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todayisafridaynight · 5 months

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edging to the top 100 list wont be able to finish until you make it to number one </3

yeah i got you bro DONT YOU WORRY o7

100. the little ridge on his nose

99. his moles from y3 <3

98. his moles from y7 <3

97. how round his head is during the ps3 era

96. how spikier his hair was in the original y2

95. that fuckin puffer From Y2

94. his weird grunting and moaning after he gets tied up in y2

93. how his immediate concern after gettin tied up is to get maccas

92. baby daigo's dumbass lil bow tie

91. baby daigo's dumbass lil bowlcut

90. how crusty he looks in y5

89. his lucky gun

88. how he didnt want to bring his lucky gun to the brawl with ryuji. and got arrested for firearms possession anyway

87. his reptile dress shoes as chairman <3

86. the fine lines on his chairman suit

85. his tie that sometimes looks like a brassy green but its actually supposed to be silver but the green looks better on him anyway

84. how malnourished he looks in comparison to shinada when they brawl on the roof

83. the sad lost-dog reaction he gets to kiryu in gaiden

82. his sassy I Told You So moment in gaiden

81. his goofy lil fisherman outfit

80. his leather jacket //miku_emote//

79. his stray hairs for when his slicked-back hair gets messy :))

78. his voice. enough said.

77. not enough said tho how he never raises his voice above two decibels <3

76. his dedication to the tojo even if they bully him every three seconds

75. how he chose to not open the bottle mine left for him because it wouldnt be the same without him there to share it

74. his laugh that can only be heard in cut content <3<3<3<3

73. the complicated feelings he has about his worthiness as a leader and wanting to live up to kiryus standards

72. how he managed to Not Die in the thirteensome years he was as chairman

71. his thuggish fighting style <3<3<3<3

70. the progression of his character from being whiny brat to realizing His Whining is a result of parental neglect and how he sincerely wants friends in y0 to how he grows into a man so tired of everyone around him after his dad is killed and now he wants to be shut off and left alone because he's lost hope in people as a whole in y2 to becoming a man that cares so much about the people he was forced to care for by his only real father figure who he idolizes so much and how he struggled to accept that role not just as a mantle he was competent to carry but how his anger from his previous misanthropy nearly jeopardized his succession and how he had to learn to overcome it

69. his huge penis

68. he's good with kids

67. how he's so proud to refer to kiryu as his father and respects kiryu's wishes to not go to war over him (even if kiryu self admittedly has been cringe at being a father figure to him)

66. how there's a pocket circuit trophy with his name on it

65. how he says banzai <3<3<3<3

64. how he used to be belligerent during y2 but now it takes more to get a rise out of him

63. his stubble <3<3<3

62. the little frown line in the center of his nose ridge and his eyebrows

61. his berry-banger shade lips <3

60. his grumpy little frown and perpetually stern expression

59. how his sideburns have a sort of feather-out look to them

58. the way his cheeks are round like his mom's (and how he look like his momma in general)

57. the shape of his eyebrows and how they end in a point Like That

56. the little buckle on his shoes in y2

55. overall his berries-and-cream-looking-ass outfit from y0

54. how he knows it's kiryu driving his taxi even if he's wearing sunglasses and a mask and doesnt say a word to him

53. his terrible tendency to prioritize kiryus needs over the tojo's

52. how he sent mine to okinawa to look after kiryu (bonus points for summer mine :miku_emote:)

51. how he invited mine to a date drink at the bar, laughed at his joke, asked him if he was single, and then snuck out through a bathroom window all because he thought kiryu was in danger

50. his ability to take criticism and even valuing it and not wanting people to mindlessly follow him

49. his glower in that One Frame in the rain from that pre-fight cutscene with him in y2 you know the one

48. how he got mad at ryuji after he was asked out on a takoyaki date

47. how he's touched by the fact that mine bought a share in every taxi company in kamurocho just to find him

46. how even with his hair slicked back as chairman it still looks so soft

45. daigo's goofy ass smile he gives kiryu in y3

44. god help me the small smile he gives mine moments before mine decides to kill himself

43. how daigo was more concerned about mine's safety than why exactly he was on the rooftop in the first place

42. how even though daigo was upset with mine and kanda's scheming that didn't stop daigo from not only giving away billions of yen but also taking a bullet for mine even when mine was green to the clan at the time

41. the lil 'text' updates you get from him in rggo thanking you and saying you're helping the clan be better <3

40. how daigo not only helped the schoolkids with their raffle event and deal with gangsters but also personally attended and made sure everyone was havin a good time

39. to add on to him barely yelling (sins the time when mine jumped off the roof </3</3 and when he shouts banzai <3) when he interrupts people he still doesnt yell and sounds so calm while doing it

38. his decision to '''''''disband''''''''' the tojo clan despite how hard he fought for it in kiryus name

37. how he considered the lives of the yakuza and what would happen to them, making sure they had a safety net in the security company before going through with the plan

36. how he was able to play the long game and use his decision to disband the tojo to his advantage in the first place and fuck over aoki's own plans even if it meant hiding out for twosome years

35. how he canonically gives 'i'm not mad i'm just disappointed' lectures

34. how daigo sits legs spread while kiryu sits Respectfully in the seiza position during their visit to the omi and he looks like a grumpy teenager being dragged to a parent/teacher conference

33. how daigo acknowledges his reckless behavior by the end of y2 and now wants to do better for kamurocho

32. daigo's very blink-and-you-miss-it moments where he's a snarky little shit

31. the shade of brown his eyes are and how they arent totally pitch black

30. his sassy little hand-on-hip pose he does for his poundmate summon

29. the necromancy

28. how he just looks miserable during his introduction scene at the cabaret when he's supposed to Allegedly be a party animal

27. the cute lil outfit he wore for the dead souls substory <3

26. that render of him with the shotgun and he's not even holding the handle

25. his goofy ass 'wauUUGGH' he makes when you hit him because He Never Raises His Voice so him getting hit sounds like the most unnatural thing possible

24. him having such a dramatic intro in y5 (and genuinely being one of my fave intros to a game in the franchise) only for us to find out he just wanted to help a homie out with some cash

23. him willing to go to juvie For Said Homie and the team so him and their baseball team could achieve their dreams

22. the disappointed mother energy in him having to tell shinada not to announce to the entirety of japan he's the tojo clan chairman

21. his impeccable accuracy

20. how he has no qualms with shooting or killing people

19. how he unloaded a whole clip into shindo after dude macks on his mom and only stopped shooting when kiryu told him to stop

18. daigo having the energy of an angry dog whenever ryuji's on screen and kept getting his shit rocked (bonus points for ryuji not remembering tits about him)

17. his silly little fists-on-hips pose he does when you take a selfie with him in yk2

16. how he was concerned about mine's relationship with money and wanted to get closer with him without feeling like he was only interested in mine because of his money or other material possessions

15. the fact that Apparently he still puts his puffer on from time to time as chairman

14. his awful posture in dead souls, especially in comparison to how straight he stands later on

13. how he's so upfront with kiryu about how strong of an influence he was on him

12. the goofy as hell disguise he wears in y5

11. the lil blue hospital outfit he wears in y6 <3

10. his ability to draw people together

9. how you can bash him with noodles in a NG+ file on YK2. the way he flops over.. </3

8. him and haruka being cemented as kiryus kids by both of them being kidnapped in the same game

7. how even while daigo has a calm and empathetic demeanor he doesn't object to things such as yubitsume and he doesn't strictly follow the whole honor system going on in rgg

6. how his comment on being slaves under the government in y7 can be gleaned from the fact he was practically a slave to the police in y4 and following their whim. if not that just being a hilarious progression of circumstances

5. just how cool his tattoo is and the depth of the meaning to it.... (really such big bonus points for the fact a dragon there in addition to. Everything Else about it)

4. how he just gonna stand next to majima smiling and happy at the end of y4 as if he didnt throw him to the wolves (or the pigs ig GOTTEM)

3. how five seconds after he gets out of prison in 2017 for a fire he didnt commit he has to deal with tokyos new bitch ass governor cracking down on yakuza laws and As Aforementioned navigated that situation swimmingly

2. despite him being driven places for the most part he can still drive

1. his gargantuan balls (both metaphorically and physically)

#nsff #long post #christ gotta hit it with that TWICE #snap chats #anyway did that help you out bb did you finish <3 die #i hope your kfc gets bombarded with more bread

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drdemonprince · 9 months

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I love that in Mad Men, Roger's "big" revelation from taking psychedelics is that he's a 55 year old boy with a full head of hair and a ton of wealth and so he might as well enjoy it. Psychedelics can give you a new perspective on things that can feel revelatory, but whatever new meaning you make is still being created by your own mind. Tripping isn't going to make you become a new person or adopt completely new values, for the most part, unless you've actually been lying to yourself about what you value all along. For Roger, the great insight is simply to accept who he is, base impulses and all, and to luxuriate in it instead of slinking around having affairs and comparing himself to his successful business magnate dad.

And that's ultimately the kind of 'big' revelation that Don arrives at in the end of the series. He doesn't attain nirvana, kill himself, decry his profession, or anything like that. He accepts at last that he is an ad man, and that he's a philandering huckster with a great talent for marrying the counter culture and the mainstream. hence: i'd like to buy the world a coke.

The entire series is about people knowing themselves and not knowing themselves. I love that it can so subtly render character growth without actually having most people undergo any kind of dramatic change. Real life doesn't work that way. We continue to carry the same baggage that we've always had, and no matter how impulsively or self-destructively we try new things, we aren't ever going to get a new mind. So one of life's great journeys of coming to actually know oneself, including one's flaws and baser impulses, and to cease believing in the lies we enact to pass unnoticed through the world.

Over and over again in the series, people grapple with the perceptions of others and the task of managing the impression they give off. Betty wants to be a perfectly beautiful housewife and loving mother; eventually she comes to accept that she has a bitter edge and a cancerous rot of jealousy buried deep inside of her, and that she's far more fascinated by other people and their problems than she's ever let on. She also learns to accept that her daughter Sally is rebellious and counter-cultural like her dad. Peggy learns to accept the life she has made for herself through all of her messy choices and incredible talents, and to accept the child that she's lost, and learns to finally take pride in all that she's done. Joan finally accepts that she's not a sex-pot doctor's wife, she's a shrewd businesswoman and a canny manipulator, and she starts her own business in order to reflect that, the moment she gives up on chasing after love. She can't be with Bob because if she does, Bob will remain unable to accept his queerness and actual class background. Bob himself is a bit of a foil for Sal, the commensurate professional who enacts his desires in private, impulsive fumbling moments, but understandably can't accept anyone knowing or even admitting it to himself. On and on and on, in moments large and small, it's a show about knowing and accepting oneself -- even if the person that one is isn't particularly good.

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ffxivaltaholic · 6 months

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LFRP: Diarmune Rhet-Khas

Character Name: Diarmune Rhet-Khas

The Basics ––– –

Age: 55

Birthday: End of Summer

Race: Viera

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Marital Status: Single

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: Quite long and silvery white. It is almost always pulled up in a ponytail. When down it is long enough to sit on (Hence why it is always up)

Eyes: Pale Green

Height: 6"1'

Build: Athletic and fit

Distinguishing Marks: Minimal scars from years of working with dangerous plants and animals. Two sleeves tattooed in a vine and floral pattern with a flower on his shoulder.

Common Accessories: His Gleaner gear, a journal, some kind of plant or flower probably...

Personal ––– –

Profession: Gleaner

Hobbies: Botany and Horticulture

Languages: Common (With a Thavnarian accent)

Residence: Thavnair/Sharlayan

Birthplace: Thavnair

Religion: The Twelve

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: None

Children: None

Parents: Father: Elías- Alive/Silk Maker | Mother: Myra - Alive/Tailoress

Siblings: Sister (Older Twin): Sofina - Alive/Student | Sister (Younger Twin): Helina - Alive/Student

Other Relatives: None that he knows of.

Pets: Korpokkur (Named Plum), Great Morbol (Named Dahlia)

Traits ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Nope Drugs: None Alcohol: Very rarely, he is quite a light weight and suffers terrible hangovers.

RP Hooks ––– –

SHARLAYAN: While much of the Viera's time is spent away, he does return to his Sharlayan home from time to time, whether it's to bring in a specimen or to simply visit with old friends, he is not to difficult to find there, particularly as his clothing tends to standout against the more conservative and neutral tones of his Sharlayan counterparts. As a significant contributor in his field of study to the vast library over his three decades of work, Dia is most likely found there, but also will peruse the market and visit Labyrinthos from time to time. Especially if any of his projects are flourishing.

THAVNAIR: Born and raised in Thavnair, Dia spent his entire youth there with his family. They are prominent silk makers and tailors, specializing in ornate and delicate garments. He's very familiar with the locals and after the panic of the End of Days subsided, Dia visits far more frequently. He's often found in the Radz-at-han market, out by Palaka's Stand, or in the silk factory pitching in to help his parents. A Thavnarian born, he has an identifiable accent and tends to wear garments that connect him to his home.

GLEANERS: Are you a Gleaner too? Then there is a good chance you have crossed paths with him at some point in time, especially over the years of intense gathering in preparation for the End of Days. Due to the nature of his work (Specifically in regards to dangerous plants and plant-like creatures, IE: Morbols) it's very likely your Character might work side by side with him, or at least in the same vicinity.

TRAVELS/IN PASSING: There are very few places on this grand shard that Dia has not been, which means his availability to meet people is vast and ever expanding! Perhaps you came across him at an Inn, or aboard a ship? Maybe you met him in one of the main cities, or out in the boonies of the continents... Regardless, Dia can be basically anywhere necessary to meet your character. (Note: Not the First however, I'm fairly lore strict on this point since only the WoL can freely travel back and forth at this point in the story and he is not a WoLPC.)

Contact Information ––– –

I would prefer to be contacted via Tumblr first before giving out my Discord.

In game and Discord RP works for me, though I prefer in game.

His Carrd: https://diarmune.carrd.co/

#ffxiv lfrp #Looking for rp #Diarmune Rhet-khas

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randomshyperson · 1 year

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Yellow Curtains - Chapter Six - Wanda Maximoff Series

Summary: Wanda Maximoff's senior year at Novi Grad School is duly planned for her. She has good friends, good grades, and a good system to hide who she really is. Or, the one based on Evak from the Norway Skam series, where Wanda is queer and tries to survive the last year without anyone knowing about it.

Warnings: (+18), general warnings about language and violence, legal drug use, mentions of underage drinking, high school, internalized homophobia and discovery of sexuality, explicit mentions of mental disorders (bipolarity and depression), dysfunctional family, making out, and eventual smut.

Skamverse | Series | General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

Chapter Six - The Infinity

Torek, 16:55 (Tuesday, 4:55 pm)

A soft melody left the speaker connected to your cell phone, both on the nightstand. On the bed, besides open history books and some crumpled papers, your body pressed Wanda's onto the mattress.

Lazy kisses that went from hungry to slow and sensual in minutes, and have been like this for almost two hours now, making out in the middle of studying.

Wanda has definitely never felt like this, and she wasn't complaining. She wished you would keep kissing her, sliding your tongue against hers and holding her by the hips, and never stop.

But you had to when the music did.

With an unhappy grunt, you parted your mouth from hers, sitting up on the bed to reach for the cell phone that was ringing and disrupting the music. Wanda giggled lightly, following you to hug you from behind with the intention of pulling you back.

"What the hell does he want?" you muttered annoyed, staring at the screen, and attracting the attention of Wanda, who glanced over your shoulder at the cell phone. Peter Parker's name and little photo icon made her stomach churn. You sighed impatiently, putting a hand to your face before answering it. "It better be life or death, Peter." You grunted. Wanda is able to hear his voice because you forgot to take it off the Bluetooth speaker.

"Is that any way to talk to me, babe?"

Your immediate reaction was to steal a glance at Wanda, who tensed up behind you. With another sigh, you pulled your cell phone from your ear to take it out of the Bluetooth before standing up to the balcony.

Wanda hugged her knees, trying to keep all insecurities down. She trusted you and you sounded really annoyed on the phone.

"Stop calling me that, we're not together anymore!" She heard you warn between your teeth. "If you don't stop bugging me I'm going to throw all your shit out the window, I'm warning you. Stop calling me! And only text if it's urgent or from work, asshole."

You hung up, threw the phone on the couch, and turned to Wanda, who spoke before you could;

"I thought you broke up with him."

Your expression softened, the angry tension leaving your shoulders. You leaned over the bed, toward Wanda.

"I did." You assure. "But we were together for a long time. He still has some things to pick up from here. And besides, we're parkour teammates. We're both instructors at the same academy."

Wanda frowns slightly. "I didn't know you did parkour."

You smile, shrugging. "It's important to get some exercise."

Wanda sighs, pulling you by the shoulders to lay on top of her as she lays back down on the bed. You gladly follow, finding a comfortable position with your head on top of her breasts, and running your hands around her to hug her.

"I didn't know you did theater either." She whispers, taking one of her hands to stroke your hair. You giggle, adjusting to look at her.

"I started when I was a kid. Mom thought it helped with shyness." You recount.

"Did it help?"

You twitch your nose. "A little, but I still get tongue-tied with pretty girls." You joke, receiving a gentle pinch from Wanda in return that makes you laugh. Once it stops, you face her. "Peter and I are over, Wanda. I promise. I'm all yours."

You assure her by looking into her eyes, and Wanda believes you wholeheartedly.

She spins you onto the bed in one movement with her legs, swallowing your surprised sigh with a hard kiss. You smile against her lips, kissing her back immediately and helping her to sit on your lap. Once comfortable, her hands rest on your shoulders and she breaks the kiss.

"I'm yours too." She whispers with her forehead on yours, filling your chest with joy. Before you can kiss her again, she adds, "But you've been a terrible hostess. I'm starving."

You fall into laughter for a long moment before tightening your grip around her to get out of bed. "All right, pretty girl, let's find you some food."

–//–

Torek, 17:25 (Tuesday, 5:25 pm)

Glasses of ingredients shudder on the kitchen counter as Wanda's back hits the cabinet hard.

She gasps for air against your mouth but you continue to kiss her hungrily, and Wanda loves it. She loves the feel of your lips, your hands...

"Wow, in the middle of the kitchen?" A female voice suddenly sounds and you break the kiss out of surprise before letting out an embarrassed grunt, hiding your blushing face in Wanda's neck, who laughs breathlessly as Natasha and Carol take off their coats and shoes in the doorway next to the kitchen.

"Sorry to interrupt girls, but did you know there is something called a bedroom?" Natasha teased next to her girlfriend, receiving a middle finger from her best friend, who stroked your back until you let go.

You motioned to the abandoned sandwiches as soon as the make-out session began. "I thought we had the apartment empty today, sorry." You muttered to Wanda, ignoring your sister's snort.

"Hey, don't blame me, you didn't say you wanted the place to yourself." Carol warned from the doorway, but you rolled your eyes paying her no attention as you quickly served things on plates to take to your room. Wanda moved away to the door, leaning over to Natasha who came to ask her in a whisper:

"You guys seem to be having a good time."

"We were until the lovely couple interrupted us." Wanda whispers in a joking tone back, making Nat laugh.

"Well, wear protection, kids!" Carol teases before pulling the redhead away into her own room.

Wanda laughs at the grimace you exhibit, walking over to you to kiss your cheek. "You look cute when you're grumpy."

You offer her a small smile. "Sorry about the audience, next time I get us some privacy."

Wanda chuckles. "Don't be silly, mrček. I don't mind, we're among friends." Wanda assures, losing the way you blush at the affectionate nickname because you look away with the excuse that you have the snacks on plates ready to take to your room.

"All right, then, let's go." You mutter walking off in the direction they came from, and Wanda follows you without question.

This time, it is Wanda who sets up the music in the bedroom - ignoring your teasing glance at the Taylor Swift album that begins - and you both eat on the couches near the television.

Wanda finishes first and starts looking around, while you busy yourself watching her.

She takes in as much detail as she can. From the frames on the walls that she hadn't seen, pictures on murals, CD collections in the bottom drawers, and every book on the bookshelves, trying to put together a map of your head with the things she learns.

"Can I play a little?" you ask from the couch, and at the first moment, she gets it wrong, blushing with her back to you. As she turns around and sees you with the PS5 controller in hand, she raises an eyebrow. You chuckle lightly. "It helps me. To focus." You confess to her, and with no chance at all of Wanda denying it now. She nods, and you turn on the video game.

While you are playing, she continues to look around. She finds homework, magazines, and even a small amusement park teddy bear. She is looking through books on her computer desk when a small plastic bag catches her attention.

She grabs it and-

"Wow, you found that. It's yours, I think." You warn her having stolen a glance in her direction. Wanda frowns, twirling the plastic packet of weed in her hands. "I'm pretty sure you dropped it that night after Stark's party, in the railroad, you know? I noticed because I didn't take my eyes off you all night. But well, I don't smoke, and I saved it to give back to you but I guess I just forgot."

Wanda giggles weakly, finding the whole thing funny. She looks at you, playing video games with your hair half messed up - it was probably her fault and the last few hot kisses you exchanged - and thinks she wouldn't trade this here for anything.

"It's not mine, but a friend's." She counters. "Can I have it back, since you don't smoke?"

You shrug, nodding yes, and Wanda walks away to put the marijuana away in her backpack. She turns back to the bed and sighs before lying down.

As she faces her ceiling fan, she thinks about having a bit of decent study but ends up choosing to check her cell phone.

The soft melody of "Gold Rush" gives way to "Tolerate it" as she checks her messages.

A verse from the Tanakh followed by an invitation from Erik makes her sigh. You take your gaze off the TV immediately and look at her.

"Is everything okay?"

Wanda doesn't even realize she made any noise and raises her gaze at you. "Yeah, it's just... my dad. Asking me and Pietro to celebrate Hanukkah with him and his brothers from the synagogue."

You ask uncertainly, "And isn't that a good thing?"

Wanda smiles sadly, "Asking would not be the right word, he is demanding that we be there. And we'd better agree or he'll find some way to punish us."

You swallow dryly, putting the video game aside to focus completely on Wanda. "What do you mean?"

She sighs wearily, blocking her cell phone and shrugging. "I don't know, he might delay our alimony, or do some sort of psych torture. He's pretty good at it. He's probably the most manipulative person I know."

You look at her half horrified. "Hey, Wands, I'm sorry. I know he's your father, but maybe, staying away from people like that is better."

Wanda chuckles humorlessly. "Believe me, I do try." She assures wryly. "I can't wait to get a job and not depend on his money anymore. But for now, I have to behave. And honestly, I think I can have fun at Hanukkah this year. I have some friends at the synagogue, so it won't be torture."

You smile weakly, reaching up to take her hands in yours. "And if it's a pain in the ass, you call me, and I'll pick you up in the same second."

Wanda gives a shy little laugh. "That would be a nice scene, huh? My girlfriend rescuing me on her motorcycle." She jokes but you are smiling, looking at her with bright eyes.

"What did you call me?" you ask, and Wanda swallows dryly when she realizes.

"I-I..."

"Say it again." You demand, moving a hand to her face to lift it back toward you when she looks down in embarrassment. Wanda swallows dryly.

"Girlfriend." She whispers affectedly, and you hum, leaning in to kiss her on the mouth.

"I liked that." You murmur close to her lips. "But what about you sweetheart, do you want to be my girlfriend too, Wands?"

She smiles, nodding immediately. "Yeah, I'd love that." You break the distance, falling on top of her on the bed.

Before the kissing session could escalate again, gasping sounds came from outside and you and Wanda - You with a horrified grunt and Wanda with a laugh.

"For the love of god, that's torture!" You complain to the ceiling, spinning on the bed to plug your ears with the pillow.

Wanda laughs as she goes to her cell phone to turn up the music to drown out any sound coming from Carol's room.

"There, fixed." She tells you once the loud Taylor Swift's music is the only thing you guys can hear.

You sigh in relief. "Thanks, you're a lifesaver."

Wanda giggles, lying down on the bed next to you. You adjust to rest your face on your hand, staring back at her.

"How long does this Hanukkah last?" you ask, and Wanda smiles as you bring a hand to her face, to brush away the loose strands of hair and place them behind her ear.

"Eight days." She replies. "We usually travel north and celebrate at a big farm that belongs to the Rabbi. Which means I'll be gone at least twelve or fifteen days."

You draw a heart with your fingers on her cheek, "I'll miss you."

Wanda smiles, counting your freckles. "I'll miss you too." She assures you. "There's no chance I'll convert you to Judaism by then?" she jokes, managing to make you chuckle.

You pinch her nose gently. "No, sorry." You mumble, and Wanda looks at you curiously.

"May I ask about what you believe? If it's okay of course."

You face her, your fingers caressing her cheeks. "It will always be okay for you to ask me anything, Wanda." You tell her, unaware of the way her chest fills with affection for you at that second. It's warm and intense, and Wanda has to press a hand to your hip and feel the skin under your shirt to know that you really are real. You know none of this, and you adjust to look up at the ceiling, a reflexive expression as you think about the answer.

Wanda prefers to snuggle into you.

"I don't think I believe in anything." You state then, and this surprises her a little. Not good or bad, just a surprise.

She watches you with curiosity. "Nothing? Not even God?"

You give a short laugh. "Especially God, Wanda." You mutter, looking down only to give her a sad smile before facing the ceiling again. You sigh. "I just...at home, really home, in New York, my father is a Christian. A big angry conservative who screams hate in the name of his god. Mom didn't believe in anything. She was a woman of science, and I never understood how she could even look at a man like Dad, but it happened. He's a Christian, and he's supposed to be the symbol of goodness, and he's not a good person. Mom was great. She could be a lot sometimes, but she was incredible. She had important values, and she never needed a god telling her what she should and shouldn't do, you know?" You start to blurt it out. Wanda just listens. "I guess I followed in her footsteps and lost any kind of connection with religion. I understand the importance, humanity needs faith because existence is scary, but I find the greatness I need in science."

Wanda rests her chin on her hand, resting it against her chest. "How?"

You sigh softly. "Just everything, I don't know." You chuckle awkwardly, trying to improve your answer with the eyebrow she raises at you. "I really like the string theory, for example. All that talk about the multiverse fascinates me."

Wanda smiles. "I think I've seen it in science fiction movies." She recalls getting a chuckle from you.

"Probably." You agree with a chuckle. "But it's much more than that. Like, string theory is this big field of physics studying dimensions. Trying to become the Theory of Everything and All Things." You recount. "I think I just really like the idea of infinity and parallel realities. To think that it's all so big and that we're so small compared to the infinity of universes that exist, and that everything that can happen will happen or is already happening." You continue half excited, making Wanda smile. "Like, right now, in another universe, we're both lying like this the same way, but... the curtains would be yellow."

Wanda chuckles lightly, turning her head to look at the window before turning back to you. "I think yellow curtains would match your room." She teases, managing to make you smile.

"You don't like it?" You ask, your hand moving down to her back to caress her. Wanda sighs lightly.

"I find it lonely." She says sincerely, and it's your turn to look at her curiously. "It's just, in infinity, nothing really matters. I don't know, I just don't like it."

"ne? (no)"

"Ne." Wanda shakes her head, a small smile on her lips. "I like to think that my life has meaning. Not just mine, but every person. And how we can be some kind of director, our choices influencing everything like in a movie. And death, well, I don't want it to be for nothing. I find peace in my faith... most of the time." Wanda comments with a small smile, wrinkling her nose. You chuckle, nodding in understanding.

There is a brief pause before you swallow dryly and continue.

"I guess that makes sense." You whisper. "It's terrifying to feel alone."

Wanda frowns slightly, staring at you, but her gaze remains on the ceiling. "Don't you like being alone?"

You snort. "Not being alone, Wanda. Feeling alone." You clarify darkly. "A feeling you can get at a crowded party or in your bedroom. Being in your own head, only with your thoughts. As if reality is all around you but you are not part of it. It's there, within your reach, but you can't plug yourself back in. And there is no way to escape from your thoughts, right? The only way to do that is to die."

Wanda brings a hand to your face at the same moment, feeling how the one on her back has begun to tremble. "Hey." She calls sweetly, waiting for you to take a deep breath, and open the eyes you closed for a moment. She looks at you with pure concern, but you force a smile at her.

"It was just a thought."

"I know what you're talking about." She murmurs back. "I have panic attacks sometimes. They're rare, but they happen. It's like losing control of your own body."

You give her a sad smile, bringing your hand to her cheek. "Does anyone else know?" Wanda denies it with her head. "Not even Pietro?"

She swallows dryly. "I didn't want to worry him."

"It's always harder to handle things alone, Wands." You tell her gently. "But don't worry. You won't be dealing with it alone anymore. I'm here."

She smiles warmly, leaning in to kiss you on the mouth. With the sound of Taylor Swift muffling the next room, you don't stop.

–//–

Petek, 13:00 (Friday, 01:00 pm)

The little paradise of memories of a sunny afternoon with you was probably the only thing keeping Wanda going for the next few days until recess.

The exams were hard, and you were busier than she would have liked. It was rare that you had time to see each other beyond school, and with the Hanukkah trip approaching, Wanda was already missing you in anticipation.

She returned to Clint Barton the missing marijuana, and the boy was so grateful that he promised to find her a job after the new year, commenting on the difficulty of new contracts at the end of the year.

On the last day of school, and also consequently her last weekend in Novi Grad before traveling north with her father and Pietro, Wanda wanted to spend some time with you.

But nothing went as planned.

"Sorry, Wands, she didn't come today." It was America Chavez, one of your drama classmates who told Wanda when she went to the amphitheater after class.

She frowned in confusion immediately. Earlier, you sent her a photo asking if the Montecchio uniform looked nice on you.

"B-but today is the play..."

America shrugged. "Yeah, but her sister called saying she was going to need the substitute." Said the girl, she was in a bit of a hurry because the end-of-year performance was going to be that night. Wanda wanted to see you rehearse, watch you perform, and come home with you. But you disappeared.

"B-but-"

"Why don't you try calling Carol Danvers? I'm sorry, I really don't know anything else and I'm running around here. See you at the play!" America walked out with some stage preps, and Wanda pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

She called you first, but it only went to voicemail. When she tried Carol, the girl answered the penultimate call and sounded tired.

"Hey, Wanda."

"Carol, hi! Can you tell me what happened to your sister? I went to the amphitheater and they said she didn't come today, but we talked earlier..."

"Yeah, Wanda, she didn't go to school." Carol confirms, clearing her throat. "Look, it's not a good time, can you call back later? Or just wait until we have some news."

"What, but she's okay, right? Carol?"

The blonde sighs on the other end. "Yes, Wanda, she's okay. Sorry, I'm busy. Talk to you later."

As if Wanda's day couldn't get any worse, her father picked her up at the school gate before the last period, and she and Pietro were taken out of school with permission from the Secretary.

"I thought we'd move the trip up a bit, to avoid traffic and get something to eat." Erik commented excitedly, but only Pietro forced a smile at him.

Wanda was looking at her cell phone, quickly keying Natasha that if she had any news of you, to call her anytime.

She was glued to her phone the whole ride, and it wasn't until the restaurant that Natasha answered something.

"Look, I think you'd better be sitting down before you see this." That was the girl's warning message, followed by a link.

Wanda clicked and it opened a video on Instagram from a local news page.

'Young teen is found on top of City Church dressed as Romeo Montecchio. Police prevent a possible suicide attempt."

Wanda's stomach churns and she widens her eyes. The video is taken from a distance, probably of some of the people around. She recognizes you, sitting on the edge.

The comments don't make her feel any better: 'Romeo when Juliet says she doesn't love him be like'; 'Kids are taking the theater too seriously these days; 'why do a scene like that? Just jump'; 'If I was there I would have asked her to jump'; 'I bet it was just to get attention; 'She fell in love with a Capulet'.

With eyes filled with tears of concern, Wanda started to type a message to Natasha, wanting to know if it was some kind of bet and where you were now, but a hand grabbed her cell phone.

"Papa, don't-"

"What are the rules of Hanukkah? We disconnect from the mundane, and connect to ourselves..."

"You don't understand, I need to know-"

"Enough, Wanda!" Erik shouts, but she stands up.

"Give it back to me or I'll start screaming."

Erik raises an eyebrow at her, a dry laugh coming out of his lips. "Excuse me?"

"I swear to god, Papa." She retorts seriously. "Give me back my phone, or I'll make a scandal in this restaurant. We're not going anywhere but a police station."

Erik begrudgingly gives her back the cell phone, still shocked by her reaction. But Wanda just turns her back on him, and walks out of the restaurant with the cell phone to her ear, dialing Natasha.

"Hey, dorogoya, first take a deep breath-"

"Natasha for the love of god, what's going on?" Wanda asks almost on the verge of tears. "Where is she? How-"

"Wanda, she's okay." Natasha assures. "I spoke to Carol just now. It was a misunderstanding, apparently. Y/N wanted to take a nice picture."

Wanda shakes her head, placing a hand over her face. "A nice picture? What?"

Nat sighs. "Yeah, it's a messed up story." The redhead retorts. "Something about capturing the special beauty or whatever. I didn't get that part. The police even less so. It was a hell of a mess, and Carol is trying to clarify that her sister is fine, they're in the hospital right now-"

"Give me the address, I'll go there."

"No, Wanda, I don't think that's a good idea." Natasha cuts off receiving an indignant laugh. "Look, Y/N has asked that no one call you. Carol told me. I don't know why, but that's what happened."

"Wh-what?" Wanda stutters hurt. "Why?"

"I have no idea, milyy." Natasha says. "Maybe she was embarrassed. Either way, you'll have to wait. She is still in the hospital, and you are leaving on a trip. Maybe she needs some time."

"How am I going to be able to go on that trip knowing she's in the hospital, Nat?"

The redhead sighs on the other end of the line. "I don't know, Wanda."

The brunette sniffles softly and sees that her father and Pietro are left exchanging glances through the window in her direction.

"Just promise you'll call me if you hear anything. Please."

"Of course, Wanda." Nat says, and the brunette thanks him before hanging up.

When she returns inside, her father wipes his mouth on a napkin as she sits down.

"Wanda, is it true then?" He questions. "That you're dating a girl?"

Wanda is so exhausted, all she does is stare at her twin brother-who has his head bowed in shame - before reaching out for her father's wine goblet. She turns it all over in one gulp, not giving a damn about her father's shock.

"And where is that your problem?"

Erik rises in a leap, ready to hit her, and so Pietro rises as well, one hand on his father's chest. Half the restaurant steals glances at the commotion, but Wanda is on the verge of tears, and it's not because of her father.

"Enough, we're going home." Pietro warns. Erik locks his jaw, pushing his son's hand away.

"I have already confirmed your presence to the Rabbi, don't you dare embarrass me." He warns, and when Wanda stands up at Pietro's gentle touch on her shoulder, he adds, "If you do, you can say goodbye to any coin of mine."

Pietro laughs incredulously, pulling his wallet out of his jeans pocket. He opens it, and throws some change on the table. "For the lunch, Mr. Lehnsherr." He says, slipping an arm through his sister's shoulder and leading her out of the restaurant.

–//–

Petek, 18:50 (Friday, 06:50 pm)

Wanda thinks she hasn't left that same position in hours. But that can't be true, because her cell phone beeped over the battery, and now it was charging, so she must have gotten out of bed at some point.

When her mother appears in her room, announcing that dinner is ready, she is no longer sure.

Pietro brings her food, and Wanda takes her eyes off the cell phone charging without further messages to the twin.

"What do you want?" she asks half angrily, and he sighs wearily, leaving his plate on the coffee table.

"Nothing, just checking on you." He mumbles clumsily. "I think I should apologize too."

Wanda pushes her hair out of her face. "You think?"

He sighs. "I must." He corrects himself. "I'm sorry for telling Dad that you were dating a girl. I wanted...I wanted to know how he would react to news like that and it was exactly as I thought."

Wanda laughs indignantly. "Wow, thanks for using me as a guinea pig, Pietro. A fucking beautiful attitude, really!" She sneered angrily, but he only sighed loudly.

"I already apologized-"

"Oh and that fixes everything." Wanda cut him off indignantly. "Look, I can't deal with your shit right now, okay? I swear, sometimes you're just like him! Anything to get what you want, with your dirty little games."

Pietro snorts angrily. "Oh, you're so different, aren't you Wanda?" He accuses bitterly. "At least I don't pretend to be what I'm not, playing innocent all the time!"

Wanda grabs a pillow and throws it over their legs. "Get out of here now! Damn it, I don't want to talk to you!"

"Very mature, sestra." He mocks, throwing the pillow back on the bed and turning his back on her, slamming the door on his way out.

Wanda sobs, but controls her own crying with deep breaths. And she sighs with relief when her cell phone vibrates, and it's you.

"Y/N, for heaven's sake, how are you?" she sounds desperate and wipes away her tears as she gets up, walking in impatient circles around the room.

You give a short, weak laugh. "I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"

She frowns in confusion. "Because of the church, I saw the video from the news-."

You laugh again, in the same exhausted tone. Wanda doesn't like the sound, not when it's like this. "The age of fake news I would say." You joke, and Wanda starts to get annoyed.

"Is that a joke to you?" she accuses nervously. "I was worried to death-"

"Because you're nosy." You interrupt her again, and Wanda opens her mouth in surprise. You sigh. "If you had been minding your own business and your own trip, you wouldn't even know about it. But you keep fucking watching me..."

"What the hell are you talking about?" She cuts off tearfully, angry or hurt she doesn't know. "I went to surprise you at the theater! You didn't say you were going to miss-"

"Because it was none of your business." You cut her off again. "You know what, Maximoff, this here, us? We're moving too fast. I need time. To think. You've called me dozens of times and texted me another dozen. Try to take a break from it okay? At least until Christmas is over."

"W-what?" Wanda gasped in shock, thick tears running down her cheeks. "You never talked to me like this." She muttered hurtfully, but you remained silent. "Baby, please, let's-"

"Time, Wanda." You cut her off breathlessly, and Wanda doesn't know if it's out of impatience or if you're crying too. "I need time from you."

The connection goes mute, and she knows you've hung up. Still, she stands still with the phone to her ear, for many minutes afterward.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #skamverse collection #alt er love series #yellow curtains

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eurydicees · 5 months

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55!

55 for the spotify wrapped prompts!! apologies for the delay, please take my humble iwaoi offering. i DID in fact, out loud, to an empty kitchen, say, "fuck they're so cute" when i finished editing this. literally so fluffy it's sickening. enjoy!!

if i tell you i want you forever

summary: a car ride. a song. and a proposal, of sorts. prompt: spotify wrapped #55, paper rings by taylor swift pairings: hajime iwaizumi/tooru oikawa words: 1436 warnings: none

They’re driving, Oikawa behind the wheel and Iwaizumi in the passenger seat. Iwaizumi is fussing with the music, tapping at Spotify playlists on Oikawa’s phone as if it were his own. He finally finds a song that he likes, and he lets it play; and the thing is that he doesn’t even like this song that much, it’s not really his taste in music, but Oikawa is singing along, tapping his hands on the wheel, and that’s enough for Iwaizumi.

And the other thing is that Oikawa is not a good singer. He doesn’t know how to sing, is always just slightly off key, is always a beat behind the track, always fumbles with the words when the singer goes a little too fast for his tongue to keep up with. He’s not good at singing at all.

Iwaizumi sits in the passenger seat, though, and he stares at Oikawa in the driver’s seat and he listens to him sing the words all wrong, and he thinks, I want to be here for the rest of my life.

The thought that he wants to spend the rest of his life with Oikawa is not a groundbreaking epiphany. It’s something that he’s always kind of, sort of known—something that’s always lived on the periphery of his plans for the future. When he was a kid and imagining his future, Oikawa was always there: sometimes in the apartment or house next door, sometimes just in the same city meeting up for coffee every week. But always there.

So this revelation about wanting to spend the rest of his life in the passenger seat of Oikawa’s car, listening to him sing off key, is not a revelation that comes out of nowhere. He’s always known that he wants to forever keep Oikawa in his life whether it be in one form or another.

But, at the same time, it’s different now. It’s different because they’ve been dating for three years and how soon is too soon to tell someone that you want to listen to their rendition of a bad pop song for the rest of your life? How soon is too soon to tell someone that having these moments—driving down the highway into the sunset, the windows rolled down and wind fussing with their hair, the music blasting and their voices louder—means everything to you? How soon is too soon to tell someone that they’re kind of everything, kind of it for you?

Iwaizumi doesn’t know, but he’s also never successfully kept a secret from Oikawa and he thinks that probably this realization isn’t something he’s going to be able to keep to himself for very long. He doesn’t want to scare Oikawa off, but if Oikawa hasn’t been scared off by now, he might never be. That may be impossible to do.

He stares at Oikawa: watching his mouth move around the wrong lyrics to the song; watching those long, slender fingers tapping out the beat on the steering wheel at the wrong tempo; watching the wind tangle its hands in his hair and mess with the styling he had spent an hour on earlier that day; watching his gaze, soft on the road, and those beautiful eyes; watching him smile a little as an instrumental break hits.

He loves him. He loves him.

This is something that has always been true and always will be true. He’s sure of it. He wants to spend the rest of his life watching this boy’s happiness openly written over his face. He wants to spend the rest of his life at this boy’s side. He’s watched Oikawa grow up, he’s grown up with Oikawa, together at every step of their lives, and he sees no reason that he shouldn’t be at every future step.

“You’re staring at me,” Oikawa says. He doesn’t sound particularly bothered by it, but there’s a pink flush at his cheeks and Iwaizumi isn’t sure if its the bleed of the sunset lingering on his skin or its the weight of Iwaizumi’s staring making him blush. “What’re you thinking in that head of yours?”

The empty stretch of highway seems impossibly long. There’s much too long between here, at mile marker 328, and the motel they’re headed to for their anniversary celebration’s week away. There’s much too much time between now and then for Iwaizumi to keep this to himself.

“I love you,” Iwaizumi blurts out. The words feel too big for his mouth, and he feels clumsy in his confession, like it’s his first time saying it all over again.

The pink at Oikawa’s cheeks deepens, and Oikawa smiles a little. “I love you too.”

Iwaizumi continues, blunt as ever, stumbling over the words a little, “I want to be with you for the rest of my life. We—can we get married?”

Oikawa’s eyes go wide. He glances over at Iwaizumi, a sharp turn of his head, and then swears and turns back to the road. Iwaizumi’s heart drops into his stomach, fuck—he said it too soon, said what he shouldn’t have, he’s ruined everything, but he can’t stop talking.

“You deserve a real proposal,” he manages to choke out, “with gold rings and diamonds and shit. But I—I want to be with you forever. I want this forever. And I want you to know that. I want you to know—”

Oikawa puts his blinker on, signaling the move to the empty road, and swerves to the side of the road. He parks the car on the shoulder of the highway, his breathing heavy—Iwaizumi’s heart is in his throat now, pouring out a confession that Oikawa clearly isn’t ready to hear—and then Oikawa says, “Are you—are you serious?”

He’s crying. There are tears gathering at his eyelashes and Iwaizumi is terrified. He knows Oikawa loves him, of course he does, they’ve been dating for three years and pining for years before that, but maybe marriage isn’t something that Oikawa wants, maybe Oikawa isn’t ready for that—

But he says, anyway, “Yeah. I’m serious. It’s—we could. Right now. We’re in Las Vegas for the week. Plenty of people—”

“Shit, Hajime,” Oikawa whispers. He’s looking at Iwaizumi with wonder in his eyes, like he’s a miracle or a prayer come true or something that’s both. “Yeah, fuck, yes, let’s do it—let’s, like, right now, let’s—Hajime.”

“We don’t have rings,” Iwaizumi stutters out, “but we can stop somewhere and—”

Oikawa shakes his head and the tears are falling now for real, slipping down his cheeks and past his chin. His hands scramble around the car seats until he finds what he’s looking for stuffed in the cupholder: the paper wrapper for the straw they had gotten with their milkshakes some miles back.

“Here, here,” he says, laughing, bright and joyful and that stupid song is still playing and it’s suddenly so warm in the car and Iwaizumi thinks his heart is going to burst out of his body and grow wings.

Yes—this is what he wants for the rest of his life. Drives to shitty motels in expensive cities for anniversaries and cheap milkshakes along the way and singing the wrong words to bad music and paper straw wrapper rings.

Oikawa grabs for Iwaizumi’s hand and Iwaizumi splays out his fingers for Oikawa to wrap the paper straw wrapper around his left ring finger, once, twice, then tucking in the end to the loop. He’s crying and laughing and still holding Iwaizumi’s hand and Iwaizumi feels golden.

“I’ll get you a real ring when we go into the city tomorrow,” Iwaizumi promises.

“Three months' paycheck,” Oikawa says, laughing.

Iwaizumi grins at him. “You fucking wish.”

Oikawa lets go of Iwaizumi’s hand to cup his cheeks in both of his own hands and pull him into a kiss. It’s tender and sweet and Oikawa tastes like chocolate milkshake and Iwaizumi probably tastes like vanilla and Iwaizumi is struck, all over again, with wonder that they’re in love with each other. How lucky is he?

“I’ll marry you with just a paper ring,” Oikawa promises, pressing their foreheads together. His eyes flutter shut and Iwaizumi takes a deep, shaky breath. “I’ll even elope with you in one of those cheap chapels run by Elvis impersonators.”

Iwaizumi laughs. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too, Iwa.” Oikawa exhales and Iwaizumi can feel his hot breath on his own lips. He wants to drink Oikawa in, wants to hold him forever, wants to be with him forever. “Gonna spend the rest of my life with you.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Yeah,” Oikawa whispers. He’s grinning. “Aren’t I lucky?”

#my writing #ask #spotify wrapped prompts 2023 #haikyuu #iwaoi #hajime iwaizumi #tooru oikawa #iwaoi fanfiction #iwaoi fic #iwaoi fluff #oiiwa #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru

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mississpissi · 11 months

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im asking you to explain :mic: abby and her dad go

ok this all started w bulks post about “abby” meaning “father’s joy” and it got me thinking about the contrast between cecil’s relationship with his mom versus the relationship i imagine between abby and her dad. fair warning that this mostly exists in my head but u bet ur burger im still gonna try to back up my ideas w quotes from the text (AP lit and lang babey).

first of all, looking at cecil’s relationship with his mom is super important. one of the first things we hear about her is that she used to hide from cecil for days and that she covered all the mirrors in their house (33). she also tells cecil to “beware, be warned, be wary”, which she apparently says to everything and cecil interprets to mean that she’s proud of him. we also hear in “Homecoming” (55) that cecil looks forward to seeing his mom every year at the homecoming game and was disappointed when he wasn’t able to. in “It Sticks With You” (182), we learn their mother would take them into the woods and walk quickly, cecil saying, “I think she wanted to lose us in the shadowy labyrinth of tall trees.” she would leave flowers at the base of the same old tree every time. she would ignore cecil’s questions. in “Bedtime Story” (132), which im convinced is about cecil (but that’s another post), cecil says “he just wanted his mother to show interest in his curiosity.” and even if that story isn’t about him, it is a story his mother would tell him at night, one he never heard the end of. in the traffic section of “Pioneer Days” (143), cecil tells a story of a boy left behind, abandoned by his family, left with nothing but a snake. im also fairly certain this is about him (cecil loves to tell his own story without ever really telling it).

most revealing is what cecil says in “Ghost Stories” about his mother and her death. we learn their mother left when cecil was 14 (whatever that means), that cecil “thought that Mom would be back at any moment, like maybe she was away on business. Or out for a walk. Or just hiding.” He says, “And Mom flew away, when all other defenses failed her.” we learn she returned many years later, sick and old and “sorry”. we learn that she died soon after in a way that was “mundane”, that cecil was at work when it happened. we learn that cecil mourned her passing.

all of this paints a picture of a relationship that was strained, full of pain, downright abusive. and we see cecil, as he does so often, retrofit this pain to be something more palatable. she was hiding because she was proud. she didn’t speak to him because she was focused on something else. her defenses had failed her. she was struggling with alcoholism and mental illness. she was playing a game. she covered the mirrors because of pride. she came back! her death was inevitable. he misses her. he grieves her. he loved her. she might have loved him. he makes excuses for her because to do anything else would be to admit that he had experienced immense pain- to re-experience this immense pain. better to change the story.

now abby.

we don’t know nearly as much about abby as i wish we did. we know she “approach[es] life with a total practicality,” that she will save her pain for when she is in private (It Devours!). steve says, “With Abby around, I can't imagine a bad thing that could happen" (89). we know her relationship with cecil has been tumultuous, that she leaned on cecil and then on steve as she raised janice. in “Bedtime Story”, the sister in the story fought with her brother, telling him she hated him. “she would wrestle him to the ground and pull his hair.” after the boy is buried in the ground, the sister often visits the tree he becomes. she plants flowers, removes beatles from his bark, reads in his shade, plucks his fruit. she visits with a man and a child, visits with joy and with tears in turn. this sister, this abby mourns her brother and tries to protect him, fights with him, loves him.

and, again, in “Ghost Stories”, we learn that abby was “reserved and controlling”, that she dropped out of college when their mom left to raise cecil, that she blamed him (that cecil blamed her for not being their mom). we learn that abby was there when their mother died, that her death prompted cecil and abby to reconcile their differences. we learn that cecil and abby are both haunted by their family.

here’s where i diverge from what we really have.

we haven’t really heard from abby. everything we know of her we’ve learned from cecil and steve. but i have to imagine she resented their mother, that she hardly wanted to drop her plans for her future to raise her younger brother. i hardly have to imagine what it’s like to have that kind of responsibility thrust upon you when all you wanted was to live your own life. i have to imagine watching your mother die, your mother who just reentered your life after years of neglect, would hurt, would be complicated, would cut deep.

i imagine mr. and mrs. palmer bringing home their first born child, naming her “Abby”, naming her “father’s joy”, naming her after the pride that swelled in her father’s chest. i imagine mr. and mrs. palmer doing their best to raise their daughter in a town as hostile as night vale. i imagine them wanting a sibling for their daughter, someone to keep her company when they couldn’t. i imagine abby struggling with the idea for a moment, then embracing her brother wholeheartedly. i imagine mrs. palmer naming their son “Cecil”, naming him “blind”, naming him after the future she saw.

i imagine abby, her father’s joy, watching as he brought his son to “work in the pasture” with him (132). watching as her brother was injured by his curiosity, watching as her father avoided him in his anger. watching her mother hide from her brother. i imagine abby realizing she would have to be the one to patch him up, even while both parents were still home. i imagine abby hearing her father promise that he “would give [his] life for [his son]”, hearing him say her brother could never be a doctor because “he feared for the boy's future patients”. i imagine her wanting her father to offer his life for her, to invite her to the pasture. i imagine her becoming more reserved over time, realizing her brother needed more help and attention, willing to step into the background because she loved him, because she wanted to be strong for her family. i imagine her doing everything she could to live up to her name, to be someone worthy of the joy of her father.

i imagine abby, her father’s joy, watching him leave. maybe she knew why, maybe she was simply left. i imagine abby watching her mother slowly fall into paranoia and fear because of her brother, because of what she had seen. i imagine abby following her mother into the woods, placing flowers on the trunk of a tree she recognizes, trying to keep cecil distracted by playing a game with him. i imagine abby making sure cecil got to school, got food when their mother was hiding from him. i imagine abby finding out her mother too had left, left her with now full time responsibility for cecil. i imagine abby becoming controlling because she had to, because she had lost control over so many other aspects of her life. i imagine abby channeling what she could remember of her father, trying to be strong, reliable- ignoring that he had stopped being that very suddenly. i imagine abby yelling at a teenage cecil, telling herself that it was better than ignoring him like they had. i imagine abby finding out she was to become a mother, a mother without a father, a mother to a daughter who had more needs than she could handle on her own. i imagine abby finding a man who wanted to help, who could provide a stability cecil was unable to, for all his enthusiasm. i imagine abby, kicking her drunk brother she had raised out of her wedding, not willing to look him in the face for years without seeing her father, seeing her mother, seeing ghosts.

and i imagine abby listening to her brother describe their father on live radio. i imagine her cleaning up after the dinner steve made, hearing about a man with a “thin mouth… [and] threatening, beckoning eyes” (192). hearing about a man, their father, her father, going into the forest with a shovel, digging himself out of the ground. i wonder if she put the pieces together retroactively or if she’d had them all along. i imagine her waiting for the shower to cry. i imagine her hearing that cecil received a photograph of their father (201, 219). i wonder if she went to see it, if she was able to, if she even wanted to see it. i wonder if she listened in, checking that her brother was taking care of her daughter, only to hear that her father, the man who’s joy she had once been, was actually talking to cecil (224). i wonder if she wondered why he was reaching out to cecil and not her. i wonder if she called cecil after, or if she knew he meant it when he said, “I refuse to look into it further.” i wonder if she hopes that when cecil is made to remember their father, she gets to as well. i wonder how long she was her father’s joy, and how long she spent grieving whatever changed that.

most of all, i wonder if WE’RE EVER GONNA GET TO HEAR ABBY’S FUCKING VOICE!!

#sorry sorry bulk this got way longer than i was expecting #i TOLD you this was an intricate thought process and that u shouldn't ask for an explanation #im too tired to proofread this but this isn't even everything i wanted to say. i had to stop myself.#anyways i love abby and i absolutely held back from projecting further on her. i did my best to stick at least canon adjacent xo #wtnv

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sleazyjanet · 1 year

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CONTACT via dms or per email : [email protected]

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payment strictly via PAYPAL

[ID: "NEW YEAR NEW COMMISSIONS" in black and red ink

a girl, sansa stark, being licked by her direwolf, lady. there are no colours. it's just a sketch. under her, the words read:

COLOURLESS SKETCH

• portrait : €15

• bust : €20 (example)

• full body: €26

+ €5 per additional character

next to her two people: a tan, brown-haired man, davos seaworth and a small, black-haired girl with greyscale on the left side of her face, shireen baratheon. under them, the words:

COLOURED SKETCH

• portrait : €22

• bust : €25 (example valid for one character)

• full body : €32

+ €8 per additional character

NO BACKGROUND available for these two options.

then another picture, same words pictured above and then a drawing of a large family, most of the starklings and their mother, catelyn. all except one girl have auburn hair, round faces and pale skin like their mother. arya has a long face, brown hair and darker skin than the rest. all are wearing rich clothes of fine fabric and with details upon them. under them the words:

CLEAN LINES BUT NO LIGHTING

• portrait : €28

• bust : €35

• full body : €40 (example valid for one character)

+ €10 per additional character

another drawing next to them of the starklings minus rickon. they are illuminated by a sharp light behind them. they're wearing fine fabric. two of them are laughing, jon and robb, while sansa looks annoyed and bran and arya are play-fighting with arya sitting on robb's lap while bran is climbing jon's back. under them the words:

CLEAN LINES + SCENIC LIGHTING

• portrait : €32

• bust : €39

• full body : €48 (example valid for one character)

+ €12 per additional character

+ €7 for background, should it be required

next picture, same words above and then a drawing of cersei lannister, pale and fair with green eyes and a crown with emeralds in it, wearing a spiked choker from which red ruby tears fall. her hand is at her chest, showing off rings. her smile is calculated. under her, the words:

LINELESS BUT NO LIGHTING

• portrait : €38

• bust : €44 (example)

• full body : €55

+ € 12 per additional character

next to her another drawing, this one of a man, beric dondarrion whose one side of the head has been caved in. he's missing an eye and has a large rope burn on his throat. he's holding a flaming sword, the light of which illuminates his face while the rest is in the shadows. under him the words read as follows:

LINELESS + SCENIC LIGHTING

• portrait : €45

• bust : €50 (example)

• full body : €65

+ €15 per additional character

+ €10 for background

END ID]

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baronessblixen · 2 years

Note

My Prompt: Mulder afraid of getting bald/his hair turning grey and Mulder worrying he needs Viagra

Set in the revival, season 10-ish. It's Mulder's birthday and he worries about things.

Fictober Day 13 | Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2022 | Wc: 1,295

Growing Old (With You)

The sun’s not quite up yet when he opens his eyes to the new day and the new year of life. Another trip around the sun and once more, he’s a year older. For once, he feels like it too. When in the past he bounced back from their strenuous work easily enough, he now needs longer to recuperate. Much longer.

He sits up in bed with a soft groan and rubs his eyes. His vision is blurry so he reaches for his glasses on his bedside table. He blinks a few times and yawns, deciding he’s officially old.

55 years old.

20 years ago he didn’t think he’d ever reach that age. Now, here he is. In the bathroom, he stares at himself in the mirror. He still looks good. Right? Well, he looks okay at least. There’s still enough hair on his head to make it work.

Leaning in closer, cursing the light, he inspects every single one, trying to spot the traitors. The ones that are gray. A while ago, while their flight was delayed, Scully read him an article about gray hair. She had glanced at him then, as if observing him like a piece of evidence. Now he’s doing the same to himself. He knows he’s at that age. Past that age, really.

The longer he looks, the more gray he will find. One day – and he fears that day will come sooner rather than later – his head of hair will be completely gray, only a strand of brown here and there.

Still checking his hair, he hears the front door downstairs open and close. His body tenses. He may be 55 years old today, but he’s still the same person he’s always been. That’s why he doesn’t lock his door out here in the middle of nowhere. Scully has reminded him repeatedly that he’s inviting trouble in, but so far he’s been fine. Until now. And on his birthday of all days.

He’s on his way to grab his gun when he hears the intruder mutter a furious ‘fuck’ in the kitchen, making him grin. Not bothering to get dressed, he goes downstairs, the stairs creaking loudly.

“When you said I was inviting trouble in,” he says, unable to hide his smile. “Were you talking about yourself?”

“Very funny, Mulder,” she says. “It’s a good thing I brought coffee because your machine still hates me.”

“It doesn’t hate you. It’s just particular.”

“Much like its owner, hm?” She grabs the collar of his shirt to pull him down to her and presses a soft kiss to his lips. She tastes like the pumpkin spice lattes she’s been getting lately. His Scully, still following trends. He may not care for the taste himself, but he loves her taste. Her lips, her skin, her everything. Just thinking about it, about her, wakes up his cock and it twitches in his boxers.

“Happy birthday, Mulder,” Scully says, stroking his arm.

“This a nice surprise, seeing you here.” She hands him his coffee and he takes a sip. It’s perfect, just like he loves it. He gives her an appreciative smile in return.

“How are you feeling?”

“Old,” he admits, watching Scully chuckle before she takes a sip from her fancy beverage. Compared to him she’s a spring chicken, barely over 50. What if he’s getting too old for her? He takes her in, biting his bottom lip, because his lower regions have opinions, too. She’s dressed casually, one of his favorite sights. Her jeans fit perfectly, hugging her curves in the best way. Her sweater, too. He can’t help but wonder if she dressed like this for him.

“You’re not old, Mulder,” she assures him.

“Tell my back that,” he mumbles. “Or my hair.”

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

“It’s graying.”

“Of course it is. It’s a natural process.”

“Easy for you to say. Your hair looks perfect.”

“Well, thank you. You know I’ve been dyeing my hair for years, Mulder.”

“That’s not the same,” he says, sitting down at the table.

“Let me have a look.” Scully walks over to him and runs her fingers through his hair as if checking him for head trauma or open wounds. “Hmm,” she says, scratching his scalp. He’d complain, maybe, if it didn’t feel so damn good.

“What’s the verdict, doc?”

“There’s a bit of gray, Mulder. But you can wear it,” she assures him. “Can I sit?” She asks him, and for a moment he’s confused; there are three empty chairs around the table. He realizes that’s not what she means.

“Yes”, he replies softly and she slips onto his lap, looping her arms around his neck. His arms go around her, too, just like they’ve always done. It’s a Pavlovian response by now. She smiles at him, smoothing down the hair she’s ruffled.

“Is this a good idea?” He asks her, tightening his hold on her in case she decides to run away from him.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “But it’s your birthday.” He decides not to question it and accept her being here, her sharing herself with him, as the gift that it is. “You really feel old?” She asks him.

“I’ve been feeling old for years, I think. What’s another year, eh? It just makes me think.”

“About your hair?”

“That, too. About how long I’ll be able to do this. Can I still run around chasing monsters with gray hair?”

“I don’t think the monsters care.”

“They might if they’re faster than me. What if I’m going bald, Scully?”

“Are you?” Her fingers are back in his hair. “Looks like a full head of hair to me. You worry too much.” The fingers wander from his hair to his forehead where they run over his skin as if they possessed magic power. Being with Scully has always made him feel younger and stronger. She makes him feel like he’s more than he ever thought he could be.

“Just wait til you’re my age,” he jokes.

“55 looks good on you.” She proves her point with a kiss on his nose. “I can only hope to look as good as you when I turn 55.”

“You will. And I will remind you of it. If I’m invited to your birthday, that is.”

“You’re always invited to my birthday.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes,” she says, sealing it with a kiss to his mouth. This time it’s not sweet, it’s demanding. Her tongue runs over his bottom lip, begging to be let in. He welcomes her. They haven’t made out in a while, but muscle memory takes over. It’s as if no time at all has passed. He refuses to let himself think about what this means – or doesn’t mean.

“You’re still thinking too much,” Scully mumbles against his lip, gently biting into it. Her hand has wandered under his shirt, searching for skin. She’s neither shy nor patient. But Mulder’s body is surprisingly slow to catch up.

“I’m an old man, Scully,” he says. “Have some patience.”

“I always thought you were the impatient one,” she says, her hand moving lower, pausing at his waistband.

“Some parts of my anatomy are still waking up. Scully, what if I…”

“What if you what?” She leans back to be able to see his face.

“What if I need… Viagra?” He whispers the word and shudders inwardly.

“That’s never been a problem before,” Scully says, her hand slipping into his boxers. “I don’t think it will be one any time soon.”

And Scully is right. As soon as her hand wraps around him, his body is on board. Every single part of him.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Scully says. “I think your back would appreciate a soft mattress.”

As always, she is right.

#fictober2022 #another prompt from 2018!#to be honest i had an idea for a story and had to find a prompt that fit #worked out well i think #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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lindsaywesker · 9 months

Text

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.

Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday.

385 million years ago, fish had fingers.

In Las Vegas, casinos do not have any clocks.

We change our voice when we talk to people we like.

Every year, around 3,000 people get bubonic plague.

You are more likely to be friends with people that smell like you.

It is believed that the Library of Congress has sex tape audio of JFK.

Beer mats were originally placed on top of glasses to keep the dust out.

In 2021, Americans streamed a total of 15 million years’ worth of content.

J.K. Rowling was the first person to ever become a billionaire from writing books.

Super Mario wears a hat because his creator, Shigeru Miyamoto, couldn't draw hair.

If everyone had access to soap to wash their hands, it would save 600,000 lives a year.

55 million years ago, the North Pole had tropical weather, with alligators and palm trees.

Listening to music for at least 5-10 minutes a day makes it easier to deal with emotional stress.

Women cry on average between 30 and 64 times a year, while men cry between 6 and 17 times.

Kanbari nyūdō is a Japanese spirit that lurks around toilets on New Year’s Eve and tries to lick you.

Egyptian Pharaohs were once required to masturbate into the River Nile to keep its flow cycle stable.

Life is not about the people who act true to your face. It's about the people who remain true behind your back.

The chills you sometimes get when listening to music is actually caused by the release of dopamine in your body.

People say "never give up" but sometimes giving up is the best option because you realize you're wasting your time.

When presented with various crisp packets, a gull will almost always choose the same flavour as a nearby human is eating.

According to a study, the two most common feelings that people tend to bring out in others are enthusiasm and boredom.

Scientists say the universe is made up entirely of neurons, protons and electrons. They seem to have forgotten about morons!

Robert Downey Jr was once arrested after he was caught driving naked in his Porsche with cocaine, heroin, and a .357 magnum.

Nutella was invented during WWII, when an Italian pastry maker mixed hazelnuts into chocolate to extend his chocolate ration.

Your first instinct is usually right. So, always go with your first instinct, even if it's a bad idea because bad ideas make good stories.

The true mark of maturity is when somebody hurts you and you try to understand their situation instead of trying to hurt them back.

When you truly believe in what you are doing, it shows. And it pays. Winners in life are those who are excited about where they're going.

Grab a banana for breakfast! They are known as a happy fruit. Eating just one can help relieve irritable emotions, anger and or depression.

Bedtime procrastination is the psychological phenomenon when a person stays up too late in order to feel like they have some time to themselves.

The hottest part of the day isn't noon but between 3.00 – 4.00. The earth warms during the day but continues to get warmer until the late afternoon.

Regular physical activity can boost creativity by up to 60%, as movement increases blood flow to the brain, fostering new connections and ideas.

Research shows that talking to yourself can improve focus, task performance, and problem-solving abilities. It's not a sign of madness but a tool for self-guidance.

Between 1913 and 1914, Sigmund Freud, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Emperor Franz Joseph, Archduke Franz Ferdinand and Leon Trotsky all lived in Vienna within 4km of each other.

Smigus-Dyngus (or ‘Wet Monday’) is a Polish holiday where boys splash girls with water and gently spank them with pussy willow branches. It's a playful tradition celebrated on Easter Monday.

Halle Berry’s divorce has officially been finalized. She will have to pay $8,000 per month in child support to her ex-husband Oliver Martinez and give him 4.3% of any income she receives above $2,000,000.

Sleeping in complete darkness can lead to more vivid and memorable dreams. The absence of light signals the brain to produce melatonin, which promotes REM sleep, the stage most associated with dreaming.

In 1993, a Frenchman named Emile Leray driving a Citroen car in a remote area of the Moroccan desert had a breakdown and became stranded. To survive, he tore down the car, built a motorcycle from the parts and then rode it back to civilization.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #music #new blog #lockdown #coronavirus #books #democracy #brexit #cronyism #election #radio #tuesdaymotivation

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the-bar-sinister · 24 days

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Lucifer Was an Angel As Well (25956 words) by thesavagesabretooth

catch up here

Summary: Kristoph Gavin has woven a dark spell around all the people in his life, and now, Vera Misham, once the victim of his poison, is the victim of that same spell, too. Despite the best efforts of Miles Edgeworth to look out for Vera's well being and her future, the true 'guardian angel' that she takes advice from is the man who would have been her killer.

After corresponding with her for years from prison, and convincing her to join the police force as a forensic detective, Kristoph tells her that there's a way she can help him. That he can, with her word, become a prosecutor as community service, and perhaps stay his sentence. She can be his detective.

Jumping at the chance, like a fly diving into a spider's web, Vera becomes part of the web of intrigue and twisted relationships that Kristoph has made of his life, learning his secrets and his evils one by one, as he draws her ever closer into the darkness of his embrace.

Please mind the full AO3 tags!

August 29, 2028– 4:55 pm

After a few minutes of chatter, Klavier waved her out of the kitchen, and grabbing some snacks under one arm, settled with her in the spacious and tasteful living room. Here and there Vera could see the evidence of his occupancy, haphazard afterthought, stapled into a room that was tailor made for someone else. Old movie and rock posters had been framed and put on the walls, and Vera could see light spaces where other pictures had been removed.

Whoever's taste it was that had originally decorated the room, she didn't think it was Kristoph. The devil's taste was warm, and comfortable. The living room's appointment was sharp, and unyielding.

Klavier threw himself half over one armchair, draping himself like a coat over it with his legs crossed and hanging off the arm. Vera sat on a couch across from him, and Vongole immediately leapt up and curled up next to her.

Vera looked around the room with a soft hum. She liked the devil’s warm and comfortable style– she liked Mr. Klavier’s intentional and brash style too in its own way.

She did not like the original occupant’s. She could only imagine it must have been decorated to their father’s taste, from everything she’d been told. It made her feel small, penned in by the sharp and oppressive opulence.

She idly petted Vongole with a tilt of her head towards one of the posters. “Who’s that one of?”

"Hmm?" Klavier had been off in the distance again, but he turned his head when she pointed. "Oh that's Ziggy. My idol, ja? I wish I could pull off a look as good as that."

“I’ve never heard him.” She leaned on her hand with a subtle smile. “But I can see how he inspired you.”

Klavier ran his fingers through his hair showing the shaved down part, and Vera saw that it was quite like the man in the picture.

"He's one of the real gods of rock," Klavier chuckled. "I pay my respects."

“I think you’re paying a lot of respect.” Vera nodded her head. She giggled softly. “you’ve got his hair. Are you gonna be going back to music, Mr. G— Klavier?”

"Who can say?" he said with a little smile. "It pains me to leave it for so long. But… I don't know. A band is like a family, Fraulein, and my little musical family is in tatters."

The look on his face told her a lot about how he felt about his blood family as well. Klavier Gavin smiled as well as he could, but he looked like the most miserable man in the world.

Vera felt a sting of guilt. It’d been so long since they’d really talked, and she couldn’t seem to help but remind him of things that hurt.

She bit her lip, scratching the dog’s head thoughtfully.

“I heard some about that from Trucy…” she murmured. “Hey, Klavier?”

He cocked his head, giving her the same kind of probing look she's seen his brother give. "Ja, fraulein?"

She opened up her pad on her lap, and began to sketch as she often did when her nerves rose up inside her.

She looked up at him with a smile. “Ah…family is…difficult. I know that too. A musical family or no…”

He pushed his hair out of his face and smiled. "Ja, it's true. And I have someone in jail from both families. Fate plays jokes like that, I suppose."

Vera’s fingers tightened on her lap “Mr. Kristoph and…and Mr. Crescend, yes?”

She only knew the case details of that fateful serenade. The details she’d gleaned from the information passed on to her that made their way into her work. She mostly knew that it had hurt Mr. Klavier deeply.

"Ja. We were best friends for a while, I thought. But it turns out I did not know him at all." She watched him turn his head away and take a sip of his soda. His fingers played on the neck of the bottle like fingering a guitar. "I think maybe I am a bad judge of character."

Vera bit her lip.

“No worse than anyone else…” She leaned a little towards him, balancing her bottle between her hands “he acted as a friend, so you saw him as one.”

"Turns out he hated me all along," Klavier murmured. "Just a means to an end. But I shouldn't be putting this on you, fraulein. I beg your pardon."

Klavier's speech was funny to listen to. It was like he had three ways of talking all mashed up together. The german words. The casual, speaking and slang. And… polite and eloquent, just like her guardian angel.

“It’s okay,” Vera watched him with her wide, dark eyes. It was a fascinating combination, pinging different parts of her attention with every word. It was familiar, reminiscent, yet distinctly different…intentionally different. She could only imagine he affected the German and casual slang to differentiate himself from his brother.

She sipped her soda. “You look like you could use someone to talk to…and I make an excellent angel on the shoulder."

"An angel, fraulein? I'm afraid I haven't done anything to warrant a visit from a creature like that." He smiled, winding his fingers through the length of his hair. "I'm happy just for a friendly ear. But it's you I should be listening to! You have a big change coming up.."

Vera nodded slowly.

“I do. I’ve been living on my own for a while…but I’m going to be in a dorm in the barracks and everything. She raised her thumb to her lips. “Learning , trying to be stronger…”

"I think you're doing a very good job," he said with a smile. "It's brave of you even to try, fraulein. Police academy will throw you right into the deep end of the world…"

She chuckled softly, almost biting her nail again before she stopped herself. “Part of me is a little worried I may drown.”

"You have lots of people watching out to make sure that doesn't happen, I think. You can count me among them. I know prosecutor Edegworth has been looking out for you too."

Vera smiled behind her fingers.

“He has been…Edgeworth, Pearl…others… and you have been too?” Her eyes glanced up to look at him “I know with all your support I’ll make my dream come true.”

"I'm glad, Fraulein." He smiled the same gentle smile she knew from her guardian angel, and for a moment he looked just like him. "But I have to wonder, how did you get the idea to become a cop of all things?"

Vera’s eyes lingered on his smile for a long moment, her heart skipping a beat, before she shook her head.

“I…” She bit her lip. “Someone I care for had recommended it to me when I mentioned feeling…disillusioned and uninspired in my art.”

"Prosecutor Edgeworth?" he asked. He cocked his head. Something in his voice told her he wasn't at all sure of his guess.

“N-no, but he was a little sad when I told him.” Vera chewed her lip. “..I think the idea of me going into law enforcement worries him. But I’m adamant.”

"He's protective," Klavier chuckled. He twirled his finger in his hair thoughtfully. "Pearl Fey, then? I heard she's going to be doing the same thing…"

“Pearl and I have been talking about it for a while…we even planned to become roommates.” It wasn’t a lie, but she knew the danger of confirming or denying too much. She danced around the subject of her guardian angel.

Suddenly the prosecutor's eyes sharpened on her like the gaze of a snake.

"Oh really?"

Vera nervously tugged at the braid in her hair, nodding slowly as she watched his eyes.

“Really! She’s really getting into it…I think she’s going to be one of the greatest detectives the precinct’s ever seen…it’s inspiring.”

"I expect it is," he said, smiling. HIs fingers played musically on the neck of his bottle again. "You're both wearing your hair differently too– but not the same as each other, ja?"

Vera shook her head.

“no, not the same as one another. She’s cut it down really far…it’s handsome on her…very curly.” Vera tilted her head, the fringe of hair over her eyes shifting. “I couldn’t part with my hair…though I..I wanted to try a more mature style.”

"More mature, ja," Klavier nodded. His gaze pierced her for a long moment more, and then he looked away. "You smell like him, you know. His cosmetics."

Even as her breath hitched in her chest, caught, she knew it was true. She'd taken his advice and recommendations in his letters.

Vera went pale, and her fingers tightened around the bottle with an audible crinkle of the plastic that caused her to jump.

“You can…can smell that?” she asked in a tone she realized was shaky. She cut herself off and nervously started to sketch again.

"Kristoph and I were very close," he said. It was the first time she'd ever heard him say his name. "And he was always going on about what he liked to wear. I wouldn't be able to ignore it if I tried, fraulein. And I have been trying."

He cocked his head again, looking back at her perhaps to gauge her reaction.

She’d started to shake as she sketched, falling silent once more as she often did when cornered and unsure.

She looked up at him through the fringes of her hair, very aware of the way her subtly painted nails caught the light as her pencil moved across the paper.

Klavier was silent for a long moment, the only sound in the room was that of her pencil on the paper. Vongole, it seemed, was immune to the tense atmosphere.

Finally, Klavier asked, "Do you talk to him often?"

Vera’s brow furrowed for a moment, and she trembled against the couch before she added something to the sketch she was drawing.

She held it up…the rough image of an angel with wings outstretched and letters falling below into a rough sketch of a pair of long fingered hands.

She nodded slowly at Klavier with the barest ‘ah’ of a sound, all she could make– frozen up as she was.

He stared at the sketch, taking it in for another long, quiet moment.

He fell back in his chair, like a puppet with all his strings cut. "I'm sorry, Fraulein. I made you upset. I wasn't trying to do that."

She shook her head quickly, before she turned the page and sketched again. This time, it was a rough picture of a hug, and a ‘sorry’ in her elegant signature.

He smiled a little and nodded.

"Cat got your tongue. I understand. I'm sorry," he repeated. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot. It's… an instinct, I guess. Prosecutor."

She took a deep series of breaths before she smiled nervously.

“...g-going to have to get used to that…as a detective.” She brushed her hair away from her eyes. “sorry..you just su-surprised me. “

He chuckled, looking away. "Ja, you will have to get used to it. But I didn't need to do it to you in the damned living room. I have no right to interrogate you."

Vera hugged her notebook to her chest “You’ve already figured it out.” she murmured quietly “so I’ll make my confession.”

She looked up at him with a nervous and shaky smile.

“I’ve been writing letters to Mr. Kristoph since…since a little after I woke up, Klavier. He’s given me advice on ..on how to get out of my father’s shadow, and how to face the world…and been my companion in the written word.” She looked down at her lap, away from Klavier's face. “He's the one who suggested becoming a detective to me.”

"Ja, fraulein," Klavier nodded with a sigh. "I was getting that impression. Can I ask a follow up question, liebchen?"

“Y-yes si-Mr. Klavier?” Vera’s fingers nervously tore at the corner of her sketchpad’s page.

He smiled at her and rubbed his face and neck awkwardly, looking entirely lost.

“Fraulein– why? Do you have an answer to that, or did it just seem… natural."

Vera looked up at him.

“Why…why did he write me? Or why did I write back…and take his advice?”

"The second one," he said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "I have stopped trying to understand why he does things."

Vera chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I can’t …can’t say for certain why I started. He never apologized for poisoning me or utilizing my talent to…to disbar Mr. Wright, but…h-he’d always been so kind to me, so polite when I was younger…I just responded.”

She looked down at her sketchpad at the drawing of the angel .“...I’d always seen him as my guardian angel– or the devil watching over me, after all. He’d killed my father, but that freed me from his hold…even if it was meant to free me in a different way. So I’d written back…and after that, he responded…twice a week.”

She tightened her grip on the edge of the paper. “His advice was always sound, always polite and sweetly spoken, and– and It’s only ever put me in a better position to face the world. I took it because despite everything I trust him…and…and I …”

She couldn’t finish the sentence, her eyes glancing shyly away from Klavier’s face. She couldn’t let him know how deeply she found herself caring for the devil who’d hurt him.

Klavier never took his eyes off her as she spoke. A few times his lips moved, as if he was repeating something that she'd said, but soundlessly.

Finally he drew a deep breath, and she heard the shudder in it, and he smiled. "Well, fraulein, that certainly makes sense in its own way. He does give very good advice. And it makes him seem so very trustworthy…"

Vera raised her painted nails to her lips, barely resisting the urge to bite them as he watched her. Her heart beat too fast in her chest, she almost felt faint as she responded.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Klavier.” Her thumb rested against her lips as she dropped into a murmur. “...I visited him today.”

"Is that why you came to see me?" There was a plaintive tone in his voice, but Vera couldn't tell which answer he was hoping for.

Vera curled slightly into herself.

“...I wanted to see you. I’d been so busy lately, and so have you, that I had missed our lunch outings.” Her fingers tore the edge of the paper into strips. “...but he was the one who suggested I visit you…so we could keep one another company.”

"Was that what he said?"

Vera nodded as her teeth grazed the pad of her thumb. “Yes.”

Klavier sighed and sat up properly in his chair for the first time. The posture made him look even more like his brother. "I'm sorry, Fraulein, I do not mean to make you so nervous. I'm…. also nervous. I'm all wound up."

“I can tell… I know it’s probably a lot, and..difficult, for you. Your brother is a complicated subject.” She chewed on her lip. “...I think he thought we could maybe bring one another comfort while…while s-situations changed.”

"A very complicated subject," he murmured. "Fraulein… forgive me another prosecutor question. I understand how your situation is changing– but what you imply is something about my own, too… ja?"

“In a fashion… Kristoph has asked Prosecutor Edgeworth if he can take the same sort of deal that Simon had in Prison. Working– working in the courtroom while he lives out his sentence. So…so you may see him there, if it’s approved.”

"Scheisse…" he hissed. "Are you serious? No. No, of course you're serious, that's a stupid question."

“I ..I am serious. And it may stay his sentence, possibly. I asked if I could be assigned to him,” she continued in a quiet voice. “Once I graduate.To watch over him.”

Klavier rubbed his face and took a breath. "Of course you did. He really has you under his spell, ja, fraulein? He… can be like that. So you want to save his life. You want to watch over him."

“Under his spell…” Vera murmured it thoughtfully as she brought her thumb to her lips. “I suppose you could say that…the devil has his ways of ensnaring a soul…”

She tilted her head with a frail smile. “I want to save him from execution like he saved me from my– ” her father, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. “My situation. I want to be the one to watch over him…for a few reasons.”

Prosecutor Gavin seemed to know anyway. He shook his head.

"You mean he saved you from your father, don't you?" He bit his lip, and then took a long drink of his soda, finishing it off. "Mein gott. So even though he nearly killed you as well, you feel like you owe him a debt."

Vera nervously raised her drink to her lips and took a sip before reaching out to pet Vongole who happily leaned into her pets, changing position for better access..

“I do mean that, Mr. Klavier…” She kept her eyes averted down at her lap. “It’s true I almost died. I’ll always remember that second of pain before the poison took me, but I can’t hate him for it. A debt, I ..suppose so. He’s done a lot for me, even behind bars.”

"Ja… I can imagine it feels that way, fraulein." He leaned back in his chair, his arms less crossed than they were protectively around himself. "He can be like that. He makes himself seem very… protective. And you are right– his advice is very good. Nine times out of ten."

“Nine times out of ten…” Vera murmured, before looking up at him. His posture, his tension– she was pretty sure she knew the root cause.

"The tenth time will seem like very good advice at first, too, fraulein. But let's remember where taking his own advice got him."

“Prison.” Vera bit her lip with a glance up at his eyes. “I know you’re worried about me being…manipulated, or led astray…”

"Or betrayed. Or discarded. Or used." He agreed, counting on his fingers. There was a heat in his voice but it wasn't directed at her.

“He’s done it before…?” Vera asked with a quiet tone. “...has he done it to you?”

He spread his hands. "What do you think, fraulein? You know about his crimes. Yes he used me– he manipulated me, and used me to disbar Phoenix Wright when I was barely yet a man."

Vera shifted on the couch with a quiet nod

“He did…it was a cruel manipulation that had a ripple effect felt even today. And it wasn’t kind to you.”

"It was not, liebchen, it was not kind at all. He did not consult with me on his doings. And why would he? By that point he had already purchased your forgery and was plotting to kill you." Klavier shook his head. "I'm sure he knew I might be persuaded or bribed to do some things– but not murder a child."

Vera’s fingers wound together on her lap, just over the neck of the bottle she held between her knees.

“It’s not in your nature, and it was a hard thing for him to explain away…so you knew nothing.” she murmured. “...that sounds like the devil’s work, Mr. Klavier.”

"Ja, fraulein. You speak the truth. My brother has much in common with the devil. His sweet face and his sweet lies being chief among them."

Vera brushed her fingers through her fringed hair, nodding.

“I’ve known him as the devil since the day we met…but…” She smiled wistfully. “The devil was once an angel, and by that token, even the devil can be a guardian angel despite his sins. Even the lies hold a measure of truth..”

"Supposing you can tell the lies from the truths, sure, fraulein. But then you would be some sort of fairytale hero." He sighed, and did the same as she, toying with his hair.

She laughed with a shake of her head.

“I…I know I’m nothing like that. I’m just a girl who survived an atroquinine attack. Just a former artist.” Her fingers tightened around one another. “But I know he’s been as much the devil on my shoulder as he has been my guardian angel…and taking his advice has eased me out of the house and into the world I wasn’t born to have been a part in.”

"I can't say that's a bad thing," he murmured, leaning back in the chair and spreading himself out again just a little bit. "That's good… that you've been getting out. But surely you didn't need his advice for that? With Mr. Edgeworth, and Pearl and such?"

“They were a fantastic help,” Vera smiled at him. “They always have been. The same with Trucy…and even sometimes Mr. Wright.”

She twisted the braid around her fingers. “But even long before them…he’d been looking out for me. And when I thought he’d discard me after the trial– he wrote again, even if it bore no immediate benefit to him.”

"No immediate benefit," he murmured in echo. "But look what it's gotten him now. My brother knows how to play the long game, liebling. I have watched him play it."

Vera put her hand to her chin. “The long game…so you think this has all been by design?”

"Ja, fraulein, that would be my guess." He wove his fingers together thoughtfully, his voice tense. "Maybe not this specific scenario, but you can see how it would be useful for him to have his own victim speak on his behalf? For parole hearings. To speak on his character. It looks good and my brother is very good at looking good. It's been years, you say. But let me tell you about Phoenix Wright."

Vera knew all about Phoenix Wright. His disbarment had been a tale woven in the fabric of her own work, her first original work of fabrication ever made– and far from the last. Her photographic memory captured every detail garnered from the trial, the papers, the video evidence and the years since.

She knew Kristoph Gavin had played ‘best friend’ to Phoenix Wright for years only to have destroyed him and pinned the blame for the murder of Trucy’s father on him. Then to be caught in a game of forged evidence and manipulation.

More than almost anyone save likely Klavier, she knew the long games Kristoph Gavin could play and the gambits he could make. Every kind word could be a lie.

That didn’t make the ache in her heart any less real. It didn’t change the fact that she wanted her guardian angel nearby, or that she wanted to help him never make the same mistakes that led him to prison again.

It didn’t stop the fact that she loved him. But how could she explain it to Klavier without sounding like some lovesick kid on the path of willful self destruction like a wandering lamb?

“If you want to, Mr. Gavin.” she murmured quietly.

"I can see it in your eyes, fraulein," he said, as if echoing her thoughts. "I can smell it in your hair. You want to be his, ja? You want his affection, and his attention? For seven long years he gave these things to Phoenix Wright. They were lovers, you know."

That, Vera did not know.

Kristoph had never spoken of it.

Vera couldn’t help but gasp, even as her face burned hot and her breath grew short. He knew…he could tell. He understood her most secret wish– and it made her feel small and vulnerable.

“T..they were?”

"Ja, they were, fraulein," he nodded. She saw a tender look in his eyes that might have been pity, or might just have been nostalgia. "They dated. I won't sugar coat it for you, you are an adult now. They fucked. They had a relationship. In private of course. Such things are not considered above board in our society. But if you don't believe me, you can ask Trucy Wright."

It wasn't surprising that Kristoph had never mentioned it in his letters. They had never even skirted the subject of love, or lovers. To an unfamiliar eye, all of their correspondence was simple and– like the term Klavier had used– above board. Vera’s face turned a deeper red.

“Oh…my…” she murmured. “No wonder Mr. Wright seems so hurt and bitter..”

"Ja, Fraulein," Klavier leaned forward toward her in the chair, his arms resting on his knees. "Listen to me, leibchen. My brother played a dirty trick in court to have Phoenix Wright disbarred– just for upstaging him! And then he played a funny game where he was the hero rooting for Wright all along. He voted against his disbarment. He became his friend. His lover. He was like an uncle to Trucy. And then look what happened."

Vera’s fingers tightened on her lap.

It was true, of course. He’d turned it all away in what seemed to be an instant. He’d betrayed all those connections, Trucy, Phoenix Wright, his brother– for reasons Vera couldn’t fathom. He’d poisoned her with her favorite things in the world.

But she still couldn’t bring herself to turn away from him.

“Don’t you wonder–” she whispered, “why he’d do it?”

Klavier's jaw was tight, and he looked away from her. "Every day, fraulein. Every night. Every moment. I do not understand it. He was my brother. I admired him. He had practically raised me. Sometimes he could be cold, cruel even, but I thought he cared, Liebling. I do not– I don't know why he would just throw everything away."

The subtext was clear. What Klavier was really saying was I don't know why he'd throw me away.Vera’s fingers twisted gently against one another , and she looked up at him with tired eyes.

“And I’d like to know why he sought to poison me one day and guide me the next.” She bit her lip. “...there’s reasons behind everything he’s done, Klavier. I don’t know them… but I want to.”

Her hair had fallen back into her face as her breath shuddered along with her shaking shoulders. “...If he really wanted to throw you, or everything else away– he wouldn’t have asked me to come see you. What does he have to gain from– from telling the person you’re sure he’s manipulating to come to one of the people who’s most suspicious of his actions?”

Klavier shook his head, his pale hair falling around his face.

"I don't know, liebling. I don't know. My brother thinks five steps ahead of everyone else. There may be something to gain in him sending you here. He knows I will not tell his secrets to the world outside, even now. 'This stays between us, Klavier', 'this is a family matter, little brother, it's our secret'. He knows I won't tell on you– and perhaps he has something to gain by making me see your perspective. Making me question him again after I've shut my heart to him."

Klavier's breaths were shallow now, and his eyes were distant. He was living somewhere else for the moment, somewhere else in time.

“I’m sorry, Klavier.” Vera murmured softly and she traced her pencil over her sketchpad after opening it near Kristoph’s furry old companion.

“You’ve spent a long time shutting him out, haven’t you? I’m..I’m sorry to have come to your home and to bring doubt to your door.” She looked up with a shaky smile. “I– I know everything you’ve said was true. But I can’t help the way I feel..”

She held up her sketch, the image of a hug on it. “...do you need one? I don’t want to distress you.”

"You smell like him," he murmured. It seemed apropos of nothing at first, then he held out his arms. "Come on then, I won't say no to a hug, fraulein. It's a powerful medicine."

Vera shifted off the couch, and placed the drink down before she hurried over to wrap her slender arms around Klavier Gavin in as firm a hug as she could manage, practically falling in his lap.

“It is.” she murmured. “...I could use a hug too.”

"I'll just bet you could, Fraulein," he huffed a hollow chuckle and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, giving her a squeeze.His chest expanded and his breath shuddered as he held her.

She took soft, shaky breaths of her own as she let her head rest against his chest.

“You look a little like him when you smile,” she murmured. “That time…in the court room when I first saw you in person, my heart nearly stopped.”

"Ja," he nodded. "That's why I cut my hair."

He leaned his chin against the top of her head, and drew a long breath of it, probably smelling her shampoo.

It was his shampoo– he’d told her which brands were best, which cosmetics were worth owning. The best nail polish in its crystal bottle, the best shampoo to accentuate the gentle curls of her hair, the best soap to keep her skin soft.

Lotions and mascara and lip gloss. It was no wonder she smelt like him– and yet Klavier didn’t seem to mind.

She held him a little tighter. “It ..it looks nice on you, Mr. Klavier.”

"Thank you liebling, I–" he broke off and shook his head, still holding her. "There is nothing I can say that will dissuade you from your course, is there?"

“Do you wish there was?” she whispered against his shoulder.

"I don't know, fraulein. I don't know my own feelings," he said. "But if there is not– if you mean to continue then there is one thing that you must understand at all costs."

“There isn’t… I'm on this path and I can’t be dissuaded from it.” Her eyes closed tightly. “I’m listening, Mr. Klavier.”

"There is one lie you must never believe, liebchen," he said, stroking her hair as she leaned on him. "You must never believe him if he says that you are the only one. In his heart. in his bed. In the strings he pulls.In his web. There will be others. There are always others."

Vera was quiet for a long moment as she leaned into his hand.

There are always others. Other’s under his sway like she knew she must be, and as he said– others in his heart and in his bed.

Her fingers tightened against Klavier, her breath held as the thought turned in her mind. Was she jealous? Scared? Fear was a familiar feeling to her, and it didn’t taste the same on her tongue. Jealousy…that was utterly unfamiliar though. How would she even know it if she felt it?

Or was this something else? Her painted nails curled against Klavier’s shirt as her eyes stared blankly into the darkness of their mingled shadows. Did she really care if there were others? As long as one of the strings binding her to his web was hers alone? As long as a piece of him was hers just as a piece of her, a large piece of her much to her worry, belonged so clearly to him?

Did the affairs of others matter, if she got the attention, the affection she craved and could share the affections that swirled inside her before they tore her apart?

She didn’t realize she’d started to murmur. “...promise…I promise..”

"Good girl, liebchen," he murmured, petting her hair. "I am sorry to hurt you this way, but better you hear it now than later. You can steel your heart the way that… others could not."

She nuzzled against his hand, her heart skipping in her chest.

“...better now than later…I promise, I’ll..I’ll steel my heart for anything. In honor of them.”

Her eyes closed as the thought of just who– and how many– Klavier meant flashed through her mind. Did he mean himself? Mr Wright? People she’d never even met?

“My heart was strong enough to survive the poison,” she murmured “It’ll be strong enough to survive this path.”

"So far, like the poison, perhaps you are the only one," he sighed. He hugged her tight, and then released her, finally. "You're wondering who I'm speaking of."

She nodded, still sitting quite close to him. Her next words came out in a soft murmur as he made room for her to sit in the big chair with him.

“Perhaps… I’d like if I wasn’t the sole survivor." She brushed her hair from her eyes “but I’m curious– despite theories.”

He put his arm around her shoulder. "Hah! Tell me your theories, fraulein."

She leaned against him. “...so far…Mr. Wright and… yourself, Mr. Klavier.”

Klavier turned immediately scarlet and she felt his body tense against her. He looked away, running his fingers through his hair.

"What a thing to say, liebling." He hesitated, but his voice, and his movement, told her everything she needed to know.

Vera nodded slowly. “...I’d thought so.”

Kristoph Gavin, her guardian angel– her devil– had claimed the soul and body of his own brother as well.

He tugged on the strands of his hair still looking away from her. "So you've guessed the family secret. Ja, fraulein. You may count me among that poisoned number. I know it's a secret you won't tell– because it would ruin him, and you love him."

“I do…with all my distorted heart.” She looked up at him with her dark eyes starting to water. She bit her lip. “I won’t tell– not just for him, but for you. Our secret…shared. I’m sorry he hurt you, Mr. Klavier.”

"So am I, liebling. And I am sorry that he will hurt you, and that I cannot stop it from happening." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "The other that I know is Apollo Justice. There may be others. There probably are. Justine Courtney, perhaps."

There were rumors about Apollo Justice– and Klavier. The tabloids had sometimes tried to paint them as boyfriends.

She flushed a little deeper, brushing her hair over her ear.

“...Apollo…”

The name brought a little flash of joy to her, a sparking of warmth at the man who’s defense saved her life quite literally…of course he was also entangled in this.

Wrapped up in Kristoph Gavin’s web along with her.

“I see…and Miss Courtney as well?” her eyes downcast thoughtfully. “Fellows in the devil’s gaze.”

Klavier waved his hand. "Courtney I only guess at. I know they were lovers in school. I have no idea if she's still in his sway. Who can say? But trust me when I say there are others, and those we've spoken of I have no doubt–"

He paused, and shook his head.

Her fingers darted to his shirt, winding against the fabric as he took a deep breath. "...I..I see. But..please, no doubt that what?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged, helplessly. "I have no doubt they have been his in the past. And might be again if you let the tiger out of his cage. Who knows. You know the spell my brother casts."

She nodded quietly.

“I know it intimately well, sir. But I…I’m sorry that I feel I have to let him out.” Was this a plea for forgiveness? Or a hope that he’d understand. “I hope…I hope the spell doesn’t draw any of them who want to truly escape it back in. But I have to…I have to become his…his detective. At the very least.”

At that, Klavier chuckled. "A detective for him? Or a detective of him? Both, I expect, ja? If you solve the mystery of Kristoph Gavin, fraulein, truly you will be the greatest detective of all time."

She giggled, she couldn’t help herself.

“Both. I want to understand him, Klavier. I want to understand every side of him, masks and all. I want to watch over him. I want to explore my talents in a way that makes me feel like more than poppa’s tool…but I want to do it in service of solving mysteries by…by…his…his side.”

"You picked the right career then, fraulein– or let him lead you to it." He smiled sadly, and pushed his hair out of his face. "As a detective, I expect you'll always be useful to him."

What was it Klavier had called himself in the kitchen? Charming and useless? Charming and useless. She could only imagine that was how he must have felt when his brother used him to frame Phoenix and cast him away.

She bit her lip.

“I..I expect I will be…the blessing of always– always being useful.” Her hand reached up to touch his hair. “Mr. Klavier…?”

"Yes, fraulein Vera?" he cocked his head, looking at her with his distant blue eyes.

She gave him her best smile, subtle and quiet as it was.

“...I think you’re a pretty amazing person. Even if you say you’re useless. I can speak of my own experience and say you., you’re admirable. Kind– friend.”

He smiled back at her, and squeezed her shoulder. "Thank you, fraulein. Why don't we do something, ja? Something normal. Something fun. A game or a movie or something. Something to cleanse the palate of all this dark talk of poisons and spells."

Vera nodded quietly. "That sounds– ” she pressed her hand to her face to wipe away the last of her unfallen tears. “That sounds fun, actually.”

Klavier immediately smiled more broadly. "Good. To me, too. I only have one more very little question for you on this black subject, and then we will put it away in the dark where it belongs, ja?"

“Alright, Mr. Klavier.” she said with an attempt to smile as well. “..I’m listening.”

"If I speak to him– if–," he emphasized the word. "Do I have your permission to mention you, and that we spoke? I won't do so without your permission."

Vera’s eyes widened, and she nodded slowly.

“You can. To him. Just don’t tell anyone else.” She put her finger to her lips. “Our secret, .please. But you can tell him. I think he already knows.”

He put his hand against his heart.

"Our secret," he promised. "I am good at secrets, fraulein. I will tell him nothing he does not know already– and speak nothing that can be understood by another."

She hugged him again with a shaky laugh. “Thank you, Klavier!”

He hugged her back– and stood up, tugging her up with him with strong arms. "Wonderful, liebling. Now, let's go do something fun. Do you feel like stretching your legs, or sitting in front of a television?"

Vera felt, in a way, that she had been somehow let into the family.

She wondered if that was what Kristoph had in mind all along. She wondered if it was a position which was possible to escape.

Her arm tightened around Klavier Gavin as he helped her to her feet. As she was now, she had no way of knowing the twisting thoughts and complicated weave of Kristoph’s mind beyond only her inklings, guesses and twisted fascination.

Yes– she was certain that in this she’d been welcomed into the family. Absolutely certain that as he requested a game from Klavier Gavin that she was allowing the jaws of some great machination to close around her with a knowing smile.

For better or for worse, there may have been no escape at all.

#vera misham #kristoph gavin #klavier gavin #ace attorney #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 #darkfic #dark fic #fic: lucifer was an angel as well #shipcest mention

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