. Lately she’d been feeling very self-conscious of people constantly talking to her chest, so she started wearing the mask to give people something on her face to focus on when they spoke to her.

She slurped her soba noodles in silence, not having much to say, when Midoriya and Todoroki passed by.

“Are these seats taken?” Todoroki asked. Toru glanced around to make sure they were talking about actual empty seats, not hers. But there were two vacant seats next to Tsuyu, who gestured to the boys that they could join them when she continued peeling an apple for herself.

“Have they bothered trying to see if Eri’s quirk would work on him?” Todoroki asked, continuing a conversation they must have started while getting their food.

Midoriya shrugged. “I haven’t asked lately. I think they’re still scared that Eri wouldn’t be able to control her quirk and would rewind him too far. She’s still so young.”

“When would be an appropriate age for her to finally use it on him, then?”

“Are you talking about Togata-senpai, ribbet?” Tsuyu asked.

Midoriya nodded, looking pained. “I don’t know, Todoroki-kun. He’s still coming to school, at least, but not full-time. Without his quirk he doesn’t have much use for the hero courses he was taking.”

Toru had vaguely heard about this from Tsuyu and Ochako. Apparently the third-year who had done a fight demonstration for class 1-A after the provisional exam was injured during the Shie Hassaikai raid. He’d been hit by one of the darts manufactured to take away people’s quirks while rescuing a child. Toru, in one of her darker moments, had selfishly wondered what would happen if she had gotten hit by a dart like that. Would all of her problems be solved? If her quirk was erased would she be visible? Could she finally live her life like a normal girl?

But then she had passed by the hospital wing shortly after, to get some bandages for Kaminari. Togata Mirio sat alone in a hospital bed with a bandage wrapped around his waist and the blankest expression she had ever seen on the normally-cheerful upperclassmen’s face. She was thankful for her quirk in the moment, so Togata didn’t have to see the shame written all over her.

The feeling still burned through her at the mention of his name, so Toru kept to herself as she ate her lunch, seamlessly blending with the background as she often did.

“Le Million isn’t gone just because Togata-senpai doesn’t have his quirk,” Tsuyu told the boys insightfully. “He’s still plenty heroic without his Permeation.”

“He could always just be a citizen for a few years until Eri gets older, I suppose,” Todoroki said idly. “Or he could be a police officer. Quirks aren’t required to be a part of the force.”

Midoriya stared off into the distance. “I guess. I just can’t imagine him in a police uniform instead of his hero costume. It’s too hard to think about.”

Toru slurped her noodles a bit too loudly at that, and all at once all eyes were on her. Well, her chopsticks.

“Hagakure-san?” Midoriya said.

Toru cleared her throat delicately before speaking. “Hero costume? I thought that Togata-senpai couldn’t wear clothes while using his quirk.”

“Oh!” Midoriya said cheerfully, understanding her surprise. “The only time you saw him fight was in his P.E. uniform, wasn’t it? No, Le Million’s hero costume is this really awesome full-body suit with a cape and the number one million written across the chest! I think he got the inspiration from—”

“But how does it stay on him?” Toru asked, cutting Midoriya off before he could start rambling.

If Midoriya was put off by her interruption, he was kind enough not to show it. “It’s woven out of some specially-made fabric,” Midoriya said. “The inspiration appears to be from—”

And for the second time that day, Toru cut Midoriya off. But this time it was to abruptly leave the table, leaving the rest of her soba and her friends behind.

Toru hoped all the work she had put in making friends with her classmates for the past few months would make up for her rudeness at lunchtime. But after hearing that there was a specially-woven fabric that could form to quirks, Toru could no longer sit idly by.

This could have been her solution! Not the one she had secretly, selfishly wished for, that her quirk would one day disappear and she would wake up a normal, visible civilian. But the more attainable goal, that she could find a way to make a costume that wasn’t so revealing. Something that gave her more coverage while still allowing her to maintain the one advantage that her quirk gave her in the field.

She had run immediately to the Principal Nezu’s office and requested Togata Mirio’s contact information, saying that it was urgent and related to education. The principal gave it to her with little hesitation, perhaps seeing an outcome to their meeting that she couldn’t fathom with her human brain. But Toru didn’t care, so long as she was able to talk to Togata about the nature of his costume.

Texting him had been a little nerve-wracking, especially since her senpai probably didn’t even know she was alive, but after explaining through text that she was a student from 1-A with some hero questions, Togata seemed perfectly happy to meet her in the courtyard on campus and chat with her.

Feeling better than she had in weeks, Toru made an effort in her appearance. Wearing a form-fitting black turtleneck, checkered skirt, and thigh-high stockings, she was feeling more like herself than she had in a very long time. Another girl would probably style her hair or apply make-up for a meeting with an upperclassmen boy, but Toru didn’t. She brushed her transparent hair and let it hang down straight, not that anyone else would know the difference. She did choose a more stylish mask today, looping a purple one with a bedazzled kitty face on it around her ears before heading away from the dorms to their meeting spot.

She sat on a bench in the courtyard, a few minutes early, and anxiously tapped on her thighs as she waited. Now that she was here, she was starting to get nervous. As excited as she was to talk about hero costumes, it was now occurring to her that her blank-faced senpai might not actually want to talk about hero work now that he had been forcefully relegated to civilian status. He’d gone through a traumatizing ordeal and had his whole life ripped away from him only a few months ago. Was she being incredibly selfish again?

“Hagakure-san?” Toru heard, and leapt to her feet awkwardly as Togata entered the courtyard.

“S-senpai! I’m glad you could come on such short notice!” she squeaked. She shouldn’t have asked him to come, what was she thinking—

“I like your mask,” he said with a sunny smile, coming to sit beside her on the stone bench. He didn’t look upset in the slightest. “I really love cats.”

“Really?” Toru asked stupidly.

“Yeah!” he said enthusiastically. “The way their tails swish back and forth, their rough tongues, their little toe beans? Cats are the best. If I could spend a day in a pile of cats, that would be the best day ever.”

Toru….did not know how to respond to that. The last time she saw him he had looked so depressed. She didn’t think that he would come here to talk to her and look so happy. Togata was sitting beside her, all six-foot-something of him, with his broad shoulders and his perfect hair and he was talking to her about cats. What did she call him here for again?

Thankfully, Togata could not see the way she was gaping at him and just took her silence as a means to continue. He went on a Midoriya-like ramble for the next few minutes or so about his favorite breed (Singapura) before Toru finally found the will to speak.

“Togata-senpai?” she said gently, trying to make up for her earlier rudeness with her friends by at least interrupting this boy kindly. He stopped talking to look at her curiously. “I actually didn’t come here to talk about cats. I was hoping to talk to you about hero work…if that’s okay,” she tacked on lamely, hoping not to offend him.

He looked unbothered, smiling at her kindly. “Sure! I have a lot of experience out in the field, so I’m sure I could offer you some advice if you need it. Is something bothering you?”

“Well,” Toru said, looking down at her lap. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to bare her soul so openly to someone who was basically a stranger to her, so he kept her explanation brief. “Due to my quirk,” she splayed her arms out to gesture to her invisible form, “I don’t have a lot of options, costume-wise. Midoriya told me that your Le Million costume was constructed of a special fabric so that you could wear it while using your Permeation quirk, and I was just wondering if the same material might work for my quirk as well?”

Togata looked on thoughtfully. “Well, you see. My costume was made from my own hair.”

Toru blinked.

“Your hair?”

He nodded. “With Permeation, I phase through every solid object around me when I use my quirk. You saw me fight your class, I could barely keep my P.E. uniform on,” he said with a bashful chuckle. “But if my costume is made from me, I can use my quirk on it so both me and my clothes permeate. You see?”

“Oh,” Toru murmured.

She really didn’t realize how much hope she had in this plan until it was dashed right in front of her eyes. There wasn’t some special all-in-one fabric swatch she could use to make her own full-body suit with a cape. She was Hagakare Toru, and life did not treat her that kindly. She would spend the rest of her hero days either shivering from the cold or being unintentionally (or even worse, intentionally ) groped by every person she attempted to save.

Her vision swam from disappointment, and when the tears started beading in the corners of her eyes, she did nothing to stop them.

“Hagakure-san! What’s wrong?” her senpai asked, flapping his hands wildly in concern when he saw the water drip down the invisible contours of her cheeks.

“I just thought—I just hoped I could have a costume like yours, Senpai,” she sniffed miserably. “I can’t stand doing hero work with no clothes on. I don’t want to want to be a hero if I have to be naked for it.”

Togata seemed to finally understand what she was here for, and the sympathy in his eyes showed it. While the pity was appreciated, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be around anyone right now. She stood to leave, but before she could turn away from him Togata touched her very gently at the elbow. She stopped and looked down at his hand, and he immediately took it away.

“Wait, don’t go yet. I understand completely what you mean. I spent so much of my first year at UA forced to laugh it off whenever my clothes would fall off while training with my classmates. I know how it must feel for you, to an extent.”

Toru thought of her classmates, who brushed off her concerns dismissively. “You do?”

That constant smile returned to his face, though there was a sad twist to it. “Embarrassing. Vulnerable. Incredibly lonely.”

She blinked a few more tears away and nodded.

Togata continued. “It’s hard when you have a quirk with such a unique drawback. No one wants to think too much about how hard it might be for you. Especially since you’re so cheery; you can’t possibly be bothered by it. Sound familiar?”

To a tee.

“It sucks having to be the positive one all the time,” she said, brushing her cheeks with the palm of her hand. “It means no one likes you when you act truly unhappy.”

Togata swallowed and nodded. She wondered what it must be like for him now, to have lost his quirk and still keep that sunny smile on his face. She wondered how genuine he was when he first showed up here, or if he was putting on an act just like she did every day.

She thought to ask him. “Togata-senpai—?”

But Togata was already pressing on. “But I do think there’s something we can do for you. While the material for my suit won’t be usable for you, there’s no reason why the same method of costume production won’t work for you, Hagakure-san.”

“My hair?”

Togata shrugged. “If it worked for me, I don’t see why it wouldn’t work for you. It’s worth a shot, anyway. How long is your hair?”

Without asking, his hand reached out. Toru never got used to this. It was always worse because of how horrible people were at guessing body position. You’d think that after looking at so many humans on a day-to-day basis that people would be able to reasonably guess where certain body parts were, but Toru was often unpleasantly surprised by where people grabbed her first.

She closed her eyes and waited for it to be over, but his hand never fell. She cracked open one eye and saw Togata’s hand, suspended a few inches above the crown of her head. Her eyes then flicked to his face, where he waited patiently for her.

The saltwater didn’t seem to have fully left her eyes as she reached up her hand and took hold of his own, before guiding it gently down the length of her hair. His fingertips grazed the very ends of the strands for a moment before letting it fall back to her shoulders. He smiled again.

“That should be plenty to start.”

“Shouldn’t we be going to the Costumes Department?” Toru asked as she followed Togata’s lead, walking towards a wing of UA that she’d never needed to enter before today.

“Nah, they’d take too long to make it. They’re always backed up. But the Support Class students are always itching for new projects,” Togata said like the wise senpai he was. “No one is more Plus Ultra than UA students themselves, after all,” he said with a wink.

Toru took this logic in stride as she stood before the Support Class Workshop, but admittedly she was a little nervous. They were still students, after all.

“What if they mess up?” she asked. She’d be foolish to not voice her fears now, before it was too late.

Togata seemed unfazed. “Then we try again. Hair isn’t a finite resource after all. It grows back. And if you can find someone with a helpful quirk, your costume material could grow back faster than you think!”

Toru supposed she couldn’t argue with that, so she steeled herself for whatever was to come and opened the door.

A drone zipped past her head and out the door, so quick Toru didn’t even have time to duck.

“Don’t leave the door open!” a student covered in grime yelled from on top of an incredibly tall ladder. “My babies will escape!”

“Babies?” Toru asked curiously. Togata closed the metal door behind them and caught another drone flying their way before it could smack into the wall. The student who had yelled at them before was already focusing her attention elsewhere, picking up an electric tool that Toru couldn’t identify and hopping inside of the cabin of a giant mech.

“That’s Hatsume Mei,” Togata told her. “She’s a first-year, but she’s already at the top of the Support Class. If anyone can help you, it’s her.”

“Is that praise I hear?” Hatsume Mei called out, poking her head out of the robot and grinning wildly. “Le Millioni! It’s been ages. What can I do for you?

“We’re actually here for Hagakure-san today.” Togata explained the situation to her while she worked, undeterred when Hatsume climbed back in her machine and continued working on her invention. He told her of Toru’s unique problem as impersonally as possible, only telling her the necessary details, which Toru was grateful for. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her skirt as she waited until Togata ended his explanation, wondering if Hatsume could fashion a costume for her out of her own hair.

“So you said it was mid-back, right?” Hatsume Mei yelled over the sound of a drill. She was back inside the robot and sparks were shooting out of it at rapid intervals. Toru and Togata ducked their heads in tandem as some shot their way.

“Closer to my lower back, actually!” Toru shouted back.

Toru had always been incredibly proud of her hair. It was a personal thing, obviously, since no one could see it, but that didn’t stop Toru from meticulously maintaining it from a young age. Even if it wasn’t visible, Toru could still feel it, so she’d always gone out of her way to treat her hair properly so she could at least revel in the sleek texture of it. She’d followed beauty influencers online for years to discover the perfect balance of shampoos, conditioners, leave-ins, and other miracle products to keep her hair in perfect condition. Hair length like hers could only be achieved through proper care of healthy hair.

The drilling noise cut off suddenly and Hatsume pulled herself out of the robot and climbed down the ladder. She flipped up her grease-smudged goggles to eye Toru curiously. Toru, used to this reaction, let herself be scrutinized.

“I can work with that,” she said finally. “Though there is the caveat of it being invisible. I need to be able to see my materials in order to make a beautiful baby out of them.”

There was always something, wasn’t there? Every time Toru thought she was taking a step in the right direction, the rug was pulled right out from under her—

“That’s an easy fix, though,” Togata said. “Temporary hair dye will help you cut it off of her and work it into usable fabric. Then you can wash the dye out when you’re all done.”

And just like that, there was hope again. Toru looked at Togata in amazement.

Hatsume smiled grandly at Togata. “Look at that! Beauty and brains. What don’t you have, Le Million?”

A quirk , Toru thought glumly. But Togata didn’t miss a beat. “Time to waste, Hatsume. Toru needs this costume done as soon as possible, okay?”

“Don’t they all,” Hatsume said flippantly, tossing her tool on a desk behind her. “Alright, cutie,” she said, addressing Toru this time. “If you want support gear from me ASAP then I’m going to need you to come back to me as quick as you can with dyed hair, got it? Then I’ll get to work on turning it into something usable for you.”

“Do you really think you can do it?” Toru asked. All of this hoping was exhausting her.

“Ye of little faith. I perform miracles in this workshop every day!” she shouted, extending her arms out widely to gesture to the room of junked parts. “Now, begone until you’ve returned with dyed hair. I have schematics to work up.”

And just like that, they were kicked out of Hatsume Mei’s workshop of miracles, something Toru believed in for the first time in a long while.

Two days later, Toru walked out of the Workshop of Miracles feeling lighter than she had in all the time she’d been a student at UA. Most of that was due to the 13 inches of hair cut from her head, but she couldn’t deny that optimism had something to do with it too.

“I like the haircut,” Togata told her as he met up with her outside of the workshop. He was smiling that same sunny smile, but Toru didn’t have it in her to question it after feeling so high.

She shook her head from side to side, reveling in the feeling of the tips of her hair hitting her face. The other night she had approached the girls of 1-A with a proposition: make-over night. Thrilled beyond all belief, they were incredibly eager to follow her to the drugstore for a night of fun, picking out nail polish and facial masks and of course, hair dye. After mixing it with care, Ochako had taken a specially purchased paintbrush to apply the dye evenly and consistently to her hair, making sure every strand was fully coated. The morning after, she had sent an email to Aizawa-sensei saying she wouldn’t be able to participate in Stealth training for a week and then took the day to bask in the feeling of being truly seen.

“It’s a shame I didn’t get to see it while it was still long,” he said as he walked beside her, matching his pace with hers as they made their way to the cafeteria. Despite the fact that she had a freshly-cut, lilac-colored bob swishing on her head, he still made the effort to focus his gaze on the space between her hairline and her mask, a white one with rainbow-colored cat whiskers. Toru smiled widely.

“It’s alright, Senpai. You didn’t miss anything,” she said genuinely.

What he wouldn’t want to miss was still yet to come.

This was, perhaps, the one time Toru truly allowed herself to be manhandled. Even the word “allow” felt a little strong, for Hatsume Mei had come to her with an eagerness that couldn’t be denied, but with Toru being just as ecstatic as the engineer was, she didn’t push back too much when Hatsume insisted that she blindfold Toru for the reveal of her new costume. So after tying a UA uniform-standard tie around her eyes, Hatsume set to work dressing Toru, making easy work of her and not once misplacing where certain body parts might be.

“Are you guys almost done in there?” Togata asked from outside of the crudely-made fitting room. It wasn’t more than some strategically placed Support Pieces and a curtain draped between the stacks, but it was more privacy than Toru usually got when she undressed, so she was grateful.

“Al-moooooost,” Hatsume sang, in an extraordinary mood, which only made Toru’s spirits climb higher. After the rustling of fabric and a few tugs later, Toru felt herself being spun in a circle and led to the outside of the fitting room. Togata remained quiet as Hatsume untied the tie and pulled it from Toru’s eyes in a grand flourish.

Before Toru was a large full-length mirror, with Togata off to the side, watching with quiet awe. She almost couldn’t understand his expression at first, until she turned her body slightly and saw her hair catch the light, a purple shimmer still tinting parts of it even after she’d washed it several times.

But that’s all she saw.

Toru walked forward and touched her hand to the mirror before pulling it away. The glass felt cool and smooth beneath her palm, but she had not seen her approach the entire time she’d walked towards it. Only Togata and Hatsume’s giant smiles as they stood behind her.

Togata’s expression started to dip when he saw the tears rolling down Toru’s cheeks, a similar sight to what he had seen the day he first met her, except now they were suspended alone in midair.

“Oh, no. Hagakure-san, if you don’t like it—”

A little laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop herself, then another, until Toru found herself crying and laughing in equal parts.

Togata looked confused until Hatsume, who had never stopped grinning, handed over her goggles to him.

“Click the right button twice for thermal imaging, Beauty,” she whispered to him.

And then Togata was able to see Toru as she truly stood, a smile practically splitting her face in two as her hands roved up and down her body. Just her 13 inches of hair had made enough material for a shirt the length of a crop top, with spaghetti straps crossed behind her back. Her bikini-cut bottoms covered her front and backside completely, and there was even a tiny bit of material left over to make a tie for Toru’s hair, so the longer strands of her bob could be pulled back into a small ponytail at the back of her head. She was invisible, but she was covered , for the first time in her life, and Toru couldn’t stop crying as she clung to the feeling of security around all her most intimate parts.

“Now once your hair grows back, I’ll be able to add more to it, of course. This is just the prototype stage. If you take your vitamins or, if you’re like our senpai over here, you find someone with a hair-growth quirk, we’ll be able to add all sorts of pieces to it, such as—”

Hatsume couldn’t get any more words out, crushed as she was in Toru’s vice grip embrace.

“Thank you,” she cried into the engineer’s neck. “Thank you so much.”

Hatsume hummed and patted her back. “All in a day’s work. Glad I could help.” She rubbed Toru’s bare shoulder for a moment before jumping back. “Oh! Wait, I didn’t show you the best part.”

She extracted herself from Toru to head back to the makeshift dressing room, where she brought out the briefcase that all UA students carried their costumes in. Toru’s had previously only contained her white striped gloves. But when Hatsume opened it up, she saw much more.

It almost looked like a miniaturized closet, a rod going across the top of it and a tech-y looking hanger dangling from the middle. On the bottom of the velvet-lined case were a bunch of black discs the size of silver dollars, each with a blinking red light.

“This—” Hatsume said as she pointed to the hanger “—is where you put your costume after you’re done wearing it. The hanger is weight sensitive, so when your costume is on it, it will light up green so you know that it’s there even if you can’t see it. Should it not be in your case and you need to try and locate it—” Hatsume picked up one of the small discs “—use one of these sensors to track it. Your costume gives off a signal that can be registered on one of these from up to 500 meters away. There’s a tiny twist of wires in both pieces that act as a homing beacon. I made them as small as possible so they’re barely visible to the human eye unless you’re dancing in front of a stark white background. Otherwise you should be good.”

Toru twisted and turned about, patting down her sides, unable to even feel the wires Hatsume was talking about. The engineer was good.

“Why are there so many sensors?” she asked.

“Ah, yes. These also double as tools to be given to your team when you go out on assignment for hero work. Now your teammates can locate you even if you can’t respond to them aloud. Helps with rescue ops and things like that.”

Toru didn’t know what to say.

“You put a tracking device in my suit so my friends can find me?”

“Yes, essentially.”

Toru swallowed, the emotion in her throat coming close to clawing out of her. How did Hatsume know? How could she have known that Toru was terrified of getting lost or injured during her hero work? Of no one knowing where to look? She’d never told anyone that. She was Hagakure Toru, the upbeat attitude of 1-A, the comic relief when everyone else was feeling overwhelmed. How did she know Toru was petrified that a stealth operation would turn into a mission where she’d be lost forever?

“I can’t take the credit for that idea,” Hatsume continued good-naturedly. “Brains here came up with that one.”

Toru turned to her senpai, who had been standing back the entire time and staying out of the girls’ way as they discussed the details of the costume. He was still wearing Hatsume’s ridiculous-looking goggles, which meant he could still see Toru, though it seemed like he didn’t need the goggles at all for that to be possible. Maybe he’d been the one person truly seeing her this whole time.

She stepped toward him, not at all feeling self-conscious for perhaps the first time in her life and took his hands in hers.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Togata-senpai,” she said, her voice packed with sincerity.

She’d seen so many smiles from him in these past two weeks, but the crooked one that climbed up his face now felt the most genuine out of all of them.

“I’m always here to help,” he told her.

No, this was the most genuine smile she’d seen him wear in weeks.

“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!”

She laughed good-naturedly as the former-hero Le Million lay on the floor of a cat café, covered in kittens. He’d been shrieking with joy for the past half hour while she sipped her coffee and watched him. This was the least she could do for her upperclassmen after all he’d done for her lately. A small orange kitten crawled over his chest and flicked its tail at Togata’s nose, and he looked like he just won the lottery.

“This is the best day,” he said happily, his hands patting at the floor while an older striped cat batted at his fingers. “I feel like now I owe you something, Hagakure-san. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I absolutely did,” she said, setting down her cup. A cat sitting on the chair across from her scurried away at the noise, not being able to comprehend how the cup had seemingly moved on its own. “And frankly I owe you about a thousand more cat cafés after all you’ve done for me.”

Togata sat up, holding the striped cat up to his face to give her forehead a kiss before setting her down to run away. He looked at Toru, eyes still full of light. “Now that’s just silly.”

Maybe so, but Toru felt he deserved it nonetheless. She wouldn’t be feeling as happy, as safe, as she felt now without his help. And the trackers…she really couldn’t thank him enough. He’d done so much for her despite barely knowing her.

She wished she had been able to do the same when she saw him in that hospital bed all those months ago. When he was feeling lost, who had helped out Le Million? Back then, Toru had seen the pain on his face and had only thought of herself. Toru felt the venomous shame coursing through her veins again. Underneath all the smiles and child-like exuberance was a boy who was suffering without his quirk. The fact that she’d envied someone who’d been hurt so deeply still made her stomach twist. The cat café could provide him temporary happiness, but she could see that saving people was the thing that caused him real joy.

“Togata-senpai?”

Togata, who’d been dangling a feathered toy in front of an uninterested black cat’s face, looked up.

She was going to ruin his good mood, but she felt like she had to say it.

“I’m sorry you lost your quirk.”

For once, Togata didn’t plaster an automatic smile to his face. “Why do you say that?”

Toru fiddled with the hem of her uniform skirt awkwardly, unable to look him in the eye. “You seem like a really kind person. I know that you would have made an amazing hero.” She cleared her throat awkwardly. “The fact that you lost your quirk is really unfair.”

Togata remained quiet. Toru did as well, not knowing if she should continue or change the subject to lighten the mood. Hagakure Toru, known for her cheery attitude, was not known for her grace when it came to serious topics. She probably shouldn’t have brought it up. It was out of her own guilt that she felt the need to mention it, and now she was forcing Togata to think about it—

Togata stood up, leaving the bell toy in front of the cat, and sat at the table with her. His voice was uncharacteristically somber when he spoke.

“I won’t lie to you. When I lost my quirk, I thought it was unfair too. I’ve worked hard my entire life to be able to turn my quirk into something useful, and having all that hard work taken from me so suddenly felt like a slap in the face. Like a part of me was taken, you know?”

Toru nodded sympathetically.

“But you know what?” Togata said. “After a while I began to realize that no one can control what is or isn’t fair in their lives. We can only control how we react to it.”

There was truth in the simplicity of his statement. Toru felt it in her bones every time she’d been dismissed, ignored by people who often forgot about her if she didn’t work so hard to take up space. Life was unfair, and the bitterness she felt in her heart about her own quirk probably wouldn’t go away for a long time. But stewing in hate wasn’t going to help her move forward either.

Togata continued, “I lost my quirk, maybe permanently, but that doesn’t change my purpose. Le Million’s goal is to save a million people. I don’t need to be a hero to do that. Every day that I help someone in need is another person saved, and I use that reminder to stay focused on the future.”

Toru thought about that. “Does that mean I’m another person you saved?”

Togata hummed pensively. “Maybe. But I think that asking for help means that you already did half the work for me. And now that you can do hero work more comfortably, you can save lots of people too!”

The smile forming on his face was infectious. She felt the corners of her lips turning up, hope lighting a fire in her heart that hadn’t been there a month ago.

Toru put her hands on her hips, but kept a teasing edge to her voice.. “Don’t think that you can use my rescues towards your count, Le Million!” Toru retorted playfully. “If you want to save a million people you need to do it fair and square!”

Togata laughed at her joke—a full, exuberant sound that Toru found she quite liked. The conversation tapered off from there as her senpai located a lone Singapura cat basking in the sunlight a few tables down, but Toru was fine with that. Something told her that this was the beginning of a new chapter for both of them.

The future was looking brighter for her already, and with a new costume and a new friend, she was excited to see the kind of hero she’d turn out to be.

#hagakure toru #hagakure tooru #bnha #my hero adademia #togata mirio #hatsume mei #my writing #bnha fic

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abreathofthewild · 4 years

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a touch of magic

Prompt: This TikTok

Tagline: Sometimes all you need in life is a touch of magic.

Summary: A Halloween in the life of Thor and Reader and their family.

Warnings: this fluff will rot your teeth.

Wordcount: 1664

Notes: I am so excited to be posting this! I was inspired by the above-mentioned TikTok and after deliberating which character I wanted to write this for, Thor felt like the most appropriate choice. This piece is self-indulgent fluff, friends. I hope y'all enjoy and that you get to have a safe and fun Halloween! ALSO: IMAGE IS NOT MINE I FOUND IT WITH NO EXTERNAL LINK ON PINTEREST.

It’s Halloween. You had chosen something simple for your costume: a long black dress with gauzy black sleeves that puffed a little at the shoulders and were cuffed at the wrist. A black witch’s hat with a large swooping brim sat smartly on your head. Typically, you went all out but this year you really wanted your kids’ costumes to shine. It had taken you six months in between the creative writing courses you taught to sew Darcy’s Belle gown and half of that time to put together Cole’s knight armor. You could hear them clambering down the stairs now shrieking with laughter.

“Mm, I love that dress on you,” a deep voice said behind you. You applied your red lipstick as the final touch, smirking at Thor’s reflection in the mirror. His massive frame took up the doorway as he leaned against it, giving you an affectionately approving once-over. You turned and sauntered over to him, taking in the picture of your husband standing there. Even after all this time, there were moments where his words still made you shiver. He matched your movements, stepping further into the room and into your space as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Do you, now?” You stood on your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Maybe that’s why I wore it.” Another kiss on his lips. He leaned into you, smiling as he returned the kiss. “You don’t look so bad yourself, my wolfman.” It seemed only natural with his tousled golden hair and beard that he would recycle one of his favorite costumes and step out in the neighborhood as a werewolf. He wore a red and black flannel over a white shirt that he had cut in three spots with long slashes. His jeans were purposefully torn in a couple of places and instead of applying any product to his hair he had ruffled it and left it a bit unkempt. The best part in your opinion, however, was the fangs. “Love when you wear those,” you murmured, running your tongue along the fake teeth.

It didn’t take long for him to move you until the backs of your knees hit your bed. “Wish we didn’t have to go anywhere tonight,” he whispered, giving you a soft nip at the neck. A small gasp escaped your mouth as your gripped at him tighter. “Maybe we could get a babysitter,” he said as he kissed from your neck down the v of your dress. You could feel the familiar heat creep along your cheeks and flutter in your belly.

“Mommy! Daddy! Cole pushed me!” Darcy was exclaiming her frustration at the bottom of the stairs. Even from here, you could hear her stamping her little feet.

“Did not!” Cole chimed in with the vehemence characteristic of a seven-year-old trying to not get into trouble for bullying his six-year-old sister. You let out an exasperated laugh as Thor groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. You sidled under his arm and grabbed his hand, dragging him along.

“It sounds very tempting hon’ but you know how much the kids have been looking forward to this year. Plus, they’d miss us. Plus,” you whispered as you pulled him in to rub the red smudges from his cheek and lips “I already got us a babysitter for tomorrow night.” You let go of his hand and gave one glance behind you, trying not to let your feet falter at the look in his eyes. He followed close behind.

The scene downstairs wasn’t so great as the one you had just left. Darcy had started crying and Cole looked a little like he had been caught doing something wrong. You went to her but she shook her head saying in between tears “I want Daddy.” You motioned to her as Thor came down the stairs.

“Of course. He’s right there. I’ll talk to Cole for you instead, okay darlin’?” She nodded, her eyes puffy and red. Her bottom lip stuck out and was still quivering when Thor knelt in front of her, wiping the tears from her cheeks and adjusting the laces on her dress sleeves. Even upset she was the prettiest little girl you had ever seen (you were biased), especially with the soft yellow of the ballgown she wore. Cole on the other hand looked quite miserable, his armor sticking out at odd angles because his arms were crossed. You took his hand and walked him a few feet away into the living room and sat on the couch so you were at eye level. “Cole, did you push your sister?” He didn’t quite look you in the eye.

“Yes,” he mumbled. You pursed your lips and gave him a disappointed glance, waiting for him to continue. “She told me my costume was stupid,” he finished quietly. You put your index finger under his chin and gently turned his face so he was looking at you.

“Do you like your costume?” He nodded, tears forming in his crystal blue eyes. So like his father. “Well, then that’s all that matters. I know your sister hurt your feelings but that was no reason to push her. She’s allowed to not like your costume but she definitely needs to use better words. Can you think what you could have done differently?” A begrudging and wavery sigh escaped the little boy in front of you.

“I could have used my words too. I could have told her that hurt my feelings.” You gave him a beaming smile.

“Exactly. Next time, let’s work on using your words, okay? And if you need help, you can always ask Daddy or me. Now, I’m going to wave the magic wand and when I do, I want you to try really hard not to smile. You can’t smile, all right?” You tried to hide your own as you already saw the hints of one teasing at the corner of his mouth. It was an old trick your mother had used on you whenever you were unreasonably cross as a child or needed cheering up. She would tell you not to smile as she waved “the magic wand” which was really just her hand. Of course, the act of telling you not to smile alone would bring one immediately to your face. Sure enough, as you did the same to your little boy, a grin had sprung from ear to ear across his features. “There’s my beautiful boy. I need you to do one last thing for me. Can you apologize to Darcy? We want to have so much fun tonight!”

Cole bounded away with such enthusiasm you would have never known he had quarreled with his sister moments before. You followed behind him, grabbing your coat and his from the hooks by the front door. He was already standing in front of his sister and as Thor stood, he wrapped her up as best he could in his clanky armored arms.

“I’m sorry I pushed you, Darcy.” You watched with a knowing smile as she hugged her brother back. Her little voice piped up as you caught Thor’s eye, guessing he had had a similar talk with your daughter.

“I’m sorry I called your costume stupid.” He looked at you as the siblings slipped on their shoes, now chattering happily about the candy they were going to collect. You handed Cole his jacket to put on and stepped back as Thor wrapped an arm around your waist. You glanced up at him, once again taken aback by how blue his eyes were. The small crinkles of the skin there looked a little more pronounced but you knew it was from smiles and laughter. His hair had started silvering just a little around the sides, no longer the burnished gold of his youth. You brought his hand from your waist to your shoulder, kissing it tenderly. Even his hands now held some looks of a man who was still young but had worked long and hard.

He turned you towards him and you couldn’t help but allow yourself to drown in his gaze. It was tender and after all these years still full of promise. You felt something trip across the connection you shared. A hand to his heart told you it still beat for you, still thundered under your fingertips. The flame that had once burned bright hot when you first met had now turned to a steady glowing ember. One that would last a very long time.

“What?” He questioned you with a lazy grin. You just shook your head in a bit of disbelief.

“I’m just very, very happy,” you whispered. “I can’t believe you, all this, is mine to keep as long as I live.” He looked at you for a moment, stunned into silence. You could see the gears turning in his head as he thought of words to answer you, instead settling on leaning in for yet another kiss.

“As long as we live, I’m yours and you are mine.” Nothing else mattered. It was you and him and the kids. Your family. Your family. To love and cherish and nurture. He stepped back and boomed “Who wants to go trick-or-treating?” The rumbling of their father’s voice brought Cole and Darcy to ecstatic attention as they bounced in their places by the front door. They both yelled “Me! Me!” as Thor opened the front door letting them run past its threshold and ushering you next to him as he locked it. “As long as we live,” he repeated and you nodded, grabbing his hand as you turned onto the sidewalk.

Leaves danced across the pavement in flaming reds and oranges and yellow. The kids trotted on ahead, screaming in delight as they caught up with neighborhood friends. The air smelled like cinnamon and promises. Promises that the two of you would always keep. And you were safe. And you were happy. And you were alive.

#thor #thor x reader #thor x reader and ocs #dad!thor #i feel like thor def made the most sense #because of how adorable he always looks with the kids #inthorantine writes #halloween

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5lazarus · 4 years

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White Nights, Chapter 3: The Broadsheet

A year after Trespasser, Lavellan takes a new lover to a quiet inn in Val Royeaux. She steps out to the balcony for a quick smoke under the stars, looks over to the balcony adjacent to hers--and who is there but the Dread Wolf himself, slightly disguised, with a glass of wine? Despite themselves they talk, and do not stop talking.

“Entertain me,” Solas says. “What ending will Master Tethras write for us? Because I do not know how to leave this gracefully. Though I suppose any ending is better than the last one, when I left with your arm.” Chapter 3, The Broadsheet: Lavellan leaves, and Solas wanders. He goes to a barber shop, he is accosted by a drunk young man, and settles down to read at the Cafe Vhenadahl--where all roads in Val Royeaux lead.

Read on AO3 here. Click for Chapter One and Chapter Two.

She leaves and he lays down on the pier listening to the tide til he can breathe again. He should not have come here, but how often he thinks that, how often he regrets. The city will wake soon, and she will leave, and he will have only a miracle to marvel over--that they were contemporaries, born three millennia apart, that what was once an encampment of wattle-and-daub turned into plaster islands. What a miracle, that these vast blinking buildings witnessed the two of them talk. He pulls himself up and crosses his legs, forcing himself to stare out to the horizon and ignore the city at his back. It does no good to mythologize. Val Royeaux has grown. It has witnessed many great loves. She had met her husband here, Solas knows. He cannot pretend he has marked this landscape for her, and he cedes that his interpretation of this place is now totally shaped by her. He may have been here first, of course, catching a glimpse at those rather fetid quicklings, but she has made this world hers.

Solas thinks, I live in a world of her intervention. His lips quirk into a rueful smile: is a pun bad if there is no one else to hear it? Don’t think about what she would think. Invention, intervention: he sees is, shapes it in his image, and she intervenes. The black sky begins to purple, and the horizon becomes distinguishable. Solas stands up and stretches his weary back. He is growing old by everyone’s standards. He strokes his beard thoughtfully. Truly he should not have underestimated their ability for recall. He always assumed he was little more than a pair of pointed ears to the Inquisition, and that if he softened his strongest features, he could pass unnoticed. Arrogant, foolish, he sighs. It had been fun while it lasted. He needs to get a shave, and barbershops have always been wonderful places to measure the pulse of a place. He does like to wax dramatic about battlefields and the like, but he loves the little clinging wisps who bite, curious, into a memory of a vain man regretting his weak chin, or a woman laughing as she is presented with a balding head. He touches his hairline self-consciously. He is aging, by everyone’s standards. Perhaps he should shave it again too. The things of the body distract from the unsolvable misery of the mind. He turns back into the Val Royeaux alienage, thinking about dying. The world has been in decay: true, but what is living but a slow death? It is moronic, cheap philosophy, an excuse for despair. He has met a woman he would rather not live without, and so, chose a quicker death. Mythal’s justice will see that his sacrifice has meaning. Solas passes by a shrine built into a recess in the wall and pauses, curious to see whom it commemorates. The All-Mother as the dragon stands, wings outstretched, flanked by two halla rampant. All three stone figurines are garlanded with flowers. Mythal wears a necklace of what the humans call Andraste’s Grace. Ghilan’nain wears embrium. In the plaster framing the shrine, someone scratched a snarling wolf, directed towards the docks and the alienage exit. Solas sours. He ripped the world asunder so the people may be free. He thought he had banished the remnants of the false gods to the Beyond, locked in the eluvians of Arlathan. He had thought wrong. All that remained of Elvhenan were its most egregious acts: the brand of the vallaslin and the haughty silence of their gods. And he is not even allowed within, he who had shaken them to freedom in the first place. But isn’t freedom a sin? His agents tell him of the horror and disgust they felt, when they found that the vallaslin was a slave mark--that that was what their revered ancestors had decided to preserve. Some petty lordling kept marking his serfs, even as their cities fell out of the sky, and that was all that remained--the need to brand ownership on each other. Solas clenches his fists, the usual rage stirring his skin too taut. He ripped away what had made them them. Brutality was his only legacy. As soon as he fell into uthenera, the People fell upon each other--and to Tevinter, and to the Chantry, and to the Blight. He mutters to himself, “Banal nadas,” and walks away from the shrine. Nothing is inevitable. The Void is inevitable. Small comfort, in times with little comfort: but he must endure. Solas walks through the quiet shuttered streets, pulling his cloak around him. He huffs. He does not enjoy journeying through the night anyway, not as he had as a youth. He likes to sleep, not only because his body only seems set and under his own agency when he returns to the Fade, but because each day takes so much from him. He is not so lost as he had been with the Inquisition, he tells himself, but of course he does not know where he is in these spiralling streets, he does not know where he has left his heart, he does not know when he will return to that hotel. He had not left anything he needs, he could keep moving. He cannot afford the risk of seeing her again, but of course he must, because he finds himself tracing her footsteps. This had been her home. She had lived here for her most formative year, learned that Orlesian drawl from quietly serving in the kitchens of the Val Royeaux nobility, met the father of her children and galvanized her whole life. Solas puts a hand over his face, grimacing. She is dying, she will die anyway. When he raised the Veil, he took away her right to life. His beard feels greasy, like costume make-up. He catches sight of himself distorted in a puddle and sighs. He had always been minimalist in his appearance, besides his dress armor, which is admittedly ridiculous. Mythal had commissioned that for him, and he had loved her for it, because it was exactly the sort of camp he adores. He looks at the gray in his hair and his beard and smiles ruefully. He has grown too old for that flamboyance, perhaps, though he will always love a dramatic costume. But this is who he is now: a tired man, running sick in middle age, wearing muted but well-tailored robes. His head itches and he wrinkles his nose. It was popular both in Elvhenan and this strange new world for men to shave their heads; back then, it had made him anonymous. But now he is too tall, and Lavellan always told him his swagger is unmistakable. He once heard Iron Bull giggle to Dorian that he shakes his ass while he walks, which well--it is amusing that Iron Bull was looking. Solas resolves suddenly to shave his head and beard. There is no point in keeping the hair if he is still recognizable with it--yet another useless vanity, like how well-fitting his tunic and leggings are. Luckily, the barbershops of Val Royeaux are still open. They are part of the social fabric of the city and the alienage, and he stops at the first one he finds. The occupants glance at him curiously: a man reading a cheaply-printed broadsheet that he recognizes as Lavellan’s own paper, a barber carefully cutting a woman’s hair, and a half-undressed harlequin, who has taken off their cowl but not their greasepaint. Solas smiles slightly. He does enjoy what has become of Val Royeaux. The barber is talking politics, as one does. He looks up briefly to flick Solas with his eyes to the next chair. Solas sits in the chair and makes himself comfortable. He watches and listens. “Mythal knows Briala won’t be able to keep Gaspard in check for much longer,” the barber says. The woman, his customer, grunts. “Particularly with the Inquisition troops discharged. Mind, I don’t mind having those boys back in the Dales, especially since they know how to be led by an elf. Pious, sure, but not hateful. But what will they do when the guards come? What shem turns against their own kind?” “The Divine did,” the man with the broadsheet says. He folds it in half, ink on his fingers. “She restored Shartan.” The woman snorts. She sits up in her chair and pushes the barber’s hand away. Turning to him, she says, “Lovely. So we can go into the Chantry and sing Shartan’s canticle in Orlesian now, and if you want your daughter can join and spread the Maker’s light.” “Not my daughter,” the man says, amused. “She’s going to Manon’s school, and the Keeper’s college after that.” “Then you see my point,” she says. “The emptiness of the gesture. We’re allowed to worship in their spaces. What about our own? I’d believe it if she had them all singing Shartan in Dalish Tevene.” “Do you even know Dalish Tevene?” the barber snorts. “Not even those Fen’Harel types speak that.” Solas watches silently. The man with the broadsheet asks, “Which types? Fen’Harel’s Teeth or those...agents of the god? Because I’ve met Imladris Ashallin, and heard her sing it in the original--her Mahanon wrote the music, remember him?” “The god’s people.” The barber waves the scissors at him. “That cult that keeps prophesying a new Elvhenan. I’ll take the Freemen of the Dales over that nugshit. Who cares what we were two thousand years ago? If Briala doesn’t do something soon, we’re all fucked. You remember what they did to Halamshiral. I’m telling you, if you start seeing guards at the gates again--it’s time to run.” Solas crosses his legs and holds his head up. “Where?” he asks. “Where will you go if the guards block the gates? Where will you go if the fight comes your way?” The barber says, “You want a trim or a shave? Looking a little greasy, lethallin.” The harlequin suddenly gets up and heads to the back. The woman in her chair sighs and stands. She pats the back of her bobbed hair, and swings her head side to side. “Good job,” she says. “Loved the talk. Now, I’m going to head to the Vhenadahl and see if the revelry’s stopped. By now, they’ll be playing the ballads, and you know how I like to be sad.” She pays. Solas recognizes the flash of coin as a new mint. It has a Dalish mask etched onto it. He knows they are popular in the alienages across the Chantry’s remit. He knows few use them outside what passes as elvhenan. The barber says, “So. Shave? Haircut? Both?” “Both,” Solas says. “As you said yourself--I have seen better days.” He leaves the shop a few coins lighter and a copy of the broadsheet under his arm. Dawn is breaking. The wind is cool against his scraped skin. He wanders towards the center of the district, picking out narrow side streets, pondering what he has heard. The elves of Val Royeaux remember the pogroms, what the Inquisitor had called the Harrowing of Halamshiral, and he knows the emperor’s men hunt Dalish for sport when the Marquise is otherwise detained. He has had plenty of Dalish come his way, seeking justice otherwise denied to them, and though he has no plans for war with Orlais once Tevinter and the Qun are finished throttling each other, perhaps he should coach his recruits to change their approach. Religiosity certainly works amongst the slaves of Tevinter and the disenchanted of Ferelden. In Orlais, they need something more ecumenical. He has never been fond of cults, but has allowed his lieutenants to adapt to their condition as they deem fit. It is clear he must instill some sort of discipline, because this reputation has gotten well out of hand. He would rather they call them terrorists than cultists. Elvhenan will return, not from the devotion of the People, but their sheer bloody-mindedness. Dawn creeps rosy-fingered through the blue as best it could. Solas’ leg aches, a very ancient injury, and he stops to stretch. He glances worriedly upwards, anticipating rain, and then someone flings himself over his leg. Solas grabs him by the collar and steadies him onto his feet. “Ma serannas, hahren,” the young man says. “I am very drunk.” Solas is amused despite himself. “I can smell that,” he says. The boy smells very strongly of aniseed, and his collar is stained. He is carelessly good-looking, in a way that makes Solas envy his lost youth. It has been a very long time since those white nights spent carousing through Arlathan, between endless campaigns and before the last war. The drunk young man stares at him blearily. “The bald,” he says. “It suits you.” Solas laughs. “Yes,” he says. He nudges him gently forward, but the man slopes and grabs at him unsteadily. Solas instinctively takes him by his wrists. The young man licks his lips. Solas very quickly releases him, but does not back away. He does not want to give him a reason to step closer. “You have eyes like a pride demon,” the young man says. “Do you want to get a drink?” Orlesians: Solas cannot stop himself from groaning aloud. Besides the hidden truth that Solas is at least three millennia his senior, he looks at least twice his age. Solas himself had always fished around the young, when he was a wild youth. “No,” he says. “Please sober up.” “Now you really do sound like my father,” the young man says. Solas says, “Have you ever met a man called Dorian Pavus? I do truly think you would enjoy each other.” “Ugh,” the young man says. “I am done with dread Tevenes with flighty hearts. I will--fling my emotions to the dungheap,” he demonstrates, pressing both hands to his chest and flinging them out, “and then seek passion only for passion’s sake. No intimacy, no late-night confessions, no building plans.” Solas is intrigued despite himself. Mythal would call it his insatiable appetite for gossip; Solas prefers to think it is his generous love for people, in all their forms. The drunk young man sees his interest. “Yes, for he wanted to go into business, in my own father’s house! As if my father would ever condone the match.” He feels like he has stepped into the prologue of some wonderfully silly Orlesian opera: a prodigal son, a forbidden love, and an angry father. Solas asks, “What sort of business?” The boy smiles. “Mask-making, of course. For the elves of Orlais. To celebrate the dawn of the restoration of our natural nobility. I could make one for you, though you have such an interesting face, it’d be a shame to mask it.” He laughs, staggering back a bit. “Love and profit! What am I saying? My father would love the opportunity. True artisans, we could become. Who cares that he’s Tevene, and at least three-quarters shem? He loves me, and I might love him!” It is almost a tragedy that this boy met his “dread Tevene” rather than Master Pavus, though Solas knows he is quite happy with his occasional rendezvous with the Iron Bull. He empathizes with the boy: he has loved many people, but that has not made them partners. Love does not necessarily make a relationship steady enough to commit. He hesitates, Lavellan as always a step away from his mind. She would be utterly amused by this scene. He wishes he could tell her. She looked like she needs to laugh. “Da’len,” Solas says, “it would be better if you do than if you do not. Take what happiness you can, while this world still lasts.” “Fenhedis,” the young man says, “you’re not one of those Fen’Harel cultists, are you?” He waves a hand dismissively at him, as uniquely Orlesian as any courtier Solas spotted at court. “Go off to your reckoning, lethallin, I’ve got my life to live.” Solas says, “I truly hope you do,” and walks away. The morning has come upon him, thin and cool. Solas is irritated from lack of sleep and, he must admit, the blow to the ego this night has been. What had he expected? Lavellan always surprises him, leaving wrong-footed and reaching for excuses like he has never had before. The elves of Val Royeaux view him with disdain, and brand him a hypocrite. He has not amassed a cult. He has always avoided the worship, even when Mythal would force him to perform, and it has been a long time since he has been bound by the vallaslin. He touches his face, comfortingly smooth. Removing the brands left little scarring. What remains are his own mistakes. He has bungled the whole approach, but at least he has learned a lesson: though flamboyant and cynical like the People always were, the elves of Val Royeaux do not trust any lost promise, not like the Dalish of the Dirth, or the elves of ravaged Halamshiral. They may be doubtful of Briala, but they trust in her, even as they prepare to flee when she fails. Solas sighs. He wonders how so many have heard of his agents so quickly, and how their reputation has been so quickly established. He glances at the broadsheet he took from the barbershop. Perhaps this cheap printed pamphlet will answer his questions--and he has always enjoyed an excuse to analyze how Lavellan’s mind works. He ambles to the Vhenadahl and finds himself a table at a near-by cafe. Val Royeaux is renowned for its cafe culture, and its alienage is no exception. The waiter insists on bringing him a milky cup of java, some drink the Qunari popularized, after their expansion into Seheron, and a fresh croissant. He folds the paper and begins to read the editorial, written by the woman he unabashedly still loves: “The Dread Wolf does not lie but omits the truth. I should know. I slept with him.” He snorts. He continues to read, sipping gingerly at the cup, “We know the truth that our gods were slavers and our markings the mark of our ancestors’ slavery. But, my people, we are not our ancestors. The Dalish wear the vallaslin with Pride,” the missprint catches his eye, “because we know it is the mark of those that survived. Though he does not understand it, he has let the children of his fallen empire survive more wholly than they could have under any reformation of ancient Elvhenan. Because the people, the ordinary laboring people, who fought for their freedom to begin with, outlasted those that had bound them to their will. Shartan rose, and in constant mien’harellin the People have followed. We know that though we are occupied, we have never been truly conquered. For we are the Elvhen, and never do we submit.” Solas places the broadsheet down onto the table and slams his hand over it, angry now. He stares unseeingly at the piazza, barely registering the flowering Vhenadahl reaching taller than even the alienage walls. The slow arrow has struck, and he is the monster. Felassan clearly got around more than he assumed. Felassan knew Briala, and Briala knows Lavellan. He had never supposed them such good friends, but of course they must be strategizing together. Briala wants her Elvhenan firmly in Orlais, and Lavellan--Lavellan always has the world to save. But he does, too. She must have written it, because she folded a compliment into it. He looks at his hands and sees the ink has smeared onto them. Sighing, he dips a cloth napkin into his water and washes his hands and face. At least the croissant is fresh. At least this city is beautiful. At least she is his contemporary. The wind takes up, and he closes his eyes and breathes in the taste of the sea and petrichor. When he opens them, the rain has begun, and he draws into himself to keep warm. Solas wraps a hand around the cup and takes a sip. It is bitter, but it makes him feel better. The rain dots the flowers held in pots delineating the cafe grounds; he brushes a drop off a pansy. It is good to be alive. He does not deserve it, but it is good. The rain whispers the early morning, and Solas leans back in his chair and revels in it. He has the cafe almost entirely to himself, and the waiter approaches his table to watch others scurry from the Vhenadahl and their stoops and their balconies. Shutters close and other shutters reopen. A woman with bobbed hair glances out from one window. Solas recognizes her, she does not see him, and after surveying the piazza, she closes the window firmly. He smiles: such life, all beyond him! He supposes she found her revelry. A human man and an elvhen woman dart into the cafe. They are clearly together, but they do not touch. The man reaches for her hand when they settle at a table, her back to Solas, but he sees the woman pull the way. “What do you want?” Lavellan says. “I didn’t mean for this to turn to such shit.” Solas quietly leaves his table and pays his bill at the bar wordlessly. He leaves, knowing it would not matter if he hides his face--she has his walk memorized. He glances at their table .She is reaching for Anders’ hand now, and as he goes she looks up. His eyes meet hers but she looks away.

#solavellan fanfic #solavellan #solas #lavellan #anders #val royeaux #dragon age fanfic #dai #fanfic #post trespasser #white nights

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lavalampelfchild · 4 years

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Lava’s Art Masterpost

Hey, all! Welcome to my art masterpost! I have no idea if this is a thing that is done typically for art, but oh well, I like organizing things, so here we are! What you’ll find here is mostly Dragon Age, with a few non-DA pieces in there, and there’s a range of styles I like to use, depending on my mood. But a lot of what you’ll see will most likely combine lineart with some other form of coloring/shading.

Feel free to browse at your leisure, and I hope anyone who stumbles upon this enjoys what they find! :D And thank you to anyone who sees this and likes, or reblogs, or even just stops by to peruse a bit!

All that said, away we go!

Digital Portraits:

1. Portrait of Nameless Woman, 2020 - This one is just an experiment with a watercolor brush that I did. It’s not anatomically perfect, but I enjoyed playing around with shading.

2. Sketch of Aja Amell, 2020 - This one is basically sketch practice with my Amell~ Not really the most expressive pictures, but it’s a start toward drawing her more expressively. Full disclosure: Aja is one of those OCs of mine that I have had trouble with deciding on a definitive appearance for several pictures, and I really want to work on upping my level of consistency when drawing her.

3. Long-Haired Fenris, 2020 - Exactly what it sounds like; this was for practice drawing Fenris’s features (I love how distinct they are), but with long hair because I am weak for it. This one was a fun piece to shade, and mixing the stylized lineart that I normally use with a greyscale shading spectrum was really enjoyable.

4. Portrait of Ilorin Lavellan, 2016 - This is an oldie. Basically practicing expressions, and it is technically a WIP, but I’m still very happy with how the shading turned out, especially because this is actually (aside from the unfinished hair) one of the more minimal pieces I’ve done in terms of lineart It’s still there, and it still shapes the flow of the picture in some ways, but it also ends up flowing with the shading instead of standing out next to it, which I like. (Both styles are good, though, and I love seeing other artists try both too.)

5. Old Portrait of Aja Amell, 2016 - Much older picture I did of Aja; she... honestly looks very little like the newer one, I think, and that consistency is something I’m still working on, but this one was the first picture of Aja with that particular hairstyle I drew. What I like about this picture is how young she looks; it fits with her image as a fresh and sheltered Circle mage who’s only about 20 years old at the time of DAO.

6. Old Portrait of Trilyn, 2016 - They very first piece of art I posted to tumblr~ It’s not exactly how I envision Trilyn anymore, but it was still very fun to draw, and helped me get a feel for drawing him in the future.

Dynamic Movement Pictures/”Moment’s in Time”:

1. Tabris in Arl’s Estate, 2020 - TW: blood. I am super proud of this one. My ultimate goal is to draw all of my Warden DAO OCs, and I could not believe I’ve never drawn my Tabris, and so here she is. This was, in large part, practicing expressions because I absolutely love art that depicts characters in motion, or capturing some kind of expression.

2. Velyn in the Rain, 2017 - This one was actually based on some art that I saw in a Teen Wolf fic! It was an experiment with a more expressive style (and one of the first pieces I did without lineart left in the finished version) and it was a huge step out of my comfort zone. But overall, I am extremely happy with how it turned out.

3. Jem Nocking an Arrow, 2016 - And here is the lineart version. This was entirely an excuse to draw my DAI baby, Jem, and to do a cool archer pose because archers are my fav, and I love characters in motion.

4. Solas Teaching Trilyn Fade Magic, 2016 - This one was a painterly picture that was also (like the Velyn picture) something which I tried to keep lineart out of. Overall, I am proud of a lot of parts of the pic, but I think I would definitely go back over it and change a few things now if I had the patience.

5. Trilyn Closeup WIP, 2016 - TW: injury, blood, mention of abuse in the author’s note. A lot of early pictures I have are of my OC, Trilyn, and this is one of my absolute favorites. His entire upper body is technically in the picture, but I hadn’t finished rendering it yet, so this was what I posted. And it was an experiment with a cross-hatching style with the pencil tool for some texture, with air brush shading and a blurring tool. It’s a style I had fun playing around with!

6. Trilyn Blood Ritual, 2016 - TW: blood, injury (the slight cut used to supply the ritual with blood). This one was definitely a sort of “captured moment” from a backstory I gave Trilyn, and I think what I was really going for was an atmospheric piece that could fit with any potential fic I wanted to write for Trilyn. And then it ended up being practice for extreme lighting/shading techniques, and drawing the blood and the gross mass of demon ichor (or whatever the heck that is) turned out to be highlights of making the piece for me.

Art + Text:

1. Freedom and Control, 2020 - TW: scars, but very difficult to see. This one was ambitious for me! It started originally just as Solas and my Tal-Vashoth OC, Saara, facing each other, because I love the dynamic I’ve built for them in my head, but then it turned into an attempt at a tarot-esque background, and just sorta grew from there... Overall, I’m happy with how it turned out, especially with how Solas and Saara themselves turned out. The version you can actually see a larger view is here.

2. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 1, 2020 - I love writing my own codex entries, first off, and I love combining art with text to create a (hopefully) seamless work. This work was an attempt to flesh out these OCs of mine with both art (because unique facial structures are hard for me to get down, but so important regardless) and text (because writing~). I think it turned out well overall, but there are elements of the portraits that I might at some point touch up a bit.

3. Marianna and Delia Codex and Art, Pt. 2, 2020 - Part 2, with what I refer to as a “DAI Outfit Change” because I have always loved seeing fans show their own OCs as they look in DAO, DA2, and then finally DAI. So I absolutely wanted to jump on that bandwagon myself. The skin tones are a little off (and I’m sorry about that!) because I was playing with the watercolor brush at that point, and it dilutes the colors I use. Still working to figure that out, but I was very happy with the overall lineart and structures of the faces.

4. Alistair/Aja Amell Picture with a Blurb, 2017 - Ooooold, old, old, old, OLD! I still love the art, and I’m soooo happy with how the interaction between Alistair and Aja turned out (drawing kisses is extremely difficult for me; I always end up creating a distorted weird lip-creature, instead of realistically puckered lips...). I’m not as happy with the blurb that went with it? At that point, I was still very much figuring out my own DAO worldstate, and the characterization for everyone, so, eh. Take it with a grain of salt!

Unfinished Costume Designs:

1. Ancient Elvhen Armor with Dwarven Influence, 2018 - People who do costume design work are amazing and mystical beings, and I wish I could do what they do. This was an attempt at merging the Keeper robes from DAI with a more dwarven armor aesthetic, solely because I created an ancient elvhen character, Ceda, who was taken in by the Cad’halash dwarves mentioned in the Witch Hunt dlc, and I wanted this character to have a mix of the elven style of armor and the dwarven style. I’m overall decently happy with it, but there’s still that persistent level of self-criticism present.

2. Herald of Andraste Outfit WIP, 2016 - This was a very old picture, not one I showed around a lot, but the idea for this was entirely born of my intense interest in how fashion and outfit designs could be used to create a symbolic image for the Herald of Andraste. In general, I love the combination of ceremonial armor with long and flowing cloth, so that was what I went for here. I’m still actually very proud of how this came out, and headcanon something similar for my Herald in my canon DAI worldstate.

Pencil Sketches:

1. Quick Saara Sketch, 2019 - TW: saarebas mouth scars. Exactly what it says; very quick sketch of Saara I did in a small notebook I carry around with me. This was basically a test for myself to see if I could manage to draw Saara with the features and facial structure I envisioned for her without needing to use a lot of references.

2. Mass Effect Character Sketch; Jesse, 2018 - Similar reason for drawing this one as the above Saara sketch! With these characters, I love sometimes the way they can turn out with the specific character creator used for them, and when I draw them, I enjoy trying to create a definitive look for them using what I get from the CC, and my own knowledge of Hooman Faces.

3. Saara Sketch, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars. A more detailed sketch of Saara than the one above, and one I definitely put more time into overall. It’s currently the profile picture I’m using for ao3, and is the definitive go-to reference picture I use whenever imagining Saara in a fic, or for other Saara pics I make. I am extremely proud of this picture, and feel like I should work in graphite more often. It’s such fun, and the texture is so nice to look at.

4. Sketch of Nameless Alamarri Woman, 2017 - This was a sketch I did of what I envisioned some Alamarri tribes to look like; I used artistic depictions of Gaul tribes and hairstyles for inspiration, and have used this as a go-to reference for my version of Alamarri tribes. Nothing super notable about this one, but I really liked the way the shape of her face turned out.

Events and Gifts:

1. Another Scar, 2020 - TW: blood, injuries, gore. The most recent piece of art on the list, and a gift for @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold; featuring sisterly love between Rica and fem!Brosca, which was her requested prompt. This was a tough piece for me because of the difficulty with the lighting I dealt with. For some reason, that one particular element of it gave me so much trouble. Overall, I’m very happy with how it turned out, though, especially the skin tones of the sisters; Brosca I always sort of like as having this greyish, more gaunt look to her, while Rica I like seeing with a darker, richer, and warmer tone to her.

2. A Very Cousland Christmas!, 2019 - This was for a holiday exchange for a server, and I drew a friend’s Cousland (Elissa, the girl on the left) with my Cousland (Gazza, the girl on the right). I love kid-fic, and I love kid-art, and so I decided... baby Cousland art! Drawing kid proportions was the toughest part, I recall, and I thiiiink it turned out well, and I’m still quite proud of it overall. Elissa’s design came entirely from my friend, but I added the holly~

3. Exchange Gift with Dis Brosca and Mabari, 2018 - This was an exchange gift for @fanfoolishness, using her lovely Dis Brosca, and was my first real attempt at backgrounds... I struggled with the coherence of the foreground and background a bit, but I’m still very proud of how it turned out, especially with the colors I had to work with. What I also really enjoyed working with was the lighting and the expression on Dis’s face. Backlit subjects are always fun to play around with!

4. Inktober Picture, “Deep”, 2017 - TW: scars, injury, mentions of abuse in the author’s note/attached dialogue snippets. This was for an Inktober prompt (the only one I’ve ever done, sadly... because I am bad with deadlines...), and again features Trilyn. Trilyn’s backstory has him a former slave in Tevinter, and a lot of the early works I do for him are sort of deep-dives into his life there. It’s all meant to be an exploration of the things he endures, and then those moments when he overcomes it all and takes back his own autonomy and self. This art is definitely provocative, and I can understand if not everyone likes it, but to me, I just wanted to show just what he faces (without glorifying it) before showing the moment of his own triumph.

5. Christmas Holiday Picture with my Brosca and a Friend’s Amell, 2017 - This was a piece of art drawn first by a friend of mine, @nanahuatli~ She drew the Amell, the background, the mistletoe, etc. All I did was add my Brosca to the mix to finish the image. It was a lot of fun to do, 1) because it was fun trying to match her style so that the picture looked cohesive, 2) because I love doing collabs with friends, and 3) because it was just such a fun thing to imagine my surly short Brosca, looking at this weird plant/fungus/thing dangling over some puckering human! It was an absolute joy to do this collab with her!

6. OC Kiss Week Pic of Jem and Saara, 2017 - TW: saarebas mouth scars. A spur-of-the-moment thing meant to demonstrate just what kind of dynamic my OC, Jem, has with my other OC, Saara (both of whom are members of Leliana’s network in DAI). This was a very quick picture (deadlines...) and was mostly just to have fun drawing these two characters interacting, and to see if I could make them look like themselves. I think I did a decent job with it overall, especially with Jem’s kissy-face! (Again... drawing kisses are the bane of my existence, although hands and feet take a close second.)

#lavalampelfchild's art #masterpost #dragon age #some not DA stuff

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intothestarkerverse · 5 years

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Paper Hearts

The Starker-Office AU the world needs.

Tony Stark is a paper salesman who hates his job but is secretly in love with the beautiful receptionist. A glimpse into their unorthodox courtship and happily ever after.

Tony Stark hated his job.

Selling paper was one of the most boring professions he could think of, and it had a very obvious expiration date that drew ever closer the more digitized the world became. At best, he thought, he had another few years before he had to hit the unemployment line and look for another job he despised. Nothing left to do but collect his paychecks until then, really.

His boss was an idiot.

Scott Lang was no where near as funny as he thought he was. His jokes caused Tony actual, physical pain. The way the guy was a lapdog for Hope from corporate, that was even worse. Didn’t help that for some reason Scott thought he and Tony were best friends. The indignities he put up with for this job were not worth the pay check he took home. Not. At. All.

The guy across from his desk was a killjoy. You’d think Steve Rogers had some amazingly important job with how dedicated he was to it. First one to arrive. Last one to leave. He was a puny little, sanctimonious nerd that Tony loved to play practical jokes on…which was really only one of two things that made the job bearable. The second? The second was Peter.

Peter fucking Parker.

The receptionist.

Light of his life.

His reason for waking up in the morning.

The only damn reason he hadn’t left this fucking job in pursuit of something that didn’t make him contemplate using his letter opener to carve a giant hole into the middle of his chest.

Peter was young and beautiful and sweet and he sat directly in Tony’s line of view. He caught himself staring at the kid way more often than he should. He would day dream about running his fingers through those fluffy chestnut curls, tugging on the strands in the throes of passion. He pictured what Peter’s lips would look like wrapped around more than just the straw of his water bottle. He committed every centimeter of Peter’s face to his memory, knew every piece of clothing in the kid’s wardrobe…enough that he recognized when Peter had treated himself to a new sweater or pair of skinny jeans. Tony stared because it was all he was allowed to do, and it was the only thing that got him through the day. Peter caught him, too, but either the kid didn’t realize that Tony was head over heels in love with him…or he didn’t care.

Tony really hoped it was the former, but it didn’t matter really because Peter had a fiance, Quentin Beck, some handsome asshole from the warehouse who had been promising Peter a ‘happily ever after’ that the kid had yet to realize was really a ‘never gonna happen’. Quentin wasn’t ready to grow up, settle down, be a fucking man, and Tony had caught him flirting with people who weren’t Peter enough times to know he was a piece of shit. Quentin Beck didn’t know what he had, but Tony did. He hated that fucking guy, and the feeling was clearly mutual.

Someday. Someday, Tony was going to sweep Peter off his feet, steal him away from the asshat and show the kid what a happily ever after should look like.

Someday.

If he ever worked up the nerve.

Until then…

***

Tony leaned against the reception desk, drumming his fingers on the Formica counter and waiting for Peter to finish his call. Peter glanced up at him through a curtain of eyelashes, biting back a grin and holding a finger to his lips as he quickly scrawled a message on a notepad for Scott.

“Mhm, yeah, no, I’ll totally have him call you back…Yeah…Soon, for sure…Uh huh…Yep, I have here that it’s important so he’ll definitely get back to you…Yep…Cool, okay. Bye.” He placed the phone back in it’s cradle carefully and turned his attention to Tony, resting his head in one hand and blushing intensely under the other man’s gaze. “That was corporate. You could have gotten me into trouble.”

“I’d never get you into trouble, Pete. I’d sooner die.”

“This job’s not worth dying over, Mr. Stark.”

“You might be…”

Peter choked out an embarrassed giggle. “Stop it! You’re the worst. Did you just come over here to tease me or did you need help with the copier again? For someone with half a degree in computers, you really suck with copiers, you know that?”

Tony shrugged, so what if that was one of his many excuses to spend a little time with Peter during the day. He could hardly be faulted for that. “Got you a present. Wanted to make sure you got to enjoy it properly.”

“Oh yeah, what did you get me?” Peter looked more than a little skeptical, and in all honesty, he probably had a right to be.

“Wait until Rogers gets back from his coffee break and then enjoy the show, Kid.”

“Oh my god, what did you do?”

Tony chuckled, stealing a piece of candy from the bowl Peter filled every week. “I may have hacked his computer last night…sent him a very official looking email from the US Army inquiring about a very special kind of paper needed for a top secret mission and included a referral from one of his best clients.”

“You didn’t!”

“He’s always acting like his job is a matter of life and death, let’s give the geek a thrill, huh?”

“Mr. Stark, that’s so mean…”

“I could abort the mission if you really think…”

“I mean it would be a shame to waste all that hard work…”

***

“No.”

“Seriously, Steve, I haven’t even gotten to ask…”

“I know, but whatever it is you want, Tony, it can’t be good. So, no. My answer is no.”

Tony frowned, hanging his head in frustration for several seconds. “I know you got Peter in the office Secret Santa thing…”

“How do you know that? Did you just conveniently skip over the ‘secret’ part?”

Tony was trying really hard to be nice here. Steve wasn’t making it easy. “I asked everyone else. Paid them. Did them favors. Tracked down the lucky bastard who was gifting Peter…and Fate hates me, so here we are. Look, Rogers, I know we’re not friends…”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Mine. Mine. It’s clearly mine. I accept the blame. I do. It’s just…I have something planned for Pete and I need to be his Secret Santa. I will do literally anything. Name your price.”

“I can’t be bought, Tony. Peter has a fiance, or did you forget that? Whatever you want from him, it can’t be good.”

Tony groaned, hitting his forehead against the top of his desk. “I know Peter has a fiance, Rogers. Believe me, no one is more aware of Quentin’s existence than I am. The guy’s a jerk…a bigger jerk than me, and that’s really saying something. You know it’s true. He’s a piece of shit and Peter deserves better. The guy is going to give him some generic piece of crap for Christmas, no thought at all. You know it. Peter’s a good kid. He deserves…he deserves a lot more than that shithole. Let me give him something nice. I’m not going to break up his relationship. I’m not going to lead him down the path of temptation. I just want to give him something nice and make him smile without him feeling like he needs to do something for me, okay? Rogers…I’m begging you.”

Steve stared at him for several long minutes before he sighed and nodded. “Fine. Yeah. Okay.”

“Bless you, Steve Rogers. Consider this our armistice. War over.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

***

Tony had never wanted to hug anyone as badly as he wanted to hug Peter in that moment.

The kid looked defeated.

He was seated at a little card table towards the back of the comic book shop with several stacks of his own self-published comic in little piles all around him.

No one was stopping to look at them. To talk to him. To acknowledge his existence at all.

His eyes were glassy. The kid was literally minutes away from crying and he just couldn’t let that happen.

“Just your luck that you’d have your debut on a rainy day, Parker.”

Peter jumped, scrubbing a hand over his cheeks and putting on a brave face as he looked up at Tony with a paradoxical mixture of relief and fear. “Tony! You…you came.”

“Course I came. Wouldn’t miss this for the world. But seriously, you know rainy days are terrible for business, right? It’s a proven fact. Why…I’ve never seen so few people in here before. Gotta be the weather.”

“Yeah…no, yeah, I’m sure you’re right.” Peter looked like he didn’t quite believe Tony, but he was also apparently eager for an excuse to explain his lackluster turn out. Had anyone else from the office even come? Ass holes. All of them. And where the fuck was Quentin?

“So, let’s see…” Tony reached out for one of the books, carefully flipping through the pages and perusing the content with a little humming noise. “Hey, now, do you take inspiration from people you know?”

Peter was blushing. “Maybe…”

“No maybe about it, Peter, you cannot tell me this handsome bastard isn’t based off me.” He flipped the book around, tapping at an image of a roguishly handsome superhero in crimson and gold armor. “You know I’m a raging narcissist, right? I was going to buy a book anyway, but now I have to buy the whole series cause I’m one of the stars. You in here, too?”

Peter nodded slowly, his blush darkening. “Yeah…but I won’t tell you who. You’ll have to figure that out…”

“I do love a challenge.” Tony closed the book and reached out to add one from every pile to the one in his hands. “So, how much?”

“Um…they’re ten a piece but…”

“But obviously that’s much too low so I’ll give you a hundred for the set of five.”

“Tony, no…”

“Fine. A hundred and fifty it is. You’re a tough negotiator, Pete.”

“Tony!” The smile on Peter’s face was worth every fucking penny. And who needed to eat, anyway?

***

“Mr. Stark! You promised that the goatee was not because of my comics.”

Peter was standing at his desk with both hands over his mouth. His face was as brilliantly red as the home made Halloween costume Tony had donned for work that day…the costume he had based entirely off of Peter’s comic and the character he just knew was based on him. Had to be. And dammit, if he was right…if he was right, than Peter had even made himself Tony’s fucking love interest…and wasn’t that just the most interesting thing he’d ever read in his whole damn life?

“So, I lied. It’s not my fault. You’re such a damn good artist that I took one look at my comic book self with that awesome facial hair and said, ‘Fuck, Tony, why did you never realize that you’d be even more devastatingly attractive if you just had an impeccably groomed goatee?’ The world has you to thank for it, Pete, and I’m definitely keeping it because it’s been a hit.”

Peter’s hands dropped from his face to his sides. He was chewing on his bottom lip, looking pensive. “Who…I didn’t know you were dating anybody Mr. Stark. I’m glad…they like it. I guess…”

Tony didn’t bother to correct him. Not yet. A little jealousy might do the kid some good, let him know how much Tony wanted to choke the fucking life out of Quentin every time that piece of shit showed his face.

***

Peter was wearing a new soft blue sweater over a button down shirt and Tony was trying very hard not to swoon over how fucking adorable he looked. He was playing with his gum, winding it around his finger before popping it into his mouth to begin again. He had his phone concealed in his lap so no one could see him playing on social media while he was supposed to be working. That was probably why he didn’t hear Tony approach until the man was standing directly in front of him, leaning against the reception desk and looking at Peter with what Tony recognized was something very close to the heart-eye emoji. God, this kid.

He really couldn’t take it anymore.

He had to make a move.

Be brave.

Be bold.

Be the fucking hero in that kid’s comic.

“What are you doing tonight, Pete?”

Peter jumped a little, looking up at Tony with a little flush of surprise. “Tonight? I don’t know. Quentin’s got poker at Drax’s, so probably just going to lay in bed and catch up on Netflix. Why?”

Tony smirked, dropping something on the desk in front of him.

“Oh my god, how did you get this? It’s not even supposed to be released for another two weeks…” Peter’s excitement was quelled by the sudden realization, “Is this a bootleg?”

Tony nodded. He was never going to admit to how much he’d spent for a bootleg copy of something he cared absolutely nothing about because in the end…it was going to be completely worth it. “Come over to my place tonight. We can break the law together.”

“You think if the FBI raids your place while we’re in the middle of it that we could at least be cellmates, Mr. Stark?”

“Don’t worry, Pete, I’ll protect you in the prison yard. No one would dare put a hand on you.”

“I’ve always thought you’d make a great prison husband.” The witty banter ground to a halt with Peter’s last quip, his light brown eyes flaring wide. His mouth had runaway without his better judgment, but Tony wasn’t quite ready to let it go yet.

“Oh, I’d make a great husband, prison or not.” Tony held Peter’s gaze for a second longer than was probably comfortable for both of them, the kid’s face was red as a cherry tomato when they were interrupted by the sound of an exasperated sigh from behind them.

“Tony…could you just grow up already? Some of us are actually trying to work…”

Peter giggled into his hand, leaning to the side to look around Tony at Steve Rogers’ desk. “I thought you and Mr. Rogers had finally ended the Civil War, what did you do this time?” He was careful to keep his tone soft enough that it didn’t carry.

“Hm?” Tony was still distracted by thoughts of Peter as his prison wife, but managed to pull himself out of it to look back over his shoulder and shrug. “I super glued everything to his desk last night.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

Peter was under his desk now, hugging his sides and laughing himself breathless.

***

It was far from the first time he and Peter had spent time together outside of work. They were friendly, in fact. Quentin didn’t share any of Peter’s interests, and that left plenty of things for Tony to exploit. Movies Quentin wouldn’t be caught dead seeing. Video game releases. Comic conventions. Hell, Tony had even gone to a few games of D&D with Peter because he would take literally any excuse to spend time with that kid.

Now, they were cuddled up on Tony’s couch in his apartment with enough snack food to weather the apocalypse and a bootleg that Peter was dying to see. Though, for something Peter was dying to see, he didn’t seem as enthusiastic about watching it as he had earlier that day.

“Pete? You okay? Something happen after work?” He’d been fine when they’d said their goodbyes that day.

Peter ran a hand through his curls and let out a long, shaky breath. “I think Quentin might be cheating on me. I don’t have proof but…Drax didn’t know anything about a poker game tonight and it’s just, it’s little things, you know? I found this little church I really liked for the wedding and I mentioned it to him, that we could maybe set a date…but he brushed me off. MJ…you know from customer service? She says I’m an idiot, that he’s never going to marry me and now I’m afraid she’s right…do think she’s right, Tony?”

Tony reached out, drawing the younger man close and inhaling the scent of his shampoo as he tucked Peter against his chest. “You’re not an idiot, Peter. You’re way better than that piece of shit in the warehouse deserves. You’re beautiful and smart and funny and talented, and if you were mine…we’d have fucking eloped the second you said you’d marry me.”

Peter pulled back with a watery smile, “Yeah?”

“Mhm. They increased the limit on my credit card last month. Enough for two tickets to Vegas, a week long stay in a crappy casino and a quickie wedding chapel. I’d lock that shit down before you had a second to realize that you could do better than me, too.”

“Better than you?” Peter sounded as if that idea was more insane than eloping to Vegas minutes after a marriage proposal. “Tony, there isn’t anyone better than you.”

“If you believed that, you wouldn’t be with that piece of shit, Quentin Beck.”

Now, Peter just looked confused. “In what universe did I ever have a choice between you and Quentin?”

“This one.”

Peter’s head slowly canted to one side, brow furrowing and eyes narrowing. “No…”

“Oh yes, Pete.” Never in his wildest dreams had ever thought that Peter thought Tony was out of his league. Was the kid blind? Did he not own a mirror? Did he not know how brilliant and funny and talented… “Oh yes..” Those last two words were repeated a hair’s breadth from Peter’s lips as Tony leaned forward to bridge the distance between them.

It was everything Tony had ever thought it would be and so much more. Peter’s lips were soft, his whimpers were music to Tony’s ears. Tony let himself bury his fingers in those chestnut curls and inhale the scent of him, revel in the taste of him, live in that moment as if it was the only one he was ever going to get.

The kiss went on until neither one of them could breath, until they were forced to pull back with heaving chests and swollen lips. Peter stared at Tony for several seconds before he threw off the blanket and walked out of the room.

What.

What the fuck.

Tony was dumbfounded. Was Peter not into it? Had he just been shot down? Was Peter not even going to talk to him…

No.

Peter was back.

With his laptop?

Tony frowned, watching as Peter dropped the computer in his lap followed by something small and golden. Glancing up, Tony caught sight of Peter’s now empty ring finger.

“Put your money where your mouth is, Stark.”

Tony stared. “What…”

“Two tickets. Vegas. ASAP.”

“Wait…” He couldn’t be serious.

“No, you said you wouldn’t make me wait. I already Snapped Quentin. We’re broken up. I’m single…but I don’t want to be. So buy me those tickets to Vegas and a ring…when we get there.”

Tony slowly opened the laptop, stealing glances at Peter ever few seconds as he booted it and pulled up a travel site. “You’re not…this isn’t a joke, right?”

“Not a joke. You’re not the only one who’s been pining, Tony Stark. Why do you think Quentin hated you so much? He knew I was super into you…hell, Tony, I made you my lover in my comics…You’ve been my unattainable crush since I started my job. You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met. Most supportive. We have fun together. We have a lot in common. We just…”

“Yeah.” Tony was smiling now, not even second guessing himself as he typed in his credit card numbers. “I don’t know if we can get a week off work…”

“Four day weekend is good enough for now. I’ll call Mr. Lang and let him know we won’t be in. I’ll have to tell him why…”

“God help us.”

***

Four days later when Tony and Peter returned to work in the same car, they arrived to find an impromptu wedding shower waiting for them. Quentin had quit. Left all of Peter’s stuff in the warehouse in a pile in the middle of one of the docking bays. But whatever, the less they had to see of that prick the better. Scott seemed happier about their elopement than they were, and he’d gone to great lengths to print up t-shirts proclaiming that everyone in the office ‘shipped Starker’. Even Rogers was wearing one.

Tony pretended to hate it.

Really he fucking loved it.

Maybe his job wasn’t the absolute worst after all…

#starker

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bubbletimestories · 4 years

Text

Quarantine Beck (Quentin/reader)

Summary: The story of how Quentin Beck is so bored during confinement that he decides to find a damsel in distress for Mysterio. Except he falls on your profile and you start to trot him in the head. Between the heat, the confinement and the fact that he can send drones to observe whoever he wants, Quentin could well lose his mind.

Warnings: stupid Beck, he’s an asshole, as usual. Broken mug.

Themes: love, obsession, being bored, quarantine

A/N. This is not an ad for Smule (the application used at the end) but it is true that it relaxes. I especially wanted to stage a slightly stupid Beck and the fact that he sings ^^ Fic written quickly, without proofreading, for fun.

Translated with Google traduction, sorry ^^’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24540031 (eng)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539569 (fr)

*************************************************************************

Everything was ready for the big appearance of Mysterio, for the Elemental’s very first attack which would bring a whole new hero into the spotlight. Everything, absolutely everything was ready. And then the Covid struck.

At first, no one really cared, they weren't planning to launch any of their virtual creatures in China. A little Asian virus was not going to steal them the limelight in the newspapers, not against an earth giant or a walking tornado. But the little Asian virus did not stop there and we all know that in the space of a few months, the whole world was frozen behind thick windows. When the confinement was announced, more than one citizen felt a ball of anxiety crushing their throat, but it was nothing compared to the dull terror experienced by all the members of the "Mysterio" team. Being locked up is one thing, but when the greatest danger is cloistered between four walls with you, the global pandemic seems very slight.

The confinement was declared several weeks ago, the spirits are still heating up but many have already resigned themselves to having to wait quietly for the sun to shine on them again. Speaking in a low voice in a corner of the warehouse that has served as their home for far too long, Janice laments, carefully dusting the costume of the hero who does not yet exist.

"There is at least one good thing ... the helmet fits perfectly with the rules of hygiene. "

Victoria chuckles behind her back, recovering almost immediately with a concerned look upstairs, where their leader has taken up residence. Amid the debris of drones and other shattered objects, he turns in circles like a tiger in a cage, his slender figure cutting against the smoked glass window. Impossible to launch their great illusion now, it would be ridiculous to see a monster devastating a deserted city. No drama, no tension, it would have as much effect as a wet firecracker. So they have to wait, wait again, praying a little louder every day so that the operation chief does not commit murder. When he grabbed the hammer lying there yesterday, everyone held their breath as they imagined their last hour arriving.

" Hello everybody ! "

A cheerful voice startles the two women as Quentin descends the shaky staircase to mingle with the crowd, his face radiant and freshly shaven. He greeted everyone, patting one on the shoulder, saying funny word to an other, his irresistible charming smile on his lips. He’s sorry for yesterday, he got a little carried away, nothing serious. After all, there are worse things than being stuck here with friends. It gives them time to discuss, to refine certain details, to perfect what they have prepared with such care. Maybe they could think about how to add a little emotion to their script, although the tearful story of the bereaved soldier is already a great teardrop. Finally, he comes up to the costumer, slipping a hand behind her back, leaning over to watch her work.

- I am always impressed by the detail of this cape, all these hours of work… - It's ... it's because it's for you, Quentin.

The young man smiles and darts his blue eyes on Janice, just long enough to see her lose all means. It is easy for Beck to lead his world, a simple look is enough for him, a smile or a well-placed word opens all the doors. He decides to prepare a coffee before returning to see the seamstress, taking the opportunity to exchange a few words with Guterman on the story they have invented, the alliance on his finger... After having recovered the drone control bracelet to be able to check certain settings by speaking (he likes to be able to play with them), Quentin returns to his armor which he examines with a critical eye. Suddenly, his face darkens as he points to a small scratch on the shiny surface.

" What is that ? "

There is silence all around them although the tone of the young man has remained calm and playful. Janice suddenly feels in balance on the razor's edge and explains like a mother would talk to her son, if the latter was armed with a butcher's knife.

"Well ... it's a trace of past battles. The story of the Quentin Beck fighter will be more credible if the public sees traces of wear on the armor. "

He was the one who made this remark, insisting strongly that small details are the glue of good lies and that it should be as true as possible. The team leader nods slowly when he hears this common sense answer.

"More credible for the public ... it is for the public to believe in it ..."

With a great movement, he smashes the happily empty cup on the edge of the desk. He doesn't even pay attention to the handle that remains in his hand while the rest of the ceramic lies in a thousand pieces around him. His immense eyes give off a burning anger, unless it is madness dancing in flames in his angelic pupils.

"The audience will see what I want them to see. They'll believe what I want them to believe. Everything must be absolutely perfect, I mean PERFECT, for the arrival of Mysterio and perfection does not admit a scratch on the armor! "

He laughs as he steps aside, his fingers absently gliding across the control screen to make the drones fly, these obedient extensions of himself. Unlike others whose metal tentacles are the real masters, he can fully rely on the robots that roar around the warehouse, their weapons out and ready to fire. Quentin walks slowly, scratching his thin beard, deeply saddened by the fact that he has to live with people who fail to meet his ideal.

"I invest myself body and soul, we are all investing body and soul in this adventure, to make all these years of work something more important than stupid therapy for an alcoholic billionaire. All this hard work shouldn't go up in smoke because of a little mistake. "

No one dares to answer for fear of being shot in the head. Beck seems to regain his calm as he gently places the broken handle on the costumer's desk. The latter, tense of apprehension, feels uneasy when she feels a hand go up along her back to her shoulder, pressing gently as for a massage. The contact, as unexpected as it is sensual, is accompanied by a warm breath that disturbs the strands near her ear.

"Janice, Janice, Janice, you are a pearl ... Forgive me for this moodiness, I'm sure you can rectify that without problem. "

The woman nods vigorously and the drones all disarm together to return to land in their corner, their leader smiling, whispering before standing up.

"I knew I could count on you, honey. "

He can count on everyone here, they are a very close-knit team. Why these burial faces? It's a good day. Quentin regains his good humor, as do his comrades, as if the mug incident no longer existed. Well, since they're stuck here, why not put a little spice in the frame of their future hero? The young man has been thinking about it for a few days, but finding a damsel in distress would be a way for Mysterio to gain points. Who doesn't love rescue stories with a hint of romance? It's decided, he will take advantage of this confinement to choose the ideal candidate as others would peel the dating sites.

“We will find the ideal pigeon for our history. "

That's it, he is again totally focused and excited by their project, which reassures more than one person in the group. They are coming together, it will be like a game where everyone will judge the female profiles, even if the last word will obviously go to Beck. The latter settles down quietly, letting Will do the research and project the images using drones (they are very useful for watching a film). Quentin's eyes sparkle as he imagines the perfect prey, the one who will swoon in his arms under the applause of the crowd.

"She has to be pretty but not vulgar, not a bimbo or a brainless doll. Nor should she be too self-confident or intelligent, that would sound elitist. It is out of the question to take a teenager or an old woman, maybe a few years younger than me and obviously without disability, I don't want anyone to think that it is out of charity. Besides, she must be able to run and shout my name. Skin color doesn't matter, I'm not picky. "

Despite this last sentence, William realizes that his boss will not take the first young lady and it is by mopping the sweat on his forehead that he begins his research, going from photo to photo, from a Facebook, LinkedIn profile to another at the whim of "no", "no", "too cliché", "too ugly" from his leader. Hours go by and no woman really finds favor in Quentin's eyes, in his quest for perfection. If only he had a really clear idea of what he wants ...

- Walentyna Chmielewska… - Unpronounceable. - Alina Baez, dermathologist… - No - Y/N, she is currently in… - Ordinary - Christina Liang, professional dancer. - Lesbian, take a better look at her profile.

With an annoyed sigh, Quentin puts an end to this game which no longer amuses him, which in fact no longer amuses anyone. He will look for a young woman on his own, it will be simpler and faster. He therefore goes back to his office, giving free time to his team, eager to take advantage of a little calm. All the glimpses seen mix in his mind with a crisp buzz, hundreds of fake smiles, photoshoped skin and seductive poses. Although a photo trots in his head, very clear compared to the fog of other female figures. He found you ordinary and didn't even take the time to reflect on who you are.

Y/N... You are far from having a beauty of a model and besides, you don't seem to know how to pose or show off, even in selfies. But there's something in your eyes, in your way of smiling as if you were thinking of something secret that catches Quentin's attention. Since there is nothing else to do, he will be busy for an hour or two. Peeling your Facebook page turns out to be excruciatingly fast, you post nothing, your likes being limited to a few trivialities. Empty Instagram account, the only source of information is from your LinkedIn profile. If your photos reveal a blatant lack of narcissism or even self-confidence, your professional career shows that you are far from being stupid. You even have a higher level of education than Beck, which should offend his pride. He has rejected more than one profile for fear of being overshadowed, he likes to be the smartest one in the room. But no, you don't seem aware of your genius or you don't care.

"A girl like you posts more than that ..."

It is sure, you must have a pseudonym to browse other sites. Finding which alias you use takes him longer than he would like to admit, but when he finds out, it's the cave of wonders that opens before his eyes. Starting with your Tumblr account, nourished for years with your obsessions of the moment : fandoms, ships of all kinds. If a man's heart goes through his stomach, yours goes through your passions. With infinite fun, Quentin discovers what makes you vibrate, sometimes laughing with you in front of some funny posts.

Outside the office, the atmosphere gradually returns to normal. The debris from the cup are swept away, the drones carefully stored out of sight. Beck's absence gives the team some respite and they take advantage of it while it lasts. They do not know that a young qualified woman of some sort is currently occupying their chief, making him smile without even having met you. Without saying that you are fascinating, the engineer discovers you day after day, layer after layer, first the intelligent woman then the obsessive fan. Finally, he comes across a nugget, an oil well: AO3.

He should have suspected it, you love to write, it's an uncontrollable impulse that takes you to your body and pushes you to strum furiously on your computer for long hours. When he starts reading your fics, Beck likes to imagine you in front of your screen, shortness of breath and dilated pupils, letting the stream of words flow freely at your fingertips. Even if he is not really interested in these fandoms of which you speak, he swallows one, two, five fics without realizing it, carried away by your style. He imagines you as the reader, chatting with fictional characters, quivering under their caresses in your few writings for adults. Hidden behind your screen, you expose yourself and reveal a sensuality that cannot be totally imaginary, totally fictitious. You have written several since the beginning of confinement, translating your thirst for adventure, your hunger for physical contact, with a touch of humor. But do you only have experience in body and love games? It is not certain and it is all the more exciting: he can make you discover sensations that you hitherto only partially imagined.

Without even knowing it, you creep into the mind of the young man to occupy his thoughts, ghost or fantasy that has nothing to do with the companion he wanted for Mysterio. You are neither magnificent nor the kind to languish against a hero in armor, but Quentin does not think of you for his avatar. He imagines you with him, behind the smoke screen, impressed by his ideas and his virtuosity. Confinement is bad for him and he spends most of his time with you, in thought, until he decides to go further with the discovery. He wants to see you, not only in pictures but moving, living. Without really telling the rest of his team, he sets out to send a drone outside, devoured by curiosity. After all, if he has to make you the love interest of Mysterio, it is normal that he learns as much as possible, he is the perfectionist type.

This is not really voyeurism, he does not intend to spy on you in intimate moments and, anyway, he could only see through the windows. Feeding his obsession, Quentin does not care about the surprised or even disapproving whispers which fill the warehouse a little more every day. Opinions are divided between those who find that their leader goes too far, especially using their precious drones, and others who see this little break as a deliverance. As long as Beck is busy elsewhere, the team is safe from his rage. Even though citizens are cloistered at home for their security, Quentin sees the world scrolling from his small screen as one could walk on Google maps. You're not hard to find, sitting at your desk above your study books. Since the announcement of confinement, your brain has paused and you can’t work, even for an hour. Not knowing you are being watched, you breathe a dramatic sigh while rocking back, arms dangling on each side of your chair.

"I'm so lazy..."

Your unsightly and totally natural posture has something comical, especially for the one who spies on you, drinking from you for days. You look younger than he thought, maybe because of your loose t-shirt that makes you look like a teenager. It’s strange to hear your voice for the first time, as if you suddenly became real. The ambient heat makes your skin shine and you get up by shaking your top to get some air under the fabric, still grumbling. Beck loses nothing of your movements or the detail of your silhouette with full curves that terry shorts absolutely do not hide. He suddenly wants to be really close to you, to feel your thighs streaked with white under his fingers, to hear his first name in your mouth. What is your laughter like? What does your skin taste like? Do you like popcorn in the movies? It’s totally unrealistic, stupid and even perverse to be so interested in you. He really has nothing to do with his days to be so bitten. He hadn't been spying on a woman for years, it was the withdrawn and bizarre teenager who resurfaced. Today, he can have all the women he wants with a snap of his fingers and yet he still finds himself fantasizing about a chance encounter, a way of approaching you.

"Show yourself instead of looking at me from afar, it's scary. "

Immersed in his thoughts, Quentin jumps when he hears you say that, he made sure to hide the drone, you cannot have seen it and even if it was, you cannot react so calmly by knowing you were being spied on. An icy chill runs down his back but you are not looking in the right direction, your eyes lowered towards a ball of hair which comes to rub against your legs. A cat, you were talking to your cat.

« Since you're here, I consider that you send me a sign. No more work, I relax. »

Always ready to see signs of the universe when it comes to not working, you close your book and get a headset and your phone, your thumb fluttering at high speed on the cold surface of your screen in a gesture automatic. Intrigued, Quentin bends down slightly to observe your strange ride, the way you walk back and forth by adjusting the microphone of your headset before clearing your throat. Are you about to call a friend? You dance slightly while staring at your screen, marking a rhythm that only you hear while continuing to stroll under the bewildered gaze of your voyeur. What are you doing ?

In sleep, he sang to me In dreams, he came That voice which calls to me And speaks my name…

You sing ... you sing into your micro while holding your phone, your voice soaring up to the drone as you smile without being able to stop yourself, as if you were on a Broadway scene, simmering with excitement. Hidden in his warehouse, Beck does not believe his senses ... Not only do you sing well but you are simply magnificent, radiant with simple joy, thinking you are alone in the world. Thinking that you’re out of sight and criticism, you have fun without shame and it makes you beautiful. Fascinated, the young man who shakes an entire team of engineers, who is only animated by the burning fire of pride and revenge, has eyes only for you. Without realizing it, he begins to sing too, joining you softly for what is technically a duet. When the song ends and you catch your breath, Quentin lets out a satisfied laugh. He holds his solution to approach you, not as Mysterio but as... himself : he will join you on this application and sing with you.

More cheesy, you die.

#fanfiction #quentin beck/reader #Quarantine Beck #Covid-19 fic

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 5 years

Text

Psycho Analysis: Ego

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Years ago, comic book movies were absolutely, totally afraid to be even a little weird. Raimi carried the weirdness torch for a while thanks to the success of the Spider-Man trilogy, but for some reason he was the only person unafraid to be goofy; even Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer, a movie about one of the more fun and campy classical hero teams, was completely and utterly afraid to show a big man in purple armor who eats planets and so instead opted to show us an intergalactic fart cloud. The precedent set by franchises like Blade, X-Men, and Nolan’s Batman films lingered for a long time.

Then along came James Gunn.

Gunn is a man unafraid to be weird, and Guardians of the Galaxy really changed the game in 2014. There’s a gun-toting raccoon, a talking tree, a bald blue cyborg woman, and an alcoholic duck, and the movie is a smash hit critically and financially; there is now no excuse not to put the wierdest stuff from the comics faithfully into film. And for the sequel, Gunn apparently saw fit to bring in one of Marvel’s most bonkers bad guys: Ego, the Living Planet.

Ego is the perfect example of how to adapt something utterly bizarre from the comics, changing some major elements while still staying true to the nature of the character himself. Ego here is Peter Quill’s father, something that isn’t true in the comics, as well as a Celestial, something also not true in the comics… but he is still a sentient planet, and he is still completely and utterly evil.

Actor: Kurt Russell, 80s superstar and the reason Solid Snake exists, plays Ego to perfection. Ego is a character with, well, an ego; he’s selfish, self-centered, and lacking in empathy, but he also needs to come off as charming and friendly or we the audience would see through him immediately. Russell is the exact perfect man for that job; this is a guy who managed to play a character who was mildly transphobic and still have them come off as likable. Russell is also able to switch from affable and charming to scary and furious with ease, which is a big help after the reveal when Ego drops all pretense. Russell just kills it, there’s no other way to put it.

Motivation/Goals: Ego has an almost sympathetic goal, one that, from a certain point of view, makes him come off as a bit sympathetic. The guy was drifting alone in the void for eons and had to piece himself together, so is it any wonder he was horrifically lonely when he was finally able to set out to find life? Of course, that loneliness and isolation led to him developing some really nasty personality traits, and so he decided the best course of action after finding out other intelligent life was “boring” was to plant seeds on every planet, sire a child with powers just like him, and then wipe out all life and turn all the planets in the universe into extensions of himself. It is a plan truly befitting a character with the name “Ego,” and while it is true his motivation is at least a little deserving of sympathy, his goals and how he goes about trying to ameliorate his pain is what makes Ego an irredeemable monster.

Personality: Ego is perhaps one of the most aptly named characters in all of fiction, and he’s also one of the few characters one could make the honest claim that his ego is literally the size of a planet. Ego puts forth this identity of a charming, fatherly figure, happy, affable, jokey… just really sweet and charming. But much like the avatar he uses, it’s all just a mask.

Look at how he talks about what he did to Peter’s mom; he says it with such a wistful, resigned melancholy flavored with this “I did what I had to do” smugness that is a twisted reflection of how one might recall their first date, and then follows it up with a horrifically callous response of “I know that sounds bad.” Ego is such a monstrous, unrepentant sociopath with so little regard for life that is beneath his lofty stature that I just don’t think he really comprehends things like empathy. He is the ultimate psychopathic manchild, an arrogant egotist who hides behind this friendly veneer until the moment things don’t go the way he wants, at which point he starts screaming, ranting, and raving. The fact he is completely and utterly taken aback that Peter would unload multiple shots into him after being told Ego gave his mother a brain tumor is really telling of just what kind of person he really is.

Final Fate: The bomb Groot planted on Ego’s brain goes off, and Ego’s avatar crumbles to dust as the planet begins to blow up, seeing as its brain just got obliterated. The beautiful karma of this moment makes it extra delicious; after putting that tumor on Meredith Quill’s brain, is it not fitting he die after having something planted on his brain?

Best Scene: Ego just really dominates every scene he’s in, but I think the big reveal, where he shows just what a sick and depraved villain with a lack of care for life as he reveals what he did to Meredith Quill, is one of the MCU’s finest scenes.

Best Quote: It took only one single line to cement Ego as the most horrible, evil, disgusting monster in the MCU: “It broke my heart to put that tumor in her head.”

Final Thoughts & Score: Ego is fantastic on so many levels, but one level I think should not be overlooked is on a meta level. As I mentioned, for the longest time silliness and weird concepts were out the door when it came to superhero films. One needs only look at the X-Men franchise to see how dour things were, with their dull black costumes and overwhelmingly miserable and unfun atmospheres. More lighthearted or sillier fare did not go over well, as Iron Man 2 and Green Lantern can attest, and magic was totally absent for a while in the MCU probably because of fears audiences wouldn’t take it seriously. But James Gunn changed all that, and I think Ego definitely played a huge role in cementing that audiences will embrace and love in the weirdest stuff out of comics. Thanks to Ego, I think a lot of other creators became unafraid to let that freak flag fly and put things in movies they might have been too worried to put in before, with the ultimate and best example being Mister Mind joining the DCEU in the end of Shazam! It gives me hope that Tawky Tawny might show up there in a sequel.

On a character level, Ego is without a doubt the most punchable scumbag in the entire MCU, with only Mysterio coming close. The fact he casually admits to killing Peter’s mother and expects him to be okay with it… Can you really blame Peter for immediately unloading his guns into his father? I mean, when faced with a man who is utterly unrepentant in killing a loved one that they also claimed they loved and says they had to do it to further their goals, would you not also have a knee-jerk reaction like that? Yes, I am getting at this being a canon moment that shows Peter’s reaction to Thanos in Infinity War was not a stupid moment, it was a moment that was built up by what he did to Ego. And I think that just adds to Ego even more, because he helped cement a character trait of Peter’s that would lead to one of the most horrific gut punches in cinematic history.

Ego is an easy 10/10, and is one of the MCU’s greatest villains. He’s a perfect “love to hate” character, and he’s also a perfect villain for a story about family. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 has family as a focal point of the story, with the arcs of every single character revolving around the idea that family doesn’t have to be blood ties, it can be with the people who love you and who you’ve bonded with the most. Yondu’s line of “He may’ve been your father, boy, but he wasn’t your daddy” is what really sells it, honestly; Ego is Peter’s biological father, yes, but Yondu raised him and even if he didn’t always do right by him, in the end he showed himself to be a better man and better dad than Ego ever could have hoped to be. I suppose that’s a bit off topic from Ego himself, but I feel like it’s important to note just how deeply thematic he is as a villain, tying into the core message of the story while also letting loose in utter sociopathic villainy.

I think there is a great irony in Ego’s ultimate plan; for all his claims of being lonely and desiring others like him, what exactly does he think would happen if the entire universe was nothing but himself? Would he truly have been satisfied? Perhaps; he was a narcissistic to the highest degree for sure. But I like that there is some ambiguity to things about Ego, I like how there are some things to think about, I like how a villain who has a plan that is not clearly thought out by them yet that they believe is the proper course of action is something of a setup for what Thanos would be.

And really, out of every other villain in the MCU, Ego is most like Thanos. The obvious part is the plan, though only Endgame Thanos really wanted to reshape the universe in his image; still, as I mentioned, their plans are both something they believe is the true and righteous course of action, though Thanos is far more sympathetic in this regard. They also both felt the need to sacrifice loved ones in pursuit of their goals, and they both have incredibly poor relationships with some of their kids. I think the main difference is that Thanos, for all his faults, does have some empathy, he does have some sympathetic traits even if they don’t redeem how much of an awful person he was. Ego has none of that. Ego squanders any sympathy he could have gained by being utterly unrepentant and casual about his misdeeds, which include slaughtering his other children and killing Peter’s mother despite claiming to have loved her dearly. At least Thanos openly wept at what he did to Gamora, at least he felt sadness, guilt, and regret. Ego just doesn’t care. He did it because whatever he really felt for Meredith, there was only one person he could ever truly love: Himself.

In short, Yondu was right: that guy was a jackass.

#Psycho Analysis #Ego #Guardians of the Galaxy #Marvel #MCU

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bamon4bamily · 5 years

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TVD 9x05 Halloween Special (part 1 of part 2) Enjoy! =)

Cut back to – 1921, Halloween Ball at the secluded hotel. Stefan, Klaus, and Rebecca are having drinks at a private booth.

STEFAN: Well this is quite the party, loving the decadence.

KLAUS: Oh, my friend, the fun hasn’t even begun.

REBECCA: (To Stefan) It seems like your plus one found something or someone to entertain him, he’s been gone for a while.

STEFAN: He’s a curious guy, he’ll be back eventually.

KLAUS: Remind me again why you brought him along? Or why we haven’t torn into his vanes?

STEFAN: He is off the table, so lose the temptation.

REBECCA: Why do you even care?

STEFAN: He’s a close friend, let’s just leave it at that. Anyway, what are we having for dinner?

KLAUS: Trust me, you will find it to be plenty tasty (snaps his fingers, a woman walks into the booth and sits beside them).

STEFAN: You know my taste…

REBECCA: And mine. (They tare into her neck; when they finish they leave the dead body sitting there as if nothing had happened).

STEFAN: (As he is wiping the blood from his mouth) Lovely appetizer, but I’m ready for the main course.

KLAUS: Patience, mate, have another drink. Let’s get someone to clean our little mess, first.

STEFAN: Well, make it quick, I’m still hungry.

REBECCA: (Serves him more champagne) Don’t worry, love, I’ll go find someone to take care of this (kisses him, then leaves).

KLAUS: So, Stefan, are you sure it is safe to leave your “friend” to wonder about?

STEFAN: He can handle himself.

KLAUS: If you say so…

(A breathtaking woman comes into the booth, they both freak out given the scene).

LADY: Relax gentleman, nothing I haven’t seen before (winks, then casually sits next to the dead body and licks some blood from her neck). Yum… Care to offer this thirsty lady a drink? (Both, completely hypnotized by her beauty, head for the champagne bottle, Stefan gets to it first).

STEFAN: (As he pours her a drink) Can I just say you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. (Looks at her hands) Love the glove… looks beautiful, and dangerous (smirks)…

LADY: (Flirting) Just as I am, dear (winks).

KLAUS: If ever I have seen true beauty… (kisses her hand).

LADY: Thank you, gentleman, you are not bad on the eyes yourselves. Listen, I brought you a gift from the Mayor (hands them a black box), a small token of his appreciation for attending tonight. (As they are about to open it) Not yet, my dears, they must be opened at midnight; trust me, they are worth the wait. In the meantime (she snaps her fingers and two beautiful women come into the booth; she kisses them on the lips then cuts their throats with her glove, licks some of the blood and kisses Stefan and Klaus), enjoy, boys.

STEFAN: Wait, you are leaving? Please, stay, indulge with us.

LADY: I’d love to, but I have some business to attend to. I’ll be back for dessert, I promise. (When she walks out, Katherine, who has been lurking outside the booth, catches a glimpse of her, then vamps away).

Cut to Matt’s house. Tyler and Khuyana are having breakfast. On the background, playing on the TV is a breaking news story about a couple that has been found brutally murdered in a cabin outside Mystic Falls.

TYLER: So, he left early this morning?

KHUYANA: I think so… I’m not even sure if he came home at all. I went to bed alone and woke up alone.

TYLER: What do you think we should do?

KHUYANA: I know this might sound awful, but I think we should have a backup plan just in case he’s a no show.

TYLER: This is so strange, and totally out of character… we need to figure out what’s going on with him. When did it start?

KHUYANA: I guess I started noticing some strange behavior when I came back from a trip… after the massive aneurysms’ attacks.

TYLER: Bonnie told me about that, it happened before the Darius linking ritual, right?

KHUYANA: Yes.

TYLER: So this must be related to Darius… maybe his under some sort of spell?

KHUYANA: Can’t be that, Bonnie put a spell block on all of us after the linking incident.

TYLER: There is a spell against being spelled?

KHUYANA: I guess so, I still don’t understand how the witchy woo stuff works…

TYLER: Okay, well, Darius is also psychic, so, mind control?

KHUYANA: Can’t be that either, Bonnie psych-blocked us against that too.

TYLER: Doesn’t make sense… if he’s not under a spell or mind control… (Matt walks in).

MATT: Wow, you just won’t let it go… mind control, really? I told you guys, I’m fine, just exhausted, irritated, and under a lot of stress. All I need is some sleep to recharge, then I’ll be good to go.

TYLER: Are you sure, man?

MATT: I’m sure. I’m gonna go take a nap (kisses Khuyana; as he is walking out, turns around) and please, stop talking about me behind my back, it’s annoying (leaves).

Cut to – Mikaelson mansion, Klaus and Danae in the living room.

KLAUS: I still think you should have told them…

DANAE: What for? Sometimes it’s better not to know.

KLAUS: Well, that is true… Are sure you are up for this? Your migraines seem to be getting worse, love.

DANAE: I’ll be fine… it’s probably because subconsciously I’m nervous about being so close to my brother.

KLAUS: You have my word that you will be safe; under no circumstances will he find out you are alive.

DANAE: Thank you, dear, you are my knight in shining armor, always and forever. (Kisses him on the cheek). You know, if I didn’t have a thing for the ladies, I’d be madly in love you.

KLAUS: I know, love, as would I (winks, gives her a tender hug). Everything will be fine, I promise (kisses her forehead).

DANAE: What about Bonnie? Do you really think she will be able to keep control? Once her psychic-block is released, there is no doubt that she will be overwhelmed; and yes, I can help control her energy levels but there is no guarantee that it will be enough. One psychic blast and she can wipe us all out…

KLAUS: Bonnie is very strong-willed; I reckon she will find a way to keep it under control. To be honest, what worries me most is if she will be able to resist the temptation of not succumbing to her dark side.

DANAE: And if she does?

KLAUS: Well, if it comes to that, we’ll deal with it…

DANAE: As in, kill her? That seems a bit harsh, dear.

KLAUS: No, of course not, I mean contain her.

DANAE: With that kind of power, how on earth are we going to be able to do that?

KLAUS: Emotions always have a way to control us, and I’m pretty sure I know her weak spot; we make her connect with those feelings so she doesn’t lose her hold...

DANAE: Whatever happens, let’s hope it ends well… I really like her.

KLAUS: (Gives her a smirk) Oh, do you now?.

DANAE: Not like that, dear, I mean, if I knew I had a chance, don’t doubt for a second that I wouldn’t try… she is a spitting image of Marie… (becomes nostalgic).

KLAUS: I know...

DANAE: (Teary-eyed) No matter how many years go by, the hurt just doesn’t seem to go away (Klaus holds her tight).

KLAUS: It’s understandable, she was the love of your life. What happened to her was tragic, of course, the pain lingers, but eventually, you will find your way back to each other.

DANAE: Dear, I am immortal, how is that ever going to happen?

KLAUS: Never give up hope, love. After all, who would have thought there would be a way for the dead to make their way back? Look at Stefan, Tyler, Lexi, Katherine…

DANAE: They all had a connection to Bonnie, that’s the only reason they were able to come back.

KLAUS: I hardly think Bonnie wanted Katherine to return.

DANAE: It might have been a bad connection, but it was still a connection…

KLAUS: Well, there is no stronger connection than blood...

DANAE: Yes, but Bonnie never knew Marie, probably doesn't even know she existed ... Anyway, let me stop with the self-pity, we have more important things to focus on right now. Listen, how about I start preparing everything for the “party” while you go get us some costumes, otherwise your friend Caroline is going to flip.

KLAUS: Oh, she most definitely will. Any special requests?

DANAE: You’ll be lucky just to find any so we really can’t get picky; whatever you can find will work.

KLAUS: Okay, love, let me know if you need anything else, I’ll be back soon. (Kisses her forehead, then leaves).

Danae starts reminiscing about her past love. Flashback scene to a 1920′s party…

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MR. NORTHCOTT: Ms. Bennet, I must say, I find your views on Baudelaire’s work rather controversial, and, if I’m being honest, somewhat unstudied.

MARIE: Well, he was way ahead of his time which is clearly, not your case...

DANAE: Marie is quite the literary scholar; you can trust she knows what she is talking about, Mr. Northcott.

MR. NORTHCOTT: I mean no disrespect, but you must admit that it is not often that you find a woman with such views… it is somewhat intriguing.

MARIE: Really? (Rolls her eyes).

MR. NORTHCOTT: Please, don’t misunderstand me, if anything I respect you even more. But, enough with controversy, let us have a toast... to literary masterpieces!

DANAE: (Whispers to Marie) Want to disappear for a while? This man is really getting on my nerves.

MARIE: (Whispers back) I’ve been waiting for you to say that all night… (they excuse themselves from the table and find a cosy spot to share some lovin’).

Cut to – Elena and Sam in his apartment, he hands her a plate of chilaquiles.

ELENA: You spoil me too much... (Gives him a lustful look) Come here... (kisses him).

SAM: Mmm... or we can just skip breakfast...

ELENA: (Composes herself) No, no, we need to eat at some point ... Wait, am I going to have to jug a gallon of water like the last time?

SAM: You are such a wus! Don’t worry, I turned it down a notch.

ELENA: I mean, I loved them, but I seriously thought my brain was going to explode.

SAM: We are going to have to do something about that… when we go visit my mom, she won’t be as a lenient as I am.

ELENA: Great, now I have another thing to worry about when I meet her.

SAM: She is going to love you (kisses her). (Looks at his packed boxes) So, I’m pretty much ready… we are actually doing this…

ELENA: We are! And I’m excited about you meeting the rest of the gang tonight, even if it’s just for a brief hello, goodbye.

SAM: Is this the first time you are going to see Stefan and Tyler since they… well, came back?

ELENA: Yes… wow, I hadn’t even thought of that!

SAM: I’ll be honest, I’m kind of psyched about meeting more of your supernatural friends, it’s like going to Comicon but for real!

ELENA: (Laughs) I have no idea what a Comicon is, but I guess so?

SAM: Okay, just so I don’t mess things up, let me see if I got this right: Bonnie is a psychic-witch; Caroline, a vampire; Tyler, an undead hybrid; Stefan, an ex-vampire undead human; your ex, a vampire turned human; Alaric, a vampire hunter turned vampire then human again, Indiana Jones type of thing; Matt, a human, and the town Sheriff… am I missing anyone?

ELENA: Nop, that’s pretty much the main core. God, hearing you makes me realize just how insane my life has been… I love them all but I have to admit that I’m happy to be leaving that craziness behind… I just want a normal, human life, you know?

SAM: Well, normal and human is all I’ve ever known, so I’m no point of reference… what about Jeremy, is he going to the party too?

ELENA: No, no…

SAM: Aren’t you going to say goodbye?

ELENA: We are, just not in person… I’m afraid that if I see him, I won’t be able to leave, so, we decided video chat was the way to go…

SAM: Are you sure?

ELENA: Trust me, I’m sure.

SAM: Okay… So, I went to pick up our costumes earlier (looking very excited), I can’t believe you agreed to go with it!

ELENA: Couldn’t bear to break your geeky heart (kisses him, looks at her watch). Listen, I need to go to the administration office to finalize some paperwork, we’ll start getting ready when I come back. Love you (kisses him, then leaves).

Cut to – 1990, Halloween night, Mystic Falls General Hospital. Paramedics bring a bleeding woman into the E.R.

E.R DOCTOR: What do we have?

PARAMEDIC: Multiple stab wounds to the back, massive blood loss, heart rate erratic, pulse dropping fast… and Doctor, she is pregnant. Fetal heartbeat detected but it’s very low.

E.R DOCTOR: (To the Medical staff) Quick, prep the O.R for emergency surgery. (After a few hours, the Doctor comes out of the OR to talk to Police Officers).

E.R DOCTOR: Officers, there was nothing we could do; time of death was 24:05. Were you able to contact any family members?

POLICE OFFICER 1: The only family member we could track was her mother, but she has no idea who she is. She has been locked up in an insane asylum for years… other than her, she has no family.

E.R DOCTOR: Well then, I think you need to call child services, the victim was with child. Thankfully, we were able to save the baby, but he is in critical condition.

POLICE OFFICER 2: How on earth was the child able to survive?

E.R DOCTOR: If I’m being honest Officer, I have no idea, the child should have been dead upon arrival. I don’t believe in miracles but if I ever did, this would be the moment to make me doubt my beliefs.

POLICE OFFICER 1: If the baby makes it through, child services will take custody. For now, Doctor, we will need your, and your staff’s statements.

E.R DOCTOR: Of course, anything you need Officers.

Cut to - the Mayor’s house. Edward walks into his room and finds his costume laid out for him, along with a black box tied to a red balloon. He looks puzzled, somewhat scared. He slowly takes the box, unties the balloon and opens it. Inside, is the same chess piece he had sent Darius earlier, along with a note that reads: “Tasty, tasty, beautiful fear. Who is checkmate now?” He leaves the box and note on the bed, walks to his turntable and plays “Mr. Sandman”. Then, walks to the mirror, and stares in a daze…

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TVD 9x05 Halloween Special (part 2 of part 2) coming very soon! Hope you stop by, read and enjoy! =)

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buddaimond · 5 years

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Robert, you’ve mentioned White Material as your entry into Claire’s films. What about it drew you to work with her? Were your impressions of how she worked with actors to inhabit their physicality and drop their self-consciousness accurate?

Robert Pattinson: When I watched White Material, it was on at two in the morning in Louisiana. I was shooting the last Twilight movie, and I had been asleep when I woke up, and the film had already started. It was really unusual for the film to be on that channel in the first place. And to wake up to it—it sort of felt like transitioning from being in a dream to being in the movie. I just remember the image of Isabelle Huppert holding onto the back of the truck. It’s just such a striking image. It’s weird, but it almost makes more sense now, to show the strength of her femininity. It’s not like she’s wearing armor trying to look like a guy, but she looks so powerful as her skirt blows up in the wind behind her. You could see there was something going wrong, but the expression on her face—you know immediately that she’s a dynamo. I just love that performance.

I remember sending an email to my agent that night at four in the morning saying that Claire Denis is “the one.” I talked to someone else, and they were like, “Claire has done loads of movies, what are you talking about?” But there was something about it that felt new. There was something about it, the performances first, that made it feel like it had to be made. That’s what I look for in directors.

Do either of you see any similarities between Maria Vial in White Material and Monte in High Life? They both hold onto their bodily autonomy and space with such intensity.

Claire Denis: They both have a child!

Pattinson: I guess there’s an autonomous thing where they make themselves exist in a slightly separate reality to everyone else around them. I think Maria is more connected with her environment. They definitely have something slightly missing. I was looking at this thing yesterday, giant wave surfers in Nazaré, these Portuguese surfers. These guys surf 150-foot waves. I saw one interview with a guy, who’s got a four-year-old son and a girlfriend, where they’re looking at these waves the size of mountains, and he’s like, “It looks like a good surf today!” And his son is looking at him. Some of these people have completely different mental setups. It’s exciting to see something which is like, “You’re gonna die.” Sorry, that’s not particularly relevant!

Denis: No, it’s not irrelevant! I’m interested in people who surf. I’ve seen one of these waves, in Tahiti. I saw it for real and thought, “How could people believe without doubt that that’s a great thing to do?”

Pattinson: It’s insane!

Denis: I was so amazed. They were there waiting, and they looked sane. They didn’t look crazy, you know? They looked excited, happy. So, I think you have to be like—I think Isabelle, if she would have decided to be a surfer, she would have been a crazy surfer! She’s really enjoying a certain type of danger, you know? As opposed to her, Monte decides not to stay in jail, to take this offer and mission to be left in peace. Just to be, I don’t know, maybe he has some hope. But it’s not only a question of hope. It’s a question of “will I be better there than this horrible corridor.” It’s not exactly the same heroic person, I don’t think, but maybe the same craziness. No, I think Maria is more crazy. She’s really completely crazy.

The role of Monte was originally envisioned for someone older, perhaps even Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Denis: Yeah, but I never asked him. I had someone in mind who was a little bit tired like him. But, of course, I never asked him. It was just an image for me when I was writing the script, you know?

Pattinson: There’s this thing where, when we were talking about Monte, there’s something about him where if it was an older guy, you reactively become someone who has nothing to live for. But I think Monte is trying, forcing his life to be the same every day. He’s like, “I want to wake up and feel nothing. Figuring out how to get rid of anything that is alive, basically. Alive in me, anything which can feel alive.”

Denis: But it’s really something like a Tibetan monk to get there. To this place where you need nothing.

Pattinson: Yeah, like the “chastity over indulgence” line.

Did the role move more toward Robert, or did he adapt himself to play someone who fit the character as written?

Pattinson: Toward me as a person? I’m definitely indulgence over chastity! [laughs]

Denis: You changed immediately, I think.

Pattinson: I remember being in my hotel room—my weird hotel room that looked like a strip club with these weird green lights in the bathroom—not really knowing what I was doing at the time and not thinking of my lines. I have these weird videos on my phone where I’m trying to manipulate my body into strange shapes. Maybe it was just a completely random thing, but I think Monte is trying to get some kind of control over his body, so I wanted to dig inside myself or something. As soon as we got on set and did the lighting test, it was almost immediate: I knew there was something with the costume that made me want to do a sort of boxy thing. I wanted it to feel heavy. In the first test, I realized there was a different way to my walking.

Denis: I saw you change. I saw you transform. I didn’t understand how you were working, but I saw how different you were when we started shooting. I remember the scene where you’re shaving. That was something that came from you. And I liked that so much.

So for you there was more of a physical entry point into the character as opposed to a more emotional and psychological one?

Pattinson: [hesitates] I wanted to do the shaving where he didn’t want to have any hair. And I wanted to convey this constant fear of people touching me or having any kind of physical contact with me, of retreating inside myself. So, I guess it was a physical thing. I wanted to feel alien even to myself. You’re looking to play things in a way that don’t make sense to you.

Claire, given the frequency with which you portrayed post-colonial Africa, did space hold any of that same fascination for you given the long history of nationalistic conquest over the world above and around us, the way a wealthy society exploits marginalized people to have boundless resources?

Denis: Yeah, probably. I say “probably” because I do want to express things I feel, but I’m not a professional activist. I think I’m a very naïve person, honestly. No, it’s true! [laughs] I believe in one thing, and I try and translate that into film.

High Life ends on a moment that felt, at least to me, similar to Beau Travail in the way that they seem to exist in a totally separate plane of time and space from the rest of the film. Claire, what draws you to these fleeting final moments?

Denis: It comes from a different place. The ending of Beau Travail was in the script, of him with the gun and laying down on the bed. It’s his death, you know? He’s committing suicide. And the dance scene is from before, when he was leaving Djibouti. But when we were in the editing room, I thought, “I can’t finish like that, it’s too sad. I want him to be somewhere in another world dancing forever.” So we changed it. And in High Life, I thought they were going somewhere, and that somewhere was mysterious—a place nobody has been before. But it doesn’t mean to me that they’re dying. They’re reaching a place no one has been before. When Monte says to his daughter, “Shall we?,” to me it doesn’t mean “Shall we die?”

Pattinson: “Shall we?” is what you ask when you’re about to dance with someone.

Denis: Exactly.

#robert pattinson #claire denis #high life #Slant Magazine

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taule · 7 years

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“It’s all in the movie”: Jungian themes & Reylo in The Last Jedi

Disclaimer: I was going to revise this meta and bring it up to date as my ideas matured through further reading, but it’s no longer the case. This text exists as is, and I’m not going to come back to it.

Abstract

In this post I will be mostly focusing on Jung’s principle of individuation (becoming the whole, true self) and how it aligns with the relationship between Rey and Ben in The Last Jedi. In the process I will also be discussing some of the symbolism, how I interpret it and how it ties in with the overall theme of individuation as a possible narrative arc for this film.

Also please note that I have tried my best to provide sources to all the quoted material which can be accessed online, free of charge (and is in English). I very much encourage you to dig deeper and come to your own (informed) conclusion.

Introduction

I think this particular thread of thought found its beginning after I had seen TLJ for the first or second time, and before I had seen any mention of Jung. For some reason the Praetorian Guards were drawing away my attention from Ben and Rey. Everything about them is highly ritualistic. From the way they manifest a specific kind of symmetry, to the red color that is a legacy of the Imperial Guard from which they originate. But their armor is something else entirely. My mind immediately drew a parallel with samurai armor, and I was thrilled to find out that it was actually something they used as a reference:

“The Praetorians, my brief to [costume designer] Michael Kaplan was that those guys have to be more like samurai. They have to be built to move, and you have to believe that they could step forward and engage if they have to. They have to seem dangerous.”

- Rian Johnson

But there is also something else. I kept seeing dragons. Yes, there is a lot of highly stylized stuff in Star Wars, but if you simply look at the lines, and the way the armor is constructed, it’s hard not to see the visual references. Particularly evident in the arm guards, cuirass and helmet. And this sort of stuff doesn’t just get thrown together. The design process for such things can take a long time, and always involves a number of people. It is considered from the aspect of storytelling and the significance of a scene or moment in the greater narrative. What something has to evoke or convey and the impression it has to make. Which is why I’m not at all hesitant to also look for the intended meaning of the scene in costume and setting as well.

In addition, Rian has said that this was definitely one of the most significant scenes in the film and one that he is very proud of for pulling off the way they did:

And look, there were a lot of people whose work went into it to design the space and the guards, the stunt work, but that was a moment that I had just always held dear to me, and it’s one of those very rare things where the realization of it on screen I just feel like, “Ah, we got it!” It makes me happy.

- Rian Johnson

The Subconscious

So now, coming back to the dragon. There are several ways to interpret dragon symbolism (which in some sources is not differentiated from the serpent in general), but a few particular and reoccurring interpretations align quite well with Rey and Ben’s arc(s).

Dragons often symbolize the subconscious and a certain fear that is felt towards it. Fighting one then stands for facing your own most base impulses, the unknown part of your psyche that you have to conquer in order to really be in control of your whole self, and not just led by half of your instincts.

Psychologically, however, the archetype as an image of instinct is a spiritual goal toward which the whole nature of man strives; it is the sea to which all rivers wend their way, the prize which the hero wrests from the fight with the dragon.

- Carl Jung, Collected Works, Vol.8: Structure & Dynamics of the Psyche

In the follwing (letter to pastor Jakob Amstutz) referring to the dragon as the subconscious:

It is as though consciousness were aware that the dragon is the lower half of man, which indeed and in truth is the case.

- Carl Jung, Letters Vol.I, pg.489

In Jungian theory a dragon just so happens to be a symbol for the process of individuation, which stands for the integration of soul and ego. And this is a fight Rey and Ben take on together, the two of them fighting against the dragon again alluding to them as two halves of a greater whole. Suggesting that they are also connected to each other in the process of becoming their true selves, beyond simply the extent to which the Force is concerned. The Force is a part of their connection, but I would consider it more of a mediator of their innermost selves. The reason for the depth of their bond lies in them, in who they are, and who they could become with the support of the other.

It does not mean that it is something the narrative is built around exclusively. Or that its presence could be explicit at all times. The Throne Room scene also can’t be reduced to just one set of symbols, so there is more that’s packed in there (including blatant sexual symbolism). But the fight against the dragon is what represents an inner struggle to achieve control over the subconscious. Like the tug of war between light and darkness. To me personally, that is the broader narrative, and something I feel that Rian’s comments have supported as well. Most explicitly perhaps when talking about the significance of what Rey experiences in the cave, something that is very much one of the most telling examples of what I’m talking about here. He said that it’s about becoming, in a very general sense, and also about exploring the infinite possibilities of the self, and finding the true self:

And so it was just an image that came into my head. Of this infinite line of, you know, possibilities of self. And these endless kind of possibilities of identity. And the notion of the playing with which one is the “real” her. Which one is going to be her. And where does it end.

- Rian Johnson

Individuation: Becoming the whole Self

Individuation, as Jung describes it, is a process of psychological development, during which the individual will assimilate the parts of the self into one complete and homogeneous whole and become their truest self. One of the things that individuation aims to do, is to rid the self from the fake layer of the assumed persona (Kylo Ren & the mask, to which I will return later) and on the other hand from the suggestive powers of the untamed subconscious.

Now let’s talk about Modern Man in Search of a Soul, a book Rian said he read as part of his prep for TLJ. So it is indeed “a good place to start”, for multiple reasons. First is of course the fact alone that Rian himself has been explicit about drawing inspiration from Jung. But what’s even better is that in it Jung discusses the necessity of individuation:

The way of successive assimilations reaches far beyond the curative results that specifically concern the doctor. It leads in the end to that distant goal (which may perhaps have been the first urge to life), the bringing into reality of the whole human being—that is, individuation.

- Carl Jung, Modern Man in Search of a Soul, pg.31

There is something else that I really want to point out, not specifically on the subject of individuation, and that is chapter VIII - “Psychology & Literature”. I just immensely enjoy the fact that this is something he said he is drawing inspiration from. So if I may:

In dealing with the psychological mode of artistic creation, we never need ask ourselves what the material consists of or what it means. But this question forces itself upon us as soon as we come to the visionary mode of creation. We are astonished, taken aback, confused, put on our guard or even disgusted - and we demand commentaries and explanations. We are reminded in nothing of everyday, human life, but rather of dreams, night-time fears and the dark recesses of the mind that we sometimes sense with misgiving. The reading public for the most part repudiates this kind of writing - unless, indeed, it is coarsely sensational - and even the literary critic feels embarrassed by it.

- Carl Jung, Modern Man in Search of a Soul, pg.182

Coming back to individuation again, I want to present two particular quotes which both emphasize the importance of communication and the conversational aspect of this process. Which is in my eyes especially relevant to how individuation as a whole aligns with the development of Rey and Ben’s relationship. The Force bond allows them to communicate themselves to each other, and the more they begin to understand the other, they also learn something about themselves.

I quite agree with you: without relatedness individuation is hardly possible. Relatedness begins with conversation mostly.

- Carl Jung, Letters, Vol.II, pg.609-610

Individuation is only possible with people, through people. You must realize that you are a link in a chain, that you are not an electron suspended somewhere in space or aimlessly drifting through the cosmos.

- Carl Jung, Nietzsche’s “Zarathustra”: Notes of the Seminar given in 1934-1939, pg.103

But, there is more here than just the relevance of a conversational aspect. There are 3 stages to individuation, which I think can also be seen in TLJ. Jung himself outlined them as the following:

The search into the unconscious involves confronting the shadow, man’s hidden nature; the anima/animus, a hidden opposite gender in each individual; and beyond, the archetype of meaning. These are archetypes susceptible to personification; the archetypes of transformation, which express the process of individuation itself, are manifested in situations.

- Carl Jung, Collected Works Vol.9i: The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, 451 p. (p. 3-41)

I will write about the steps below, but I feel the need to point out that we are simultaneously dealing with two kinds of self here. One is contained within them individually, the other is the greater consciousness or self they become together. That is why I think that the stages are less evident in the two when viewed separately, but become more obvious when they are observed as a whole made of two individuals. They are both part of the same process of individuation, together. They are fighting the dragon as equals, and so their struggles to face their own self are also connected. Not to mention because of the way they are connected by the Force. The balance they would create together is the result of this process in which they are both involved.

1. Assimilation of the Shadow.

This is the first step of individuation. The shadow is a representation of the “dark side” of the personality or human psyche. And all the more negative aspects of the lower half of the self (subconscious), like a compartment saturated with moral and ethical shortcomings, character flaws, shame, abuse and dependency. Assimilation of the shadow means facing the darkness you contain to become aware of all of the parts of your (sub)consciousness in order to integrate them into your whole self.

In the film Rey plunges underwater (water - a prominent symbol for the subconscious) to emerge in the “forbidden” cave beneath Ahch-To where she finds a mirror-like wall in which she sees two shadows approaching. One that is her own, and one that appears to be that of Ben’s. The shadows become one, at which point she sees her true reflection appear.

When it comes to the assimilation of Rey’s own shadow, to me it seems to be depicted rather straightforwardly. At first I was hoping to find a parallel moment in which Ben has a similar experience independently, but then I realized that for him it happens through Rey. And perhaps that is the only way. Because remember, communication is the key to individuation. And him having strayed much farther away from the light, he might not be able to achieve it alone. He needs Rey to help him. She is the other half of the whole, the greater self.

So there is a reason Rey saw two shadows meld into one and then herself. The scene in the cave is followed by that in the hut where Rey tells Ben everything that happened. The hopeless loneliness it made her feel. She is sharing her experience of individuation with him. And the very element of them talking about it over the Force bond is a reminder that their understanding of each other’s experiences goes beyond what they say in words, it is also felt.

In my interpretation of it, it’s through Rey’s experience that Ben becomes able to confront his own shadow (if I go by the mirror scene in the cave.) And so that is a part of why their shadows are shown to meld into one. Because they are parts of the same whole. His experiences affect her and vice versa. I think Ben is overwhelmed by his own shadow which manifests in the persona. This would most distinctly show the emotional stuntedness which suppression has caused. He has become emotionally fractured, so much so that he can hardly figure out the pieces by himself, so he needs the conversationality of the individuation. He needs Rey’s help to find himself again. And it’s an awakening that we see throughout TLJ.

The Eye

There is one more element about the cave scene, that I wanted to mention. Although I’ve seen Freudian readings of it, which interpret the cave through sexual symbolism, my own first association was actually different. To me, the entrance to the cave looked like an eye.

The mind which is in each of us is able to comprehend all other things, but has not the capability of understanding itself. For as the eye sees all other things, but cannot see itself, so also the mind perceives the nature of other things but cannot understand itself.

- Philo of Alexandria, Works Vol.I, pg.76

The hole in the center resembling the pupil, dark and full of the unknown. The growths emerging from it reminiscent of the pattern of an iris surrounding it. And I just thought it to be interesting how it seems to align with the aspect of the light above and darkness below, representing the conscious and subconscious mind:

So whatever comes from behind comes from the shadow, from the darkness of the unconscious, and because you have no eyes there, and because you wear no neck amulet to ward off evil influences, that thing gets at you, possesses and obsesses you.

- Carl Jung, Nietzsche’s “Zarathustra”: Notes of the Seminar given in 1934-1939, pg.1265

So in that way, Rey is entering someplace that her conscious can’t access, where the eye doesn’t see. Diving into the waters of subconscious to reach the mirror in which she finds their shadows. The eye thus representing a doorway into the lower half of the self. So what Rian said about the cave scene interestingly enough also connects back to Jung:

The idea was if the up top is the light, down underneath is the darkness And she descends down into there and has to see, just like Luke did in the cave, her greatest fear. And her greatest fear is [that], in the search for identity, she has nobody but herself to rely on. - Rian Johnson

2. Becoming One: confrontation of the anima & animus

The second step of individuation is concerned with the dynamic of anima and animus what in Jungian theory control and shape the relationship between a man and a woman, the male and female. Anima being the representation of the female element of a male’s psyche, and therefore animus the opposite in a woman’s. This is a similar relationship to that of yin and yang.

It is unavoidable, for the purpose of Individuation, that one will know how to differentiate the true self from the self that one allows themself and others to see. For the same reason it is necessary to become aware of the invisible ties one has to their subconscious, specifically to Anima. In order to be able to differentiate oneself from it.

- Carl Jung, my shitty translation of a translation of Die Beziehung zwischen dem Ich und dem Unbewussten before I realized it’s literally the same book as Two Essays In Analytical Psychology *sigh* (Page 97 in my copy, but you will have to find it yourself in the linked text)

Persona & The Mask

In the case of Ben, there is another aspect which plays into the dynamic of self and anima, and that is the persona that is Kylo Ren, that I mentioned earlier. A constructed self created to camouflage the true self, to mask feelings and reactions in order to obtain some type of control over his self-projection. The element of the mask also being literal in this case. Kylo Ren is an attempt to dehumanize himself externally, in order to hide the pain and fear of Ben Solo. Jung also describes the relationship between anima and persona as compensatory. This is why both have to be taken into account.

And this persona is another part in Ben which needs Rey in order for him to let go of it. We also see that happen in TLJ quite explicitly I think. Snoke even calls Ben a “child in a mask”, which is what prompts him to discard it in anger. That moment is an initial reaction and not yet his full realization of the persona, but he is forced to face it. It is his connection with Rey which enables the emergence of himself from behind the mask, and to see something worth wanting that the mask would not allow him to have. Step by step he comes closer to consolidating the persona and the anima.

Awakening of Eros

One aspect of confronting the anima and animus is that it can also be the awakening of Eros. I did not plan on expanding much on that because it goes deep into sexual symbolism territory. But it was something I wanted to point out though.

So, too, man will be forced to develop his feminine side, to open his eyes to the psyche and to Eros, It is a task he can’ not avoid.

- Carl Jung, Collected Works, Vol.10 (Civilization in Transition), Page 125

If you want to understand the sexual imagery in TLJ better or see alternative interpretations to your own, there are well-known blogs that have written about the subject at length.

3. Wise Old Man / Woman Archetype

The third step of individuation involves meeting the archetype of the Wise Old Man or Wise Old Woman. Jung describes such archetypes as “mana-personalities” which are still tied to either anima or animus. In the collective unconsciousness they are interpreted like the inner representations of the same-sex parent and symbolize figures of authority.

The mana-personality is a dominant of the collective unconscious, the well-known archetype of the mighty man in the form of hero, chief, magician, medicine-man, saint, the ruler of men and spirits, the friend of God.

- Carl Jung, Collected Works, Vol.7 Pt.II: Two Essays on Analytical Psychology (Individuation)

In general this last step is the hardest for me to completely wrap my head around. Perhaps because how the archetype can appear in very different forms, and that perhaps also goes for its intention. The intended outcome is also more difficult to outline, outside of the fact that the experience of it has to complete the process or rather journey of individuation. I’m not going to attempt to translate the whole segment, because it makes my head hurt, but in a chapter dedicated to mana-personality in Two Essays on Analytical Psychology Jung basically describes meeting the mana-personality as something similar to the process of acceptance or admitting something to the self. Also, the manifestation of a mana-personality occurs only if the previous step has been successful, in the process of which the anima has lost its raw demonic power (ibid).

I think it’s possible that this is what we see at the end, the archetypes being represented by Luke & Leia. But that being said, I don’t see the process of individuation as being complete, so the third step may also be something that we didn’t actually see in this film.

Conclusion

To me, it really is all in the movie. I hope to have outlined how and why Jung’s concept of individuation aligns with the relationship between Rey and Ben, their growth individually and together. In that way forming a kind of a narrative arc which implies that together Ben and Rey will bring balance to the Force and to each other. It’s about the whole Self.

______ The Human Shadow and other stories (I didn’t have time to read/listen to most of it yet, but RJ references it so it doesn’t hurt to link it anyway. )

#Reylo #Reylo meta #The Last Jedi #Rian Johnson #Ben Solo #Rey #Carl Jung #maemeta

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teamkaiforever · 7 years

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INTO MY BLOODSTREAM

Kai Parker x Reader word count: 7 690 warning: smut summary: It’s Halloween night. 🎃 There is a party in the woods by the old cemetery and Kai sees one of Reader’s games in action, not realizing how big of a turn on it would be for him. [a sequel to SPARKS] // KEEP READING AFTER THE CUT😈🔥 *gif by me _________________________________________ Halloween night.

Soundlessly she melted into the shadows going in further into the woods, glancing at her phone – 11.35PM. Almost midnight on Halloween. Her lips curled into a smile and she took another step towards the dancing firelight at the other end of the old cemetery. Even though the town had been evacuated due to a gas leak, a lie her friends had compelled everyone to get them to leave town because of the heretics, that hadn’t been enough to stop all the thrill seekers from having a party at the edge of the ‘ghost town’. What a better way to celebrate the spookiest day of the year than by hanging out at an old cemetery near the newest scary tourist destination, right?

Y/N leaned against one of the trees not too far away from the crowd and looked up at the almost full moon, turning her head sideways for a second when she heard footsteps behind her. Parties might not be her thing but the person walking towards her in that moment definitely was. Almost two weeks had gone by since she had met Kai and even though she tried her best to hide her feelings for him, it didn’t work out very well for her. As a vampire her first instinct had been not to feel so she had tried to push her feelings away but every time he wrapped his arms around her, smiled or looked at her with those gorgeous blue eyes her heart melted on the spot and her real feelings found a way to bleed through the cracks of her armor. Somehow Kai found his way into her bloodstream faster than she could blink and there just wasn’t getting him out. Being with him she had finally started to feel alive again, and now every time he stood as close to her as he did in that moment, her mind drifted to places it hadn’t been in a long time.

“You still have a lot to learn about sneaking up on someone.“

“You have a century practice on me, fireball.” he whispered in her ear. “But I am getting better at this.”

“So full of yourself.” she turned her head sideways, glancing at him for a second with a smile hiding at the corners of her lips. “Don’t know what I’d do without you… annoying me with your obnoxious irresistible self and your devastatingly good looks.”

Kai laughed under his breath and brushed his fingertips up her thighs and higher, pressing his body against hers from behind. Ever since they had met his emotions had been running wild, literally driving him insane specially when they were together or she was in his arms. He could barely control himself around her and seeing her in that moment – what little control he had, started slipping away. How can it not after seeing what she was wearing? That tight short black dress barely long enough to cover her, short black jacket, her favorite black combat boots with black spiderweb tights and her hair made in waves, moved to one side, giving him a perfect peek at her neck. He could hardly stop himself from exploring every inch of it with his lips and tearing her dress right on the spot.

“You look absolutely breathtaking.” he hummed in her ear, his lips almost touching her earlobe as he spoke. His hands lightly slipped down to her lower waist and he wrapped them around her, holding her tightly against him. “Why are you here? I thought you didn’t like parties.” he pointed out, just as she grabbed a red plastic cup from a guy’s hands walking by. “You know, too many people.”

“I can say the same about you.“ she retorted, taking a sip. “But the town is empty and there is nothing to eat. And look around us right now – so many people to eat and play with.”

“And Damon was complaining about the heretics’ bloodlust.“ he chuckled, spun her around and pinned her back against the tree. Kai gazed into her eyes unable to resist brushing his fingers against her cheek even though neither of the heretics was around. Usually he only acted like this to ‘keep up the charade’, but the longer this went on the more he started blurring the line between their ‘secret mission’ with reality. And something told him it wasn’t just him, other ways her heart wouldn’t have skipped a thousand beats before trying to leap out of her chest the second he touched her. "Hey, shouldn’t you be in a costume? It’s Halloween, fireball. You have to blend in.”

“What? Are you the Halloween costume police?” she took a sip from her drink, almost cursing out loud for what she had just done to herself. An image of Kai wearing a police uniform popped up in her head and instantly her breath got caught in her throat. “Drink?”

Kai shook his head, lightly biting his lower lip. “You make one hell of a sexy witch, though your outfit is missing something. Hold on –“ he raised his hand muttering a spell and a moment later a black pointy hat landed in his hands. Carefully he put it on her head, ever so slightly brushing his fingertips against her bare skin while he fixed her hair. "There. Perfect. Now you look like um… what was her name? Oh right. Hermione.”

“You caught up on Harry Potter.” Y/N smiled, he smiled back glancing at his shoes and nodded. “So where is your costume then? Or are you going as James Dean? Definitely suits you –”

“Well, I wanted to come here dressed as a ghost, but couldn’t find a way to sneak a sheet big enough for the both of us out of the house.“ he winked at her, leaning in to whisper in her ear while his body pressed against hers and his hand slid down her back to her ass. "You know, you hide under it with me. I pull you close and make you moan.”

“Night is young.” she took a shallow breath and a sip from her drink, her eyes scanning the crowd.

“Yes, it is.“ he smiled, following her gaze. "You are not planning a murder party, are you?”

“I plan on… having some Halloween fun.“ she winked at him, taking a step aside or trying to when suddenly his hand wound around her waist, pulling her towards him.

“Can I join?” he said quietly, resting his forehead on hers. Just having her this close to him was enough to drive him mad with lust for her, and her body language at the moment – how her hands snaked around his neck pulling him closer to her; how involuntarily she bit her lip and her gaze drifted towards his lips… It only made him want her more. Nearly two weeks he had had her in his arms without actually having her in his arms, all those moments they had nearly kissed… Every time she even slightly touched him, it felt as if electricity coursed through his veins and all he wanted was to fall into her gravity and never let go off her.

“Kai, t-they are not here.” she said loud enough only for him to hear, listening to his heart trying to leap out of his chest. Or maybe it was her heart racing faster than a hummingbirds’ wings. “You can drop the act.”

“What if I told you it’s not an act?“ he whispered, his lips almost touching hers as he spoke. “What if I told you that everything I’ve said and done with you is real?”

Y/N locked gazes with him, feeling her heart skip more than a beat at his words and the way he looked at her in that moment. No one had ever looked at her the way he did – with a mix of lust, love, desire and something else she couldn’t quite figure out. It had been so long since she had felt like this in someone’s presence and a wave of panic flooded her. “I’ll go find something stiffer to drink. There has to be bourbon around here somewhere –”

Y/N smiled nervously and pushed her way through the crowd while Kai leaned against the tree and sighed, not taking his eyes off her for a second. Unless he had imagined it, there had been something about the way she looked at him right before she had left so suddenly and he wanted to find out what. He snatched a cup from a guy’s hand and took a sip, his eyes following every curve of her body as she pushed her way through the crowd. Her hips swayed left and right while her dress found a way to pull itself up high almost giving him a peek at what was under it and then in a blink of an eye she was gone. There was no trace of her anywhere around him and he wondered where she had disappeared to and why. For a few minutes he stood there waiting and when she didn’t show up, he quickly made his way through the dancing millennials towards the clearing, scanning the woods for her when he heard the screams. At first, he thought those were sound effects from the party, but then he realized someone was running in the woods. And without a second thought, he ran.

It didn’t take him long to track her down and what he saw took him completely off guard. Y/N had told him he’d know if she was playing a game and watching her walk completely soundlessly through the woods in that moment, he knew that’s exactly what she was doing. Kai slipped into the shadows unable to tear his eyes away from her. He had heard the stories but witnessing it felt completely different. It was as if he had walked into some kind of a dream, or a nightmare – if he was her pray. Her eyes had that devilish spark he had fallen for the second they had met while she scratched on a tree stump creating a spooky sound, lightly waving her fingers to manipulate the fog with a smirk on her face. Soon a thin layer of mist started filling the air and from somewhere a crow croaked and a piercing scream cut through the air. For a long moment there was no sound and then a branch cracked under someone’s feet breaking the silence followed by the sounds of a heartbeat racing and someone’s uneven breathing. “Oh boys?“ she cooed. "Come out, come out to plaaay –” Y/N stood completely still, closing her eyes before lightly turning her head sideways just when another branch cracked and she smirked. “There is nowhere to hide.“ she cooed, purple/black veins flickering under her eyes and her gaze drifted to the right. Kai’s eyes followed her gaze and then he saw him – the guy she was chasing who was currently trying to hide behind an old tombstone not too far away and even though the mist was partially hiding her from view and the guy couldn’t see her, she saw him and flashed right before him. "Bo.”

A scream louder than humanly possible cut through the air and in a flash, she grabbed his shoulders, shoved him against the tree with her hands on his shoulders, her vampirism showing while he looked at her with fear in his eyes. Y/N leaned in towards him, lightly brushing her nose against the guy’s cheek listening to his heart racing and took in his scent for a moment before compelling him to run. Whoever that was ran head over heels, tripping a few times while Y/N’s laugh echoed in the woods. She gave the guy a head start moving soundlessly after him and Kai held his breath wondering how she was able to do that considering there were fallen branches and dried leaves everywhere. It was as if her feet weren’t even touching the ground, like she moved by magic almost dancing while she went after the guy who was panting like crazy, probably glancing in every direction trying to find a place to hide. As soundlessly as possible he made his way through the woods after her and that’s when he realized how his jeans had tightened around him, almost to a point where it was a bit uncomfortable to walk. Watching her play one of her games had been a bigger turn on than he had anticipated and in the past couple of minutes he had realized something else – her friends had been right when they had said they were perfect for each other. Y/N was crazy pants, but that was just his type.

“Need some help with that?“ she asked innocently making the guy scream yet again, his back hitting the stone wall of the tomb’s entrance. Y/N took a step towards him, biting her lip. Another step later her body pressed onto his and she gazed in to his eyes. “Owwh so scared.” she brushed her palm against his cheek. “Why do people always run for dead end spaces? Seriously? Dead end streets, the end of the hallway with the locked door and now this. Makes no sense. Or the attic. Why run there?!”

Kai’s lips curled into a smile at her remark while he watched her move her hands up the guy’s chest towards his neck before turning around and biting her thumb, giggling for a second. Even in the dim light he could see her eyes glowing with mischief and that devilish spark he loved so much and he couldn’t help but feel jealous of the way she was touching the guy even though he knew it was just a game to her and meant nothing. He wondered if ever he’d ever feel her hands on his chest that way, because in that moment that was all he wanted. To feel her body against his, her lips on his –

“Is that a spider on your nose?“ she said with shock in her voice.

“What?!” the guy shrieked, trying to remove it from his face but every time the guy thought the spider was off him, he seemed to think two more showed up in its place. "Help me get them off! Where are all those spiders coming from?!“

“Fire scares spiders, right?” she thought out loud, watching the guy shriek when her mind control kicked in again. “Wait, wh-what are you saying? I can’t understand you.” she leaned in towards him listening to the guy shriek, scream and mumble something. “Ooohh, you are on fire. Well, that must suck. At least you can’t draw a breath and inhale any flames or fumes. Imagine that –”

Kai took a step towards the stairs moving a little closer to the scene unfolding before him, unable to tear his eyes away from her. Y/N looked so hot in that moment with the moonlight shining down on her, it was driving him completely nuts but none of it compared to the moment when she shoved the guy against the stone walls, grabbed his shoulders and sank her fangs into his neck ignoring his cries for help. There was something about the way she fed, how the more the guy struggled against her, the more she wanted to feed on him and refused to let go. For a second she threw her head back, taking a breath and her fangs sank in the guy’s neck again.

“So fucking hot.” said Kai out loud, completely forgetting she can hear him.

Y/N let the guy’s body drop to the ground and looked up at Kai with fire burning in her eyes when they met his, blood dripping down her chin. But before he had had the time to even blink or say a single syllable, he was pinned on the ground with her hand wrapped around his neck. Damn, that feels so good. he thought.

“What the hell Malachai?!“ she questioned. “I hate when people interrupt my games.” she leaned over him, her breath hitting his face.

In a flash he put things in reverse, her hands pinned on either side of her head. “Easy there, fireball. You might hurt yourself.”

“Get off me.”

“You ran off. I practically told you I love you and you just… left. I got worried I’ve said something that upset you and then I heard the screams –”

“You got worried about me?!“ she raised her voice. “I don’t need you coming to my rescue –”

“—and someone running in the woods.“ he pursued his lips, grinding his crotch ever so slightly against hers thinking about everything he had just seen and how close they were right now. So close he could feel her body radiating heat towards his and those few layers of clothes between them bothered him like hell. "You ditched me to play one of your games. Why?”

“None of your fucking business.“ she snapped at him.

“I think it is, fireball.” he leaned in whispering in her ear. “Or do you think I haven’t noticed how you look at me? How your breathing turns so shallow it’s barely even there and your heart –” he gazed in her eyes. "—beats faster than a hummingbirds’ wings almost as if it’s trying to leap out of your chest every time I am this close to you. Just like right now.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” she pushed him off, they spun a couple of times fighting for dominance and in the end she found herself pinned back to the ground with him towering over her. “Kai –” she warned.

“Really?” he smirked. “So, if I kiss you right now, you won’t feel a thing? Your heart won’t try to leap out of your chest and there won’t be butterflies in your stomach?”

Y/N fell silent and Kai smirked. A split second later his lips collided with hers, drowning her in a passionate kiss while his crotch grinded against hers. The instant she returned the kiss he knew he was right. His lips slowly pulled away from hers and he rested his forehead on hers, gazing into her eyes. “Are you going to deny you felt something now too?”

“I didn’t feel a thing.” she said quietly, taking a shallow breath before pushing him off her and getting up quickly. Her heart was trying it’s best to push its way out of her chest and the butterflies flapping their wings in her stomach somehow spread through her entire body. “Not a single thing.” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

A smile tugged at the corners of Kai’s mouth hearing the sudden change in her heart beat. Y/N bent over to take her phone, which had fallen off her jacket pocket at some point, and he nearly lost it. So close, yet so far away.

“No?” he said a little amused, his eyes following her every move while she headed down to the tomb, walking in human speed with him a few steps behind her. “How long are you going to keep pretending you have no idea what I am talking about –”

“Who’s pretending.” she called out. Her dress moved up her body with every step until she got to the ground floor and bent over to check up on the guy. That’s when Kai lost it completely and in a flash, he whooshed himself downstairs, wounding his hands around her from behind. His hands slipped down to her lower waist, pulling her towards him and he was barely able to stop himself from tearing her dress off her in that very second.

“You drive me crazy, you know that.” he nibbled on her earlobe. “Every little thing about you since the second we met. And seeing you tonight in that tight short black dress.” he kissed her neck softly. “The way you moved so soundlessly, how you fed –” he pursued his lips, humming in her ear. “It makes me so hard, all I can think about is making you mine. I want you and I always get what I want.“

“Oh, do you?” she said trying hard to keep her voice steady. Her breathing had completely stopped and even though a chill had shown up in the air, all she felt was fire scorching her skin everywhere he touched her. Kai hummed quietly in her ear and Y/N took a shallow breath feeling his hard on press against her lower back while he softly kissed her neck and she tilted her head slightly giving him a better access, his fingertips slowly brushing up her thighs before disappearing under her dress.

“I can’t control myself when I am around you.” he cooed, placing his palm over her heat pulling her up listening to her moan quietly. “All I want is to pull you close and never let you go. To kiss you every minute of every day and feel your body against mine every night –”

“Kai –” she semi-moaned, resting her head back on his shoulder when the guy groaned on the ground, starting to wake up. “Oh, fuck me. I —”

Before she realized what was happening, Kai spun her around and shoved her against the wall pressing his body firmly onto hers and his lips crashed against hers. For a few seconds she tried to fight him off, worrying about the guy on the ground, then her hands hooked around Kai’s neck pulling his lips towards hers. He trailed his hands up her hips towards her ass and under her dress pulling her up a little while their lips moved in perfect sync and their tongues fought for dominance. Y/N wound her leg around his waist, holding him against her feeling his crotch grind against hers harder and that’s when she realized how hard he really was. Their lips barely parted long enough for them to take a quick breath, both of them pouring every emotion they felt towards the other into the kiss. He pushed her jacket off her shoulders while she got rid of his and his lips moved down her jawline and onto her collarbone marking her as his. His hands were all over her body and he started scooping her up when suddenly she pushed him off her.

“Y/N? Where –” he asked confused, watching kneel down to the guy healing and compelling him before taking a step towards him, who grabbed her and in vampire speed whooshed them inside the tomb. Y/N took a short breath feeling Kai press his body against hers from behind, her nails scratching at the stone wall while his lips found their way on her neck and he ripped her dress in half. Everything was happening both too fast and too slow – his hands moved down her body, his lips kissing down her back while he removed her dress completely along with her tights. In vampire speed she pulled him up and shoved him against the wall, barely able to keep her hands and lips off him. Clothes flew everywhere and even though they were fast taking them off, it just wasn’t fast enough for either of them. "Jump.”

Y/N pushed her feet off the ground, hitching them around his waist and their lips crashed together, her fingers tangling in his locks and his crotch grinded against hers when suddenly they fell on the ground with her on top. Their lips stayed glued on each other while his hands travelled up and down her back, playing with the clasp of her strapless bra and a second later he tossed it somewhere on the ground. His eyes lit up like a little kid’s and he reached his hands towards her breasts, squeezing them and playing with them as if they were his new favorite toy. A quiet moan left her lips and a blink of an eye later he tossed her under him and that’s when she noticed the soft candle light filling the whole place. Kai leaned in to kiss her but she placed her hands on his shoulders holding him back.

“How –” she asked, looking around.

“Would you believe me if I told you magic?” he smirked at her and without waiting for an answer his lips collided with hers again, drowning her in a hungry passionate kiss while her legs wound around his waist. How it was that he knew how to make even spontaneous moments feel so magical? As if she needed another reason to fall for him. Just him being himself was to make her knees to weak and now he was finding other ways to do that. Every kiss, every touch melted her completely and if she was standing on her feel she’d probably be melting in her shoes. His lips moved down her jawline leaving wet sloppy kissed on her neck and lower marking her as his again while he continued slipping down her body without taking his eyes away from her for a second making her feel as if flames licked up her skin. He cupped her breasts, pressing the flat of his tongue against her left nipple swirling it around and then against the right, making them harden under his touch.

“Kai –” she moaned, her eyes fluttering closed, feeling him tweak/pinch her nipples for a moment sending waves of pleasure directly onto her core. Kai kissed down to her stomach, lightly brushing his nose against her skin the entire way to her warmth before pressing his mouth on her through the thin fabric of her panties, lightly biting on her clit without taking his eyes off her for a second listening to her squeal for a second. He bit on the waistband of her panties and pulled them slowly down her legs, brushing his fingertips against her legs the entire way. For a moment he held them between his teeth, unable to tear his eyes from her. Y/N looked hot before but the look on her face in that moment, how purple/black veins flashed under his eyes just took his breath away completely.

“Wow.“

“Wow, what?” she questioned, propping herself to her elbows without taking her eyes off his while he brushed his fingertips up her inner thighs all the way to her core, feeling an unfamiliar rush coursing through her body waking up every cell of her body. At first, she didn’t understand what was happening and then she saw the faint reddish glow coming from underneath his fingertips. He was siphoning her and that pitch felt so good, beyond anything she could compare it to. Something else – it was turning her even more and she could feel herself starting to drip with arousal. “Kai?”

“You are just so beautiful–” he parted her legs wider, leaving soft kisses on her inner thighs all the way to her core. “My girl –” he nibbled on her for a second and sank his fangs in her skin, so close to her core his cheek rubbed against her while he got a taste of her blood.

“This feels so fucking good.” she moaned, feeling her skin flame up all over again and his tongue swirl around the two holes not letting a drop go to waste. Almost a century and a half on this planet and that had been the first time someone had managed to push her emotions on such an overdrive, there was but one thought in her mind – Kai and how much she wanted him. “Careful or you might start a fire you can’t put out.”

He smirked, brushing his fingertips slightly against her skin lighting her up on fire all over again. Y/N’s gaze drifted to what his fingertips were doing and she bit her lip seeing the faint reddish glow coming from underneath them. His eyes followed his fingers’ movements and he locked gazes with her and she couldn’t help but notice how his eyes were no longer blue. They were completely black with lust, devils and flames dancing in them and the way he looked at her in that moment was enough to make her wet on the spot, if she wasn’t dripping already.

“So wet you are dripping.” he cooed. “I can’t wait to taste you –”

Kai brushed his fingertips against her folds, spreading her them wider and blew a light stream of air concentrated directly on her clit before slowly tracing a line with the tip of his tongue all the way through the middle of her clit. His tongue slipped inside her, curling around slowly feeling every inch while his nose brushed against her and his scruff tickled her folds every time he delved inside her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pushing his mouth further on her and pushed her hips down lightly grinding on his face. It was as if he had started a fire for real, and every move of his tongue, every touch only added more to it and she couldn’t get enough of everything he was doing to her. Somehow, he knew exactly how to touch her, exactly what to do to drive her out of her mind and make her feel as if she was fire herself. Soft moans kept leaving her parted lips starting to mix with whimpers while his tongue darted in and out of her in inhuman speed, working in perfect rhythm with his lips. He placed his palms on her inner thighs parting her legs wider and flicked her clit with his tongue, slurping some of her arousal about to drip down onto the blanket

“OH Fuck K-Kai –”

Y/N could barely tear her eyes off Kai’s, who looked so beyond hot in that moment carefully positioned between her legs, looking at her with fire dancing in his eyes while he continued to eat her out as if she were his favorite ice cream, the burning feeling between her legs building up fast. Her walls clenched around his tongue and she pushed his mouth further on her, lightly gripping on his hair. Kai growled, sending the vibrations onto her clit and replaced his tongue with his long slim fingers. Slowly he dipped them inside her, curling them around so agonizingly slowly exploring every inch before pulling out and going in a little deeper and faster every time, the cold of his rings brushing against her clit. He locked gazes with her and his briefs tightened around him even more watching her throw her head back and listening to her moans turning into small screams every time his fingertips hit her spot. Last thing he had expected had been for this to happen and now he just couldn’t control himself. Every drop of her arousal hitting his tongue felt like a drug to him and a new kind of hunger grew inside him.

“You taste fucking amazing.“ he moaned, pumping his fingers inside her at a steady pace taking turns between using his vampirism to cheat and pump them faster while he sucked and tugged on her clit, turning her into a moaning whimpering mess until her body shook before him and her orgasm tore through her body. Only he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to and his lips and fingers continued setting her on fire, getting her closer to another release. “So hot, I just want to stay here playing with you all nigh–”

Y/N cut him off mid-sentence, pulling him up. Her lips crashed against his and she rolled on top of him in vampire speed, her soaked core grinding against the large bulge in his briefs. She held his hands on either side of his head, her lips refusing to part with his even for a split second while she continued to straddle him a little faster, making him moan into the kiss and he nearly lost it when she tugged at his lower lip at the end of the kiss.

“Y/N –” he moaned, feeling her lips on his neck while she slowly slipped down his body, running her fingers all over his chest exploring every inch on her way to the bulge in his briefs. “So eager you couldn’t even wait for me to finish you off a second time–”

“Oh, you have no idea –” she smirked at him and lightly bit her lip, rubbing his thick shaft through his briefs.

Y/N ran her fingers through her hair moving it to the side and pressed her mouth on him through the thin fabric, allowing her breath on him. A quiet moan tumbled off his lips and he propped himself on his elbows watching her with excitement and curiosity while her fingers hitched around the waistband of his briefs and slowly she pulled them down and off his legs. His thick shaft flopped onto his stomach, and he couldn’t help but notice how her eyes started glowing with excitement he hadn’t seen before, not even during her ‘game’. Y/N placed her palms on his thighs and slowly trailed them up, not taking her eyes off him for a second while her tongue brushed against his balls and higher all the way to the tip, her nose lightly rubbing against him the entire way. Her fingers wrapped around him, stroking him at a steady place while her thumb drew slow circles on the head gathering the pre-cum on it before bringing it to her lips to taste him.

“You naughty, naughty girl –” he cooed, watching her tongue swirl round and around then straight through the middle of the tip of his thick shaft. “You want to drive me insane, don’t you?” Y/N hummed noticing a devilish spark flash in his eyes for a second. “It’s only fair I do the same –”

Y/N looked at him with curiosity and her eyes fluttered closed feeling pressure on her clit as if a finger was caressing it. She moaned quietly lightly and pushed her hips back at the invisible finger drawing slow circles on her clit watching Kai smirk at her while tangling his fingers in her hair. Her tongue ran on the underside of his length all the way to the tip, swirling around and straight through the middle before she took him between her lips as if he was her favorite lollypop while she tried to figure out what was happening and how it was possible for her to feel her clit being rolled between two fingers when there was nothing she could see… and then it hit her. Not only he had bitten and siphoned her, sending her to places she never thought it was possible to go, but now he was teasing her with magic!

“Oh shit Y/N –” he groaned, biting his lip.

A light stream hit the tip of his thick shaft and a soft moan escaped his lips feeling her nibbled on him all the way from the tip to his balls. Gently her lips kissed and sucked on them while she continued stroking him at a steady pace, the tip of her tongue drawing figurines on them. His lenght twitched in her hand and slowly her lips/tongue worked their way up and she took him in her mouth again, bopping her head up and down on him while her free hand gently fondled his balls. He had thought she had been driving him crazy before but none of it even remotely compared to everything she was doing to him right this second. Her eye contact was driving him insane and he couldn’t help but wonder how she can have this innocent look in her eyes in that moment doing something so so dirty.

“You are driving me completely nuts.” he groaned, pushing his hips up at her. With every passing second, his lust for her grew and he felt torn between wanting to cum in her mouth, watching her cum while she sucked him off and tossing her under him. “I want you.”

“No.” she moaned around him, sending the vibrations directly on him and he nearly lost it.

A louder moan tumbled off his lips and he grabbed a fistful of her hair pushing her mouth further on him, making her take him all the way for a few seconds while two invisible fingers slid inside her. Y/N moaned a little louder around him sending the vibrations directly on him and her eyes fluttered closed for a second. Her hips pushed back at his magic fingers, feeling her skin turn to fire again. He wasn’t even touching her and was able to make her want him. It was driving her insane and every time the invisible fingers curled inside her, her lust for him only got stronger. Slowly she brushed her fingertips up his inner thigh to his stomach, lightly scratching at him with her fingernails until their palms touched and their fingers intertwined together. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head and she could feel herself slowly starting to drip down her thighs while the invisible fingers curled inside her feeling every inch before pulling out, pumping inside her at the same pace she sucked him off.

“You love testing me, don’t you, fireball?” he cooed. “That dress tonight… sneaking into my bed in the middle of the night –”

“I like it when I have you in my mouth –” she nibbled on him, listening to him moan a little louder. “And I can’t help it. You are so fucking hot, all I want is… you.”

Y/N ran her tongue on the underside of his length, watching his eyes light up at her words and suddenly he pulled her up in vampire speed. Their lips crashed together while her soaked core grinded against his thick shaft and she dug her nails in his chest almost drawing blood. His hands found their way on her waist, making her go faster but she pushed them off and he growled, tossing her under him in a flash without breaking the kiss. He pressed the tip of his lenght against her entrance, pinned her hands on either side of her head and entered her with a swift motion, drowning her loud moan into the kiss. Slowly he withdrew almost completely making her feel every inch of him inside her before filling her in to the brim again, his thrusts getting rougher and faster every. It was almost as if the whole place had gone up in flames along with them. The air had gotten ticker filling in with the smell of sex and their moans colliding in perfect harmony with the sounds of flesh on flesh. Y/N threw her head back and Kai used his chance to kiss her neck, leaving wet sloppy kisses all over while her walls tightened around him. His breath tickled her skin every time he buried himself inside her and he couldn’t help but notice how he was stretching her out perfectly, almost as if they were made for each other.

“You feel so good around me. So tight –” he groaned, intertwining their fingers together and rested his forehead on hers, watching her eyes roll in the back of her head when he hit her spot and her moan turned into a small scream. Purple/black veins flashed under her eyes and he angled himself to hit her spot every time, feeling her walls tighten around him a little more intensely when in vamp-speed she rolled on top of him and her fingers wrapped around his neck. “Damn Y/N –” he bit his lip, his hands finding their perfect spot on her waist and both of them fell into their rhythm instantly. “So hot.”

Y/N leaned towards him, purple/black veins flashing under her eyes and sank her fangs in his neck getting a taste of his blood while he thrusted up at her, their hips meeting halfway. His hands travelled up and down her back, lightly siphoning her along the way while he tried hard to sort out his emotions. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been fed on before, but this felt completely different. The second her fangs sank his skin it was like his body went up in flames and the rush of excitement coursing through his veins felt so similar to an orgasm for a moment he wondered if that hadn’t been exactly what had happened.

“FUCk Y/N –” he moaned in her hear, continuing to thrust up at her, her hips meeting him halfway. “That feels so good.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” she cooed in his ear before gazing into his eyes for a long moment. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head when he thrusted up so hard all the air got knocked out of her lungs. Her bloody lips smashed against his while she continued to fuck him harder and faster every time, feeling his lenght twitch inside her almost at the same time her walls tightened around him again. “Shit, I’m s-so close.”

Kai smirked at her, brushing his fingertips against her cheek for a second vamp-speed turning both of them to their sides, with him standing behind her. He lifted up her leg and wrapped his hand around her neck turning her face towards his. Their lips collided in a passionate kiss and he entered her with a hard thrust slowly withdrawing and filling her in to the brim again, continuing to knock out the air out of her lungs. His free hand slipped down her stomach to her clit and he couldn’t stop himself from lightly siphoning her along the way. There was nothing like the rush of excitement flooding his body when he siphoned someone and feeling their bodies intertwined and their moans colliding in perfect harmony added a whole new meaning to it for him. His fingers drew rough to slow figure eights on her clit, trying to match every thrust while Y/N reached her hand back cupping his face with one hand. Her walls tightened around him almost at the same time his length twitched inside her and his emotions went on a complete overdrive.

“Come on, fireball. Give it me.” he cooed in her ear, his lips almost touching her earlobe as he spoke feeling her walls contract around him and a second later Y/N threw her head back, her orgasm tearing through her body triggering his at the same second his fangs sank in her carotid artery. He continued to thrust inside her not stopping or slowing down until they were both finished and both of them collapsed next to each other. “Damn Y/N –” he smiled, trying to catch his breath. “That was… something.”

“You haven’t done it with a vampire before have you?” she smiled back, gently pressing her lips against his. Kai shook his head, smiling nervously. “So, in a way… I am your first?” she crawled on top of him without taking her eyes off his for a second. “It’s different… isn’t it? Everything is heightened, all your emotions go on overdrive and you just can’t stop –”

Kai rolled on top of her. “No. I cannot.” he pinned her hands on either side of her head, rubbing his thick shaft against her core. “What do you say? Round two?”

* * *

Y/N reached for her phone ringing somewhere around her. Sleepily she swiped her finger across the screen, answering the call without even checking the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Where are you? You were supposed to be here like two hours ago.” said Damon from the other end of the line. She started to say something when Kai snatched her phone from her hands and that’s when she realized they were in his bedroom. How had they gotten to his bedroom? Her mind was still a little foggy from everything… and then it all came back to her – the tomb, how after they had spent more than a few hours bathing in their mutual lust for one another they had returned to the party and had indulged, perhaps a bit too much, in their other needs.

“Sorry, you got the wrong number.” said Kai, smiling at Y/N who smiled back sleepily and snuggled closer to him. “Awwh life is not fun without a little fire under your ass, right? I’ll pass a message to our blue eyed self-elected sheriff. Mmmhmm – bye now.” he muttered, dropping her phone on the ground without even ending the call. Gently be brushed his palm against her cheek, lifting her face towards him and kissed her good morning. “I can get used to this. Having you in my arms every second of everyday –” he rolled on top of her, smiling wider than ever. “I won’t let you run away from me again.”

“I didn’t –”

“Yes, you did.” he said softly. “It’s okay. I understand, sort of. I am no expert on emotions but it’s okay to feel. Or so I am told. You play those games because you want to feel. And when I told you everything I’ve said and done with you had been real, you got scared. That’s why you ran off. You are also afraid to feel after everything you’ve been through. It’s confusing, really, but you should know… I’d never hurt you or leave you. You will never lose me.”

Y/N gazed into his eyes and hooked her hands around his neck. “How is it that you know me so well after only two weeks together?”

“I pay attention, fireball.” he smiled at her. “Now, let’s get down to the kitchen before our heretic friends decide to use up all the pancake dough. Actually, you know what – you stay here and I’ll be back in a jiffy with the best breakfast in bed in history.”

Kai started to get up when she gripped his wrist and in vampire speed pulled him back onto the bed with her, rolling on top of him holding hands over his head. “How about –” she ran her hand on his chest towards his neck, biting her lip. “—we break the bed instead.”

_________________________________________ MASTERLIST - SMUT MASTERLIST - FLUFF

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captaingondor · 7 years

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Dynamic Duo

aka a dumb self fanfic modern au i wrote of my own characters, hope y’all enjoy these dorks, i love them

“You’re fifteen years old and you’ve never been trick-or-treating‽”

I swiftly sat straight up from where I had been lounging on Seyetto’s bed and leaned towards him in shock. He was still sitting unperturbed at his desk, though he’d paused in typing on his laptop in front of him. Ostensibly, we were here to work on homework together, but I’d already run through my French flashcards flawlessly and thought it was a little premature to start on our history paper like he was.

“Isn’t that for little kids?” he asked, turning halfway towards me.

“Nah, you’re never too old for trick-or-treat! Free candy, dude! But you’ve never gone? Ever?”

He shook his head. “No, my parents just buy us a ton of candy anyway and have a house party, usually. Or sometimes we go to a family friend’s. But I haven’t dressed up for a few years.”

Right, what did free candy matter when you could just drop hundreds of dollars on it any day of the year without a second thought? It was easy to forget just how loaded Seyetto’s family was sometimes. Then he’d just drop some statement without realizing how completely not normal it was.

“Well, you are missing out! You gotta come with me this year.”

He met my eyes with a slight frown. It was an expression I was intimately familiar with. Those who didn’t know Seyetto as well might interpret it as displeasure, or perhaps annoyance, but I could read it for what it was. One part confusion, one part careful thought in attempt to eradicate the confusion, one part embarrassment at being confused, four parts covering all this up with classic Seyetto stoicism. And one part reservation at getting himself involved in whatever scheme I was pitching to him, as off his beaten path and outside of his bubble as it usually was, but knowing he’d give in and enjoy it anyway. “Why? I don’t need to ask random strangers for candy at their houses - and neither do you. You can just come here and get just as

much as you would otherwise from my parents.”

“But then no one will see your costume!”

“That’s preferable. And I don’t have a costume. Or want one.”

“We’ve got to come up with one together. Some kind of cool buddy costume,” I continued past his protests.

“Rinnyx-”

“Like, um, Batman and Superman!”

“I am not wearing tights.”

“Well, you’d be Batman, obviously. He doesn’t wear tights, always.”

“Sure, let me just drum up a custom-fit set of bat-armor-”

I thought he was being sarcastic, but you never knew with the whole ‘ridiculously loaded’ thing. Like the real Batman! “And he’s got a mask so you wouldn’t have to worry about people knowing you were having fun.”

“Who else would be out trick-or-treating with you in themed costumes?”

“Fair point, fair point.” I nodded. “Just the first idea. How about… Aang and Zuko! I’ll be Aang, you’ll be Zuko. You identify with Zuko, right? With the fire.”

He turned all the way towards me in his chair, which was a success. “First of all,” he said, punctuating his statement with a pointed finger, “I like fire a completely normal amount.” This was a blatant untruth which he repeated frequently, but I humored him. “And unlike Zuko, I get along great with my father, Who is neither evil nor crazy.”

I didn’t exactly doubt that Seyetto got along great with his father, but he did always call him ‘sir’ and snap to attention in his presence. But then, who was I to judge? “Well, you can be Azula, then.”

“I am not dressing up as Azula.”

“It doesn’t have to be a perfect match. Aang’s great for me, though. I could shave my head!”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, we can consider our options…” I looked up and tapped my fingers on the bed. All I had to do was present Seyetto with some terrible options, so when I finally thought of something incredible it would look so much better in comparison he couldn’t refuse.. “Tom and Jerry?”

“You have got to be kidding me. I am not a furry.”

And what were the components of the perfect buddy costume for us? Obviously, of course, it had to be something that went together, a great pair like us. “Maybe not characters… something like salt and pepper. Ketchup and mustard. You love red, I love yellow. Hm?”

Seyetto didn’t even dignify that with an answer, but turned back to type out a few more sentences at his laptop. I had to reel it in a little, keep his interest.

It would be best if, in addition to going well with each other, they had something in common with us as well - our personalities or characteristics. “Okay, okay, nothing like that. You’re right, we can do way better. Like, um, Ben and Chris, from Parks and Rec!”

“I don’t even watch that show.”

“You’ve watched like forty episodes.”

“You’ve watched like forty episodes while I was in the room.”

For some reason this seemed oddly familiar. I brushed it off. “They wouldn’t be distinctive enough costumes, anyway.” That was another thing, Seyetto would want a costume that would look good. He didn’t like to feel foolish. If he was going to dress up, he wouldn’t do it halfway. No, he’d wear something that people could appreciate. Something cool. He liked pretending he was above being cool, but he so wasn’t. “We don’t want to be boring. We aren’t boring.”

“We aren’t?”

“James Potter and Sirius Black. Captain America and the Winter Soldier. Buzz and Woody.”

“Oh, please, nothing Disney! I’m saturated in that enough already.”

That was the final checkmark - it had to be something Seyetto was interested in, something that would lure him in, something that he would actually enjoy. His enjoyment was the point of all this, after all - I’d be happy with whatever costumes we were wearing. Unfortunately, there were scant few pieces of media that truly caught his interest. He mostly read nonfiction.

“Robin Hood and Little John. Mario and Luigi.” I was getting close, I had to give him some good contrast. “Bert and Ernie.”

“How would we even - no, Rinnyx.”

Maybe something from history? He liked Ancient Rome - Julius Caesar and… no, no, no good options, they all ended up murdering each other. And he’d probably worry about historical accuracy. And we couldn’t do something too obscure. We wanted to be recognizable. Always explaining yourself was no fun, and he wouldn’t like that kind of attention. Something well known, but something he’d like…

I snapped my fingers and pointed towards him with both hands, a wide grin over my face. I had it. “King Stannis Baratheon and Ser Davos Seaworth.”

He turned back towards me, started to open his mouth, then leaned back thoughtfully. “I do love Stannis.”

“Of course you do. He’s great. He’s the one true king of Westeros.”

“He is! He’s the rightful king and anyone who disagrees -” He paused and toned down his enthusiasm, but it was too late. I’d seen it. “I mean, the rules of succession are pretty clear.”

“And you have the Baratheon look. Black hair. Blue eyes. Royal demeanor.”

“I suppose…” He was trying to put up an outer defense still, but I could tell he’d already given in.

“I can even hold your candy bag for you, and you can stand in the back while I ask people if I can pick one up for my king, too.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“If you say so, my king.”

“You don’t have to be in character, either.”

“But it’s so much more fun! And it’s easy for you to be in character, you just have to stand there and look disgruntled. Anyway, if you were king, I’d be your loyal retainer. I don’t have to fake it.”

“Well, ah. Thanks.” He gave one of those half-smiles that he did when he was feeling more than he was accustomed to showing. “Anyway, I bet we can put it together in time.” He closed the document on his laptop and brought up Google to look for images to work of. I went to look at them over his shoulder, smiling. Victory.

#rinnyx #seyetto #my ocs #something i wrote

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taradreschner-blog · 7 years

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tara dreschner + headcanons

1. Tara is judgmental. They can’t help it or at least have never tried. They quickly come up with an idea of what someone is and rarely change their mind, instead choosing to believe the role that they’ve cast everybody in. Their assumptions are often deeply cynical in nature; they look for the worst in people before ever finding the good. There are people Tara will never be friends with because of what they’ve seen in them.

2. They’ve only begun recently making friends besides the two they’ve always had. It was easy in high school to stay forever in each other’s company, to barely acknowledge anyone outside their band of musketeers. But with Denna gone Tara had no choice but to expand their horizons and, reluctantly, they did. Despite themselves they’ve actually enjoyed spending time with Gen and Leo, but it feels like a strange sort of betrayal. Not even to Denna, who doesn’t seem to mind with how busy she is with her fascinating new life, but to Tara. They aren’t used to talking to people who don’t know them in and out, who don’t instinctively know how to translate their rolling eyes and monotone into affection.

3. Most people think Tara is rude. They don’t blame them, mainly because they kind of are. They communicate primarily through blunt comments and long-suffering sighs, actual enthusiasm hidden behind a layer of armor. It’s a defense mechanism, albeit a horrible and often negative one.

4. As a child Tara had always been too much. Too bossy, too serious and sullen and prone to acts of mild melodrama like calling daycare teachers fascist ogres or “borrowing” every book in their family library one by one until their room became a fortress of bound leather and paper. They were terminally weird, the kind of kid that made adults chuckle and peers cringe. Their mother called it precociousness. Most people called it being a pain in the ass. They were, Tara thinks, both right.

5. Tara doesn’t have a father. Or, rather, they do and it doesn’t matter. Lea Dreschner, heiress to a family legacy of railway barons and stock market kings, had known a man once upon a time as a rich girl with nothing to do. Things ended, as relationships so often do, and she found that she was pregnant. She describes Tara as a happy accident, the thing that helped her decide what she wanted out of life. These days Lea works as a motivational speaker talking about finding your inner light and living as a summer breeze, listing sentimental declarations on life and love that Tara can’t bring themselves to believe. Lea is everything her child is not; optimistic, enthusiastic, extroverted and often naive. It’s easy to see that she was sheltered in a way that Tara never could have been. Lea sees life as a fairytale and, almost as a result, Tara sees it as all too real.

6. This is not to say that Tara dislikes their mother. They love her. Lea Dreschner was for a time the only one who stood by her child, who insisted that there was nothing wrong with a child that was a little serious and uptight and prone to lecturing about injustice. It was Lea, when Tara came out at fourteen, who made buttons and threw a party for two with streamers and cake frosted with pronouns. She’s silly and Tara needs a little bit of silliness just as her mother needs someone to bring her down to earth.

7. It was natural, when Lea began making friends in the neighborhood, that Tara would tag along. Spending time with Denna and Preston was always refreshing, kids of the same age who always seemed to understand that their lack of expression didn’t mean a lack of enthusiasm.

8. Tara hates their family home. It’s a McMansion monstrosity, all beige and spiraling staircases and tacky granite floors, that Lea had bought when she’d decided to settle down. Their childhood bedroom has been altered greatly over the years; walls are covered in posters of everything from 1930’s public health warnings to bands they haven’t listened to in years, polaroids and dried herbs hanging above their bed, colorful rugs scattered across the floor, and a shade over their light that tints the whole room green.

9. In Preston’s Dnd campaign, which Tara pretends to still not know all the rules to, Tara plays a wood elf bard named Madge (They insisted they couldn’t think of a more creative name). They insisted Preston let them create a spell and now “Wonderwall” is their go-to move. The rest of the time they do everything they can to avoid a fight, leading Madge to make many options that lean worryingly evil.

10. A word that could be used to describe Tara is particular. Another is exacting. Perhaps the most accurate would be control freak.

11. Tara looks way cooler than they actually are. They care about clothes and style in a very particular way and their mother has always indulged their whims. Many people say that Tara presents more feminine, but Tara thinks that’s kind of bullshit. Their hair may be grown out long, but it’s more 70s shag than anything else. A lot of their clothes lean retro- bell bottoms and crop tops and big ugly jackets with big clunky boots to top it all off. And if sometimes they wear a bitchin’ dress, well, that’s no one’s business but their own.

12. In their sophomore year of high school, Tara began selling their old clothes and their mother’s vintage online for petty cash. Years later their shop Despoena has achieved an impressive amount of popularity and has expanded into an online vintage store, as well as selling a couple indie clothing, makeup and skincare brands. Tara does not make clothing themselves, but they have a good eye for curating a specific image. The store’s official instagram has far more followers than their personal one, which is how they like it. No one except Denna and Preston even know they run the store, though others might know of it.

13. They know they’re hardly charming enough to be the face of the enterprise, so they keep it purposefully anonymous. The store’s official blog and social media is amiable in a way that Tara is incapable of being, seeming authentic and soft while still professional.

14. Tara recently found out that the amazing designs they’d seen around town are by Naia and they will walk over broken glass to get her stuff in their store. They just don’t know how to ask her.

15. It’s too silly and unsure for Tara to admit wanting it, but in moments where they’re truly honest about their goals they want to expand Despoena into something even bigger. They’ve started taking business classes, but they’re too nervous to talk about it with anyone besides Preston (Not Denna. It’s petty, but they like keeping something from her like how they know she’s keeping something from them). It feels ridiculous for someone as practical as them to be dreaming so big.

16. Imagine Despoena as a cross between Nasty Gal and Goop. There’s a focus on a natural minimalism with quirky touches. Down below I’ll link to some of the clothes and stuff I think would be on there. If I could do literally anything in photoshop I would make a logo, but I’m actually garbage sooo… sorry.

17. Tara was raised on health food and their deep dark shame is that they basically hoard circus peanuts. They’ve been vegetarian basically since birth in addition to being kosher and circus peanuts are neither. They taste like toxic bananas and are orange for some reason and they always have a bag hidden under their bed.

18. Tara and Heath would actually probably get along if Tara were able to talk to Heath without immediately hating them. If anything they could bond over starting a business anonymously or being ridiculously protective of Denna. This isn’t even a headcanon this is just something I realized while writing this.

19. Tara is more cold than angry. If they’re mad at you, you might not even know until a month later.

20. They don’t really look pretty. Or attractive or whatever, despite having the bone structure of an angel. And they don’t want to be attractive. When it comes to their personal look, Tara revels in the strange and interesting. They’re far more likely to wear a sweatshirt patterned with cockroaches than one of the simple and fun dresses you’d find on Despoena. It’s not that Tara dislikes that style- they love it, it’s why their store is the way it is. But for themselves they can only accept it in diluted doses; a simple blouse only feels right when combined with the most trashed thrift store jeans that they have and ostentatious costume jewelry. It’s with the combination of the staid and the bizarre that Tara can feel like themselves, rather than picking a side to stick to.

21. All of Tara’s favorite movies are campy B horror. They love the cartoonish performances and technicolor gore. Preston and Denna have, in their time, been forced to watch many. Tara has most of them memorized line-for-line. They often lament that their wardrobe could use more neon pink-orange bloodstains ala Suspiria.

22. Tara is guarded, but deeply protective of anyone they consider a friend. If someone hurts someone that they care about, they will hate that person for the rest of time. It’s a passion that they don’t have in regards to defending themselves. Tara doesn’t care about people who might have been cruel to them once upon a time, but anyone who ever pushed Denna or Preston on the playground better watch out.

23. Tara was raised Jewish, but doesn’t practice heavily. They still identify as culturally Jewish, go to the synagogue on Yom Kippur, and do their best to keep kosher, mainly out of habit. Since they’re vegetarian, it mainly means feeling weird about cheese made with animal rennet. One time they tried bacon out of curiosity and honestly? Not worth it.

24 At 6’1, they’ve always been one of the tallest people they know. Whenever they interact with someone taller they get grumpy. It’s not something they’re self-conscious about; rather, they see it as something that helps define them.

25. Tara does, in fact, know things about video and tabletop games. They just have horrible twitch reflexes and a bad habit of getting sidetracked on quests no one thought of making, like trying to break down the government of a fantasy world and replace it with a functioning democracy instead of doing fun things and killing dragons.

26. Sometimes Tara appears on Preston’s channel, often to fail horribly at Overwatch (they main Zarya because she’s cute, but have no idea how to play her). Their main appearances are on a very rarely updated series where Tara plays Grand Theft Auto with Preston and tries to accomplish a very specific task that isn’t actually in the game (i.e: buying a pizza, working out at the gym).

27. Part of the reason Tara likes to focus on other people is because it means they don’t have to think about their own problems and mistakes. It’s easier to help a friend than to help yourself.

28. Tara’s romantic history is… complicated. They’ve never been in an official relationship, just flings that occasionally seemed like they might be more. Sometimes when they’re too depressed for their own good they wonder if they’re incapable of anything more, if that’s the cost of seeing the complicated parts of people first.

29. I have a half-formed wisp of an idea that might be really stupid, but I think in high school Tara had a crush on one of Denna’s significant others and nothing happened but they still feel really guilty and gross about it.

30. Tara would rather be miserable than possibly hurt one of their friends.

31. For all of middle school and the first two years of high school, Tara had braces and (occasionally) headgear. It was horrible and part of the reason why they rarely smile or show their teeth.

32. Halloween is Tara’s favorite holiday. They would always give their candy to Preston and Denna as a kid, because their favorite part was going all out with costumes and decorations. Their costumes have only gotten more elaborate over the years and they rope friends into joining them. In the vague future where everything’s cool and they’ve accepted Denna and Heath’s relationship, they finally get to accomplish their dream of going as the cast of Scooby Doo with Pluto as Scooby.

#ch: never flowers #(hey margo why choose the sky as all things as a motif for an earth goddess?)#(because I'm a sucker for pretty clouds that's why)

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