#ALSO I MIGHT REDO THE COLORING ON LIKE GIVING HIM ACTUAL SKIN . i think the colors look a little meh like. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keepthyfaithandthylight · 3 years

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Going off of my previous post, have another one (I say, forcing you all to look at the monstrosities of my own mind) (I accidentally posted this in my rush to get into the car in the rain so we’re redoing this.) you all know what is about to happen.

How everyone in frev that I can remember might be as… modern students…

Danton: l o u d. He’s the kid who fights and argues with the teacher, is disrespectful all of that. Copies other kids’ homework because despite the fact that he is a terrible student he doesn’t want to miss the credits for the class. You know the type I’m describing. Fights in the hallways, essentially the main crowd in public school. The loud class clown, if you will. That’s all I can say. His notes would most likely look like a kindergartener vomited up any nonsense that came to mind. Does not believe in studying, uses the “if I sleep on my book the knowledge will seep into my mind and therefore I will pass the test” logic. Sits in the back and eats hot Cheetos. Flirts with all of the girls, especially popular girls but he will go for literally any. Luckily I don’t think he would go so far as to have his pants down at his knees walking through the hallway but who knows (that was definitely not a direct jab at the kids in my school). Maybe he would play football, but probably to get with some of the girls.

Desmoulins: he probably takes decent notes, sometimes participates in class but not constantly. Sometimes he will sit with Danton, other times he will sit elsewhere. Either way he is known amongst almost everyone in class. Exceptionally good in English and writes the school paper, also part of yearbook club. Sits with his girlfriend at lunch, they’re nearly attached at the hip it’s almost terrifying. Studies sometimes, but not always, yet either way he somehow passes each test every time. Has Danton convinced he’s psychic or that he’s pulling a sneaky trick with the teacher (I.e. “I’ll pay you a lot of money to give me an A”). Doesn’t really play sports. Wears things that you might find in stores like vans and zumiez, isn’t really bad at dressing well on most occasions (unlike some cough). Wears vans too. Can charm his way out of an argument with classmates and teachers, but will cry over math homework or a bad grade, then his girlfriend has to come over and bring him ice cream. It’s fine.

Robespierre: takes very good notes, always answers questions if Camille doesn’t first. Very organized, color codes everything, his notes are very easy to navigate and almost everyone borrows them. He doesn’t mind in most cases, but starts to get annoyed with Danton about it as it is a daily thing. Can and will argue with the teacher on occasion (I know I don’t need to describe the situation I’m talking about) has a reputation for this. He’s polite most of the time but if the teacher gets sassy so will he. Studies a lot, sometimes too much and he will end up pulling an all-nighter. All of the girls love him, Danton can not figure out why. He walks in the room and the girls swoon, Danton is entirely perplexed by this. Is also very good at English, though he goes over the word limit for essays quite frequently and can get points taken off for this. The teacher will still give him a pat on the back however. Dresses in pastel colors, but will dress in knit sweaters as well (gen-z fashion icon am I right.) in the colder weather. Doesn’t do sports but will audition for the school musical. Will bring snacks for his friends sometimes, but not all of the time. Sits in the front.

Saint Just: his notes aren’t bad, but no one will go running up to him to borrow them. Mostly just sits in the back corner and listens to music, still does his work though. Will glare at Danton and Camille from across the classroom, does so on a daily basis. Brought Robespierre a pastry on his birthday, tried to make it from scratch at first, key word tried. It’s the thought that counts. Also brings coffee for Robespierre when he pulls all-nighters followed by a “why do you do this to yourself??” And an exasperated sigh. The teachers have marked him absent on multiple occasions because he’s just… in the back. Silently. Studies frequently, but not as much as Robespierre, though they do study together sometimes. Might do some really obscure sport that the others didn’t even know the school had, Robespierre got him to join in on the musical performance wise once, and sure he’s all about supporting Max in his theatrical endeavors but he’d probably rather be in charge of the background jobs, giving Robespierre a thumbs up from the catwalk during practice. Sometimes eats lunch with Robespierre.

Marat: when I say science “is his jam” as well as English. Argues with teachers almost daily but they can’t really do anything about it because every single time he makes good points. Gets along with no one. Will use his backpack as a weapon in a fight (everyone remember that one vine?) has no idea what Charlotte has against him but doesn’t really talk about it much. Just gives really uncomfortable looks when she glares at him and snaps a pencil in half in pure rage. President of the science club and the school newspaper. Camille hates this but doesn’t really question it, and tries to get along. Known for being absent a lot but only due to his skin so the school can’t really say anything about it. His writing is… aggressive. No one can really read it. Don’t even start on his notes. An absolute mess that really only makes sense to him. He dresses like a rat (pun intended) but.. in the “appeal to the gen-z gays” kind of way.

Charlotte Corday: teacher’s pet to the maximum level. As in, to the point where it’s actually a problem. Aside from that just copy and paste my previous post and you’ll get what I’m talking about.

Marie Antoinette: exchange student, you either love her or hate her. Queen bee prom Queen, wears nothing but name brand designer clothing. The “it” girl shall we say. Like Regina George but slightly less bitchy, I suppose.

Louis XVI: kind of a shy nerd kid who got absorbed into the popular crowd because of his girlfriend (and because his.. relative.. is the principal.) again you either love him or hate him.

#frev #french revolution #oops i did it again #claws out for the main 5 #maximilien robespierre #robespierre #camille desmoulins #robespierre protection squad #saint just #georges danton #jean paul marat #marAT #Charlotte Corday is THAT girl and you can not prove me wrong.#can we tell that I don’t like Danton??#is it that obvious???

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honeysorwell · 3 years

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(a very unprofessional) game changer

Pairing: Audrey Tidall x fem!Reader x Diane Sherman

Summary: Audrey Tidall ends up conquering the role of the protagonist in the expected film that marks the great director and screenwriter Diane Sherman return to the film market, Run, that the blonde one desired really much. The filmmaker has only managed to return now since she left her job almost twenty years ago to take care of her daughter. She has no real plans other than finishing the film that will mark her return, but her nonpeaceful coexistence with Audrey during the filming, along with the loneliness that consumes her personal life ends up instigating an unexpected affection - and that grows every day - for Y/N, the costume designer for Run.

What Diane did not expect, when giving Y/N anonymously flowers during the recording months, is that the costume designer has been in a secret relationship for more than months with Audrey. However, the feeling of indifference and disdain that the director feels for the actress gradually dies after a heated argument between the two, leaving an unnamed tension in the air, while Y/N searches for her secret admirer with her girlfriend.

[gif by @sapphiclesbian ]

[gif by @cherry-jimin]

A/N: I was extremely surprised when I posted You rush into my life, stay a little while (I know that we can have it all), and in less than a month I got +50likes (after all I barely know how to use tumblr and I discovered these days how and where to look at the followers that I have lol). And thanks to that, I will use (a very unprofessional) game changer as a social experiment, to see if you guys really like what I write, and if the answer is also positive, I will open requests to write things in my free time. And yes, my first language is not English so maybe something might sound strange.

I had this idea as soon as Run was released, thanks to Diane's passion for films... And since Audrey is an actress, I thought it would be good to combine these two...

I can say that this is a big AU because Diane is a lovely mother, and no one from Roanoke dies (because I don't have time to develop any of this shit).

Hope you all like it!

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 (final one)

Chapter 1

Chapter’s summary: Audrey and Y/N get to know each other thanks to Diane, and even though they are about to start recording Run, they decide that it is worthwhile to continue with their relationship. Even if secretly.

Warnings: In this chapter at least, none. Just implicit mentions of smut, it's not really something!

Word Count: 1,2k

In theory, when someone wins an award as important as The Saturn, their career between movies becomes more likely to invitations to productions. Films, miniseries, or even theatrical productions. But that didn't happen with Audrey.

There was a voice in her head that said it was thanks to her age. But since none of the actors in Roanoke's cast, especially women, were so different in this aspect, Audrey continued to ignore that voice.

Everything was relatively ready for the British woman to participate in Return to Roanoke: Three Days in Hell, however after her breakup with Rory, the blonde one preferred to focus on something new. She quickly fell in love with him, but when the red-haired man asked about marriage, everything was clear to Audrey. Their paths and thoughts were so different, even with the significant feeling between them, that it was better to break their love relationship before their friendship was affected. And this was what she did.

It was audacious. Refuse a proposal for the same program that gave her fame and awards, to audition for a new film that she barely knew would happen. Some people would call her crazy, but the email she received from her agent was enough to give her courage.

Or rather, four words from that email. Directed by Diane Sherman was what caught her attention and prompted her to try to venture out to take the test.

She can still remember. Years ago, while she was still fighting for a minor role in any theatrical production in England, Diane Sherman was already acclaimed worldwide for the grandiose films with unexpected endings that she produced, even at a young age.

All the films of the woman with a reddish tone between her brunette hair strands became hits. But in the midst of it all, Diane decided to take a break from her career, and less than five months later, a pregnancy was announced.

After that, twenty years passed and no film was released, no interview, no magazine cover. Such a gloriously famous woman disappeared from everyone's view with her baby. But only up to now.

That test was probably the one that tired Audrey the most in her entire career. To portray in a few minutes the pain of the life of a woman who is obsessed with her daughter to the point of making her sick was difficult. But she did, and so, while her former co-stars were locking themselves up in a seemingly haunted mansion, she was getting a call from her agent saying that she got the lead role.

Everything worked well when the blonde received her script and started working with Diane on how they would like this character to be seen by the audience, but as the conversations flowed, Audrey understood why all of the woman's films were such a success. She was a perfectionist and her authority was clear.

Everything needed to be perfect. Including the costume.

And so Audrey met Y/N. A beautiful costume designer with so much talent to spare to the world.

The first time they saw each other, Diane was not present, after all, it was just a date to take Audrey's body measurements. As the story was about a housewife, movable and comfortable clothes had to be designed, which did not force Audrey to strip naked to have her measurements known by Y/N, even if an unprofessional part of her wanted to.

Quick encounters followed, some with Diane briefly present, just to define new color palettes or to approve and disapprove something. The director never stayed more than twenty minutes with the two women, but thanks to Y/N's perseverance, in producing everything exactly as Diane wished, and Audrey's free time, due to her mind being ease in memorizing lines and just a few friendships outside England, the two woman became relatively close.

When the costumes were all designed and in the final process of being made, Diane decided that she would like Audrey's hair to be longer. Some wig tests took place, but a joint decision was made.

The film would be postponed in five months from there, so that the blonde's hair would grow.

It was frustrating, to say the least, and maybe that was the trigger for Audrey's disapproval with Diane, but one thing was good. The time now acquired has started to be spent on Y/N.

Always at discreet lunches or afternoon teas in their homes...

Y/N thinks it might be extremely inappropriate and absolutely unprofessional to get personally involved with a co-worker, even outside the set, and even though their work on Diane's film was relatively distant. But, after many glasses of wine and random conversations, nothing made more sense to Y/N than Audrey's lips against hers.

A one-night stand. That was what they thought they were born to be. But the skin on Audrey's stomach was so smooth that Y/N didn't know if she wanted to kiss her until she moaned or laughed, confused as she tried to understand which one of the sounds was the actual responsible for her heart beating faster.

A one-night stand. Because Audrey didn't feel ready to start a relationship after such a recent breakup. But there was nothing more beautiful than Y/N's face full of pleasure while she was being touched, or her face concentrated on redoing a crooked seam, even if she was the only one that noticed the defect in the piece.

A one-night stand. That turned into two, three, ten, thirty... and when they noticed, Audrey's hair was long enough for the film to start recording and their mind was unconsciously bought each other's favorite foods at the supermarket.

And on one of those nights, when they were both lying on Y/N's bed and Audrey was drawing imaginary flowers on the bare skin of her right hip, a whisper escaped the actresses lips:

"I don't want this to end because we are going to work together... Does that make me unprofessional?", The moment the question escapes her lips, she raises her face towards Y/N and looks deeply into her eyes.

"Well ...", the costume designer starts and stops, distracted by the beauty of Audrey's brown eyes and a lock of her hair - now longer - that is hindering the Y/N view of the blonde's cheeks, but that soon puts the hair strands behind her ear and continues - "Count me in because I don't want this to end either..."

It is a smile so beautiful that it takes hold of Audrey's lips, that the courage to take possession of Y / N's body and one more phrase escapes her lips.

"I think I'm in love with you."

The word think sounds so low, it's like it's not even there. Because Y/N's mind knows that she is sure, even scared and that is why Y/N's eyes focus on the whole room, except the face in front of her. Until delicate fingers touch her chin and direct her to see brown eyes bathed in tears, amid the same glorious smile of seconds ago.

"And I don't know how you didn't notice that I fell in love with you too."

And so they come to an agreement. Nothing will be explicit while they are on set. At work, they will be just friends, close friends if the distance wraps their stomachs, but still, just friends.

For the sake of their reputations, their jobs, and the Diane Sherman film they will be just friends.

#audrey tindall x reader #diane sherman x reader #audrey tindall x diane sherman #diane sherman imagine #audrey tindall imagine #audrey tindall #diane sherman #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson #audrey tindall x diane sherman x reader

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rowdeyclown · 3 years

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i finally finished playing spirit tracks and my life has changed for the better anyway here’s some link and zelda as i imagine them to be when they’re older or like an au redesign i guess. they’re both 16 in this drawing because the thought of link possibly being 12 years old and a licensed train engineer fills me with unspeakable dread. notes and other thoughts under the cut!

im sorry i love talking abt my designs but i dont wanna make this post too lengthy. anyway as for choices i made

first of all the actual redesigns are kinda based on my disappointment with how the spirit tracks link and zelda share the designs of ww/ph link and zelda like i know the game was recycled from its predecessor but zelda here is so unique i think she deserves a more distinct design! this extends to minish cap as well btw since that design is also the same but i digress

so for zelda im disappointed in myself for giving up on that little uhh banner? on her skirt like the actual design is very nice and complex but i am very unskilled when it comes to fine details and spending any long amounts of time trying to redo the details would have killed me emotionally so we’re left with a shitty looking half assed piece of cloth. why am i posting this again?

of course link is easy to explain, its just his engineer outfit which i absolutely adore. for the body coloring of both of them i tried to imagine how their hair and skin might change as they age. since link’s train is open to the outside world i gave him a tan and slightly lighter sunbleached hair. zelda most likely spends most of her time in the castle and thus is slightly more pale, however i took some creative liberties and decided that following the whole being a ghost and also having her body be host to the literal devil it had some side effects on her appearance. shes permanently a little more pale and her hair straight up turns white. the hair color change i mostly made just to differentiate between link and zelda more since they’re almost often both blondes and i wanted to mix up the formula

a lot of zeldas outfit is a bit simplified but i made her belt have triangular shapes to mimic the design of the actual spirit tracks bc uhhhh i think think that would be cool

alright i think thats all i have to say. if anyone actually read this tangent uhhhh thank u that was very kind! anyway stan spirit tracks goodbye

#spirit tracks #legend of zelda #loz #princess zelda #link #zelink #drawsha

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violetnotez · 4 years

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They find out their s/o is a Party Princess

@memekingofwwiii , you had this fricking adorable idea of Izuku and Shoto fighting with y/n, and then she says she’s gotta leave to put on a dress and go to a tea party, and that got me thinking-What if they left because they were a Party Princess??? So of course as I was in the middle of writing it Tumblr POSTED it, so I had to redo it 😖 but I hope you like these!!!

Pairings: Izuku x reader, Shoto x reader

Scenarios (more like mini fics cause I DONT KNOW WHEN TO STOP TYPING-)

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Izuku

“Hey Deku, you doing okay over there?” You yelled out, swinging your fist towards the thief’s side.

Both you and Izuku were patrolling the city today, as you two had interned with the same agency for the summer vacation. Everyday had been pretty boring since starting the program a few weeks back, but today you had finally found some action: two thugs trying to steal a poor old lady’s purse.

“Doing-just fine-how about you?”He grunted, sending a sharp kick at his opponent’s back, sending him to the ground. Izuku quickly toppled on top of the young man, tying his hands and feet together with some scraps of rope on the ground. Once he was happy with his work, Izuku quickly stood up, looking over at you to see you fighting alone against the other thief. He quickly broke into a run, trying to go and help you as quickly as possible

Throughout the few weeks interning alongside you, Izuku had begun to form a small crush on you. At first sight he had thought you were unbelievably pretty and couldn’t help but blush when seeing you. But as he began to hang out with you, you were quite possibly one of the coolest people he had ever met. You were so kind hearted and sweet to anyone you met, always taking the time to give them a warm greeting or a bright smile. It made his heart race seeing you wave to children on the road, being so gentle with them when they came over and asked if you two were really heroes. You could also be a total bad ass when you wanted to, your snarky remarks and devilish grin making his chest tighten and his heart race.

Right now, though, you were having some trouble, as the thief you were trying to apprehend was giving you a hard time. You swung another fist towards his chest this time, which the thief dodged easily. You grunted under your breath, annoyance and worry riddled in your brows.

“Can we-hurry this up a little!” You shouted between breaths. “I kinda got-places to be right now!”

The man scoffed at you, cracking his fingers. “Nah, sweetie, I’m just getting started!”

You rolled your eyes, hating how the word “sweetie” was directed towards you-but as the thief was busying himself with his knuckles, you sneaked a peak at the time- your party was in 45 minutes...if you got this wrapped up in 5, you could maybe run home, clean up, and drive to the place and might be there on time-

Noticing your distracted stance, the thief began to lunge at you, his large hands aimed for grabbing your head in a deathlock. Luckily, Izuku sprinted over just in time to propel his body at the man, tumbling on the ground as he pinned the thief’s hands on the ground.

“Deku!” You ran over to him, helping him as you pinned the man’s wrists together. That allowed Deku to tie up the thief a little bit easier, the struggling making it quite difficult to even tie a simple knot. But Izuku finished his work very quickly, pushing off the villians back as you let go of his wrists.

You looked at the greenette’s freckled face, his warm grin and bright eyes causing a soft blush to creep on yours. You had to admit it to yourself that this boy was unbelievably handsome, even if he didn’t realize it himself. And the fact that he has just saved you right now-your heart practically stopped at the idea. You wished you could stay longer with him, hating to leave Izuku with the boring task of watching the two thiefs before the police arrived, but you were seriosuly cutting time extremely short.

“Thank you, Izuku,” you said, your breathing still irregular from fighting, “for saving me like that.”

The boy chuckled nervously, his hand rubbing the back his neck. “Oh, your welcome y/n, it-it wasn’t much, youd do the same-“

Before he could register what was even going on, he felt your hands around his back and your body pressed up against his. Izuku’s brain practically began to malfunction-you were-hugging him? He was never this close to girls,or you for that matter-he could feel how soft your hair was, how wonderfully fresh and sweet your perfume smelled, even how your chest pressed up against him- his cheeks burned bright at that thought, his hands too shaky to wrap around your waist as his eyes were blown wide out of his sockets.

And just as quickly as you had hugged him, you let go, totally oblivious to the blushing mess you had turned Izuku into. Izuku busily tried to hide his cheeks as you quickly whipped your phone out of your hero suit, a curse slipping out of your mouth.

“I’m gonna be late!” You sighed in frustration.

Midoriya blinked a few times, confusion set on his face- “Late for what?” he asked innocently, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“I gotta be at a party-there’s some, entertainment going there that cant be late-“

“Oh, like a magician? I didn’t know you were excited for those type of things,” Izuku asked, watching the two delinquents on the ground.

“Actually, no, not like that,” you stated with a giggle, I’m the entertainment, I’m a party princess-

Izuku shook his head in confusion and looked at you with his eyes wide. How did he not know this about you?

“I started this summer to get some extra cash,” you continued, “it’s been kind of a struggle though juggling my scheduele with the internship. But I’ve been having a lot of fun dressing up and making these kids’ days...I just hope I won’t be late for my next party,”

“When is it?” He asked, his cheeks rosy with the thought of you in a pretty ball gown. He knew you were a kind hearted person, but you going out of your way to make a little child’s day extra special was something he found so endearing. He felt himself fall in love with you just a little more, a small smile gracing his lips.

“In 30 minutes,” you huffed, “I’ll barely have enough time to wash up and get into costume-“

“Well if it’s any help, I’ll stay and wait for the police, I don’t won’t you late for your event,” Izuku gave you a nervous smile, the green in his eyes sparkling like gems.

You gasped in relief, your smile wide as you gave Izuku another hug. “You’re the best Deku!” You yelled, giving his firm body a tight squeeze.

Before you ran off to get yourself ready for your gig, you gave Izuku a kiss on his cheeck, sending his soul over the moon. He was so thankful you ran off so quickly, because you would have deifnitely noticed the red encasing his whole face as his cheeks tingled in the place where you kissed it. He would never get use to your touches, but god did they feel nice!

——————————

Shoto

Shoto was currently helping you train, his intense tasks making you pant from near exhaustion. You knew Shoto would force you to your limits, but god-this boy was merciless.

After you had seen how agile and flexible Shoto was while fighting, you worked up enough courage to ask him to help you train. It was something you admired from afar deifnitely not from checking him out, and you were extremely relieved when he had said yes.

But right now, he was totally destroying your ass.

“Cmon, y/n,” he panted out, “I know your stronger than this.”

his hands were pinning yours to the ground: one icy and one warm.The bi-colored boy had somehow thrown you to the ground yet again, his taut body on top of yours as your cheeks flushed with color from being so close to him. You were so thankful you were also red from over exerting yourself, so he would have no idea you were blushing from being so close to him.

“Well, considering you’ve been throwing me around like a rag doll this whole time,” you quipped tiredly, “I think I’m allowed to be a little tired.”

He cocked his head in confusion, the tips of his red hair melding with his white. “If your tired, why didn’t you tell me to stop?”

Shoto knew you were getting exhausted, but he had been perplexed on why you didn’t tell him you didn’t want to continue. He was having a nice time with you, your movements keeping him on his toes and your snarkiness tugging small grins out of him. He didn’t want to stop, he liked sparring with you, but considering this was just training, he didn’t want to stop until you did.

“Cause...I haven’t gotten a proper move in,” you gave Shiro a devilish grin, making his eyes grow wide. You wrap your legs around his waist, flipping him over so it was now him, not you, who was pinned on the ground.

He couldn’t control his heart from beating so fast-his breath was coming out particularly warm from that flip. Shoto had had a very quiet crush on you for sometime, not fully aware of it himself that he had a small infactuation with you. But how your hands laced around his wrists made his skin tingle, or how your body pressed into his made his body heat up intensely, was hard to ignore.

He stared at your face, unable to ignore the invading thoughts of just how beautiful you looked on top of him, your smile shining triumphantly down at him. He began to get lost in your (e/c) eyes, wishing he could stare at your face all day.

“Alright Shoto, I gotta head out,” you patted his chest nonchalantly, abruptly breaking him out of his daze.

“Thank you for all your help,” you gave him a soft smile as you held out your hand, helping him off the ground. You walked over to grab your water bottle, taking a swing from the container.

“now I gotta go into a nightmare dress...” you grumbled under your breath, sitting down on a bench beside you.

“A nightmare dress?” Todoroki sat down beside you, draping a towel around his damp neck.

“Yeah....long story short, I somehow got wrapped into helping Uraraka with her little cousin’s birthday party. She’s obsessed with this one princess on TV and I apparently I look just like her, so...”

“Uraraka asked you to perform at the party as this character?” he finished your sentence, resting his elbows on his knees in order to look at your face.

You nodded your head as you looked down at the water bottle in your hand, obviously looking a little conflicted. Your smile was no longer on your face, you teeth capturing your lower lip in worry.

Shoto was concerned over your sudden change, missing the warm smile you had sent his way just moments before. He wanted you to smile at him again, as if he was the only one in the world that could make you grin so happily.

“What’s wrong y/n? Are-are you feeling sick?” he asked politely, watching your facial expression closely.

You sighed, lying your head against the wall of the training room.

“I’m just worried I won’t be good at this. I watched the show,got the costume, I did everything I could to make sure her cousin has a good birthday party-I’m just scared the kids will hate me, or maybe I’ll trip and just ruin everything-“

Shoto laid his hand gently on top of yours, the sudden touch forcing you to look at him.

“You are going to be wonderful y/n,” he assured you, his voice soft and full of warmth, “if Uraraka trusted something so important in you, she clearly knows your more than capabale of achieving at this.” He paused slightly, his bi-colored eyes boaring into yours.

“And so do I.”

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Taggings (if ya want to be added, just shoot me an ask or comment on this post!)

@orokayagi @leeeah-loooser @freckledoriya

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hqprotectionsquad · 4 years

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Ew Math (Oikawa x Reader)

Title: Ew Math Ship: Oikawa x Reader Word Count: 1,115 Summary: Derivatives suck, but what sucks more is when Oikawa is distracting you from finishing your work. A/N: cross posted from my Wattpad! this is probably the most clever i’ve ever been and if you notice why, i’ll actually love you forever

"Tooru," you roll your eyes and drag out the last syllable of his name. It's late on a Thursday night and this math assignment is taking you much longer than you believed it would. "I'm doing my homework, can't you see that?"

"I'm more important than homework though. School is temporary, but Oikawa is forever." Your boyfriend is so dumb and he knows it. He is just lucky he's actually a really awesome guy.

"You do realize you referred to yourself in the third person, right?" You face-palm, letting out a chuckle before you regrip your pencil.

"I know, what are you gonna do about that?" Oikawa scrunches his nose and laughs as well.

You ignore his taunt and refocus on the derivatives that leer at you from your notebook. "Okay! I'm doing my math homework!"

"Aw, boo, (Y/N)-chan. You're no fun." Oikawa pouts and fiddles around on his phone while he waits for you.

"I know, I know. But hey, as soon as I finish this assignment, we'll get to talk about your day, yeah? I just need to get this done and I wanna hear about you," you compromise with him. Your favorite part of your day is hearing about the way his teacher made the class laugh accidentally or when he and Iwaizumi completed a combination that "you needed to be there to believe it."

"Can't we just start now? I want to sleep soon," he pleads with his lips puckered out. "(Y/N)-chan, come on."

"We could, but then my assignment's gonna end up like crap and I'll get horrible grades and I can't speak to you for a while because I'm failing in school—"

Oikawa sticks his tongue out. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. I'll wait for you."

Silence brews between the scratches of pencil on paper and his nails bumping his phone screen. Every so often, you look up from your work to see him race fingers through his fluffy hair or scratch his cheek. Humanity in the smallest actions makes you fall in love with life every time.

"Oikawa, what are you doing?" You narrow your eyes as you lightly lay down your pencil. You watch as he reaches for the neck of his guitar. "Do you even know how to play that thing? I've never seen you actually use it."

"Of course I do! It's been a long time since I've played it, but I want to serenade you."

Your eyes almost burst out of their sockets. Seeing that takes Oikawa for a laughing spree and you cross your arms over your chest. "Shut up, Tooru. You mean now? While I do homework?"

"Yeah, why not?" He has such an adorable face that you can't resist. He has his cheeks resting in the palms of his hands and his fingers squish against the soft skin.

You look down at the equation you are attempting to solve—the keyword is attempting. You don't really get the point behind a derivative and why you need it to start graphing. But you're trying your best and that's all that matters. "Alright. But just play softly, okay? I really need to finish this."

"You got it, babe." He gently plucks at the strings, forming a melody as he goes along. He actually looks so soft in that lighting, just the way that the light forms a shadow onto his face from his hair and it makes his cheeks pink with delight. And over and over again, he finds new ways to make me fall for him, you think.

All of a sudden, he begins to shriek out words that should resemble song lyrics but with his voice blaring out into the void, you aren't too sure. "If it ain't you, baby! If I ain't got you, baby!" He continues on with his rendition of Alicia Keys' famous song without caring that it is eight at night and he might wake up his parents.

"Dude," you call out a word that makes him snap straight up. You usually call your boyfriend that nickname when you need his attention. His eyes come into a clearer view and they actually sparkle in the light of the lamp nearby. "I'm trying to do my math homework but you're trying to serenade me and I love you and all, but I'm just trying to do my math homework." You lace your fingers through the strands of your hair, shaking your head at this boy that you love.

"Wait, you love me?"

"I mean, yeah, who doesn't," you bulldoze over his agenda and continue. "But that's all beside the point because I really need to do this—oh." You gape at your previous choice of words and cover your mouth quickly to stop giving him a view of your tonsils. You rub the back of your neck to try to shove the blush back down but to no avail. You're completely flooded in color. "Yeah, I do."

Oikawa's bottom lip juts out and now, it's his turn to cross his arms. "I can't believe you said it first! I wanted to say it first!"

You stare back in disbelief. That's his initial reaction to you admitting first? "Well, I don't really have a time machine to redo that moment..."

"Ugh, math sucks. Tell it to piss off, because you're cheating on me with that x." The corner of his lip curls up his cheek in a smirk, but you know behind that smirk is praise to himself for creating such a joke.

"Wow, you think you're so funny," you deadpan as you roll your eyes into oblivion.

"Just wait, when I see you in a month, you're getting all of this." He gestures a circle around his face with his finger. "My singing voice, my flowers, even my guitar!"

"Shut up, Shitty-kawa." Your lip tucks underneath your teeth as you try not to laugh at your dear boyfriend's professions of love through the poor quality of your computer's webcam.

"Also, remind me to tell Iwa-chan to stop talking to you. You guys text all the time and I'm pretty sure you're conspiring to—"

Your hand carefully shuts your laptop, cutting off the video chat. You sigh, but you can't deny that your lips are widening and your teeth are showing. What you're feeling right now is something you've never felt before in your life. You couldn't be happier, but uncertainty also finds a way into your stomach. Have no fear because there is a text waiting for you once you try to settle back into the rhythm of math.

Hey, (Y/N)-chan?

Guess what?

I love you more than anything.

We'll see each other soon.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu writing #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu writer #oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #oikawa imagine #oikawa scenario #aoba johsai #aoba johsai x reader #seijoh

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erinhime83 · 4 years

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Since it’s been a day and my muse has shifted back into being interested in this story again (seriously, yesterday it did not want anything to do with WfS, which was annoying, because all I could think about Friday was potential details about the third, fourth, and fifth books. Nothing concrete – I have a plot for the third, and possibly for the fourth, but the fifth is just minor stuff right now), I figure it’s about time I do some sort of reflection on this damn thing. It’s not going to be very long (I think), because I’ve forgotten most of what I wanted to say about this because of course I have.

I had realized that I needed to do with story back when I was redoing ISoF, since this is the only story I’ve ever not won a NaNo with. Even though I didn’t finish the first version of ISoF, I still managed to get my 50,000 words in. Here, I got something like 17,000 or 26,000, not sure. I had attempted to work on it right after I found out I was pregnant, and I got all depressed because I thought I couldn’t be creative anymore. But in all honesty, this was actually a good thing, because the story I had was all shades of not going to work very well. Which is sort of why I struggled with it to begin with.

I’m not sure why I didn’t think to try it sooner, other than my muse was on different stories before this. So when it somehow shifted to WfS to the point where I decided to tweek the first book a little, I instantly knew I had to attempt July camp with it. And seriously, attempt. Like, I got it in my head earlier that I should try to go back to how I used to be with writing, popping out book after book, and I wanted to see if I could do it in a NaNo month, since the schedule I had used for November with the girls was still in place. And it worked! It really worked!

RIiighht up until Covid decided to shut everything down and I absolutely panicked to the point where I couldn’t write anymore. It didn’t help that I was plantsing the book, using the basic outline I had but also making it up as I went along. I, like, lost steam right at the end there, so yeah. I might have been able to continue with it if I had an idea of what I was doing.

And the same could be said about my April Camp attempt. Sure, I had my tooth issue that made it impossible to write and then, since I had lost a couple of days, I just couldn’t continue. Because I had no idea where I wanted to go with it (I have since figured it out potentially, and considering I do really want to get into the new Cosmic Dreamers, I may finish that one soonish). So even though I could have finished it later, I haven’t yet.

I did go into this one nervous as hell that something would happen and I wouldn’t be able to finish again. Except this time, I did have a full outline, I wasn’t plantsing it, so I might have been able to finish it regardless. But no. This time it went to @callistochan87. So…I guess we gotta keep an eye on @anijeltaventry in November. Or if I want to write again. (I feel bad being grateful that it was her and not me this time, and I feel like I might be able to since it was a crazy easy fix, she wasn’t in immense pain, and it sounds like her vision might not be completely damaged? I hope).

In any case, its sort of funny how tweeking just a couple of thing from my original idea completely changed what I had planned, but also changed my view on this one. Like I said, the original idea I had was garbage, and I never fully finished the outline because I couldn’t make it work very well. I was bound and determined to bring the other Volturnians from the crossover story into this one, and once I determined it was simply not possible, everything fell into place. I mean, just like the whole thing with Techna. I want Techna to be a thing, but she doesn’t do much. She’s really not useful in the story. So when I did away from her, again, everything just fell into place. More so than taking out the Volturnians.

And taking out the Volturnians was made possibly simply by creating Alan. See, one of the reasons why my muse was on WfS in the first place was because I wanted to watch a couple DC films. Death of Superman and Reign of the Supermen are my favorite, since they focus on the Lois/Superman relationship, and obviously I am all about that. And one of my favorite aspects of the new animate universes is that they always have Hal Jordan and Barry Allen be, like, BFFs IRL before the Justice League is formed. So I was like, I should do that. I should create a speedster character, and then have him be BFFs with Specter.

Except originally, Specter was an alien. That’s actually why he looks so opposite of Greg, with the pale skin, pale hair, and pale eyes. His species was supposed to be the anti-Volturnians. Also, the idea behind Spectrum was that they were all blind, and were able to ‘see’ thanks to the bracelets, but they could only ‘see’ basic colors. So if something was kinda red, they’d see it as straight red, that’s sort of thing. Oh, and Specter was supposed to be the villain.

Yep, what was supposed to happen was that he himself was going to arrest Greg for being a Volturnian on Earth. And then Lane would convince Roselyn to take her to Volturnas to get him back. And Miles was supposed to end up with Roselyn’s half-brother. Yep.

But giving Jordan a human BFF made me decide to make him human as well, and I think it works out so much better! I mean, I didn’t know anything about Spectrum until I was literally writing about it, but now I had this world-building thing that I can expand on for the next book, so yay! I was actually going to make it so he was blinded by the accident, but I sort of liked the idea of him being born blind, so the suddenly seeing thing would be more of a shock. Plus, if he had been blinded, then really, he could just always use his powers and never tell anyone he was blind. So...yeah.

(Also, I still love their names. Like, literally, I named Jordan what I did because Green Lantern’s last name could be a first name. Which is why it’s Jordan Halstrom. So I had to do the same with Alan. Alan Barnett instead of Barry Allen. Also, the name Speedy comes from Green Arrow’s sidekick, which I always thought was a better name for Kid Flash then, you know, Kid Flash.)

Looking at what I had originally planned and how much I ended up like Livianus, I realize that I could have had Miles end up with him instead of Jordan. I mean, I’m sort of mad at myself for deciding to make the rainbow superhero gay, but I randomly picked him instead of Alan. Which I think makes more sense. Alan is fricking nineteen. Miles might be only twenty-three, but I think the press would have an absolute field day with that. At least with Jordan, there’s only a three year age gap there. >.<

Let’s see, I’m not sure if there’s really anything else to mention. I mean, I sort of had fun at the beginning of the book, because it really looks like it’s going in a completely different direction than it took. But the thing is, when I was first planning WfS, I had two storylines I could have one with. The first one is the one I wrote, where Greg is a superhero and blah blah blah. The second storyline involved Greg being taken back to Volturnas when he was a teenager, and returning when they invade, and reuniting with Lane then. And then he and Lane attempting to stop the invasion and stuff.

And I guess after doing WfS, I realized I could still use some of the ideas of the second storyline. Like where Greg is taken back to Volturnas and Lane sneaks on the ship to go back with him, and her becoming one of his concubines. Sort of. So that’s where the whole plot of WCBH came into play. But as a result of the first act, I know what I want to do with the third yet-to-be-named book.

And also a Specter and Speedy prequel, and I’m like, damn, am I going to have time for all these books? Yeesh. Like, the prequel will be weird because Lane and Greg wouldn’t be in it, Miles will be mentioned, and, oh yeah, it’ll be told from a guy perspective. >.< But I still want to do it someday! *cries*

I did like how there was only one day where I had to play catch up, which is actually unusual for me. I always look at my days off when I’m not feeling writing a chapter and go ‘well, it’s easy to write a twofer or a chapter and a half those days!’, like I give myself an easy out. BUT thanks to convincing @callistochan87 to review the chapter after she read it, it motivated me to not only put a chapter out, but having it done before she got on so she could have a chance to read it. Which I severely miss. I was seriously sad on Friday night knowing that was the last time she was going to do it. Unless she, like, decides not to write in November. Then I could look forward to that then. But I doubt it. ;_;

I think the worst thing that came out of all this was, despite not thinking about it ALL DAY YESTERDAY, my muse decided last night to give me breakthrough with my idea of rewriting WfS where Greg didn’t ghost everyone when he decided to become Ultro. Like, I love the idea, and I was struggling to make certain parts make sense, but now I really want to do it. And the even worst bit is the back that my breakthrough makes it really stupidly easy just to go back, rewrite the first couple of chapters, and then just edit the rest of it. So, like, now I really, really want to do it! And I might! Because it means I don’t have to rewrite the series and be really annoyed that I can’t have Miles and Jordan together already. :D

So yeah, that’s where I’m at at the moment. Fun times with the muse. Bleh.

Still, I know I’ll look back on this book and be happy with it (except for the fact that I’d have to go back and tweek some things thanks to the rewrite of WfS). There were some things I struggled with, some ideas that I thought were stupid but had to use to move the plot forward. But that’s the best thing about first drafts! I can rework it all later to make more sense. I’m so happy that I’ve gotten this one under wraps! It only took over three years to do. XD

Thank you so much, @callistochan87, not for taking one for the team, but rather motivating me to write this and keep going with it. I know you think you didn’t do much, but just the fact that you were reading it helped so, so much, and that’s pretty true for all my stories! So I’ll always thank you for that. :D

I probably missed some things I wanted to say. I always do, it seems. ^^;

#wfs #book talk post

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smokeybrand · 3 years

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Breaking the Rules

So the Snyder Cut finally dropped. Four hours of Snyderisms like slow-mo, dumb kinetic camera work, and relentless edge. Now, I'm a card-carrying Marvel shill. Been real transparent about it for years. Marvel is my sh*t and Spider-Man is my favorite superhero. That said, i do like DC. I always give them a fair shake. Hell, my favorite capeflick is The Dark Knight. I even like Watchmen and that was a slog to get through. I’ve seen every film in the DCEU and they have left me wanting. A lot of DC heads write off my opinion because of my Marvel bias but let’s be serious; The DCEU is inferior to the MCU in almost every way. As it is, the DCEU needs to be better. It needs better storytellers. It needs a better plan. It needs a Feige. Snyder is not that dude and i don’t think Wan is either. I think WB and ATT have to figure out a way to coalesce this sh*t because it’s all wonky, especially now that we have this Snyder Cut. I’ve already reviewed a Justice League before so all of the observations i made about performances in that, stand. This is more what i think this version does better and worse.

The Better

This opening is much better and makes more sense. That Super Death Wail as the principal genesis of Steppenwolf’s conflict, the thing that wakes that first Motherbox, makes way more sense that whatever the f*ck Whedon did.

This thing definitely looks so much more gorgeous that that first run. Zack Snyder can’t plot a story to save his life but this motherf*cker can compose a shot, for real. Snyder is an idea man, a cat that just wants to make cool looking sh*t, but this ain’t the medium for that. You can have all the beautiful shots in the world but if they are tied together by a shoestring of a narrative, then it’s just polished sh*t, you know?

The extended Aquaman intro was outstanding. Whedon didn’t let this scene breath and, seeing it as it was intended, that was a mistake. Seeing this version of Justice League kind of makes Josstice League in it’s entirety, a mistake. It’s weird that this was cut because it’s so good and shows so much more of Arthur.

Jeremy Iron’s Alfred continues to be my second favorite Alfred after Michael Caine. Sorry, Michael Gough...

Wonder Woman’s first scene in this, the one with the terrorists, is ridiculous. This one scene is a perfect example of the difference between the two versions of this film. Snyder’s is better, if way more brutal than it needed to be. Still, i love the warrior version of Diana so I'm good with this.

Speaking of Amazons, Snyder, apparently, put them in more clothes this time around? I couldn’t really see for sure because of the color correction but it didn’t seem like they weren’t rocking those iron bikinis like in the Whedon cut. I think Joss Whedon might be a bit more problematic than we think. Between the half naked chicks, the way he kept sexualizing Diana, the fact that there are no people of color in his version or the way he shortchanged the entirety of Cyborg’s plot... Breh.

Steppenwolf is SO much more menacing in this version of the movie. Dude feels like a force, like a proper threat an not just some stop-gap for something better. Ol’ Wolfie was a decent antagonist for an initial run at an Avengers-esque team up for the DCEU. Definitely more Loki this time around and less Ultron like the first time.

Also, the Parademons look much more dope. The first time, they looked like fodder. This time, they actual felt like a force, like a horde.

Hey, we got an Atom sighting!

Not a ton of Iris West but enough to wet my appetite. Anytime i get to see Kiersey Clemons in stuff, I'm happy. Having it tied to an outstanding sequence demonstrating Flash’s powers was just icing on the cake. Seriously, Snyder did a great job visualizing Barry’s abilities. That scene where he saved everyone from the debris and then the subtle reversing of time; All of it was dope to see.

Are those Starros that Steppenwolf is using to “interrogate” the cats with Motherbox stink on them? They look like little mechanical Starros. I hope they’re Starros.

Lots of Cyborg stuff. Like, intricate Cyborg stuff. The sh*t Whedon cut of Vic was instrumental to the coherency of this story and dude was just like, “Nah.” It’s no wonder that version of the movie doesn’t make any f*cking sense.

Hey, we got a Spectre sighting! Nice.

The explanation for the Motherboxes and their mcguffin-ness goes a long way to soothing the whole “resurrecting Superman” thing. Snyder basically tells the audience they’re magic boxes that can do anything because of magic-technology. It’s a little ridiculous considering what Motherboxes actually do in the comics but whatever. It makes sense in this universe i guess.

All of the action scenes are better. All of them. Snyder is nothing if not a cat that can actualize a dope punch-out. Dude can’t get out of his own way when telling a story but if you need a fight scene, Snyder is definitely your guy.

Speaking of, that climax was WAY better. It carried far more weight and there were times when the heroes felt like they could lose. There’s an unrelenting tension that grips you hard and doesn’t let up until it finally does. I appreciated this way more than the first one, even if it’s dumb edgy for no reason.

The Worst

Zack still doesn’t understand these characters, man. It’s very apparent to me that a lot of this is just window dressing for kind of a Zack Snyder fan fic version of DC and that’s fine i guess? Sh*t’s not my cup of tea but a great many people seem to like it. Dude’s writing can definitely be tighter and he can skew a little more toward the heart of these characters but i mean, it’s called Zack Snyder’s Justice league for a reason.

The Snyderisms, man, they are all over this thing. Look, i just don’t like how Zack makes movies. Too much style, not enough substance, or rather, not enough focus. He has a ton of great ideas but gets too bogged down in how sh*t looks, or tumbles down his rabbit hole of concept but never expresses any of them clearly enough. Outside of 300 or Dawn of the Dead, this film is probably the most focused I've ever seen Snyder and it’s still kind of all over the place yet, never where it needs to be.

So many plot holes, man. Less than before, but so many threads left untied.

This thing didn’t need to be four hours long. Not even close. There were several shots that i thought could have been cut. Like, that three hour version which got the standing ovation was probably the best version of Justice League and we’ll never see it. This version is definitely better than the theatrical run but f*ck is it long. You really feel that sh*t, too.

Cyborg still looks gross to look at. You’d think they’d try and make his weird, angular, body look a bit better upon the redo but nope. This what we get i guess.

Also, why the f*ck the Atlanteans sound British? Why they make Amber Heard do that accent? She can’t do that accent, man. You’re actually asking a chick who’s professionally pretty to act and she can’t act. She’s just pretty. That actually brings up an interesting question; Is Aquaman canon to this universe because Mera in that doesn’t have an accent and her Pops is still alive. This one has an accent and her parents are dead. Or maybe the accent makes it easier to recast Heard later with a British actress? Maybe the Mother of Dragons really is about to be the Queen of the Seas?

Why is this Knightmare sequence in here? Sure, it was awesome to see, pure fan service, but this is the blue balls of blue balls because we don’t have a movie to follow this one. This is it. This is all the Justice League we’re getting. There is no part two or whatever. Why even hint at something more?

The Verdict

There’s a lot to like about this version of Justice League. It is, hands down, better than Josstice League in almost every way. Sh*t is a better film, man, and should have been what we got to begin with. WB did Snyder a disservice by letting him go and then letting Whedon butcher his movie. I don’t like Snyder’s take on DC. I think it’s try-hard, edgelord, nonsense but it is it’s own thing and i commend him for that. Dude has a vision and I'll never take away from from a creative’s inspiration. That said, this thing was a slog to get through. It’s definitely better than what we got before but it’s still not that great and it’s way too long. Three hours is more than enough to tell this story if you make prudent cuts. Still, I’m glad it exists and, if you’re a fan of this world, a fan of Snyder’s work, you’ll love it. For me, as a cat who has no skin in this game, I'm not all that impressed. Per usual, Snyder has too many ideas and that leaves the plot unfocused and meandering at times. In a genre that is predicated on storytelling, you can’t be a bad storyteller like that and just gloss over it with spectacle. That’s disingenuous. At the end of the day, it was entertaining. It was pretty to see. It was a Snyder film.

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cagestark · 5 years

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Rose-Tints My World

Anon asked for Peter wearing a corset and/or ballgown. This is probably not what they meant.

Warnings: Peter fakes an orgasm onstage lmao. Alcohol, too. Also, this probably requires a semi-decent understanding of RHPS and the characters :/

Read here on AO3.

“Shots!” Ned shouts from the bathroom.

MJ sighs, putting down the eyeliner she’d been using to rim Peter’s eyes dark. They are in the kitchen because the light here in better than the light in the bathroom. May came home a half hour ago, took one look at Peter and MJ’s getup before throwing up her hands and retreating to her bedroom. Peter kind of wished he could do the same, watching MJ pour each of them a shot of tequila.

“The theater has a strict no-alcohol policy,” MJ says, rolling her eyes when Peter makes a face, shot glass held between his thin fingers. “If we don’t drink now, we don’t be drunk at all. Do you want to do this sober, Parker?”

Peter takes the shot. It tastes horrible. The salt they pour into their palms directly from the shaker doesn’t help. Much. While MJ is distracted, gagging, Peter picks up the handheld mirror beside them to look at himself and fuck, he gives a long, horrified groan.

“I can’t do this,” Peter mutters. His entire face is painted white with leftover makeup from Halloween, and his eyes and lips left a vibrant red. That’s the best of the costume, he thinks. The rest is worse: the black corset they’d bought from the women’s department at a lingerie store, the black thigh high stockings, the garters. The gloves. The heels. “Look at me, MJ. I can’t go out in public like this.”

“Peter, I swear to God,” she mutters. “Everyone is going to be dressed the way you are. Trust me. I went last year—”

“What?” Peter cries. “How?”

“I was invited, okay? And—”

“Shots!” Ned cries.

They both roll their eyes, pouring more tequila. This one isn’t as bad, actually. The first two must have burned Peter’s taste buds off.

“Anyway,” MJ says. “I went last year, and everyone dresses like this. Chad from your Women’s Studies class? You remember him?”

“Can’t forget him,” Peter mutters, only a little begrudgingly. Why did all the hot guys have to be straight and fucking jerks?

“He was dressed like this—only he didn’t look half as good. You’re the fucking twinkiest twink. You don’t even have chest hair.”

“I’m a late bloomer,” says Peter, crossing his arms over his exposed chest. His head feels light from the alcohol. How he’s going to walk in the heels, he has no idea. He holds the mirror up higher so that he can see his body better, and at least he has a good physique, because most of it is on display including a two inch section of chest-to-abs visible through the laces of the corset. When he speaks next, his voice is small. “Can I—can I at least have the blue feather boa?”

She pats his head condescendingly. “If you’re a good boy.”

“Shots!” Ned shouts.

“Are you taking all these shots back there, too?” MJ bellows.

There is the rumble of feet and then Ned is in the doorway, dressed in a leather jacket, working hard to get the fake cut on his eyebrow to drip blood. “Am I supposed to be?”

The Uber they call knows where they’re headed without the trio of them asking. Partly because MJ had entered the address before the guy got there, but also because these screenings of Rocky Horror Picture Show are pretty fucking famous by now, and that’s the only place they could be headed dressed like alien transvestites. At least it’s a warm night, he thinks while they all pile into the back of the SUV. At least he’s not shivering with all his bits on display.

“God, tonight is going to be great,” Ned says. He’s dressed like Eddie, right down to the alto saxophone that he borrowed off of his cousin for this purpose alone—under the condition that no one play it, and he doesn’t get it wet. Not guarantee-able things, according to MJ. “Are we meeting Tony there?”

“Tony?” Peter yelps. “Tony Stark? Physics class TA, Tony? Tell me there’s another Tony.”

“I doubt there’s another Tony, kid,” the Uber driver mutters up front.

“Thanks,” Peter snaps. He turns back to MJ, who looks stunning (in a very female way) as a colored Janet, wearing the character’s signature virginal white bra, tattered shirt, and prim skirt. Debauched. “You didn’t tell me that Tony Stark would be there—that we’d be meeting up with him. I’m wearing thigh highs and panties!”

“And he’s going to love it,” she says slyly, rummaging through the large tote of prompts they brought along for the show: rice to throw at the wedding scene, water pistols to shoot during the rain, a package of uncooked hotdogs—Jesus, if they got purse-snatched, the person would probably think that they were off their rockers. “You look fucking hot. I don’t know why you’re feeling shy all the sudden. Remember last Christmas when Rihanna was on the radio and you did that dance—”

“I’ve got the video if you need your memory jogged—” Ned supplies helpfully.

“I remember,” Peter says quickly, catching the raised eyebrows of the Uber driver glancing back through the mirror. “I just—I mean, I had a lot of sangria at that Christmas party.”

“You’ve had a lot of tequila tonight,” MJ sooths. “If you aren’t feeling it yet, you will be soon. Look, I’m not saying you need to fuck him tonight. I’m just saying that if you let your guard down even the slightest bit around the guy that you’ll be leading him by the cock before sunrise. Trust me. Will you trust me? Jesus. Here, drink this.”

She passes him a water bottle, but as soon as he opens it, the stench of alcohol hits him. “Is this nail polish remover?”

MJ laughs so hard her mascara runs and she has to redo it. But after a few long sips (and he’s almost positive it’s nail polish remover), he’s feeling even looser than he was before. Too much more and he’ll get sloppy, or worse, sick. He cuts himself off, capping the water bottle and tucking it back into the bag beside yesterday’s newspaper.

The Uber drops them off a block away, and they walk the last distance. It gives Peter a chance to get used to—everything. Being so exposed, feeling so many eyes on him. Some people whistle when he goes by, and he’s glad his face is painted so that they can’t see him flush in pleasure. When someone catcalls down to them from a balcony, he shimmies the feathered boa around his shoulders, shaking his flat chest and they hoot in delight.

MJ was right, too. Everyone is dressed up: corsets and thigh highs and high heels and exposed bras. It looks like the strangest collection of fetishists coming together, and the air is full of excitement that Peter is shivering. He feels drunk with it. Or maybe that’s just the alcohol. The eyes all over him feel as good as caresses, and he feels a stirring in his groin that there is no chance his underwear will hide—and oh fucking well. Tonight is about letting loose.

Getting into the theater is an entire affair. The place is packed with lookalikes: Magentas and Riff-Raffs and Columbias and Frankenfurters. There’s a blond guy who is doing a very good portrayal of Rocky, wearing nothing but golden panties, his muscular skin oiled and gleaming under the lights. His skin beckons Peter to touch.

But then it all comes to a stop, because Tony is there. Tony Stark, the senior that Peter has been crushing on since the professor of his Physics class introduced Tony as his TA for the year: the dark, fluffy hair, the whiskey eyes, the shadow of facial hair after the weekends when he comes stumbling in wearing sunglasses to disguise his hangover. There’s nothing about Tony that doesn’t get Peter hard, and tonight is no exception. He looks incredible dressed as Eddie, tight jeans, white t-shirt, black leather jacket clinging to his biceps. It’s so carelessly greaser, and Peter wonders if Tony drove his motorcycle here—the motorcycle Peter jerks himself off imagining Tony fucking him on—because that would be the cherry on top of this sin.

Tony’s smoking inside, though on a night like this, that’s probably the theater’s least concern. His face fucking lights up when he sees MJ, Ned, and Peter—Peter, who his eyes drag up and down unabashedly. It all comes rushing back then, like a movie pressed to play. Peter is dressed like Brad during the floorshow, dressed like kinky sex itself. And he looks good. Judging by the way Tony’s eyes grow wide and then narrow, the lids heavy…Tony knows too.

“Damn it, Janet,” he says around his cigarette, grasping MJ’s hand. “Was this a fucking set-up?”

“I wouldn’t have to be nefarious if other people wouldn’t be obtuse and stubborn and—”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Peter says. “But I’m feeling a little insulted nevertheless—”

“Have we missed anything? The traffic was awful, I thought we were going to be late,” Ned chimes in.

“Nah,” Tony says. “They’re rounding up virgins.”

“Virgins?” Peter squeaks. Everyone turns to look at him. He tries not to look panicked. Surely his virginity isn’t tattooed on his forehead. Or at least, it wasn’t until he squeaked like a mouse caught between a cat’s paws. He looks around, feeling like Virgin-Police might suddenly appear with batons shaped like dildos to shame him for his chastity. “Wh-What do they want, you know, virgins for?”

“Virgins, as in, people who have never seen the show live before,” Tony says, eyes glittering brighter than the ember at the end of his cigarette. “They bring a bunch up on stage and make them fake orgasms—”

“We’ve got to get Peter up there,” MJ mutters under her breath, barely heard over the roar of the other patrons. She stands up on her toes to try to find the stage helpers who are rounding up virgins (so to speak).

“I’m sorry, I know I misheard you—"

“I’m getting you on that stage, Peter,” MJ says through her teeth. “And you’re going to fake it like that time you told me about with Flash Thompson behind the gymnasium—”

If Tony’s eyebrows climb any higher on his head, they’ll disappear into his hairline. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth to ask, “What’s all this about faking it with Flash Thompson—”

MJ snags one of the stage hands and points to Peter.

“No, no, no, no,” Peter is chanting under his breath. MJ grabs him by the feathered boa and pulls him a few feet away from where Ned and Tony are watching cautiously. She cups a hand around his ear—the closest they can get to privacy surrounded by other people—and whispers to him.

“Look over my shoulder right now. Look at Tony.” Peter does as she asks. It’s not hard. The guy is so fucking handsome, and for some reason, his eyes are glued to Peter’s legs—Peter has always had thin, shapely legs, and the hairs on his thighs are finer and blonder than they have any right to be. It almost looks like he shaves, thanks to the low lighting. “Tony can’t take his eyes off you. Look at the way he can’t stay still—you think he’s hiding a semi like you are? Don’t squawk at me, Peter, everybody can see you’re half-hard. He’s fucking thirsty for you. Get up there, pretend he’s sucking your cock, and give everybody a goddamn show. I guarantee he’ll be trying to go home with you before the night is through. Trust me, Parker. Trust me.”

She digs in her bag to hand him the water bottle. Groaning, he takes a generous sip, face scrunching. God, that’s horrible.

But it works. The alcohol, the rousing speech. That’s how he finds himself being ushered on stage with a dozen other ‘virgins’. When it’s announced that this is their first time seeing the show live, the crowd goes wild for them. Peter’s always had a bit of a thing for exhibition, for being the center of attention (Ned’s phone has a very incriminating video from last Christmas on it, after all). As soon as the lights and eyes are on him, it’s like a great sense of calm comes over him.

He tosses one end of the feathered boa over his shoulder like a brat might toss her hair, and whistles go up for him. He’s pretty sure that Tony is one of them, his figure barely visible beside Ned and MJ toward the back of the crowd.

Then they begin to go down the line, coaxing each virgin to fake an orgasm for the amusement of the room, and Peter can’t bother hiding how hard it makes him: the muscled boy dressed like Rocky gives out groans and tosses his head like he’s being given the blowjob of his life. A short, heavy-set girl dressed as Magenta makes the crowd go wild for her as she pants, palming at her breasts.

Too soon and not soon enough, it’s Peter’s turn.

“What are you playing at?” Tony asks MJ. He can’t stand still, chain smoking and dropping the butts in the pop cans people leave behind on the disused bar. The moment he saw Peter’s signature head of curls, he’d felt his heart drop to his shoes. His stomach tossed like a boat on the sea. He was known for his confident exterior, but no one knew about the deep-seeded anxiety he worked so hard to mask. Something about the baby-faced freshman put Tony on edge—made the blood in his brain go against the tide and head straight for his cock. “You told me it was just going to be us, that Peter was out of town visiting relatives.”

“That’s weird,” MJ mutters. The white she’s wearing emphasizes her warm, dark skin. If she weren’t so fucking sneaky and irritating, he’d probably try hard to get underneath her skirt. “That’s not true at all. Why would I say something like that?”

“You lying bitch,” Tony mutters, rolling his eyes when Leeds gasps. MJ looks pleased as a peach, regardless of his potty-mouth. “I told you to quit trying to push us together. He’s so fucking shy, you’ve probably scared him back into his shell.”

“Did you see what he’s wearing?” She asks flatly. “Parker isn’t shy. At all.”

Fuck yes, Tony had seen. It was indecent, little Peter Parker dressed as Brad. His legs were impossibly long in the black stockings and high heels (heels which actually made the kid taller than Tony, for once). The tight, satiny briefs that did nothing to disguise Peter’s package. The garters tempted Tony to run his fingers underneath them, to pull them away from the pale, hairless skin and let them snap back into place. The corset itself didn’t change Peter’s masculine figure, and the modesty panel was missing so that beneath the gaping laces was firm, pale skin. Who knew that Peter Parker had a fucking six-pack? More importantly: who knew but hadn’t told Tony?

How the hell MJ had convinced him to leave the apartment looking like sin incarnate, Tony would never know.

“Shut up,” Leeds says. “It’s Peter’s turn. Oh my god, I can’t watch this, this is like watching my brother get off or something—”

Tony turns his eyes to the stage just as the hot spotlight reaches Peter, bathing him in its glow. The kid’s eyes go half-lidded, not squinty. The crowd is shouting to goad him on, but the smile he gives is painfully patient, borderline coy. Tony swallows—his mouth is so fucking dry, but there’s nothing for him to wet it with.

Peter holds the microphone between both his palms, lovingly, like he might hold his cock. His eyes shut fully, and a sound comes out of him, picked up and amplified by the microphone, a low sound of pleasure that Tony might make when he eats one of his mom’s brownies after returning home on break. Tony watches raptly, cock hardening already and the kid hasn’t even done anything yet. Then Peter’s mouth parts in a breathy sigh, his head tilting back in the mimicry of ecstasy.

“Fuck,” Tony whispers. The whole world narrows down to that light beam on stage and the boy that’s caught in it. Peter’s breath hitches the way it might if someone was kissing at his neck and then decided to use their teeth, and a long whine comes out of him that has the auditorium howling. The kid’s chest is heaving like he’s having the fuck of his life, and then he lets loose a long, nearly pained groan that Tony can feel in his bones, he can see it all, Peter spread out beneath him, naked (okay maybe he’s still wearing those stockings), fingers gripping the sheets because Tony’s giving it to him so good—

On stage, one of Peter’s hands comes off of the microphone. He presses it against his heart like he’s trying to hold the organ still, but then his palm slips down, thumb catching on the laces of his corset, strumming them as he runs his hand lower and lower and fuck, there’s only one place it could be headed. There’s a ten in the kid’s black panties, no doubt he is at least half-hard, maybe more—and he runs his palm over his own erection. Right there on stage, with a hundred, two hundred eyes on him. With Tony’s eyes on him. The jolt it gives Tony makes him feel like it was his own cock being petted.

Peter pulls his hand back and then dips the tips of his fingers into the tops of the briefs, and the final noise he makes is somewhere between a shout and a cry, the perfect simulation of an incredible orgasm, and it makes Tony’s cock twitch in his pants.

The crowd loses its shit. Of course. And Tony, dazed as he is, barely is able to clap for the kid. MJ stands there the whole time, cell phone out and filming, shooting Tony these little fucking smug looks. His head is still spinning as the stage hands usher the virgins off stage, and Peter returns to them with damp skin, hot from the lights on stage, curls plastered to his forehead.

“How’d I do?” Peter asks, breathily.

“You melted his brain,” MJ says, face tilted toward her phone as she watches the video.

“I—she’s right.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “I—sorry. Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a very good thing,” Tony says, shifting on his feet and pulling at the crotch of his pants to adjust himself. Peter’s eyes drop to track the movement and his mouth parts a little, like the breath has been stolen from him. Tony knows then, that the image he had of innocent Peter Parker was only a misconception. This kid can handle his attention.

And if he wants it, he’s going to get it.

“You want to get out of here?” Tony asks.

Peter nods.

Consider leaving a tip <3

#starker #college!au #same age!au #Rocky Horror Picture Show References #tw: alcohol #nff

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madrut16 · 5 years

Text

Day 6: Inherited (July Fanfic Challenge)

Author’s Note: I was going to post this late last night but, I ended up losing a portion of what I’d written so, I had to redo it and this is the final product. I’m super excited to share my spin on Bloodkeepers and my ideal version of how Gaius would be defeated which will come as later fics.

Book/Pairing: Bloodbound (Adrian x MC)

Rating: PG

Summary: After escaping the Order, Isabel turns to her grandmother Ginny for a place for the three of them to stay and ends up learning that there’s more to being a Bloodkeeper than Jameson let on.

@endlesshero1122 @kinda-iconic @desiree-0816 @choicesfannatalie @krishu213 @choices97 @jlpplays1 @riseandshinelittleblossom @brightpinkpeppercorn @ladykateofhousebeaumont @shelley-parah @tabithacarlisle

“We’re almost there,” Isabel announced, turning onto the right street according to her hand-written directions.

The twinkling soft glow of the city lights had a calming effect on her as they made their way through Paris, and she desperately wanted to take her time, marveling at the blend of old and new being illuminated so beautifully. But, unlike the first night, there was no time for sightseeing now that the Order had made their presence known. They had narrowly escaped Seraphine's club and made a quick stop to the apartment where they were instructed to collect their things and find somewhere else for refuge.

"I wish you could stay here," she had told them, still traumatized from yet another raid that could have been fatal. "But, I can't have them track us here. Which with you three, it makes it so much harder. I'm sorry."

Adrian had given her a reassuring smile, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. They all wore a similar haunted expression. "It's alright. I know you need to look out for yourself. We'll find someplace to stay, right?"

He turned to Isabel who had a thoughtful look on her face. "What?"

"I know someone here. A human. We had been so busy, I didn't think we'd have time to stop and visit but now...she might be our only option. Do you have a phone that I can borrow?"

Seraphine nodded. "Yes, there's a burner phone I keep in here for that purpose."

She quickly gave her the flip phone and Isabel wasted no time dialing the right person.

"Ginny? Hi, it's Isabel. Yeah, actually I'm in Paris with Adrian and a friend of ours. It was last minute. Look, I need a favor. We're, um, in a bit of a situation and we need to lay low for a while, can we stay with you?"

She watched Adrian's eyes flicker in recognition at the name. From all of the stories she told him, it was practically etched into his mind now. Meanwhile, Jax looked on in confusion.

A relieved smile blossomed on her face. "It will be, thank you. You're sure it's okay? Well, we'll be over there shortly then. Let me write it down." She found a pen and a piece of paper where she hastily wrote down the address and directions. After a minute more of conversation, she hung up.

"Who was that?" Jax asked, his eyebrows knitted.

Isabel exchanged a look with Adrian. "My grandmother."

And that's how they found themselves cautiously walking through the streets to their next destination, hoping, praying that the Order wasn't close by.

“Are you sure we should do this?” Jax grumbled, folding his arms warily.

She noticed that he’d been particularly apprehensive ever since the Order had come through those doors. It would be strange if they weren't all untrusting at the moment. But it was even more severe for their cynical friend.

She gave him a confident nod. “Yes. We’ll be much safer staying with Ginny than in a hotel. Plus, it’ll be much less of a hassle if we’re here long term.”

“And you’re sure she’ll let us stay?” He raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Positive. She already knows that we’re coming. She’s happy to host us for as long as we’re here.”

Adrian flashed her a tired smile. “Resourceful as ever.”

Even though he didn’t age, she could see that the return of Gaius had taken a toll on him. She knew that he still felt awful about losing the fight against him. But there would ultimately be another one, and hopefully, they would be more prepared when that time finally came.

“I just wasn’t comfortable staying anywhere else, with the Order having a lot of resources,” she told him with a shrug she didn’t really mean. "And...if Gaius's ambitions are as high as I think they are, he might try to find us here too."

Jax’s face visibly paled and he uttered a few curse words. “Great, as if we needed more to worry about."

They soon stopped in front of a plain looking brownstone, and Isabel let out an excited sigh. “It’s just like I pictured. Come on, she should be waiting up for us.”

With new energy, she climbed up the small set of stairs. Shortly after she knocked on the front door, it opened to reveal a curvy older woman, still dolled up in her colorful clothes and a natural makeup look that fit her nicely. Even though she was 75, she looked several years younger. The resemblance between her and Isabel was immediate. The main difference between them being the darker complexion and eye color she received from her father.

Upon seeing them, a luminous smile appeared on the woman’s aging features. “Isabel, my child!” she squished her into a loving hug. “How I’ve missed you.”

She let go when Isabel gasped from lack of air. However, she was used to her grandmother’s over the top affection by now and recovered almost immediately.

“I’ve missed you too. Sorry for the short notice but, we’re in quite a unique situation.”

“That’s alright, you’re my grandchild,” she gushed in her carefree manner. Her personality was definitely still as youthful and lively as ever. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Besides, there’s more house than I know what to do with, so the more the merrier.”

They were swiftly shown inside the older home’s cozy living room. The place seemed small but its height made up for the lack of width.

Then, Isabel remembered that she still had introductions to make. “Oh! Before I forget, Jax, Adrian this is Ginny, my grandmother,” she said. “Jax is a friend of mine, he’s…an activist for some of the less fortunate in New York.”

“Is that so? How wonderful,” Ginny gushed.

He narrowed his eyes at her about the description and she shrugged. How else was she supposed to describe what he did without giving him away?

“That’s right,” he said, quickly rolling with it. “It’s, um, nice to meet you.”

Luckily for him, she didn’t seem to pick up on his hesitation, immediately shaking his hand. “And you too. You’ll have to tell me all about your work.”

With one person down, she turned to the one she'd been wanting to make for a few months. Granted, she didn't think it would be in this context.

"Moving on, I've already told you about Adrian," Isabel said. When she glanced over not hearing him, she paused once she saw his face frozen in surprise, almost spellbound. "Adrian?"

Finally, his shock was replaced with a warm, genuine smile. "Virginia Duplerier, well I'll be damned."

"I wasn't sure if you'd recognize me, it has been a while," Ginny responded.

Isabel blinked at them in confused shock. "Wait, you two know each other?!"

"She used to work for me as a secretary, back in the sixties when Raines' Corps was just starting to grow," Adrian answered with an amused chuckle. "And of course I remember you, even back then you were pretty hard to forget. I should've connected the dots sooner."

"You didn't know?" Jax whispered, not sure what to make of this development. Isabel shook her head.

She turned to Ginny. "Why didn't you say anything when I told you about us?" A surreal feeling overwhelmed her. It wasn't a common thing for your grandmother to have worked for the same person you do. Or currently dating. For it to be both was truly unthinkable.

The eclectic woman smiled at her cheekily. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"You certainly love those." Another connection soon formed in Isabel's overachieving mind. "Wait, does that mean that you know that...he's…"

"A vampire yes," Ginny said with a laugh. "I see Adrian is still just as bad at keeping it a secret."

The skin between her granddaughter's brows creased. "I thought I was the first to decline being debriefed."

"You are," he told her. "Virginia was brought in the same way Nicole was. Deliberately. I thought that she could be useful and that she was ready to know our secrets. And like you, she certainly didn't disappoint."

"Well, I guess I should tell you that I'm one as well," Jax said hesitantly. "I was the Clanless leader until--"

He was interrupted by Ginny. "Oh yes, I know who you are. You're the one who replaced Vega, aren't you?"

"Wha--how do you know?"

Adrian was the one who answered. "She's always been rather perspective."

"Also, I help out the vampires here in Paris, keep them hidden from the Order. News from New York travels fast, even across the ocean," she elaborated. "I'm assuming you're on the run from them?"

Jax's mouth fell open in shock before he let out a long whistle. "Small world."

"Yes, indeed. Would you like to sit down and relax, have a drink?"

Isabel shared a knowing look with her vampire companions. They definitely didn't need any more alcohol, having just sobered up from their time in the club.

"Do you have coffee?" she asked instead as they sat on the couch.

"Of course darling. And you two?"

They both agreed to have the same. Once the hot beverages were served, the time seemed to fly by as the lighthearted conversation and storytelling flowed freely. Then, Adrian filled her in on the developments in New York.

“I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s a shame about Lester though, he wasn’t my favorite person but...at least he was loyal,” Ginny sighed, then her gaze fixed on Isabel’s, inquisitive and thoughtful.

"Something on your mind, Ginny?" she wondered out loud.

Her grandmother gave her a secretive half-smile. "Ah, I see you're perceptive as ever. I've just been thinking about you and you're natural...astuteness." She then posed a question of her own. "Tell me, has anything...weird happened to you lately?"

"Define weird…"

Ginny sighed, the wheels turning in her mind. Finally, she inquired, "Have you seen anything inside your mind, like a vision? Or are there any blank spots in your memory? Like you know you've seen something but you don't know what?"

Isabel was taken aback by the specificness of her questions.

Suddenly, her mind flashed back to when Jameson pulled that memory out of her in the museum and the search for the Book of the Blood in her mind. Those certainly seemed like they would count. She then recalled that he mentioned something about leaving fragments and she connected that to all of the instances she couldn't explain, like at Priya's club all those nights ago. How she was upright one minute and then something caught her eye and the next thing she knew, she was on the ground next to the bar feeling like she'd been drugged.

And then, she remembered the memory of the cabin and the pain it had caused, almost like electricity was inside of her. There was also the painting in the tomb earlier that night. Closing her eyes, the scene consumed her once more.

She came out of it with a violent jolt. “Actually, I have.” She relayed her thoughts to the group.

Adrian frowned in concern, placing a hand over hers. “You didn’t tell me about any fragments. And when I had found you in the club, you seemed fine to me.”

"I never noticed anything down in the ruins either," Jax added, also becoming slightly agitated.

Isabel shrugged. “With the paintings, the feeling wears off quickly and they didn’t hurt, not like the memory I saw of your family Adrian. The others are much less painful, only a weird tingling sensation.”

She looked over at Ginny whose expression was one of wonder and light, her blue eyes sparkling.

The elderly woman grasped her hand. "So it's what I thought. You are one of us," she murmured in excitement.

"What?"

Ginny stood up tugging on her arm. "Come, Isabel," she urged. "There's something I want to show you." She turned to the two men staring at her in shock. "You two can come too, I believe that this will be useful for all of you."

They look at each other in confusion and Isabel shrugged. “I can’t say I’m not curious.”

“So am I,” Adrian said, his lips turning up in amusement. “You weren’t exaggerating about her.”

Jax muttered in reluctance but stood up also. They followed her up the creaky stairs to the top floor, which had two rooms and one narrow hallway separating them.

“Ginny?” Isabel asked once they reached one of the closed doors.

“Remember the attic from my house in Georgia? This is where I'm keeping my special collection now. "

Her granddaughter's face lit up in recognition. "You never let us go in there. That was the one place that was off limits."

"I know. That’s because you weren’t ready yet. Now, darling, based on what you’ve told me, you definitely are.”

They followed her inside and Isabel gasped, stopping a few feet inside.

“Woah.”

Her curious gaze floated around the old-fashioned library appreciatively. However, she could immediately tell that this one was special.

"Are these all…?" Adrian asked, picking up on the peculiar content as well.

Ginny confirmed with a nod what they all saw. All of the books and objects were of the dark and supernatural variety.

“I knew you were into this stuff, but I didn’t know you were this obsessed,” she marveled.

Jax had already gravitated towards a particular corner. “Wait, you have a whole section on vampires?” he wondered in awed amazement.

He wasn't regretting coming up with them now.

“Yes,” Ginny replied. “I have the most information on your kind. Especially first-hand accounts I’ve collected over the years.”

Isabel felt a magnetic-like pull towards that part as well and she skimmed the rows of books and scrolls of centuries-old parchment, some may have been millennia old. "Are you documenting the entire history of vampires or something?"

Her question was meant to be a joke but, her surprise Ginny nodded.

"Trying to."

Several minutes later, her attention gravitated towards what appeared to be a closet in another corner of the room.

“What’s in here?”

“Ah, that, my darling, is what I’ve brought you here to see,” her grandmother replied, at her side impossibly fast. “Go inside.”

At her urging, Isabel turned the knob and as she entered, she stopped in her tracks. This wasn't a closet, but a secret room.

“Guys, come look at this!” she exclaimed, and Adrian and Jax quickly joined the two in the small space.

“This is…rather interesting.” Adrian mused.

It looked perfectly normal with a casual glance—just another array of bookshelves and a desk with a decade old computer. But then, as her eyes focused on the smaller details, she noticed that the room’s surface level appearance was deceiving.

Almost all of the titles on the shelves lining two of the walls are in Latin. Although she studied the language in high school, she could barely decipher it now. A particular set of thick volumes caught her attention and she walked over, picking one of them up and immediately groaning due to the weight.

“Whoa, these are heavy. Is this made of gold?” she joked, having to hold it with both hands. Then, her eyes drifted towards the title of the volume. “….Abscondita in lucem. What is this, an encyclopedia of some sort?”

Ginny was by her side in seconds. “Yes, my child. Of us, and our gift. I believe an acquaintance of yours might have said something about it already.”

Isabel looked at her in confusion until she quickly realized what she was alluding to. “Scholar Jameson?” she gaped, flicking a glance at an equally shocked Adrian.

“Oh yes, I know of him all too well. He was running that museum even back in the sixties and we had many encounters while I worked for Adrian,” her grandmother commented, with a frown. “I never liked him from the start, he was too charming, it was too much to be genuine. There had to be an ulterior motive. Oh, how right I was. He and his stupid fragments.”

Everything she said resonated with Isabel. Suddenly, she gasped, her eyes widening. “Wait, you're...you're a Bloodkeeper too?!”

“Yes, Isabel. In fact, it's a part of our DNA. We’re a part of a long line of them since ancient times. However, it’s very difficult to trace because it only passes through our maternal lines. Last names change, generations can skip. The lineages even split off into three distant branches around the 1600s. Every generation one is born from each, that’s one thing Jameson didn’t quite get right about us."

The large family tree hanging on the wall above the desk suddenly made a lot of sense now.

A sense of dread suddenly came over Isabel, reading her grandmother’s body language. "Wait, about Jameson, did he do something to you?"

A haunted expression clouded the woman's face, startling her. It was the first time she'd seen her grandmother unnerved by anything.

“Yes, he used me to get to those instructions for how to open the sarcophagus," Ginny sighed before her voice hardened. "Tried to get me to join their cause too, become a spy for them. He even offered to Turn me despite it being forbidden. I of course refused but, by then it was already too late. He already took what he wanted."

It was eerily similar to what he did to Isabel and she shuddered.

Meanwhile, a look of painful realization hit Adrian. "Wait, Ginny, was he the reason you quit? I had a feeling something had unnerved you."

She nodded after a brief pause. "I thought that was the only thing I could do. I couldn't control my memories or who could get a hold of them. I felt like I was a failure at my job because I couldn't stop him from using me. I was scared that he would keep doing it, that having me around was doing more harm than good. So, I left. I went to Georgia with Lori, your mother Isabel."

The account sank into all of them, the invisible weight thickening the air in the room.

"Why...why didn't you say anything? If I had known, I could've done something, prevented what's occurred now," Adrian wondered, this truth once again a painful one for him.

There was a dry scoff, the anger still palpable. "No, Jameson was a determined fellow. He would've found a way to get what he wanted, deliver for his master with or without my involuntary help. It just might have taken a little longer." She shook her head. "He told me all about the justification, how all humans were evil and inferior. But, they've become just as intolerable as the Order has."

"So, he wasn't telling the whole truth?" Isabel said, her voice rising. "The only information he gave me was the memories part and how weak and frail I was."

"Oh no, that was the same thing he told me. But, I had a feeling that it wasn't the full story. After about five years after leaving New York, I finally acted on my suspicions and guilt," Ginny explained. "I wanted to make sure that the generations after me learned to control and use it. Finished what I couldn't."

Her grandmother's message was well received. "Meaning...me."

She was met with another nod. "Ever since I've been collecting these, searching for the truth. And I've largely found it, thanks to my grandmother who was the one from our branch before us and to members of the others who had these."

"But, we're still human."

"Well yes." Then a knowing smile. "But so are vampires. It's funny how Gaius despises us and ordinary people so much but ignores the fact that he’s one too.”

This was news to both Isabel and the two vampires in the room.

"What?" Jax's eyes widened.

Ginny commented with a raised eyebrow. "I'm assuming Gaius and your maker never mentioned that detail."

He and Adrian confirmed this with their confused stares.

Then she explained, "Yes, vampires are all biologically human. You are, Gaius is, even Rheya was after her transformation. We're just different kinds of humans. While ordinary people and Bloodkeepers are born from life, you are created. When someone is Turned, it causes a permanent change in certain parts of their DNA."

"Adrian…" Isabel met his gaze. She knew how much this information would mean to him.

"Ginny, how--? You're serious?" He stammered in disbelief.

The woman's smile widened. "Of course I am Adrian. But don't take it from me, read it for yourself. One of the books in there is the Biology of Supernatural Humans. There's a whole chapter on vampires. Also, if Tony is still in charge of your lab, you can ask him. I had him confirm it for me back...oh...sometime in the nineties I believe?"

His open mouth quickly changed to a radiant smile. "I'll... I'll have to do that."

Ginny's inquisitive eyes flicked between him and Isabel, then they settled as if she had decided something. "Actually, you and Jax can have a look now while I take Isabel and show her the room across the hall."

Her granddaughter caught on to her motives somewhat. Whatever she wanted her to see or do, she didn't want them to know for some reason.

She gave Adrian a questioning look, a silent conversation between them.

"Go ahead," he told her with a smile.

She could tell he was curious about what they were about to do, but he wasn't going to act on it. With that, they walked out of the secret room and she followed Ginny out into the hall.

"What's this room for?" She asked.

Her question was answered while her grandmother unlocked the door. "This is completely dedicated to Bloodkeepers. Specifically, to learn about our powers and training to use them."

Stepping inside the larger space, Isabel could tell this purpose almost immediately, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp. The floor was covered in a wrestling mat and was mostly clear minus the fighting equipment and targets. Hugging the walls were several storage bins and shelves.

Then, her gaze fixed on a particular corner. Approaching it, her eyes widened looking in the canvas bins.

"What the--?" she exclaimed, taking in the various knives, daggers, and other weapons inside. "Is this for close combat?"

"Yes. You see, Isabel, our ability to see memories is only one of many abilities Bloodkeepers possess," Ginny said. She gestured to the volume of Arcana Imperii in her hands. "Open it to page 5, it lists them all."

Doing as she was told, Isabel frowned. "This is all in Latin. I can't read this!"

"I think you can. You just need to concentrate on the words. It should come to you."

She pursed her lips skeptically but followed her directions, staring at the fading black ink. After a few tries, the words were suddenly understandable. It was as if she had a built-in translator.

"How--? This is amazing?!"

"It's one of our active powers, meaning they're always present once you've come into contact with a vampire or you turn 25, whichever comes first. You should have experienced these by now."

Isabel read down the list and they all were familiar to her. Now her high intellect and intuition made much more sense, and why she was always so good at track and dance. There was one that confused her though.

"Enhanced senses?" she asked.

"You haven't smelled things really well? Heard things from far away?"

The feral attack. She had heard that woman scream from the edge of Central Park Adrian had. On the opposite end.

"Actually, I have. I just didn't think anything of it before," she replied. Then she saw the next subheading. "Dormant powers?"

"These aren't automatic, they need to be summoned or turned on and off with a Latin phrase: ab origine, ab antiquo, ab aeterno."

The translation immediately came to Isabel. From the origin, from the ancient, from the eternal.

She went through the list out loud. "Heightened speed and agility even more than active ability...increased strength...electricity attacks and white light manipulation?!"

Her breath caught at the last two, piquing her interest. "What are these?"

"They both come from the same concept and they have their own summon on top of the main one," Ginny answered. "We have this innate energy in us which comes from our original purpose. This manifests itself in these two power categories. White light is the use of the powers of light for good purposes, including healing abilities and negating mind control."

"And electricity attacks?"

"They're another power to be used while fighting. Methods include hand blasts, lightning projection, and the one way the purest of vampires can be slain, lightning infusion of these." She gestured to the bins in front of them.

"Wait," Isabel said, the underlying message becoming clear as day. "Are you saying that...I'm the only one who can kill Gaius now?"

"You are as far as I know," Ginny told her. "I'm far too old to use mine for more than training and research."

Her mind was reeling from the influx of information. But, she also was starting to feel elated, empowered. She wasn't a burden to the group after all. She belonged with them.

"Why can't the others know about this?" she wondered, referring to the men in the other room. "Wouldn't this be beneficial for them to hear too."

Her grandmother gave her a smile. "Jax as long as he's trustworthy I don't see a problem with you telling now. In fact, he could be very useful in helping with your physical training."

"What about Adrian?"

"I see the way he looks at you, I can tell how protective he is," Ginny admitted. "And while that's a good thing and I'm glad you're with him. I fear that he might not let you do this. The process is risky and in a stressful situation like a battle with Gaius, if you're not prepared, it could malfunction or not work, putting you in danger. Especially because the infusion needs close contact to be effective. But, there might not be another option now that he's consumed Rheya's blood. Adrian can find out eventually, but not before you're fully trained."

Isabel couldn't argue with that, remembering how she had to physically push him away from the battle back in New York.

She bit her lip. "What would...all of this training entail exactly?"

"Well, we would have to spend several hours each day to get you to full potential in such a short time. I will warn you it will be draining for you, it is a weakness that comes with our gift, especially since it won't be spread out like is recommended. That's why I won't make you do this if you don't want to, I'll help you three find another way. It's up to you."

Isabel closed her eyes and processed the choice in front of her. It would be dangerous and a lot of pressure placed upon her shoulders. She also hated the thought of keeping such a big thing hidden from Adrian. But, just like when she decided to keep her knowledge all those months ago, she felt a sense of purpose, a calling.

After all of the years of people telling her she wasn't good enough and that she had to depend on others, she had the chance to take control of her own story. To have the opportunity to fight herself, to be the one protecting others all while fulfilling her desire to do good, shape a better, peaceful world, it was liberating.

This is was something she was meant to do.

"I'll do it," she said decisively.

"You will?"

Isabel nodded, a smile forming. "I'm a fighter, Ginny, this is what I want. I can handle the responsibility."

Ginny looked at her granddaughter, a world of possibilities and hope in her eyes. "I was hoping you'd say that. We'll get started later this afternoon, I want you to get some sleep beforehand."

"Okay."

She knew that coming here would be the right decision, that Ginny would be helpful. She just hadn't anticipated that she would provide the answers Isabel needed the most. She wasn’t going to let her down.

#playchoices #choices stories you play #choices july challenge #bloodbound #adrian x mc #adrian x isabel #adrian raines #bloodbound 2

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years

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FFT: discount chocolate day

Notes:

So this is an anti-valentines prompt sent to me on the main by @schizoauthoress and I have to say, given that I’m not the biggest valentines day fan, I really enjoyed it. So, I gave it a space here on this blog. Definitely want to write more for these two.

Summary:

Two anti-Valentines grouches just kind of awkwardly and resistantly starting the process of falling into love. This is the beginning. Bantering and bickering. Fluffy af if you squint.

Warnings:

anti - valentines, alcohol tw - mentions of it, fluffy bantering and bickering between two grumpy people and that’s about it.

Pairing:

Curtis Axel x OFC, Nicolette

“Happy…” before Alexa could even finish what she’d been about to say, Nicolette had her fingers in her ears, humming so loudly that Alexa couldn’t finish. Almost the instant that Nicolette had taken her fingers out of her ears, Alexa tapped her foot and asked in a huff, “Are you done now? Do you feel better?”

“I’ll feel better tomorrow.” Nicolette shrugged, offering no further explanation. Everything around her was decked out in red and an almost unsettling shade of Pepto pink and people were being so utterly adorable together that quite frankly, Nicolette was just sick of the entire holiday. It was a commercialized sham to begin with, were people really too stupid to see?

“Why not today, I mean it’s..” again, as soon as Alexa went to mention Valentine’s, Nicolette started to plug her ears and hum. As soon as Alexa’s mouth was closed, Nicolette took her fingers out of her ears again and Alexa glared at her. “Grouch.”

“Not a grouch, merely a realist. This entire sham of a fucking holiday is just a convenient way for corporations to make money.” Nicolette answered in an even tone, her gaze flitting around the backstage area in sheer boredom as she did so. “Honestly, half these people who are sucking face now won’t be next week.”

“Some of them are married, Nic!” Alexa rolled her eyes; exasperated with her friend at the moment. Nicolette shrugged. “It’s not my fault they don’t calculate risks before taking them.”

“So that’s your real thoughts on Valentine’s Day?”

“Umm, yeah. Yep, pretty much. There’s honestly no point in a holiday where the suicide rate hikes up at least ten percent. I mean, the pressure itself is enough to drive someone insane. Everything has to be perfect this one day.. People seem to forget there are also 364 additional days in the year in which they could show a person they love them too. But no, let’s just focus on the train-wreck fuckery of this one fucking day.”

“You have to be lying. If a guy came up to you right now and gave you candy or a bear or roses..” the wheels in Alexa’s mind were turning already, but they were subsequently ground to a full stop when Nicolette shrugged mildly and opened her locker, holding out a card. “I got something. And I still strongly dislike this farce of a holiday. Care to try again?”

“You’re just being contrary now.”

“It’s my prerogative.” Nicolette shrugged and turned to dig through their shared makeup kit, grabbing for her favorite MAC shade and it’s corresponding lipliner. “Wait a minute. You haven’t even opened this!? Why?” Alexa’s question had Nicolette rolling her eyes and shrugging.

“Because knowing my luck, it’s probably a glitter bomb or something. Thing will probably explode, spraying glitter everywhere. I mean.. I’ll richly deserve it because I put Icy Hot in Mandy’s bra, but yeah. I’m 99.999 percent certain that this is some kind of stupid prank… Just like..” Nicolette trailed off and added silently, every other time someone’s ‘had a secret crush on me’, to herself. Alexa was still gaping at her.

“Aren’t you even like… a little curious?”

“Nah.”

… liar, liar, pants on fire, her brain saw fit to taunt her, but she ignored it. Just like she’d been ignoring it all damn day. Just like she was hell-bent to continue ignoring it until she got good and damn ready to do otherwise. Oh, she was beyond curious as to what the envelope might hold. But she wasn’t planning to indulge that curiosity either.

“Well, if you’re not opening it, I am.” Alexa grabbed the red envelope and tore it open and Nicolette found herself torn between watching it happen and pretending complete and total disinterest and continuing to apply her makeup.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” red glitter clouded around Alexa almost as soon as she had the envelope fully open and all Nicolette could do was shrug and smirk at her friend. “I did try to warn you, Alexa.”

“You enjoy this.”

“Maybe just a little?” Nicolette stopped laughing for a second or two. The let down she felt at being right wasn’t something she felt like dealing with, so she pushed it out of her head. It didn’t matter anyway. She’d rather not focus on being right again and it’s implications or her deepest hopes.

Alexa grabbed for Nicolette’s favorite black lace tank top and wiped at her face, swearing again when all the glitter didn’t just come right off. She stomped her foot, whining and tugging at her pigtails. “Now I have to wash all this makeup off and redo it.”

“I’ll do it. I think I can actually lean into this whole glitter whore aesthetic you’ve got going on tonight. Did you learn a lesson though?”

Alexa flipped her the bird and sank back into the chair sitting in front of the vanity as she grumbled aloud, “Okay, Ms. Know it all. But I saw that disappointed look on your face when you were actually right.”

“That was more or less a look of disgust. You got glitter on my Louboutins, bitch.” Nicolette grabbed for her favorite black and red makeup brushes and set to work after priming Alexa’s face and fanning it so it might dry a little quicker.

At one point, she happened to glance down as the light caught on little flecks of red dotting her cleavage and she rolled her eyes in disdain. “Could you have gone elsewhere to open the damned card, Bliss?” with a pout.

Alexa gave a giggling shrug and shook her head no as Nikki Cross peeked in. “Thought ah ‘eard yellin.”

“It was Bliss. I told her to leave the glitter bomb card in my locker alone. She refused. Now we’re having to redo her entire face and not even ten minutes before the three of us all have to go down to the damn ring and face against Bayley and Sasha and their mysterious third.” Nicolette rolled her eyes and laughed softly, giving her friend a fond smile as she finished up with Alexa’s makeup.

“You’ve got glitter on your titties.” Alexa nodded at Nicolette’s cleavage and smirked at her friend.

“I noticed.” Nicolette replied dryly, grumbling as she grabbed for a makeup wipe and tried to get the sparkly red flecks off her skin.

Their theme music hit and the three of them made their way down to the ring, trying not to laugh about the whole incident as they did their promo against Bayley and Sasha and their mystery partner for the night.

–

“So, wot are yer big plans for t’night?” Nikki asked Nicolette.

“Well, as soon as we get back to the hotel and I’m out of these shoes, I’m going to change and go to Target.” Nicolette was already wiggling her feet free from the heels and giving a sharp hiss as she raised her foot and flexed her toes to give them room to breathe at last. “I will never.. And I mean ever.. Wear a brand new pair of heels without breaking them in first. Regardless of how good they may or may not make my ass look.”

“Oh come on! Come out with us.” Alexa was trying again to talk her into going out to a nightclub but Nicolette just wasn’t feeling it; especially not on Valentine’s day. No, she’d really rather not.

“I’d really rather not tonight…” Nicolette shrugged and Nikki eyed her, smirking.

“She’s got ‘erself a date.”

“If by date you mean Silence Of The Lambs, a bottle of wine and discounted Godiva chocolates, then yeah.. Yeah I do have a date.” Nicolette gave a smirk as Alexa eyed her. “You really hate Valentine’s day. This isn’t just a way to be contrary, you genuinely dislike it. Why though?”

“Because it’s bullshit. If you can’t love someone the entire year, why make a big fucking deal out of one day?” Nicolette shrugged as their SUV pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the hotel. She got out, stretching and grabbing her luggage from the back of the SUV, starting her walk towards the hotel lobby.

About halfway across the parking lot, she heard her name being shouted. She ignored it, kept walking. But just as she got to the doors, she felt a strong tap to her shoulder and she turned to find herself surrounded by Bo Dallas, Curtis Axel and Heath Slater.

“Boys. Hi.” Nicolette looked from man to man, her gaze lingering a second or two longer on Curtis as she gave hints of a teasing grin.

Curtis felt Heath nudging his elbow into his side and he cleared his throat, smirking as he held out a pair of bright red lace and a black lace bra. Heath snickered and Curtis spoke up. “These fell out of your bag. Fancy.”

“Oh my god.” Bo palmed his face and shook his head. Heath snickered at Curtis and Curtis gave a shrug, flashing that smirk at Nicolette as he held out the panties and bra to her. Nicolette reached for them, her hand brushing his and quickly pulling them free from his grasp. “Well they better be, I mean they’re fucking Agent Provocateur.”

Curtis chuckled and shrugged, gave her a blank look. “Either way, they fell on the pavement.” he raked his hand over the top of his head, biting his lip as he found his eyes fixed on her eyes. An almost milk chocolate-colored, he could’ve easily stood there staring at her all night, but somehow, he got the sense that she’d only be annoyed by it and that to an extent, she was used to it and hated it. “Happy Valentines Day.” he muttered the words and she gave a roll of her eyes.

It had him curious. She had him curious, actually. He’d never particularly paid her any certain amount of attention before, but right now? She had his full and undivided attention. At the very least, she seemed to be of a similar mindset to him in regards to Valentines.

“Discount chocolate day is better.” Nicolette quipped, biting her lip as she found herself kind of lingering her gaze on his mouth. The feel of his hand against her hand a few seconds before had been.. Unexpected but not entirely disliked either. She’d die before admitting it, of course, but the fact remained. Now that she was up close and personal with Curtis Axel, the man did have her intrigued just a little bit. “Is that all, Curtis?”

“Yeah.” Curtis managed to cough out the word because it suddenly hit him that at some point during their little exchange, she’d stepped closer and so had he and somehow, neither of them seemed to notice. However, he couldn’t help but notice that the second she did, she quickly stepped back and straightened herself up.

It made him smirk a little because that little flash in those eyes of hers told the tale clearly. He’d done something, he’d had some sort of effect on her.

“Well, I’m going in now.” Nicolette turned on her heels and slunk away and Curtis stared after her almost to a point where Heath reached out and lightly smacked him right in the back of his head. Bo cleared his throat, gesturing at the doors to the lobby. “Well?” Bo asked with a curious gleam in his eyes, “Aren’t you going to at least go say something else?”

“Nah. I got shit to do.” Curtis shrugged it off.

“Right.. Your plan of going up to your suite and shutting yourself in.”

“Still say you oughta come out with us, buddy.”

“I’d rather not.. Not tonight. Too much syrupy sweet shit. I don’t wanna bear witness to it.” Curtis rubbed his chin in thought, still staring intently at the lobby doors.

–

“Okay, let’s see here. I’ve got the wine.. I’ve got all the stuff to make myself fettuccine alfredo, I’ve got myself my favorite gelato, now let’s see if they have the chocolates marked down..” Nicolette turned the corner of the Valentine’s clearance aisle and smirked as her eyes settled on the Godiva chocolates on the top shelf. In her distraction, she managed to push her cart right into another cart.

Curtis grumbled and looked up from the box of dark chocolates he’d been thinking of buying, prepared to glare at whoever rammed him. When he saw Nicolette standing there, scrolling through her cell phone, he smirked to himself.

She’d changed clothes. Gone was the little black leather mini skirt and the low cut white v neck blouse. And gone were the heels.

… she’s so fucking tiny… the thought crawled across his mind lazily and he smirked just a little more.

He cleared his throat and spoke up, flashing her that smirk the entire time. “We have got to stop meeting like this. People are going to talk.”

Nicolette eyed Curtis with a raised brow. She smirked just slightly, shrugging. “Let them talk then. I’m just here to get stuff to cook tonight.”

“And wine, apparently.” Curtis chuckled.

Nicolette’s eyes settled on the case of beer and the juicy porterhouse steaks in his own cart and she felt her mouth-watering a little. Suddenly, just having fettuccine Alfredo, wine and chocolate was not nearly as filling as she’d originally thought.

“I mean speak for yourself, you’re the one who has a case of glorified horse piss in their own cart.”

“Beer is not that bad. It’s not fruity.”

“Exactly. It’s bitter and gross and it smells like an old gym sock.” Nicolette teased, her eyes darting over him while he was rifling through the boxes on the shelf in front of them. Her own eyes settled upwards, towards the top shelf chocolates.

The Godiva white chocolate truffles, to be precise.

Rather than ask for help, she gripped the shelf above her head and stepped onto the lowest shelf. From beside her, Curtis happened to glance up from the box of Hershey’s dark in his hand just in time to see her trying to reach for the box of white chocolate Godiva over her head. He snickered and stepped up, one hand bracing her lower back and the other reaching up, grabbing it lazily.

“Your overpriced glorified vanilla.” Curtis quipped as he held it out to her and watched her do it again, step away from him a little too quickly while staring just a little too long and biting that pouty little lower lip. “It’s not vanilla. I mean, at any rate, it’s better than Cella’s.”

“Oh god, anything is better than Cella’s. Cella’s is disappointment in a box.” Curtis spoke up quietly, stepping closer all over again, mostly just to see what she’d do. She stepped away, giving him a raised brow. But she smirked and nodded.

Her eyes settled on his steaks for a third time and he just wasn’t the kind of guy to not at least offer, so he spoke up. “You’re going to starve with all those empty calories, princess. How about you let me cook you an actual meal, yeah?”

“My name is Nicolette.” Nicolette made a point to say it, even though she was more than a little affected by the nickname.

“Oh, but I think you’ve made it blatantly obvious princess suits you better.” Curtis was stepping a little closer again. She backed away, eyeing him, her mouth opening and closing. Clearly, she wasn’t used to a man holding their own against her little tactics.

“I did no such thing!” Nicolette was doing her best to seem offended. Even as the heat rose to her cheeks and she felt her thighs clench tighter than if they’d been bound by molasses.

Curtis caught that little look in her eyes and smirked, his eyes flickering over her body and an amused gleam in his own eyes. “Just save us both the hassle and give in. No catch. No expectations. Or are you too scared, hm?”

“Oh, I’m not scared at all. Fine. I accept your dinner proposal. Only if you let me make the Alfredo I was planning to make too. Hell, I’ll even throw a little culture into the mix for you in the form of this red wine.”

“You can honestly keep your wine, princess. But I will let you make your alfredo.”

Nicolette was left gaping as soon as he walked towards the register, stopping at the end of the aisle to wait on her, chuckling to himself.

How the fuck had he gotten her to agree to a dinner date?

“Hope he knows I am not getting dressed up all over again… Okay, maybe just a little.. My silk pajamas..” Nicolette mused to herself as she started to push the cart to catch up to him.

“You’re something else, sir.”

“Sir, huh?” Curtis stopped pushing his cart towards the self-check lane to look back at her. “It’s Curtis.”

“Well, Curtis. Are you opposed to Silence Of The Lambs? Because I always watch that on.. This particular hell day.”

“It puts the lotion on it’s skin or else it gets the hose again.” Curtis chuckled as he quoted the line from the movie. Nicolette gave a quiet giggle and added, “A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.”

“This is going to be an interesting night, I’m guessing?” Curtis remarked as he rang up the steaks, his chocolates and the pint of rocky road he’d gotten himself and the case of beer. Nicolette rang up her own purchases and after a few seconds, she had to agree. “I think so. It’s better than me, picking apart the movie all by myself I suppose.”

“You’re just not willing to admit that maybe it’ll be fun, huh?” Curtis smirked as he met her gaze.

“Ask me after it’s all over.”

“Noted.”

#curtis axel fanfiction #curtis axel fanfic #curtis axel fic #curtis axel oneshot #curtis axel imagine #// anti valentines day fluff for the win yeah?

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kalbinos · 5 years

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Why I don’t like the prospect of Black Ariel ?

Yes, this is how I refer to her, because that’s all she is : Disney Ariel, but black.

Disney, in their effort to make us forget about the fact that they underpaid women, decided to make a live action of the Little Mermaid, and it’ll have a poc as Ariel.

Of course, chaos follows, and as the media likes to only one point of view, I’ll use my free speech, my right as a law following citizen, to give mine, and possibly to tell others information they might miss.

1. Another live action…

Okay, this one may not be the main point, but it just add to my arguments later on.

When I heard about live action remake of the classical Disney tales, I was expecting...I guess the word is new. New things, like giving the rights of a franchise to a new director, and see what they can do with the basic ideas, like a new style, or even another pov of a story.

But they just redo the old one with human actors and cgi.

I think it’s a wasted opportunity. A lot of fans are always discussing about 2d or 3d Disney movies (Both are good, I prefer 2d because it’s just more pleasing to me), so to have Frozen in 2d made by somebody else could be interesting. But no, it’s just filming the equivalent of a theater show with more budget. I think the Beauty and The Beast remake is bad, and it’s the only one I saw, so maybe they got better.

Also, freak them for calling the Lion King live action, while they’re all freaking CGI, this is the laziest low they did. Dumbo may have a pass since he’s supposed to be « weird » with the bigger ears, but it’s still lazy.

I love « The Road to Eldorado », made by Dreamworks, as much as « Spirit » or « Treasure Planet ». They’re all unique movies, with unique settings and possibilities for new plots. I would love to see Disney taking a shot at the Monkey King’s tale, with the same sense of humor as Hercules regading gods’s business, with the Jade Emperor being like Hades and pissed about Wukong’s shenanigans. Hell, I’m sure you can find african tales that can be amazing to see animated. So yeah, they can take a new story, instead of just putting up the same thing Todd Howard style and expect praise when nothing is different.

If you say « But it IS different, we have a poc in the main role », let’s get to the second point :

2. The Little Underwater Woman of Colored Skin

« I don’t like the way you said black »

So, we finally have a poc as a main role in a Disney movie. Oh, I guess Mulan, Pocahontas, Jasmine, Tiana, Kuzco (come on, he is a disney prince) and any other that I might have missed doesn’t count.

My point here is that if they want to make a live version of any of the movies those characters are from, they can and already did with Aladin and the Will Smith stand (an odd addition to the lore). I mean a live action Kuzco with the dance numbers could be interesting, if they let someone a new story above it, because you cannot translate all the animated scenes in live action without losing some jokes or essence from it.

Now about the case of Ariel...can a race underwater that doesn’t get any direct sunlight actually get a dark skin ? Just a reminder that Ariel isn’t the only one mermaid in the movie and in the original book, it’s a living race that forbids human interactions, so if Ariel is black, all the mermaids are black. If some are blacks, are they the minority or majority ? Do they have any regards to the skin color, like south or north mermaids ? Are the humans outside white or any other color ? It’s the whole deal with making Ciri’s actress a poc, because it doesn’t fit the setting. And it is as restricting as making an african tale story, because why would an european be the hero in a village deep in the Congo ?

Plus, it’s because it adds nothing, it feels like not important. After all, it’s just a skin color. But it’s the whole point of this action, to promote skin colored actors, so why are they forcing them in remade movies where they weren’t here. Remember white washing ?

3. Disney needs good points for...well, himself

I hope that when you read this, it was easy to understand. If not, it’s fine, it’s either my train of thoughts that tend to go into odd schemes and tracks or simply you that denies facts. I’m open to debate, as an opinion exist to be challenged and is prone to change, not to be kept in a chest and scream « national sozialist » when someone dares to say the opposite...unlike Disney.

Did Disney made some old movies with a lot of what can be considered racism in them ? Yes, if you consider stereotypes to be the same as saying a race is inferior to another. Times were different back then, people thought of them as jokes, other as facts. But we can’t judge someone that doesn’t know a fact. If someone told you all your life that the Earth is flat and you learn the truth, you deny it as first (we have the same reaction to the truth than to death, because in both ways, the world you know will change), but after a while, you accept it and now the Earth is round, or close to a sphere (apparently it’s not a perfect sphere ? I’ll need more details, but it’s not the point). It’s not your fault, as the thing you believe made sense until proven otherwise. But if you deny the truth by believing in your lies blindly, it is your fault and really guilty. So stop saying « this is racist » without context, « this is sexist » without checking when it was made.

This generation thinks nothing can be forgiven, and all is unaffected by context and time, you’re guilty until proven innocent, and white hetero men are shamed to be white cis men.

And I haven’t talk about the politicians and the media.

Disney is using those ideas to promote themselves, because if someone is against them later on, Disney can unleash a horde of SJW on everybody, and media will always follow the richest or the one that can actually harm them.

But Disney made a mistake : Star Wars. They messed up big time, and they need money asap. So they just do anything, especially what can bring discord, to get free publicity and profit from movie sales. They rather satisfy a crowd rather than do something all can enjoy. George Lucas, you were misunderstood...

To conclude :

I’m not saying that the live action remake of the Little Mermaid will be a bad movie, since the original is good, and they have nothing to change (but they will, and it’s going to make less sense), but to simply say that changing the main character race is not something important is denying years of progress against white washing, it’s agreeing that making a blackface is a legitimate move, it’s assuming that race is a character trait, like easy to anger or vengeful, and cannot be compatible with other traits (Can a black person enslave others ? Can a white person be mindful of the people in front of him?).

It’s saying that this Ariel is really not just Ariel from the animated movie, a mermaid that sacrifices her voice to live with the one she loves, who then fights her biggest threat and loves her even if she’s mute, who decided to go beyond the rules of her land to follow her dreams, who is a ginger girl, a trait rarer than being a poc in the Disney Princesses catalog.

It’s believing that Black Ariel is not a Ariel alternative skin.

#live action #little mermaid #ariel

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triggeringthehealing · 5 years

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welcome to the neighborhood

Derek/Stiles | 2961w | G | AO3

Summary: Normally he'd be working at the window, with a clear view of his front yard, people-watching as he types the essay that he's supposed to hand in tomorrow. The one that he was meant to work on for the past week. However, there has been a distraction right outside his window. Or rather, across the street.

A/N: Written for the @multifandomwritingchallenge - December prompt: “I must have been an awful person in my past life.” (theme: dialogue prompts) (as per usual, I can’t make things on time :/ I’m sorry!)

Stiles glances out of his window again, for the tenth time this morning. Then he sighs and walks away from it, rubbing his eyes and clenching his teeth as he walks across the room to where he temporarily set up his laptop.

Normally he'd be working at the window, with a clear view of his front yard, people-watching as he types the essay that he's supposed to hand in tomorrow. The one that he was meant to work on for the past week. However, there has been a distraction right outside his window. Or rather, across the street.

The neighborhood where he lives is a quiet one, the houses privately owned and the residents strictly the owners of said houses, with the exception of the small one that he and Scott live in. They're renting from—of all people—Scott's father, who's been trying to mend his relationship with Scott and the house is one of the offerings. Scott had been reluctant to accept it until Stiles pointed out how much quieter it would be compared to dorms and how much cheaper if he played his cards right.

It was a delight living here for the past two years, most of their neighbors lovely people who have been supplying them with food and the occasional fix of Stiles's Jeep—one of them is a mechanic—while Scott and Stiles offered grass mowing and car washing services in return.

Only one house had been unoccupied, according to Rafael for years before the boys moved in, and it's the one right across the street. The only movement in the house was an occasional visit from a cleaning service and a gardener who were keeping the house in a habitable state despite their being no actual inhabitants. That changed almost exactly a week ago, when a black Camaro pulled up, followed by a moving van that unloaded several boxes into the driveway. Stiles was just on his way out then, so he didn't see their new neighbor until the next morning.

At 7am sharp, while Stiles was stumbling out of the door and into his Jeep so he'd get to a class on time, the front door across the street opened and out walked... Stiles's wildest dream and his worst nightmare all rolled into one man. Who was obviously heading out for a jog, if his skin-tight shorts, loose tank top and trainers were anything to go by. He didn't say hello, didn't seem to even acknowledge Stiles's presence and he set off into a run, leaving Stiles watching his tanned back and the flashes of a black tattoo on the man's back. Stiles absolutely did not glance below the man's waist to see the curve of his delightfully bubbly ass.

That would have been extremely rude.

It's also why he's sitting on the couch in the living room now, curled into a slightly uncomfortable position, instead of taking advantage of the perfectly positioned desk and the chair that makes hours spent in it seem like nothing.

Because the desk is right at the front window. The same window that faces the house across the street. And while it's not 7am—their new neighbor is punctual with his morning jogs—it seems that it's perfect lawn-mowing time instead. Just as it was car-washing time the day before, house-painting time a few days earlier, window-washing time another afternoon. There's been something every single day, as if the man across the street knew when Stiles had to be sitting at his desk and having the perfect view of his muscled back and wide shoulders, the dark swirls of the tattoo on his back—a triskelion, as Stiles found out on the window-washing day when tank tops were apparently unnecessary—and the swell of his ass whenever he bent over.

"I must have been an awful person in my past life," Stiles mumbles to himself, the empty house offering no sound of consolation.

It's been the longest week, catching glimpses of their new neighbor no matter how much Stiles tried not to. He didn't even know the man's name—Rafael only remembered that there used to be a family years ago, then he mentioned something about a fire and how the house was rebuilt—but he did see the tall and beautiful woman who made an appearance one of the mornings. She'd been in casual clothes and kissed the man's cheek as he left for his jog, then she got into a shiny Jeep—a model way newer than Stiles's—and drove off.

"No wonder he's taken," Stiles muttered then, any dreams of a meet-cute with the potential of getting to know the man in every way possible dashed into smithereens.

He's about to give up on the essay and grab himself something to drink when he hears the rumbling of Scott's bike.

Dinner time, Stiles thinks.

He sets down the laptop and heads towards the kitchen, figuring that now that Scott's home, they might as well figure out something to eat. Stiles is looking at an all-nighter the way his essay is going, so he's going to need the energy. His head is stuck in the chest freezer as he rummages through whatever they have that's easy enough to make when the voices from the front door carry all the way to his ears.

"It's not a bother at all," Scott says to someone who's obviously coming into the house with him. "We should have that spare bulb. Anytime you need anything man, just knock. Stiles is home most of the evenings, I'm home in the mornings, one of us is bound to be around."

"What's a Stiles?"

It's a soft voice, one that Stiles doesn't recognize, but a vague sense of panic washes over him. He knows all their other neighbors by now and since this is someone new, it can only mean...

"Hey Stiles, where are you?" Scott calls out from the living room when he finds it empty. "Come meet our new neighbor Derek!” Then he adds more quietly, clearly to Derek, their neighbor: "Stiles is my housemate and best friend."

"Is he the one who owns the death-trap Jeep?" Derek asks, amusement ringing through his voice.

"Yeah, it's one he had since he learned to drive," Scott says, then adds something more quietly.

Stiles figures it's the fact that the Jeep used to belong to his mom, if the acknowledging hum from Derek is anything to go by. Scott calls his name again and Stiles hisses when he startles and hits the back of his head on the chest freezer's lid.

"In the kitchen," he replies just so Scott doesn't call him again.

The thing is though, he's been home all afternoon, trying to write his essay. And his studying clothes are very much comfort over style, so he's in his pajama bottoms—the soft and worn out ones—and a T-shirt that has more holes and stains than fabric. Which is not really the best first impression he wanted to make on their hot new neighbor. Then again, said neighbor already noticed Stiles's old Jeep and clearly had reservations about its functionality or looks or whatever, Stiles doesn't care. He loves Roscoe and would go to bat for him, especially to snobby owners of shiny Camaros who—

He doesn't get to finish the thought because Scott strolls into the kitchen with Derek right behind him, still in his sweaty and loose tank top and the running shorts that have been driving Stiles to distraction. Who even wears running shorts to mow the lawn? Stiles has been asking himself that question every time he glanced out of the window.

"Hey, Stiles, this is our new neighbor from across the road, Derek," Scott says with his usual cheerful demeanor. "Derek, this is my housemate Stiles."

"Hey," Stiles says, glad that he managed to at least open his mouth without making a complete idiot of himself.

Then again, the day's not over yet.

"Hey," Derek replies, eyes roaming up and down Stiles's body, eyebrow rising as he takes in the state of his clothes.

Stiles can't help it, he returns the same look to Derek, pointedly looking at the clothes he is wearing. To mow the lawn. Because what the hell.

"Derek's lightbulb in the garage blew, so I offered one of our spares," Scott says, glancing between the two of them as they continue their glaring stand-off. "Are they still in the hall cupboard?"

It's only reluctantly and with yet another pointed glare at Derek that Stiles looks away and turns to Scott instead.

"No, the shelf in the garage, above the washing machine,” he says. "Remember your dad moved all that crap so we had space in the hall?"

"Right, yeah," Scott replies, then he glances at Derek. "I'll be back in a moment."

Then he looks at Stiles and gives him his patent what are you doing? look. Stiles knows that one, it's been a constant presence in his life throughout high school, usually when he was lying to his father about something. He disappears before Stiles can—even just nonverbally—defend himself.

And it's Derek and Stiles in the kitchen, alone. With Derek and his tank top and his dark hair and big expressive eyebrows and tanned skin and why is Stiles even looking into his eyes like a creep and trying to figure out what color they are?

"So, uh, you all moved in?"

It's the only question he can think of, most of his mind spinning around the fact that the hot neighbor whom Stiles thought was completely unapproachable is now in his kitchen and probably judging Stiles's dress sense. For a good reason, really, not that Stiles is about to admit that out loud.

"Yeah," Derek says, then he smiles and glances towards the window.

Oh my god bunny teeth! Stiles’s mind supplies very unhelpfully when his eyes land on Derek's smiling mouth.

"My sister will probably say that my interior design skills are severely lacking and she'll redo everything," Derek keeps talking, "but the house is livable now, at least."

"Sister?"

Stiles's mind is reeling from the lightness of Derek's tone, such a a contrast to the distant man he seemed to be whenever Stiles saw him heading out for his runs in the mornings.

"I think you might have seen her a few days ago," Derek says, frowning. "You were headed to... school? Work?"

"School, yeah," Stiles says, then his brain catches up. "That was your sister? And I didn't think you noticed me, like, ever."

"Yeah, that was Laura. My older sister, as she likes to point out frequently, though it's only by a few minutes," Derek says, sounding a little grumbly, like siblings tend to be about each other.

Stiles would know, that's been his relationship with Scott even before their parents started dating and made their brotherhood official. There's fondness in Derek's tone though and Stiles remembers the news he saw about the fire at their house and the amount of casualties that there were. If his internal math is right, Laura is the only family Derek has left.

"I did notice you," Derek says. "At the risk of sounding creepy, you have classes—" he pauses and there's the most adorable blush rising in his cheeks and down his chest, "—on Tuesday and Wednesday morning. And you tend to be barely awake that early in the morning. You probably shouldn't be driving like that."

"I've been driving since I was fifteen, I'm good," Stiles says defensively. "And not everyone is up and jogging at an ungodly hour like that. Every day."

Oh shit, Stiles thinks, realizing that Derek only knew about the mornings when Stiles was actually outside and leaving his house at the same time as Derek was heading out for his run. But now he knows that Stiles is aware that the runs are daily. Which he clearly realized, if the way his eyebrow shoots up is any indication.

"Have you been driving that Jeep since you got your license?” Derek asks instead, then he pauses and narrows his eyes. "You're Mrs Stilinski's kid."

Stiles's eyes widen in surprise because he hasn't heard his mom being referred to that way in years. Since before she died, really, because she hadn't been teaching for the last few years.

"You knew her?"

"She was my year's homeroom teacher, when I was in Beacon Hills," Derek says quietly.

"Oh. And yeah, I've been driving Roscoe from the first day I was allowed to," Stiles says, not wanting to dwell too long on the past and memories that probably aren't pleasant for either him or Derek.

"Does it still run on duct tape and prayers?" Derek asks, smirking.

"How do you know about that?"

"From her, actually," Derek tells him. "She used to refuse any help from the guys who were fixing their own cars and offered to look at it. Said getting it fixed properly would ruin the car's integrity."

Stiles smirks to himself and feels a pang in his chest accompanied by fondness.

"That sounds like Mom," he says, quietly.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Derek says then, just as quietly. "She was my favorite teacher."

Stiles nods. There's not much else he can say—it's been years since his mom died and he still gets the occasional comment like Derek's, from people who remember her—and he's a little thrown by the link that Derek has to Stiles's past. But then he can't help it, his curiosity too strong to just let it go.

"It's weird, I didn't realize there was anyone in the area who knew Beacon Hills," he tells Derek. "Just Scott and I. And Rafa," he adds, then explains when Derek's eyebrow lifts in confusion. "Scott's Dad. He owns this place, we're just renting."

"Ah. Not many renters in the area, usually," Derek remarks. "We moved here before I finished high school. Mom's job pulled her out."

Stiles doesn't ask about her. Or about the fire. It's not a "just getting to know you" conversation, despite the fact that they've already touched on Stiles's loss of a parent.

"So, you'll be here for another few years?" Derek asks then.

"Two more, probably, depending on how college goes," Stiles replies. "Scott's in vet school, so he'll stick around."

"You won't?"

"Depends on which academy I get into," Stiles says, then realizes that he needs to elaborate. "Police academy. Following in Dad's footsteps, hopefully. Or at least a similar direction. Might be Quantico, for all I know."

"High hopes," Derek says, smiling. "So, will it be weird to ask you out?"

Stiles's mind screeches to a halt.

"What?"

"Coffee. Maybe dinner, if you'd be up for it," Derek says, like he didn't just completely blow Stiles's mind. "If it's not something you want to do, forget it. And I hope it won't make things awkward."

"Only if you don't really mean it," Stiles says. "You're not like, pulling my leg because you know that I noticed you beyond what's casual and normal."

"Why are you talking about normal?" Scott asks, just walking into the kitchen. "That can't be about you."

Stiles groans in frustration. Like it's not bad enough that his first few impressions were less than stellar, Scott's now driving the stake into an already shaky image. Which Derek obviously didn't hate. Until now.

"Normal is overrated anyway," Derek says and grins. "So, coffee?"

"Oh no, did I walk into something?" Scott asks, looking alarmed and apologetic. "Here's the lightbulb, don't mind me, I'll just go... park the bike or something."

Stiles watches his best friend stumble out of the kitchen and towards the already perfectly parked bike outside—Stiles knows this because he's never seen Scott not be careful with it—leaving Derek and Stiles there, in awkward silence. That doesn't last too long though.

"So, coffee," Stiles says, forgetting to make it a question.

"If you want to," Derek tells him and he looks hesitant and like he's bracing himself for a rejection.

Which makes zero sense at all, because who would refuse an offer like that? Not Stiles.

"That would be great," Stiles says, maybe a little too fast.

He's way past trying to look like a regular and well-adjusted person though. All things considered, it's pretty pointless anyway.

"Tomorrow? Or is that too soon?" Derek asks, his hesitation turning into a hopeful expression.

"I want to say yes. I really do," Stiles tells him, apologetic. "But I have this essay due tomorrow and I'm pretty sure that I'll need an all-nighter to finish it because I got nothing done this afternoon."

Since you were outside, mowing the lawn and being a distraction, Stiles doesn't say.

"Well, good luck with that and... let me know when you're free?"

"I know where you live," Stiles blurts out, then he feels his cheeks heat up. "I mean, in a completely non-stalkery and non-creepy way, because you're right across the street and I see you all the time. Because you're always outside, doing things."

Derek chuckles.

"I'll see you soon," he says. "Maybe in the morning? Around seven?"

Then he walks out of the kitchen while Stiles is still looking at him with an open mouth and wide eyes.

—

They get coffee the next day, when Stiles stumbles to Derek's front door right after he gets home from handing in his essay. He's barely awake, his hair looks like a mess and his clothes are only a step above what he was wearing when they first met properly. But there's the promise of coffee and getting to look into Derek's eyes and well, Stiles's sleep-deprived brain thinks it's the best idea ever.

It turns out that Derek doesn't disagree.

#sterek #eternalsterek #multifandomwc #multifandomwritingchallenge

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joannalannister · 6 years

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“How Pink Became A Color For Girls”:

For most of history, pink was just another color. It was worn equally by men and women. A line in Little Women published in 1869 refers to Amy as tying pink and blue ribbons around two babies to tell the male from the female "in the French fashion." That’s often cited as a reason pink became affiliated with girls. However, ribbons aside, babies were generally dressed in white, and if you did have twins that needed to be color-coded you didn’t have to go with pink or blue ribbons. A catalogue from 1918 even recommended dressing female babies in blue as it had a "much more delicate and dainty tone."

Men and women continued to wear pink well into the '20s, though pink had come to be seen as a flashy and flamboyant color on men. There’s a scene in The Great Gatsby where Tom dismisses Gatsby by saying, "An Oxford man! Like hell he is. He wears a pink suit."

To be fair, Gatsby could have gone to Penn State. Its football team’s colors were pink and black through the 19th century. That’s a far cry from today, where the visiting team’s locker room at the University of Iowa is painted pink to demoralize the opposition. But Tom’s not calling Gatsby feminine—he’s calling him new money. He doesn’t think that Gatsby is girly, he just thinks he has bad taste. That’s because it wasn’t until after World War II that pink came to be equated with femininity.

People formed that association largely because it was first lady Mamie Eisenhower’s favorite color. Not for any special reason, though; she supposedly just liked the way it set off her skin tone and pretty blue eyes. The full-skirted, rhinestone-covered pale pink ballgown and opera gloves she wore to her husband’s 1953 inauguration was the antithesis of the overalls women had been wearing to work in factories during the war. It said, as much as any piece of clothing could, "the men are home now, and you can return to your traditional roles." Mamie certainly embodied that notion as she tossed off quotes like, "Ike runs the country. I turn the pork chops!" and "I have a career. His name is Ike."

In fact, she was turning those pork chops in a kitchen she’d painted entirely pink. During the Eisenhower administration, the White House featured so many pink furnishings that it came to be known as "the Pink Palace."

Movie star Jayne Mansfield immediately latched onto the color and the mentality that went along with it. [...] She wore lots and lots of pink. She drove a pink car, got married in a pink gown, lived inside a pink mansion, and dyed her pets’ fur pink. She also had pink shag carpeting surrounding her heart-shaped bathtub. She explained that this was because "men want a girl to be pink, helpless, and do a lot of deep breathing." Statements like Jayne’s, along with Mamie’s general attitude, formed a connection in people’s minds between a woman wearing pink and a woman being a delicate creature.

Lest this seem like a cruel way to oppress women, it’s worth noting that most women in the '50s welcomed this kind of domesticity. Working in a rivet factory during World War II probably wasn’t the best introduction to how fun and satisfying the workplace can be! An astonishing number of pink household products were produced and consumed in the post-war years. Mamie Eisenhower, mother of pink, even had pink cotton balls! Sanitary napkins began being made in pink so women could "feel dainty" while wearing them. Ponds makeup was presented in a little pink case.

Kitchens were painted pink just like Mamie’s. Along with pink bathrooms, they became a staple of the decade that people have been ripping out and redoing ever since. We now have white bathrooms, in which we keep pink-handled razor blades and pink loofas (and sanitary napkins, which still come in pink packaging). But what of the women who didn’t want to be pink and helpless and do a lot of deep breathing? Who had found that they actually enjoyed working?

Some of them went along with the massive pink trend in a more calculated fashion. In the 1957 film Funny Face, Kay Thompson’s editrix character Maggie Prescott, who was based off Diana Vreeland, declares that every woman must "banish the blue and burn the black!" That makes sense, because between mourning attire and Rosie the Riveter denim workwear would have been two colors women were wearing a lot of just a few years before. She goes along with the national mood and sings that if women today "have gotta think, think pink!"

The best joke, however, comes at the end of the musical number, when Maggie is asked if she’ll be wearing pink herself and she immediately replies, "Me? I wouldn’t be caught dead in it." A lot of the women who helped make pink a trend were anything but interested in the ideals connected to it.

But many quickly learned they could use the color and its new connotations to their advantage. Professing a fondness for pink was a very easy way for women to make themselves seem less intimidating, without changing their actions or personalities at all. [...] Ever since then, some women have come to use pink as a tool to disguise their truer, and sometimes darker, natures. The Plastics in Mean Girls who brightly exclaim, "On Wednesdays, we wear pink!" are, just like Ms. Mims, using the color to give the impression of being sweeter than they actually are. Does anyone really imagine that Regina George wants to sit around cooking a man pork chops?

Or consider the Dolores Umbridge character in Harry Potter, whose fluffy pink suits help hide the fact that she’s totally psychotic. On a more upbeat note, a story about a smart, outgoing, beautiful woman becoming a lawyer would be a lot less plucky and adorable without Elle Woods’s all-pink Legally Blonde ensembles. Without those, it's...well, a pretty normal story, really. [...]

So when that lady at the cocktail party tells you that her favorite color is "pink!" she might be telling you that she wants to be dainty and demure and stay at home. Or she might just be a badass who's trying not to scare you too much.

--Jennifer Wright, “How Pink Became A Color For Girls”

#/#//#///#////#/////#pink #colors #Mamie Eisenhower #the great gatsby #Jayne Mansfield #Mean Girls #Legally Blonde #Dolores Umbridge #Harry Potter #stuff i read #wwii #little women

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yurihakamori · 6 years

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Here we go anon! Since you didn’t specify it, I made it a non despair au, I hope that’s okay with you.

Animator Kokichi is grumpy and I love him

Relationships: Kokichi Ouma & Rantaro Amami & Kaede Akamatsu

Words: 1.8k

Rating: T (for language)

Warnings: None

N/A: Upon @screeching-starz‘s request, Kaede is also switched; she’s the ultimate musician (Ibuki’s talent).

Kokichi counts the minutes to himself as he watches the three students blabbering at him; he isn’t really listening to them – honestly, listening to an imaginary clock ticking in his head is far more interesting than anything his underclassmen have to say.

He makes a point of checking his nails disinterestedly, jaw cracking into a wide yawn. The three finally pause the excited yapping, glancing between themselves before looking at Kokichi with uncertainty.

“Oh, are you guys finished? Man, I really thought you guys would keep going for an entire hour!” He grinned with a cheerfulness that looked too sharp on his lips. “You did manage to go over fifteen minutes, though. I’m impressed by you guys’ score!”

The more Kokichi spoke, more the other students grew with restlessness. It took all of his willpower not to laugh when he saw one of them, a boy with a horrendously bright hair, elbow his friend so she would be forced to step forward. Her pigtails swished as she wiped her head to glare at her friends, then back to him with a smile.

“Uh, sorry, we don’t really understand what… You’re talking about. Are we being a bother?” She finally said, her overly sweet voice grating on Kokichi’s nerves.

He almost let out a cutting remark about how looking cute doesn’t really hide her ugly personality, but he held back. Kokichi wasn’t exactly in the mood to be called a hypocrite, on top of the general annoyance that just being in school was.

Instead, he chuckles and tilts his head.

“Usually people realize I don’t really care about what they have to say in less than five minutes,” he explains, blinking innocently.

The girl is suddenly stunned into silence; her other friend, however, with stern, serious face that gave off the most irritating “proper” aura, didn’t seem to take it too well.

“Don’t you think it’s more than a little rude to be so dismissive when someone is showing interest in your talent?” Proper Boy asks, arms crossed.

He’s way taller than Kokichi is, towering over him in way that would be intimidating, if Kokichi was bothered to give more than a singular fuck.

“What, you want me to pretend this is fun, instead? Well, too bad, I don’t feel like it!” Proper Boy clenches his jaw, and Kokichi doesn’t miss how Bright Hair holds Cutesy by her arm to hold her back.

That’s more interesting than anything they’ve said in the past eighteen minutes.

“Sorry for bothering you, we’ll be going,” Bright Hair says quickly, dragging both of his friends away from Kokichi.

He hears the girl spit out under her breath how ungrateful Kokichi is, the others agreeing with annoyed mumbles of their own.

He yawns again.

“Seriously, are you on a quest to be the Ultimate ass as well as animator?” Someone suddenly says from directly behind Kokichi, who swirls around without much of a fuss, recognizing the voice with ease.

“Oh, you know how it is, I can’t lose my title of number annoyance!” He smiles. “What about you though, sneaking behind me and listening to my conversations in secret… Don’t be a pervert, Amami-chan, that’s gross!” Kokichi sticks his tongue out at said boy, making a disgusted face.

Amami raises his hands in innocence.

“I wasn’t doing anything suspicious like that. I was just wondering what poor soul you were torturing this time when you took so long,” he casually explained, raising a lunch box he was holding in his right hand to dangle it before Kokichi’s eyes.

He stared at it, hunger abruptly making itself known.

“Did my dear Amami-chan bring me food? How thoughtful of you!” The animator didn’t waste time in jumping at it, holding the box protectively to his chest.

Amami wasn’t all that bothered, leaning down to ruffle his hair; Kokichi swatted at his hand in irritation, cheeks puffed out.

“You always steal my food anyways, might as well make some for you.” Amami gestured for Kokichi to start walking, probably in the direction of the roof, where they usually ate together with Akamatsu. His friend eyed him with a clear undertone of disapproval. “Besides, you’ll just forget about eating if I don’t give it to you. Did you even bring anything today?”

“Of course I did, I have Panta and a whole bag of candy!” Kokichi protested, though his focus was on opening his lunch box and checking its contents.

Amami raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Soda and candy aren’t actual food, you sugar addict.” He sighs.

Kokichi is too busy eating to reply to that; not only that, but he doesn’t feel like discussing his unhealthy eating habits again.

“So, what’s up with all those kids?” Amami asked, as the animator already expected he would.

“Oh, you know,” he mumbled through his mouthful of rice. At the glare he gets from Amami for that, Kokichi pointedly chews on his food and swallows it down before speaking again. “Just the usual ‘wahh, I heard you’re animator, that’s amazing!’. I think one of them said something about drawing stick figures, and what anime did I like. Boring stuff like that.”

Amami chuckles sheepishly, scratching his cheek.

“I mean, it wasn’t that bad, right? At least they didn’t ask you to draw something for them this time.” He shrugged.

“That’s a really low bar, Amami-chan.” Kokichi huffed. “It’s boring, I don’t wanna talk to them.”

“You don’t want to talk to anybody,” Amami points out.

“Exactly! My dear Amami-chan understands me so well, that’s why I love you!” He bats his eyelids cutely, though the effect is probably lessened by food all over his face.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t go and become a complete shut-in, you already look like a vampire.” He eyed Kokichi’s pale skin, who pouted in response.

“My skin is delicate and beautiful, you’re just jealous of it.”

The conversation trailed off into silence, which didn’t particularly bother the animator. Honestly, he preferred it to stay that way, since he could see the pensive expression his friend always got right before breaking into some ‘serious conversation’ about the latest thing Kokichi did to worry him.

Amami worried too much, really.

They get as far as the last flight of stairs without any words being said, enough to fool Kokichi into thinking he’s off the hook this time. But then, Amami grips his wrist, stopping the animator in his track. He pulls away from the sudden touch, his friend wincing as he easily lets go.

“Hey, so. How is your animation going?” He asked, way too casual to be actually casual.

“I restarted it,” Kokichi deadpans, sounding bored by the question.

“Oh, that’s a lot of work to redo,” he commented.

“Yup.”

Amami opened his mouth to say something, but was abruptly cut off by quick footsteps approaching them and, soon enough, a girl crashed right in the boy’s back. She groaned in pain.

“That’s one way to greet someone,” Amami said with a chuckle.

“What are you doing standing around on the stairs, geez…” The girl whined. Akamatsu, with her stupidly colorful outfit, turned to Kokichi with a smile. “Are you guys having a secret party?”

The smaller boy rolled his eyes, while Amami laughed.

“Nah, I was just having a talk with Ouma,” the green haired boy said, giving Akamatsu a meaningful look, who returned it. Amami made a not so subtle gesture of the head towards Kokichi.

Seriously, what do they think they’re doing, he’s literally right there.

“Ko-chan, Ko-chan! So, how are you doing?” Akamatsu asked excitedly, approaching Kokichi and making grabby hands at him. “You haven’t been to school for a whole week, I missed you!”

The girl had way too much enthusiasm and honesty for Kokichi to handle even on a good day.

“Akamatsu-chan really can’t live without me, huh? You’re like a reverse slut. A love slut.”

Despite his words, Kokichi opened his arms and let Akamatsu hug the breath out of him. Over her shoulder, he looked at Amami for help, making sure all of his pain is apparent in his face. The boy just gives him a thumbs up.

Traitor.

“I already told you to call me Kaede!” She immediately says upon realizing him. The musician managed to have more pent up energy than Kokichi has, which never ceased to amaze him.

How anyone kept up with her songs were beyond him.

“Ok, Akamatsu-chan,” he sarcastically replied.

Akamatsu pouted, walking to Amami and whining to him about how Kokichi wouldn’t show her any affection, and he rubbed her back in sympathy.

“Our son is such a mean little man, even though we raised him so well,” Amami said to her, sniffling exaggeratedly.

Kokichi throws his chopsticks at him, hitting Amami square on the face.

Score.

“You two are annoying, seriously.”

Akamatsu looked at the red marks on her taller friend’s cheek left by the chopsticks.

“A mean little man indeed.”

Kokichi was ready to hit her with the entire lunchbox, but she turned back to him with a soft, but firm eyes. Oh, it’s scolding time. Great.

“Did you collapse again?” She asked with a worried voice. The animator didn’t reply, raising an eyebrow in fake confusion. “Don’t give me that face, you know what I’m talking about. You promised to come to school more often, then you disappear for a whole week without saying anything. I was worried sick, you know.”

He smiles, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“You’re such a worrywart, Akamatsu-chan! I just got sooo engrossed with the animation, I didn’t even realize the time! Besides, you really shouldn’t so easily believe someone just because they promise something, that’s stupid.”

Akamatsu obviously looked put off by the last part, but Amami wasn’t fazed, offering him a wry smile.

“You’re a difficult person,” Kokichi snorted, “to put it simply. But you don’t promise things you don’t actually mean.”

Oh, he noticed that, huh. Look at that, it’s time to change the subject.

“Like I said, you two worry too much, I’m fine!” He gestured to himself. “See? All good!”

Akamatsu and Amami exchanged a look, sighing in unison.

“Okay, if you say so.” The other boy said, his words stopping the musician, who looked like she had more to say. “C’mon, I’ll buy you grape juice so you don’t drown your blood in soda.”

Both Akamatsu and Kokichi whine at the same time.

“After going all the way up the stairs?” He complained.

“I’ll buy you two boxes of juice,” Amami bargained.

“Can I have strawberry milk?” Akamatsu asks.

“Yeah, sure,” the tall boy replies, getting a cheer from Akamatsu for it.

Kokichi, who clearly has no other choice but to follow them – especially when Akamatsu is looking at him with puppy eyes –, sighs and resigns himself to put up with their pestering.

Only because he’s being forced to, of course.

#kokichi ouma #kaede akamatsu #amami rantarou #ndrv3 #danganronpa #strawberry syrup #fanfic #mine #both the ou//mami and the ama//matsu can be seen as either platonic or romantic

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tk-duveraun · 6 years

Text

Title: Fallout 4/4 Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Rating: T Genre: Romance & Drama Warnings: Some violence Summary: Continuation of Resilience. Morathis continues to try to convince Fox to do something they both want him to do. Notes: Vasili next! I swear! Probably! Not super thematically great, but take it anyway.

Parts: One Two Three

Once Fox is settled into their bed to mope with a snack and promises of a puppy the next time they go to Dromund Kaas (this is the fourth puppy Rathi has promised him and so far they have none, so he’s not concerned), Rathi returns to the capitol building to settle accounts and read reports while he waits. Dawn’s light is coming through the windows by the time Hound arrives, but she still does.

Her hair is frazzled and there are dark rings under her eyes. Her armor is even still streaked with mud and grass. Her eyes are narrowed and there’s an angry crease between her eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” Rathi responds. He can tell his cool demeanor is just annoying her further, but his beloved cried himself to sleep and even if it was Fox’s own fault, Rathi doesn’t particularly care.

“You know what I mean,” Hound all but growls at him.

“If I wasn’t here, some poor underling would be faced with your wrath.” Rathi yawns and deactivates his datapad.

“I’m still angry,” Hound says.

“I can see that.”

“But I found out why this whole planet is ass over tits for Faximil,” Carina says. She nearly spits out the words with how grudging they are.

Rathi just waits silently, waiting for her to get to the point.

“Don’t look so fucking pleased with yourself. It was your brother that ran his mouth when I was in the hospital seeing to Atonai.”

Rathi shrugs. “Tava gets ahead of himself sometimes. He hates my wife more than I do. He’s wanted a real sister for a while.”

“You have a wife? You know what? Not now. Not fucking now. For right now, you’re going to tell me whatever the fuck else you two are hiding from me.”

“I thought you didn’t want to hear about my wife,” Rathi says, grinning.

Hound slaps his chest with her open palm and makes a pleased sound when Rathi just crumples in his seat. “I want to know what you’re hiding, not things that don’t actually matter.”

“Ow,” Rathi gasps. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re a bastard and I’m proving that I know there’s something wrong with your chest so you don’t fucking try to hide anything else.”

Rathi stares at her for several long moments before shaking his head. “He’s dead in eighteen months. Maybe a year. There’s no way to know exactly when and after the last time he refuses to even discuss trying to stop it.”

Hound looks like Rathi just whacked her in the chest. The anger is a distant memory, replaced by something close to helplessness that she clearly doesn't have experience dealing with. When she finally finds words, Hound’s voice is small. “That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

“He’s a Sa’alle. His secrets could never be anything good.”

She covers her mouth and shakes her head. “I suppose not. What happened last time?”

Rathi sighs, but doesn’t hesitate before he starts undoing the tiny buttons that hold his uniform jacket closed. Even without looking, he can feel Hound’s hard stare. He opens up his starched, uniform shirt and then grabs the hem of his black undershirt. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“I’m going to find out eventually. Might as well take it all at once,” Hound says, her voice certain, if still only a fraction of her normal presence.

Rathi pulls his shirt up, revealing the blacken skin and bright red crystals. They’re still pulsing with the energy captured from the padawan’s attempted Mind Trick.

“How… Why?”

“Lord Sa’alle wanted him to suffer while he died, so she killed me with my own knife and had her slaves drop me, dying, at his feet. He pulled these out of priceless Force relics and…” Rathi lifts his hands and sighs. “Did Afflicted nonsense. He shouldn’t have survived it. I shouldn’t have survived at all. Now here we are and he doesn’t want it happen again.”

“That’s stupid,” Hound says. “If Sa’alle tried to kill you the first time, why would this time be any different? If anything, she’ll make sure it sticks. What is in his head? Flutterwings and Force kark?”

Rathi lowers his shirt. “Mostly puppies.”

“That’s- What?”

“...Surely you know what puppies are.”

Hound rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Yes, I know, but I was being facetious with the flutterwings bit.”

“He loves cute things and has been angling for a puppy for years. His brain is completely filled with nonsense. Why do you think I was pushing you both so hard to get together? I need someone else to help keep him in line.”

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“I haven’t yet.”

Hound considers his answer for a moment and then starts pacing. “Alright, we’re in this together, Rathi.”

Rathi raises both eyebrows at her while buttoning his shirt back up. “That’s presumptuous, isn’t it?”

“You sold out your partner to me, you don’t get to complain that I’m being familiar. Anyway, we’re in this together now. You’re not telling him we spoke. I’m still angry. He’s going to sweat a bit.”

“Alright. I’m keeping him busy, but what will you do today?”

“Preparation.”

“For what? The op is over.”

“You’ll see.”

---

Rathi doesn’t sleep. He waits for Fox to wake up and whispers comforting things in his ear when Fox makes a sound like a wounded animal and tries not to cry. Fox’s grief is sharper than Rathi expected and getting him out of bed and showered takes longer than he planned for, but the point of the day is to keep him busy, so it’s no big loss. He has a few theories about what Carina might have in mind, but most are outrageous or decisions he would make based on knowledge she doesn’t have.

The day after a successful op is always the worst time to be on Olkin II. Everyone is so grateful and wants to show their appreciation and touch Fox. But Rathi keeps his annoyance off his face and simply bears it with a strong desire to grit his teeth. Thankfully, Tava finds them halfway through the city and mercifully convinces Fox that yes, it’s sad that Carina left him, but he still has to eat.

“We likely won’t stay long after the Mandalorians pack up. We’ve been here longer than we should have been as it is,” Rathi says. He doesn’t know why Tava loves this restaurant. The neon curries always turn his stomach.

“And after you get me that puppy.”

“If we have time, dear heart.”

“Actually, the Armandes’ neighbors’ dog just had puppies,” Tava says excitedly. However, he deflates as soon as he sees Rathi’s expression. He mouths ‘sorry’ across the table, but the damage is done.

Fox laughs so hard he has to hold onto the table and gasp for breath. “Finally! Finally, I’m getting one. Does this mean I get four puppies?”

“No, you get one.”

“They’ll give me as many as I want.”

“You’re only getting one,” Rathi says firmly.

“You owe me four.”

Rathi sighs and just presses his forehead into the table. He bangs it repeatedly on the wood. Fox laughs, so the embarrassment is worth it. He suffers through the rest of the meal, it’s mostly Tava describing the puppies and showing Fox holos. They’re some weird short-legged breed, but apparently also runts on top of that? Rathi should be more interested. He’s going to be stuck watching the thing.

After the requisite fifteen minutes of talking the owner out of waiving their bill, Rathi trails behind Fox and his brother. He listens with half an ear, apparently the neighbors also have small children that Tava babysits some weekends because the Armandes treat him like a human teenager, even though he’s a fully functioning adult doing his residency at the hospital. Rathi hangs back as Fox is mobbed by the chubby puppies that trundle along, wagging their entire backsides because apparently they don’t have proper tails, either.

Each one is presented to Rathi and given the opportunity to belch it’s horrific breath in his face before licking him, usually on the nose, and then being replaced by another puppy, this one somehow with worse breath. Fox kneels on the ground, heedless of the mud ruining his robes, not that the puppies haven’t tracked it all over him, and talks to the children. They look human, at least mostly, maybe five years olds, but Rathi doesn’t mind children, so he has no idea. They’re inarticulate, so all he really has to do is yes “Yes that’s wonderful” every few minutes to keep them appeased.

Finally, Fox presents him with a puppy that is apparently brindle-colored, not that that word means anything to him. And the dog’s name is Clover. “Clover.”

“Yes.”

“Like the weed?”

“Clover isn’t a weed!” One of the children, the blonde one, insists. At least, she tries to. She can’t really pronounce her rs.

“It’s a very nice name,” Rathi says with a complete lack of sincerity. He can see the Armandes laughing at him from their window and plans to send them a very terse email this week.

When they can finally make their escape, thankfully with only one puppy, Rathi sighs and drapes himself over Fox, as if he’s so drained from the ridiculousness that he can’t walk on his own. “He’s not sleeping in the bed.”

“But he’s so little,” Fox says, clearly offended on behalf of the puppy riding in the hood of his robes. Instead of barking in agreement, it snores and kicks Fox in the ear. He’s charmed.

“He’ll be crushed.”

“No he won’t.”

“He’s not sleeping in the bed.”

---

Rathi doesn’t sleep well that night. Not out of any worry or concern about Carina and her plans, though Fox got mopey and purposefully undid his braids twice so Rathi would redo them. No, it’s because his lover is insufferable and stubborn and several more adjectives that are far less kind. Clover technically isn’t sleeping in the bed. Clover is sleeping on Fox’s pillow. But Fox is not the only one who uses his pillow. So Rathi wakes up seemingly every five minutes to tiny feet kicking his forehead.

An hour before he normally gets out of bed, his comm unit chirps with a text-only message, so Rathi gives it all up as a loss, kisses the back of Fox’s neck, and gets out of bed. Rubbing the irritated sand out of his eyes, Rathi reads the message.

I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Be dressed. We need to present a unified front.

Instead of her name or title or her clan name, Carina has signed the message with a picture of a dog. Rathi is tempted to tell her to pound sand. Instead, he gets dressed in the uniform Fox calls blindingly white and instructs the door guards to let her up when she arrives. Five minutes before she said she’d be there, Carina quietly opens the door to their suite.

She’s in her full armor, not that that’s anything new, but it’s adorned with something that Rathi supposes is the Mandalorian equivalent of a tabard and there seem to be trophies attached to her belt. Her expression is cold and calculating and reminds Rathi of why he likes her so much. “He’s still asleep?” Is all she says before going into their bedroom.

Silently, Carina points to Clover and she and Rathi exchange exasperated gestures for a moment before Rathi carefully relocates the puppy to the thick pillow and warm blanket that they bought for it.

Once it’s safely out of the way, Carina lunges at Fox and grabs him by the collar of his thin nightshirt.

Fox is instantly awake and his eyes glow yellow with power for a moment before he realizes who’s attacking him. “Carina? What?”

“I’m giving you exactly one chance, Fox. You have a choice. There are two options. I will not be negotiated with, chided, wooed or cajoled into a third option and if you think you’ll intimidate me into one, you have another thing coming. Got it?”

Wide-eyed, Fox glances at Rathi, standing at Carina’s shoulder just as he always stands at Fox’s, but Rathi gives him nothing. Fox nods.

“We are killing Sybil Sa’alle. The only choice you have is whether you help us, or if Rathi and I do it alone.”

That’s not what he expected Carina to say. It’s an option he tossed out immediately as ridiculous, too dangerous and too outrageous. But now that she has said it, now that she has forced the issue, Rathi has no hesitation in backing her up. This is what he should have said to Fox five years ago, as soon as they’d recovered. This is what they need to do to have any kind of future.

It makes so much sense, now that the gauntlet has been tossed. Carina’s not going to waste her present if there won’t be a future. Even Rathi knows enough about Mandalorians to understand that. And he certainly understands the fire burning in her eyes as she looks at Fox.

Fox’s expression is pained, just as deeply marked as it was when he thought she had left for good. He puts both hands on her wrist, but doesn’t try to squirm out of her grasp. “Carina, you don’t understand what you’re-”

“I know exactly what I’m up against. You always think you know best. You just make decisions for other people because you’re so kriffing smart and powerful you must be right, and then you don’t even give them a choice. I’m mando’ad. I’m ver’alor of Clan Meshurok and like hell am I going to let some scrawny, long-haired, spoiled, silver spoon-fed, trust fund, dar’jetii brat tell me who I am and am not allowed to kill.”

Again, Fox stares at both of them, but Rathi keeps his expression as hard and cold as Carina’s. He doesn’t like the hurt on Fox’s face, but better that his feelings be hurt now than that he be dead in eighteen months. Finally, Fox wilts and sighs. “That’s not a choice. I can’t leave you to face her alone.”

Carina releases him and Fox falls back onto the pillows, though he doesn’t let go of her wrist. Her expression is still unmoved. “And don’t try to Mind Trick us or make us forget this happened. I’m resistant and those crystals in Rathi’s chest shield him.”

“I won’t. I won’t pretend that under other circumstances I wouldn’t consider it, though. The time for lies is over.”

“I’m glad you realize that,” Carina says. Her voice is stern, but the frozen distance is gone.

“But I’m keeping the dog. And my hair. Rathi won’t let you cut my hair.”

“What?”

“It was part of your rant,” Rathi reminds her.

“Well it’s still ridiculous.”

Then Clover wakes up with sneeze so violent, he rolls off of the pillow and all hope of a serious conversation is lost.

#resilience fic #fox #fox au #fox & rathi & hound AU #morning comes au #swtor fic

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