#I don't exactly have a long history of being Good at Art (see my last post I made)
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Sure
F!y/n x girl(?), GL smut, practice draft so bear with it. Cunnilingus, reader giving, dom!reader, praising, reader is mean otherwise.
18+, GL, GxG
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You were famous for two reasons that people were afraid to mention.
You had always been known for being a mafia child. People were afraid to even mention your last name.
You weren’t exactly a 'mafia child' but you came from a family with deep connections and a long history of martial arts— the fact that half the country's business owners knew your father's company— it was security business.
Your family was like a mafia family except the fact that it was legal business.
Nobody knew the whole story but there were too many rumours and whispers when you started college.
You chose a silent life in highschool but were forced to go above and beyond after being a target for the school bullies— it was a minor crack in the wrist and they made it a big deal.
You sighed when a girl that sat beside you gasped after realising who you were.
She immediately changed places and went to sit in the farthest possible place.
You didn't know what was so intimidating about you.
The second reason people talked about you, however—
"Excuse me," A cutesy girl spoke, "May I?" She was talking about the seat next to you.
You two looked like opposite poles of the same world.
You seemed like an alien next to the white shirt, black skirt, and a black long coat with your black pants, a grey checkered shirt, and an odd leather jacket.
"Sure," You spoke nonchalantly.
She put down her expensive-looking coffee order on the desk and took out her iPad to take down some notes.
You noticed her baby pink headset around her neck that somehow went well with her outfit— like a signature piece.
The class went by as usual with you barely paying attention to anything and finally taking pictures of the board and leaving with your bag and taking out your earphones.
"Excuse me!" The girl from earlier rushed behind you, "Are you free right now?"
"Why?" You aked, plugging the cord of the wired earphones in your phone.
"I wanted to have a coffee with you!" She seemed excited.
"I'm sorry, I don't drink coffee," You started walking away, "Or tea." You said from a distance.
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The girl was persistent it seemed.
She sat next to you again and this time asked if you liked ice cream.
You weren't sure why you agreed but you were sure it was a reluctant 'yes'.
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"You said it was an ice cream date," you stared at her— skirt raised, panties gone, "And we're in your room now."
She tried to muffle a moan when you dived between her folds.
One of her hands in your hair, tugging lightly and the other gripping the bedsheets for her her dear life.
She gasped when you started using your fingers to stimulate her clit instead, "Y-Y/n wait— w-wait!" She supported herself up and tapped at your shoulder.
You moved away worried and sat up straight to see if she was okay only to see her hiding her face behind her hands.
"Was it overwhelming? Are you okay?" You asked.
"It's— It is my first— I've never—" she sighed, her chest heaving from the previous activity.
You felt something shift in you, "Do you know what they talk about me?" You asked while getting on top of her.
She slowly lay herself back, "You're from the mafia and that... you almost killed someone when you were having sex..."
"Both are false," you kissed her earlobe lightly, "Martial arts, not mafia and he wasn't 'almost' killed— he died."
She shuddered.
"It wasn't him I was having sex with— he tried to interrupt us." You smirked against her skin, "You got to be a good girl, now. Okay, darling?" You asked again.
She whined softly at the sudden old-fashioned nickname.
"Please," she whispered.
"Tell me if it's uncomfortable," you mumbled.
You made sure to go slow this time, keeping in mind to be gentle and that to make it a memorable first.
"Say princess," You looked down and unbuttoned your shirt, thowing it away, "Aren't you uncomfortable in all those clothes?"
She unbuttoned her shirt and slipped out of her skirt with a little help from you.
"Smart and beautiful, such a classic." You took the liberty to take off her bra.
You slowly and deeply kissing her while fondling with her breast made her go crazy.
There was not much you were letting her do when you had put most of your weight on her and were devouring her like no tomorrow.
You slowly went down kissing along her jawline and finally to her already hard nipples.
"Do you mind a hickey?" You asked in a whisper.
She shook her head to refuse.
"Words darling, words." You chuckled kissing the valley between her breasts.
"N-no," she breathed out.
You immediately started on a mark above her chest and she moaned.
You started going further down to tend to her needs. She kept squirming so you put a hand across her pelvis to keep her down.
You take a quick lick at her wetness and hum, "So wet darling? Do you want me to take care of it for you?"
"Yes— please—" she pleaded.
"Good girls get rewards."
You started lapping at her wetness, ravaging her. It was as if you were hungry for ages.
She moaned when your nose rubbed againt her clit.
You kept going until she became louder and louder, then finally tugging at your hair particularly harder than before and breaking down into throes of pleasure.
Her face was contoured with pleasure and it swelled your pride.
"I don't think I should be here any longer," You tried to get up but she pulled you back to her core.
"Again," she panted, still not completely back from her high.
"Sure thing, darling," you laughed.
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last night i watched a play, my mom's production of aaron posner's "Stupid Fucking Bird." it's a really good production, if you're in the chicago area you should go see it. but it got me thinking a bit about the nature of theatrical productions and how different it is from the state of games.
like, okay. from what i understand from my parents telling me about this, here's how it works: the original production of Stupid Fucking Bird was in 2013, shortly after the play was written. since then, like many plays, the script has been licensed to dozens of productions, who will use the same script but put their own directorial spin on it. the same play may be done as a drama, a tragedy, or a comedy, and that ability to do that is part of the beauty of theatre.
these different productions are how a play stays alive, because unlike a lot of other art forms, plays are innately ephemeral. no showing is exactly the same, and once a production is done, it's over. mama's play is still in theaters, but the only way to experience yesterday's showing is to go back in time. but that sense of presence, of in-the-now, is what gives theatre, and performance generally, its character. we in the video game space tend to chafe against the concept of ephemeral art, and view it as a matter of preservation. i'm sympathetic to this! we shouldn't be letting art history be controlled by corporations who put profit above art. but there is aesthetic value in art being limited, and of-the-moment. it doesn't have to be artificial scarcity to make a quick buck. but that's a whole separate conversation in itself, and not what i wanna talk about here.
the real thing i'm interested in is this: we in the gamedev space don't really do "new productions" of old work as freely as theatre does. we do get remakes, remasters, and rereleases, but those are always either made in-house or at the strict behest of the original publisher. alternatively, the developer doesn't get the rights, and gets a cease and desist letter for it. there just isn't a culture of adaptation in games. nobody wants to hand off their work to somebody who puts their own spin on it. this is partially copyright culture, corporations very protective of their IP. but it's just as uncommon in indie spaces, and i suspect that's because there's a very real stigma against "copying somebody's work."
now, look, plagiarism sucks, and there's always going to be a debate over what specifically counts. but i'm not actually talking about that. i'm talking about the derision that the gaming community has to wearing its inspiration on its sleeve. we see this in the memes about indie rpg's inspired by EarthBound, in the way Paladins was framed as "Shitty Overwatch," and how Overwatch itself was framed as "Shitty TF2." gamers are very defensive about their favorite games, and to some, the most cringeworthy thing you can do as a dev is try to do what it's doing.
i don't have a solution to this problem, but i can be change i want to see, so, here. this is my gameography. you have permission to adapt or remake or reinterpret any of this as you like, as long as you ask first and give me a cut if you're gonna monetize it. i don't really monetize my shit usually, so it only seems fair. i'd love to see other devs do this, to see even big-name developers willing to open their work to adaptations. but there's also reasons we don't tend to do that, and maybe this'll be a failed experiment, whatever that means. i hope i've at least given you something to think about though. peace
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Why don't you do one of your disney verse stories with princess Ivy from Sofia the First and her sister after all if you've arleady done one with the witch shuriki from Elena of Avalor which i really like by the way why not do one with the princess with power white, black after all you don't believe.
Look, I usually try to be very polite and give people the benefit of the doubt but this is getting annoying. I'd talk to you in private but your conversation seems to have disappeared from my DMs and since ignoring your many previous asks doesnt seem to have deterred you either I'll do it here.
Please stop asking me for Princess Ivy stuff. I've explained before that I'm not that interested in her, and after the last ask you sent where you said you'd "waited long enough" for me to do a backstory on her I have no interest at all in ever doing one.
I do these things for fun. I'm not getting paid, I'm not beholden to anybody to do anything. If I answer an ask its because I feel like it, if I do a backstory or any art it's because I'm actually interested in it, if I dont answer an ask it's because I don't have an obligation to if I find the contents demanding or uninteresting or simply using my blog to promote their own ideas with no real interest or tie in to my works here.
This is something that sadly seems to be happening more frequently. Guys, I dont mind seeing your own stuff or answering questions on topics, but like, use your own blogs to promote your original ideas, not mine, its only polite.
If all you really want is someone to echo back exactly the take on a character or headcanon you have, that's not what I'm here for. I can't mind read what you want me to say and I'm not going to just randomly add in things you think I should to a project I'm doing for fun and don't expect anyone else to be beholden to head canon wise.
It feels like most of the asks I get aren't from anyone actually interested in the stories I've been crafting here or even people interested in discussing Disney stuff as an actual discussion of two people who enjoy Disney characters and history but people who just want a random person to echo chamber them for a hot sec so they can feel good about their own thoughts and never interact more than that.
In conclusion, I will draw what I want to draw and I'll do it when I want to do it. This blog is ultimately for me, the artist and writer, to have fun with. Unless you're wanting to commission me to do something I don't have any obligation to draw anything for anyone, and even then I still reserve the right to say no if I want to.
Sorry about the rant to everyone who has been wonderful and supportive and actually interested. Thank you for being a positive motivator and good tumblr neighbors.
#asks#disneyverse#disney#artists are not content machines ok?#we don't owe you/ anything/#if you're not paying us we dont have to do crap for you#and even then we deserve to be treated decently
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Nat I'm so sorry, I have to marry Cass now. Yes I know he could and would kill me, but I see a Byronic, redheaded man and I go a little stupid
OUGHUGHUGH.... we probably have similar tastes anon, unfortunately. the only way i could have carefully curated him to my tastes more is to have him be a blond, but i CONTROLLED myself. the tortured artist archetype is one of my absolute faves and weird fucked up daddy issues artist in a gothic horror house with pre-raphaelite leanings . . . ah. we can All Go A Little Stupid, as a treat!!!
oh and as i am replying on a pc and not my phone have some more picrews of him (i do make art but honestly i am not as good at it, sometimes a picrew captures the vibe better!);
my beloved awful man. how i despise him.
as i love to talk about my little guys. here is some info on cass from his refsheet (that i must get around to doing a little updating of!) cw: child abuse, eye trauma, alcoholism, yandere mentality, A Guy
Cass grew up in an impoverished aristocratic family; the kind of old money old-name whose estate was crumbling to pieces, but preferred to pretend they were still in their halcyon golden days. A latent talent for painting making itself known at the tender age of five and a half meant that his family's connections were very quickly made use of - and after that, money was not so much of an issue. Cassian lost his entire childhood to work and being dragged halfway across the world to be fussed over and paint portraits, a lack of stability that he insists was thrilling but he still feels now right down to his bones. Private tutors, an education that only took art and art history and anything else related seriously, and a father who took great issue to Cass being something of a daydreamer have all played their part in making Cass exactly who (and what) he is today.
After losing his eye, he felt like he lost his entire identity. He'd spent so long thinking his only worth was in what he could make with a paintbrush in hand that it drove him to despair, and to find his solace in the bottom of a bottle - he would have done anything to regain his vision. And eventually he found his solution in a tiny bookshop in Whitechapel; first floor all children's books, second floor books entirely on the occult. A kindly bookseller gave him some assistance, and later on that night Cass found himself performing a ritual that ought to have attracted the attention of a patron deity of artists.
Things are never quite so straightforward.
Cass can see perfectly now, thank you very much. He can also hear the whispering and the chittering of the servants of the demon he made a Faustian bargain with, talking behind the patch he wears because now his eye is . . . rather distressing to look at. He has a boost in speed and strength and endurance, too - but most importantly, he has the knowledge that when he does die, there's an eternity of torture waiting for his immortal soul . . . so why not have fun now?
Cass is on the search, always, for his perfect model. His Lizzie Siddal, if you will; someone who will get in front of the lens of his camera (oil painting takes so much longer, and though he does still paint on rare occasion, his models don't always last long enough for that) and will provide for him the work that will make him immortal. He doesn't care how many models he tears through, breaks and buries in the search for just that.
After all; art is the most important thing in the world, is it not? And Cass intends to leave behind a legacy.
#nat.txt#ocs.txt#beloved little bastard i have FICS for him that i'll get around to posting including a first meeting type thing#that i never got around to posting on the art blog#anon i am kissing you on the mouth thank u for liking my bastard man#yandere for ts
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An update, academic burnout and how I want to use social media
Hi everyone, long time no see. As some of you already know, I've been going through a lot of personal things, transformative things, weird things. I am currently in the long process of getting my degrees, which has been challenging to say the least. The whole process has now prolonged even more, as my life has had taken a completely different turn the last couple of months. I went through some very tough life events that were full of heavy emotions, but they were also deeply transformative. They marked a culmination of something that had been unraveling in me for a long time, something that began sometime when I was around my 3rd year of University.
That is the time when I reached peak academic burnout. Up until my 3d year of uni, I had been bathing in inspiration each day, as I got to learn about art and human culture and all the things that make me understand existence better and love life better. I was studying hard, my grades were amazing, but physically I was not doing good at all. Very soon my mental health started to decline as well and nothing was the same. My 3rd year of University was the time where I came around and realized that I was pushing myself way above my limits, so naturally my body and mind said no more. I love art, history and folklore with all my heart and I am so grateful for being able to study those topics at such a good University and for having such great experts teach me so many invaluable things. However, studying there was very hard, often unreasonably so, and many things have happened to me there, things that were very unfair, and that is to say the least. I realized I had been pushing myself in order to attain certain ideals and to fulfill certain expectations, which definitely weren't mine. That's the perfect formula to get to burnout, which is exactly what happened to me.
Staying up late in order to memorise each and every term perfectly, having 3 hours of sleep, having health issues in the morning, acing the exam then feeling numb. Rewriting sentences indefinitely just to get them "perfectly right", to create "the best essay/seminar ever" and to create something that's gonna be..different. Rinse and repeat.
This way of functioning translated over to other parts of my life as well, even into my lovely project/blog 'Theatrum Tenebrarum', which is supposed to be a safe space for myself and others. I envisioned Theatrum Tenebrarum as a place for me to share what I have learned, in the most simple and interesting way, to inspire others to look for deeper meaning behind the things we love in popular media, and frankly to just have a space for me to express myself. Without being aware of it, righr away I started to become very meticulous about my words, my sentences, my topics I'd like to write about. This habit of wanting to create "perfect" texts/"perfect" content had engulfed me, and I stopped posting altogether, because that is too much for me, and I don't want the safe online space I created to be another "University course" to me.
So from now on, 'Theatrum Tenebrarum' is going be what it is supposed to be, and that is a safe space for learning, for creativity. A space that celebrates the mystical, as well as the mundane, as they are intertwined. I will still be writing texts about the cool things that inspire me, but they won't be the only thing I post. Since my other passion is video making, I decided to open a YouTube channel where I plan on posting vlog-style videos and sharing the things I learn about. I'd also like to focus a bit more on slow, magical living, mindfulness and journaling, as those were of great help when I was figuring out how to heal from burnout. I'd also like to film about how I commonplace information about the things I learn about, while talking about folklore, art, mysteries, and all of those topics. If that is something you think you'd find interesting, be sure to subscribe to my channel :) (I'm putting the link below). This is my way of stepping into authenticity and sharing the things I want to be sharing, and how I want to be sharing them. Thank you for reading, if you've come this far, and thank you for being here.
My YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/@theatrum_tenebrarum?si=zOv74vojhPbs9dxt
Here are some winter vibes from my hometown, house, local magical fairy hill, and a photo of my visit to one of the most magnificent gothic cathedrals in the world, the Chartres cathedral, that I visited in early spring.
-Heidi (@theatrum-tenebrarum) 🖤
#art historian#folklorist#academia#academic burnout#burnout#burnout recovery#youtube vlogs#youtube#burnt out writer#video editing#slow living#witchyvibes#journaling#commonplacing#safe space#mindfulness#gothic#folklore#forest#i lived the dark academia life so you don't have to#and it's not fun when it takes place in reality#Chartres#cathedral
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“and as alejandro has aged and gotten slightly better due to gwens influence (will elaborate if asked)”
hello! i am asking ^-^
starting this bit by reminding everyone that I like aleheather a LOT. like even back when it was not as popular on tdblr (the crime of having a woman get in the way of a yaoi ship is very dire in this fandom) and I'm sooo excited to see people being normal about them again.
anyway, one of the reasons I think alejandro originally fell for heather is because she could understand him. alejandro is a very lonely character. he's always putting on different personas to get by, he has a poor relationship with most of his family, and he's been outcasted by many of the people in his life. so, when he saw everyone hating heather, along with her obvious intelligence and skill, he saw an opportunity for a normal relationship. they are very precious to me
but, in my vision, they wouldn't really last long term. ultimately, I think it'd be heather who needs something different and alejandro would at some point figure out that there was just this gap between them that they couldn't bridge, no matter what angle he looked at it from
okay now gwen. I shouldn't even have to explain why she and alejandro would be a really good pair, they literally called her new heather for multiple seasons. she was loved, admired even, and then became wildly hated for doing something that was actually really alejandro-core when you think about it.
in all-stars, you can see that she's kind of a wreck. I actually don't hate her character derailment here because if I got called a bad person by everyone around me multiple times on international television, I'd be begging for forgiveness too. I really relate to gwen as a character. also sorry gwourtney stans but I really don't think gwen cared about courtney as much as courtney did about gwen. gothy was just acting impulsively and pretty pathetically to undo the damage she caused, again out of her internal fear of being bad. courtney was gay for her for sure but I don't think gwen ever reciprocated that. gwen likes women I just don't think she'd like courtney
anyway. alejandro is someone who embraces being shitty. I think if they did team up during all-stars, he would convince gwen to let go of her guilt and her past mistakes and embrace the present. if she can't beat them, join them. so she has a little villain arc and gets to come to terms with her morality in a much less sad way.
but likewise, I think her fear of being bad and her genuine attitude would do something in alejandro's head. cause gwen right now, and even in the past, has always been an outcast. but unlike heather, she embraces it. she doesn't need to be worshipped, she actually wants to be left alone. this is a funny mentality to alejandro, who's been making up for the abuse he's suffered by getting extra attention from others for his whole life. he's been putting up this facade of perfection and charm and it makes him kinda miserable, and it drives him to want to be understood.
and then gwen is just. you know. she's kinda gross. she uses paint for her lips and does her hair with spit. she doesn't fear being mean when she has to. and when she wants something, she gets it through a straightforward route, and not through deception. this is really interesting to him.
and I think as he continued to coach her through all-stars, they'd learn more about each other and realize they're very similar. they both probably like weird foreign arthouse movies, art history, weird literature, like they'd have a lot to talk about. and as time goes on he kinda realizes that what was missing with heather, and what gwen has, is the ability to see him for exactly how he is. not the charming, cunning villain, but a kinda lame guy who's just really pretentious. I think gwen can do that with people. just look at them and see through whatever front they're putting up. that's why she hated cody from the start, and liked duncan- didn't matter than one was externally nice, she knew he had bad intentions. didn't matter that one sucked on the outside, she knew he was alright and just acting out for attention deep down. like she knows things that other characters don't always pick up on, so I don't doubt she could do that to alejandro. probably why in canon she never fell for any of his manipulation (I don't count the eyes scene, that was just her having a moment)
anyway, I think this would eventually lead to alejandro feeling safe enough to open up a little more, and she would do the same in return. I think being able to just talk to each other as people would be mutually beneficial and they'd end up a little better because of each other
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Illumicrate Unboxing
Live Like Legends
March 2023
I was so excited when this theme was announced - a completely fandom neutral box based entirely around Greek Mythology?! I love the idea, and actually I'm pretty pleased with the box. However, it isn't what I was imagining, and I think Illumicrate could have done better with this one.
With a Greek Mythology theme, I was anticipating a really cohesive box, and I was sort of thinking it would be a gold and cream colour scheme - and that all the items would look like they'd been designed to fit together. That's just not what we got, we got the usual Illumicrate mishmash of colour and design.
Interestingly, FairyLoot have recently also announced a fandom-neutral Greek Mythology box, which will drop in May. So it's going to be very interesting to see if they improve on this idea!
The featured book is "Lies we Sing to the Sea" by Sarah Underwood. There's been a bit of discouraging talk around this book, which absolutely put me off from buying it, and makes me very dubious about reading it too. This is an Odyssey retelling - and the author openly admits she didn't read the Odyssey! I don't like to rely on second hand information, so I did go looking for the infamous interview, thinking perhaps that in fact she'd read abridgements and just hadn't read the full translation. Which would be understandable, even though I do believe research is an important part of writing. However, she genuinely said that the Odyssey was too long, and that she knew about Greek Mythology because it's in kids' books like Percy Jackson. She wrote this because, apparently, she saw a gap in the market for Greek retellings. Seriously. I really don't have any interest in an author who doesn't genuinely care about their subject matter - writing should be a passion. But, book choice aside - this is a brilliant special edition! This exclusive is a hundred times better than the original design - there's so much gold foiling! It's got beautiful sprayed edges, foiling on the hardcase, and incredible artwork endpapers, one of which also includes the author signature.
The first item is a teapot! What an incredible item, I was so excited when I unboxed this! My first thought on seeing the outer box was that it was a ceramic mug, then when I saw the word "teapot" on the outside, I couldn't get it out the box fast enough! This is a tiny cute little single-cup teapot - I think this is supposed to go with the collection of Greek mythology cup-and-saucers they've done, although unfortunately I only have one of those. But it's a beautiful item, featuring Mount Olympus on one side, and the Underworld on the other!
The next item is a book pot. I've only got one other pot from this collection, the art history one, and they go for a bomb on eBay. I don't know why I like these so much, because there's only so many of these you can use, but they're just so gorgeous, I'd gladly have a dozen of them! This one is orange, so both the colour and the theme go great with my decor - I'm thrilled!
Next is a sticker sheet. It's not exactly what I'd want from a Greek mythology sticker sheet - I'd have liked plain cream or ivory stickers, with gold foiling outlines and detailing - I think this would have been really striking. And I'd definitely want them to be less cartoonish. Stickers based on classic Grecian pottery designs would have been way better! Still, I enjoyed trying to match each sticker to the myth it was based on, and some of them are really cute, I'll definitely use them.
The last item is a lunch bag, inspired by the Underworld. This is the only item that lets the box down a bit. It's not particularly good quality, which is a shame. However, the design is really nice, and I do use a lunch bag at work during the summer, so it's a useful item to get!
This is a really good box, I like every item, and the book (despite not being one I wanted) has some great customisations. I just think they could have done more with the theme. I'll be really interested to see how FairyLoot do with the same theme in a couple of months!
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Is my first post of the year a character sheet for my OC Julieta? Yes.
Not like I care since I've wanted to do this thing for a while.
Anyways, I'll be putting more info about here below and under the cut.
Julieta does like pokemon battles, in fact she has the potential of being great trainer, but she sometimes has doubts about her skills.
The reasons why her and her mom moved to Paldea were the death of her father 9 years ago and the fact Julieta isolated herself after his passing which means she was having a harder time making new friends as she grew up (and she didn't exactly had many friends before the incident). Also, the two just weren't happy living in Galar anymore ever since Julieta's dad passed away.
Yes, Julieta does speak Galarian and Paldean (English and Spanish). Before moving to Paldea, her mother was teaching her the language so she wouldn't have any complications in the future.
Julieta is usually a calm and kind person, but if you make her really angry she won't hesitate to throw some hands and resort to violence. (She was so close to kicking Arven's ass on their first meeting at the lighthouse because he was being a big jerk).
Can be emotional person at times. Don't watch sad movies with her unless you're prepared to comfort her cause she will be crying for an hour.
Ironically, when her father passed away she did her best to hide her emotions and it eventually became a skill of hers (not a really good skill to have tbh, but hey at least she learns in the future that she doesn't need to pretend she's fine or keep everything to herself 👍).
She loves reading and is a big history nerd. So you bet Ms. Raifort's class is among her favorites.
Her second favorite class is Art class.
Mr. Hassel is her favorite teacher of the academy.
Her cooking skills don't exist, she's just incredibly bad at it. Arven sometimes wonders how the heck she's managed to survived so far. (She can cook very few things that aren't extremely complex though).
Even if she can't cook, she loves food. So expect her to make a stop at the restaurants of each town she visits.
Can be very protective of the people she cares about.
She's had some crushes in the past before and they rarely lasted long or just never got anywhere (poor girl was always afraid to confess due to fear of rejection, and her lack of confidence and probably low self-esteem doesn't help her case), so when this girl realizes she's in love she's going to panic and will not know what to fucking do about it.
Remember the whole thing of her isolating from other people after her dad died being the reason she had a hard time making friends? WELL THAT WAS A LIE. The main reason of her lack of friends was that she was being bullied for her looks and for being a bit of a history nerd. And no, her mother doesn't know about this, the last thing Julieta wanted was to worry her mom.
Speaking of bullying: this is also the reason she has/had low self-esteem and little confidence in herself. (This doesn't mean she won't kick your ass if you make her angry or hurt her friends though).
Don't worry, nowadays her lack of confidence ain't that bad and her self esteem isn't on the floor (thanks to her godmother's encouragement and kind words). But she's still working on it, so every once in a while she has some self-doubts.
She LOVES to dance, it was actually one of her hobbies and it still is, she even dreamed of performing in front of a huge crowd of people. Unfortunately that wish dies down after her dad's passing, she just didn't wanted to fulfill her dream knowing her father wouldn't be there to see it. But she still keeps dancing, mostly in private and when no one is around, let's just say she's become a bit shy about it as the years went by.
#pokemon scarlet and violet#pokemon oc#scarlet and violet#pkmn#pokemon violet#the keep reading thing better work out#cause this thing is long as hell#julieta
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Writing asks: 8, 53, 91
Fanfic ask game here.
Thanks!!! :D
8. what’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? do you seek it out? how well do you take it?
I love it. And I'd say I take it well too. In fact I wish I would get even more of that - I'm always kinda seeking out feedback but it's pretty difficult to find nowadays. Back in the day there were no "Like" buttons nor reading counters and such anywhere, so if you read and liked something, the only way to let the other person know about that was by leaving a comment.
I still kinda miss that time, as I still don't exactly understand what e.g. Kudos on AO3 is for. For me it's similar feature as a heart or thumbs up on social medias etc., and it never really tells why the person left kudos. Did they really like it? Were there things they did not like? Were there things the author could do better? What were the things that caused the reader to click "kudos"? I get a slight dopamine rush from kudos, but it's not that long-lasting as seeing that you've got a new comment, especially if the comment is longer than just a couple of words. Sometimes I keep thinking about a comment for days or weeks, that's how much more valuable they are, and they always make me much more motivated to continue what I'm doing. Way more than what kudos ever can.
Usually if I read something and like it, I always leave comment in one way or another. Either under the story or directly to the author. I started doing this when I was maybe 16-17, and honestly, leaving feedback is also a skill! A skill where you can get better only by practicing it - by leaving feedback. Eventually you will learn to look at the thing (be it fanfiction or any piece of art) from the point of view that helps you build the comment.
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53. when writing, do you have an outline? and do you stick to it?
Outline as in... a plot or some sort of a plan? It depends, but usually I do. I remember I wrote my first ever fanfiction without one, and I just kept writing whatever I wanted and the story ended up being a very messy one, like you'd expect too.
After that I decided to create the story idea before anything else, also because it'd help me to finish the story eventually. Normally my outline is just "all these events in a chronological order", which is also the plot. I think I picked up this habit from my comics history, as as a kid I drew all my comics without a plot and none of them was ever finished, until I was 14 and had an idea that I should create a plot before I start drawing, and I managed to draw my first ever comic that I also finished - and it was only a couple of pages long, in comparison to those never-ending stories that sometimes ran for up to 20 pages (tho, most of then never getting past the first page).
So if I'm writing a longer fic, I often have some sort of an idea I try to stick to so that I'd finish it eventually. With shorter ones it often starts with one (fluffy) scenario and I build everything else around it. Sometimes I connect several scenarios into one story. With the shorter ones it's okay to just write whatever I feel like writing without thinking too much. But it really depends on the idea, as sometimes I get an idea from something and the idea itself already kinda defines the outline for the plot.
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91. how has your writing style changed over the years?
Well, I was ~15 when I wrote my first fanfics and now I'm 31. I don't think I was a bad writer even then, sometimes I still visit my old fanfics and I'm actually amazed by the skills I had back then. I never felt that good of a writer and I was just writing for fun, so it's very interesting to read those now because I definitely was better writer than I thought I was!
Also my first fics I wrote in Finnish and then I switched to English with the die ärzte fanfics when I was 18, and from those times the biggest progress has been: the language. My overall English skills are much much better than they were back in the day, still not perfect, but good enough. There are still it's own challenges at writing in English as I often know exactly what I want to say and I know how to write that in Finnish, but I just can't put it into words in English - or alternatively end up reusing the same words over and over again because I haven't learnt alternatives or can't memorize them.
I'd also say that the most recent change in my writing style is switching away from the standard heteronormative and amatonormative narration. I no longer use sayings like "just friends" or "more than friends" because a romantic relationship is not superior to platonic relationships, nor is it any kind of "next level" from friendships. Maybe for some it might be and good for them I guess, but what is not cool is to think it goes like that for everyone else too. So in my writing it no longer is "physical touch only if they're romantically interested in or involved with each other", but they can be physically as close as they want without having to worry about being "just friends" and that not being okay for "just friends" - because this concept no longer exists in my writing. The only time I might use this is when the characters themselves talk about it because in their world and era it might still be a thing and important for the plot and gives more realism for the story.
I also feel that my writing has "matured", in a way. Like, I know I've never written NSFW in the first place, but my stories were definitely a bit wilder when I was younger. So to say, I have calmed down myself and so have my fics. They're no longer behaving like they'd be living in a chronic honeymoon phase, but there's more of emotional intimacy that doesn't always need physical fluff to work. Or maybe it's again just my own aromanticism getting stronger the older I get, who knows...
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Bonding Over Katanas
So I've been reading the one manga that seems to be memed on a lot, Kagurabachi. While it's not super-special, I think about its premise and also the fascination with Japanese katanas.
For those who don't know, Kagurabachi is a revenge story about a young man driven by revenge against a group of sorcerers who murdered his father, who happens to be a famous swordsmith. This story takes place in modern times, so there's a mix of urban environments combined with fantasy swordplay elements.
While reading this manga, I thought about my own obsession with wielding a katana. Before I got into anime and manga, I watched Highlander: The Series as a kid to early teen. I loved the idea of immortal people fighting with swords in some mystical competition to be the last one left. And seeing the fights happen in late 20th century urban alleys, sulfur plants, parking lots, and abandoned factories was something that fascinated me as a kid. To this day, it still does.
I think that modern fantasy appeal led greatly to me following series like BLEACH and Noragami with a lot of passion. Both had spiritual heroes fighting with katanas in the modern world.
So why does this matter? The thing about katanas (and swords in general) is that they are relics from a past that we want to connect to. When you think about objects these days, most of them are made to be disposable or won't last for a very long. Katanas aren't like that for the most part. I do think people who love swords look to them because of the rich history behind them and also to find peace from the deluge of constant information that continues to overwhelm each and every one of us.
Of course, the fascination with swords does have its problems. Those stories you hear in anime and manga about how certain swords are tainted with blood are sometimes true. People with horrible beliefs used swords to do terrible things. Even if they are magical in a way that makes someone feel like they're destined for great things, swords are still weapons that hurt.
But yet people like me wouldn't mind practicing how to use a katana. I want to feel connected to a group of people in the past that I will never know. I want to have the strength to help the people I know now. My mind isn't exactly calm and wielding a katana would make me feel like I be calm for once. Learning swordplay would satisfy my need for autonomy, competence and relatedness.
I know a good number of anime fans buy katanas at pop culture conventions and I wonder what is it about them that they like besides how nice they look. Does having a katana in your hand make you feel like you could be the hero of your own story? Does having a katana make you feel better than someone who has a European sword?
Yet I do know that despite their violent history and over-glorification, katanas are part of martial arts. Martial arts are supposed to promote peace, self-improvement, and your relationship with all elements of the outside world. Despite there being a community of katana lovers, there's not many who take to heart what it truly means to wield one and that it's not all about them.
In my honest opinion, we're all double-edged swords and definitely need our blades to be tempered better.
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rhinestone eyes
PAIRING: Rich Boy!Eren x Fem!Reader
WARNINGS [present+future]: infidelity, dubcon, gaslighting, manipulative and toxic behavior, toxic relationship, sexual content, yandere tendencies, suggestive hand-holding
part one
kofi
There's a sneer on Eren's face as green eyes behind Versace aviators glide over your form, staring you up and down. His gaze is so penetrative, it makes your teeth chatter. Maybe he was just checking you out. Maybe he was scrutinizing every blemish.
You suddenly feel so very small in your tennis skirt, the tight collared shirt stretching over your breasts, and wished that today out of all days wasn't when you decided to dress a little more stylish.
"Fancy seeing you here." His voice is nonchalant but there's a tone of humor that accompanies his brisk words. How long would it be until he laughs at you?
He scowls, "Are you mute or something? Why aren't you greeting me back properly?"
"Eren," You took a deep breath, "What are you doing in Paris?"
It occurs to you that you've never seen him out of his uniform before. He's wearing a light blue button-down, half the buttons left unfastened, polo shorts, an expensive black watch glittering on his wrist, silver rings on his slender fingers, and a thin silver chain dangling around his neck.
He's also acquired a new piercing, industrial, judging by the bar across his ear. The silver glints harshly under the sun.
"Are you done burning holes through me?"
You blush, embarrassment coloring your cheeks: "No, I'm just surprised." You tucked a loose lock of hair behind your ear, "Didn't expect to run into anyone I knew in another country."
You were just taking a pleasant walk in the acclaimed Champs-Élysées, the avenue every bit as a picture-perfect postcard as it had been described.
"Have you eaten?" The question is spoken with a sigh like he couldn't believe he was asking you this, and you couldn't either.
"Oh, um, no?" You responded, bewildered.
He runs a hand through his dark hair, which reached the nape of his neck by now: "I know a cafe around here. Let's get brunch. We'll talk there."
You don't know what possessed you to nod but you did so, trying to match his quick and long strides. The walk was silent, presumably because the two of you were saving your burning questions for the cafe.
He rolls his eyes when you stutter through your French. He raises a hand, and simply tells the waiter his order and dismisses him. His French is flawless and you're tempted to ask him how it's so good, but you already know the answer. Probably had hordes of tutors to help him.
Merci Monsieur
"Wait," You remark to Eren, "I didn't order."
"I ordered for us. Pain au chocolate, savory crepes, eggs, and ham. Coffee after. For me. Hot chocolate for you because you don't drink coffee."
Oh. That actually sounds good. How did he know your beverage preferences?
He fishes out a cigarette from his pocket, skinny and hand-rolled, "So what are you doing here? No offense but you don't exactly seem like you can afford a vacation to France. "
Now is your turn to sigh. You've nearly forgotten how blunt he could be: "Here on an internship. For art" You supply.
"I assume you just regularly come to Paris every summer?"
He doesn't deny or verify your statement, "Something like that."
"So you're staying at a hostel or?" He asks, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke that makes your nose wrinkle.
The waiter comes by with food, and you turn to Eren with a sour look, "I sincerely hope you're not going to smoke while we're eating."
To your utter surprise, he ashes the cigarette. You were expecting a witty and mean retort at the very minimum, not silent compliance.
You pick up the earlier conversation, "Well, I'm actually staying with my boyfriend." You mummer the last word quietly but the viridian-eyed boy's ears are keen. You don't notice how his grip on the knife tightens.
"You're staying with your boyfriend?" He repeats.
You nod, "Yeah, he's an art student too."
The rest of the meal is completed in sparing small-talk and lengths of silence. But it's not awkward. It's weird. On one hand, having brunch with Eren Yeager in fucking Paris, heir to a billionaire pharmaceutical company should feel surreal, but it's strangely peaceful. You feel more at peace sitting across from him in France than you did when he sat next to you in homeroom.
When it's time to pay the check, Eren looks amused by the very notion of you digging into your purse.
"What kind of gentleman would I be if I let the lady pay?" His words are spoken with a teasing smile.
You roll your eyes but can't help a glimmer of a smile from peeking through on your lips, "Didn't take you much for a gentleman."
He tosses his black card on the bill, "You'd be surprised."
What's there left to do now? Is it time to part ways? There's a part of you that craves more but life has taught you to not be greedy when you already have so so much.
You dabble the corner of your lips with a napkin, "Well, this has been fun-"
"Wait, uh, do you wanna check out the Louvre? Since you're an art student and all, you might uh enjoy it."
You stare at him. Is he tongue-tied?
"You've probably there been a million times already."
"Yeah...but you haven't been, right?"
You blink before breaking into a smile that Eren is sure is going to give him heart palpations, so sunny and bright.
"I would love to!"
You guys check out Mona Lisa for the sheer novelty, and you're bouncing around the museum, oohing and ahhing at the chiseled statues and Renaissance paintings. There is so much history here, it blows your mind.
Eren finds himself watching you more than the paintings. You have this veneer of snark that you wrap around yourself like a protective gauze (maybe that's how you maintain your survival in a world of hyenas) but you're different now.
You're yourself. Watching you here come alive in unbridled enthusiasm, eyes widened in passion, makes him reach out to his pocket and fish for his disposable film camera. He doesn't know if he's ever seen anyone in his vapid life look like the way you do, so filled with a zest for things that are greater than themselves.
He wants to burn you into his memory, praying to all the gods that you won't notice when he takes a picture of you admiring a bust of a goddess. He slyly tucks his camera back into his pocket.
The world seems to stand still when you tug his hand to show him a painting, an expression of unadulterated wonder on your face. But when you realize you pulled his hand, you immediately drop it like hot coals.
Why do you look so worried? Why do you look so scared?
"You can hold my hand if you want. It's-it's okay." He can't believe he's gotten the words out.
You're taking too long, your hands still hanging limply by your side, an indiscernible expression on your pretty face. Eren doesn't understand why it makes him so mad, why your sudden hesitation grated his nerves. Deciding to make your choice for you, he grabs your hand, squeezing your palm as he flashes you the charismatic smile that's got him out of countless incidents.
He doesn't like the expression of worry marring your features. Where did the happy jovial girl go? Just a few seconds, you were poking him with sparkles in your eyes, "Look at this Eren!" and "So beautiful, right?"
He forces another smile: "Show me the painting you wanted me to see." Maybe it was meant to be a request but it comes out as a demand.
You cast a glance at your joined hands, his grip borderline painful. "O-okay."
You lead him across the floor, and Eren can feel the stares of people around him. They are smiling. An older woman utters a "Un si charmant couple."
You take him to a grand painting. It's haunting and dark, swirling with so many shades of dusty red from vermillion to scarlet. A pregnant woman lies reclined, arm hanging and head lolling. She appears to be asleep, and there is a cacophony of men around her portrayed in varying degrees of stress.
"Death of a virgin", you breathed.
Such a macabre name, Eren thought as he gazed longer into the painting. He loosens his grip on your hand, testing whether you would pull away.
You don't.
It's raining outside and you're giggling.
"Fuck" Eren swears, "I'll call a cab."
You're a vision drenched in rain. Your clothes are soaked, and he could see the outline of your bra from your thin shirt. But it seems like you don't even care.
"Let's just enjoy it!" You cry out. There are thick droplets stuck in between your eyelashes, and you smell like rain too. It's dangerous, he can see chords of purple lightning flash the sky, thunder booming, and it's like you're dancing, the way you move so effortlessly.
You hook his hands in yours, "Doesn't this feel good?"
He feels like all his sins are being washed away, all the impurities and muck that clung onto him after nineteen years of existence. His heart nearly jumps out of his throat every time he looks at you.
He cups your chin and kisses you. When he feels the threadbare resistance, he kisses harsher, tongue and teeth swallowing your protests, coaxing your mouth open with a skillful pinch to your nipple. He pulls away just before you feel like all your breath has been robbed.
You're stunned speechless, "Eren...I...h-have a boyf-"
He kisses you again. And this time you kiss back, holding nothing back.
taglist: @candy-hime @cinnamon-n-roses @forwardpair
inspo: @candy-hime's rich boy!shoto. the iconic golf club one <3
#dubcon touching#rich boy eren yeager#eren yeager x reader fanfiction#eren yeager x y/n#yandere eren x reader#tw cheating#eren yeager x reader#attack on titan fanfiction#attack on titan au#eren jaeger
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I don't use a gray anon, and I hope the fact that I keep my name to my word lends some credibility to what I'm about to say because at first this may seem like i'm being unecessarily harsh, but I promise you that is not the intent and I am coming at this in good faith.
You've been running a blog online to document the powerful and beautiful works by women throughout history. I don't have to tell you that the works of Elaine de Kooning and Lee Krasner or Mary Cassatt had a real impact on the world and speak to something very human in us, because that is the goal of an artist. What do you know about the way that these women conceive of womanhood that you "know" excludes you? For that matter, what do you know about being a woman like me that you KNOW that we are, at our core, different? There's a kind of exceptionalism (probably a lot of similarities to the American exceptionalism of the last ~50 years), that can NOT be separated from discussions of gender like this. You are not more or less than a woman, you are exactly equal to a woman...in the same way that all of these women are and have been. When you have to say that your feelings of womanhood are DIFFERENT, it feels right and validating.....because it isolates you from the multifaceted image that is women in the arts. Every time you remove yourself from that picture, you take a face off of that diamond that was helping it to shine.
The people around you who welcome you into a nonbinary and exceptional community are most likely very cool and interesting and unique people who are similarly struggling to see themselves as part of something whole, and are thus looking for a new label and community to join under. I would be lying if I said that that type of hyperfocus on the self didn't MASSIVELY appeal to narcissists and those who will tell you what to think - and get away with it - if it suits their own imposition of a community around themselves.
I'm going to be unfollowing your blog* so I have no investment whatsoever if you keep on keeping on this road or even if you ever publish this, so please know I'm not here to pressure you in any way. Just, watch yourself out there and when in doubt about who you are, you have an incredibly well-curated backlog of genius women who can show you something beautiful in yourself.
Good luck and happy holidays if that applies to you!
*I follow a lot of general art blogs already and want to cut down on my dash, thats the main reason I feel okay sending this long-ass message.
I’m just lost for words as to why you think you know me better than I know myself.
and why you think you have any right to waste my time and my energy with your garbage disguised as “caring”
how does my personal identity invalidate other women. does me being gay invalidate straight people, does me being autistic and adhd and dyspraxic invalidate Neurotyoical people, does me being disabled invalidate abled people? no it doesn’t.
then how the fuck does my own identity of being gender fluid have anything at all to do with anyone else but me.
you think about that for a minute.
and good fucking riddance.
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Genuine question, though- why exactly is art being easily consumable a bad thing? I do think it’d be better phrased as “let people enjoy things so long as that enjoyment isn’t at the expense of others”
Also imo hcing the mains kissing is fine just tag it so people who /don’t/ want to see it can avoid it but ik that can be debated
Okay so in part that post was unclear with what i meant
I don't think art should be gatekept from people. I do believe that the idea of "high art" and elitism in who decides what is art leads to more harm than good and as someone who spent a very large portion of the last few years preparing for a career in art and studying art history i think the idea has a few large aspects we need to tackle
1) the commodification. art is pumped out for the masses to be SOLD to the masses. the worst offender of this i think is NFT's; the art of deceased artist, ai-generated asset mixes, etc all being sold as status symbols BECAUSE of the concept of scarcity and the fact that they Cost A Lot Of Money.
2) because of this commodification, art is becoming increasingly sanitized. especially with the internet, and the phenomenon of people's attention spans (and personal time! we cannot discount how capitalist labor has destroyed people's ability to spend time on the things they love) getting increasingly shorter, companies are pushing out shorter, "emptier" content to catch attention quickly. This trend then trickles down to fandom through the use of algorithms; tiktok, instagram, etc all promote very shortform content en masse, and when you produce things en masse to be profitable, you have to cut corners. a lot of artists have said they can ONLY make a following by making fandom content that appeals to the widest audiences possible, and things like "aesthetic sketchbooks" continue to perpetuate the idea that all art has to be clean and easy to digest. we see much less willingness from both companies and fans to engage with dirty, messy, emotional art, and i think as a whole culture suffers from it.
not only that, but especially online, this rapid-fire cycle of consumption leads to echochambers;;; which leads to things like racism on fandomwide scales, misogyny, grooming-- etc. by enforcing the idea that you do not have to THINK about the art and the implications of what you are ingesting and then spitting out, you enforce the idea that what you are doing can never be harmful to other people.
and this is what i mean by the devaluing of art-- while the entertainment industry booms, and fandom has become more relevant and widespread than ever, people don't VALUE what it means for someone to be MAKING art. people dont VALUE the deeper themes that art could be presenting.
and i won't say fandom content cant be deeper art, too. i will never say you can put it on the level of entirely original works, but i would be a hypocrite if i didnt admit ive even used shows i dont think are particularly good to explore a theme they presented in a way that was deeply personal to myself (such as my cult background) because having a base there made it easier to hone in on those details.
and i dont have an issue with individuals headcanoning things and having ships; it is when those things overtake the basic themes, context, or even the PLOT of the story that i find them to be an offense, especially on a large scale. when i initially watched devilman crybaby, i was severely mislead by dozens upon dozens of people about the actual content of the show because of how cutesy-fying akira and ryo's relationship was the norm, and that's just one of many examples. same with this phenomenon of encanto-- this is a disney movie about family. it is made for children and tries to deliver the themes of generational trauma in a way that introduces the concept of healing for generational audiences. (and the criticisms of disney for encanto are not mine to tell but they are out there and are very interesting reads if ur interested, but this is about fandom) but people are obsessed with finding some sort of ship or headcanon to slap on top, in a way that feels like a shallow non-engagement of the text. which is not particularly hard to engage with, given that it is a CHILDRENS MOVIE
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Hi ^^ I know that your requests are now closed but I was thinking that, given you have written jealous Shinichi, I would very much enjoy some jealous Ran! Maybe you can mix it with one of the prompts? Just throwing the idea out there, no pressure. Delete this if you don't feel like it, it's okay really. Thank you for writing these amazing fics, the shinran fandom is in your debt. ❤️
So this is the last (!!!) and longest (!!!) of the kiss prompts, and I dedicate it to multiple-requests Anon and to this Anon. I hope both of you still see this. It took me a while. ^^;;
P.S. Special thanks to @artycreaty for keeping this in check. You are awesome. 🥰
41. Kisses shared under an umbrella.
46. A lingering kiss before a long trip apart. (6,489 words)
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.
.
Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.
She has hundreds of reasons not to. They’re merely childhood best friends. Life would be much easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven. Shinichi absolutely doesn’t look at her that way. And so forth.
She wonders why they’re even friends in the first place. If their parents hadn’t enrolled them in the same kindergarten, she was certain they wouldn’t even be on speaking terms. He lives in a world of grisly books and crimes, she in a world of martial and visual arts. Their hobbies don’t overlap. They excel in different fields. They enter the same university with completely unrelated majors. The only bond they have in common is their shared history. Literally bonded since they were four, until now at nineteen.
So when she sees him all jolly around his newfound circle who hold the same interest in Holmes or detective work, it shouldn’t surprise her as much. It’s part of university life, it’s normal, they expand their horizons, and Ran understands that it hits much differently when they bond with people who like the same stuff they do. Something she’s aware they cannot share a hundred percent.
She’s proud of him, and she absolutely has no right to feel jealous, especially when she sees him around taller, prettier, more interesting women from his course block. There is no reason for her to look away with a heavy weight in her chest everytime the women get giggly and touchy while he’s absorbed in narrating his stories.
Everytime she does, she reminds herself of how he didn’t seem to mind when she was casted as the protagonist of their high school play and the leading man was the handsome Araide-sensei. Or how he simply shrugged when she fawned over the brother of a classmate because he looked so much like the karate senpai she was crushing on. Or when she secretly caught Sonoko dragging the detective behind gym after P.E. to confront him about his opinion regarding an upperclassman courting Ran and his only response was, ‘She can like whoever she likes, Sonoko. I’m not her boyfriend.’
He never showed her any sign of jealousy, therefore he must not be into her. Simple as that. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him differently. Getting snarky just because he received sixteen new fan mails again, more now that they’re in uni, and two even coming from the popular criminology seniors he is often teased to? Or ignoring him unprecedentedly just because his eyes followed the back of a woman with long chestnut hair and voluptuous curves? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s bound to be attracted to someone else. This is a pill she ought to learn to swallow eventually.
Eventually.
“Shinichi-kun, you never told us about your scariest case yet, tell us about it?”
Kaori closes her notes and so do the other two girls across her, and Shinichi’s eyes twinkle. He truly seems to enjoy study sessions with the little group they made consisting of some of his and Ran’s coursemates because they love listening to his stories.
“At the top of my head is this murderer disguised as a bandaged man, and he targeted us one by one…” and so the detective drones. Ran pauses typing and reminisces quietly. Ah, that one from summer three years ago. I was almost injured by that crazy man during my sleep but Shinichi woke me up in time.
“Ran-san,” Shun, her friend and coursemate, mutters beside her, also stopping his typing to listen to the detective’s story. “It’s ridiculous how popular Kudou-kun is with the girls. He’s full of wild adventures.”
“Yes, he is,” Ran says, smiling. “He’s been a girl magnet ever since high school.”
She watches as Kaori inches closer to Shinichi, listening attentively, chin on her palm and flirtatious smile on her lips as the detective rants on and on.
For the third time that afternoon, Ran looks away.
.
.
Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.
She does, everyday, but it’s hard when he smiles at her, cares for her, holds her in a way she’s never seen him do for anyone else. It gives her hope every time the girls cling to him but he never touches them back, whereas he automatically slings his arm over her shoulder because she’s afraid or cold or he simply feels like it.
Then again, maybe she’s giving herself too much credit. Perhaps it’s a free pass for being around him for too long. She even gets to spend time with him during weekends and holidays. It isn’t special because it’s normal.
And that’s all she’ll ever be, a normal girl in his eyes.
“Ran? She’s pretty special.”
Ran reacts to the mention of her name and catches Shinichi looking at her. “She appears quiet but she can kick anyone’s ass without breaking a sweat. It’s bad if you cross her,” Shinichi gloats with a grin.
“Oh my god, really? We can bring her with us then!” Kaori claps her hands in excitement.
“Ah... But she won’t like that,” he follows up, wary. Ran has missed the topic they were talking about and now she’s curious.
“But ghosts aren’t real and Mouri-san can give them a good beating!”
“Gh-Ghosts?” The color in her cheeks drains, eyes freezing at Shinichi who has probably already expected that reaction, for he sports that same look of concern as those times he had expressed whenever she joined him in his way-past-bedtime elementary school adventures.
“We’ll investigate an abandoned house I always pass by walking home,” Kaori explains. “Last night I saw a faint cigarette light at the second floor window. It might be a fugitive or a homeless person or a ghost, who knows?”
“You don’t need to come if you don’t want to, Ran,” Shinichi assures.
Gulping, Ran contemplates whether going with them will do her any good. It’s a nice change, it’s been a while since she last tagged with Shinichi in his cases. But she isn’t exactly proud of shrieking like a little kid in front of serious criminology majors who may feel like she’ll drag their covert investigation down if she joins.
“...I’ll pass,” she answers meekly, and his coursemates sulk except Shinichi, who offers her a smile of understanding.
“Man, I thought we’ll be able to see Mouri-san in action!”
“That’s ok, maybe next time. We still have Shinichi-kun!”
“Shinichi-kun will protect us, ne?”
“Hah. Right. Invite Hakuba too, use him.”
“Oh c’mooon, Shinichi-kun!”
Ran closes her eyes, struggling to zone their voices out.
In her silence, Ran ponders if she has made a wrong choice.
.
.
Ran has no right to be jealous. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him this way.
The following weekend, Shinichi narrates what happened in their late-night investigation. Hakuba wasn’t there so Shinichi was the only available guy as usual. Ran refuses to hear any more details, both of the haunted house and secretly of the girls chancing onto him during the investigation. Shinichi is puzzled.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Nah, just swamped with work.”
“On a Sunday?”
“Yes.”
“Want me to assist?”
“No.”
Her replies are curt from the couch of his house, not looking at Shinichi on the other end as she mindlessly cleans up her digital sketches. She hates how snappy she sounds but her brain is too absorbed with conjuring spiteful imaginations to even think of masking her annoyance.
“Ran, hey. Look at me.”
His low voice freezes her from drawing, and she slowly looks up to meet Shinichi’s serious eyes.
When this happens, she knows he’s reading her. She inwardly chants a prayer because now isn’t a good time. Whatever time isn’t a good time. She doesn’t know what to say when she’s aware everything she’s been feeling is irrational and unfair. She’s being selfish.
“You’re… stressed.”
“No, I’m… Eh?”
He scoots closer, an arm’s length away. “Your dark circles are more prominent now, you need a break.” His eyes turn a soft blue. “Let’s have dinner out? My treat.”
Ran is surprised, to say the least. The last time he invited her out was two weeks ago. She’s become so used to seeing him around others that any initiative from him sounds too good to be true.
“But I need to finish this project by tonight.”
“Let’s have food delivery then!” Shinichi announces, not rattled by Ran’s indirect refusal. “I know exactly what you want. Ramen and shaved ice.”
Her eyes thin at the absurdly goofy expression she knows he makes when he’s being mischievous. “Clearly you’re ordering that ramen for yourself. I only like shaved ice.”
“Damn! Miss Detective gets it.” A mile-wide grin stretches across his face, earning an eye roll from the half-smiling woman. “Let’s eat together on your short break, please?”
He leans within a respectful distance and she sees his smile better, pair of kind eyes locking with her overworked ones. “It’s been a while.”
Her heart throbs for him. So much.
She caves - of course she does - and breathes her acquiescence.
After two long weeks, they have dinner together, just them and Shinichi’s ramen and Ran’s donburi and shaved ice, Shinichi taking a spoonful of dessert from the cup when she isn’t looking and Ran snatching a slurp from his take-out bowl and laughing when he catches her.
With how heartfelt his laughter is in her presence devoid of any mysteries, Ran knows she’s probably giving herself too much credit, but for once she wants to believe she is the cause of why Shinichi’s happy.
Just for that night, she gives it to herself.
She’ll change the dark colors of her digital artwork to brighter ones after they eat.
.
.
Despite everything, Ran finds it difficult to contain her recurring jealousy.
The more she shares precious time with him, the more it gets harder to suppress the selfish emotions. What is so unsatisfying about being the best friend is that she is only the best friend. No more no less. At the end of the day, she isn’t the one he gets to cuddle with, to tease then kiss, to tell ‘I love you’ to, romantically.
“I love you.”
Ran feels her heart about to leap out of her chest.
“But please. Stop. Tearing. The. Cushions!”
The little furball he has scooped underneath a throw pillow wiggle from his grasp. The kitten and detective engage in a brief staring showdown before it jumps away to hide under a farther couch.
Snapping out of reverie, Ran watches her childhood friend slink dejectedly onto the partly scratched furniture. He’s fortunate enough that his mother isn’t around to give him a long lecture on Why Pets Aren’t Allowed in the House 101. She can always take Yukiko-san’s role and reprimand him for it, but as for this and the cat, she finds herself not wanting to intervene.
“Kaori-san sure is taking her time with her parent’s permission. By the time she does, Momo would’ve shredded all the pillows in this house.”
“You named the cat?” Ran asks, amused.
“She did.” He thinks for a moment, then sniggers. “Actually I did. I suggested a random name. She took it.”
Ran merely hums. What can she say? They’re getting close. Close enough to team up as parents to an adopted kitten.
“I’m surprised you also agreed to keep Momo when you never took in animals before.”
“Kaori said she’ll treat me to the latest Detective Samonji movie this weekend if I do. Can’t resist that.”
“Just you two?”
“Yeah.”
A beat. Then he turns to her.
“Wanna join? I can ask her to count you in since you’re kinda helpi—”
“N-no need,” Ran quips, “It’s—It’s fine.”
“No really,” Shinichi insists, “Kaori-san has a lot of money, she—”
“I’m going to Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum with Shun-san this weekend... so... I can’t.”
“Ah.”
Silence.
“It’s, um, for a project,” she bolsters.
“I know.” The faintest smile graces his lips. “It’s your thing. Both of you.”
“Mm.”
He doesn’t say anything else after that.
“Shinichi, you’re a detective, right?” she blurts out of the blue.
“Yeah...and?”
Then deduce what I feel. Here and now.
“Then you’re going to enjoy that movie!” Ran forces a beam, giving Shinichi a thumb of approval. “And you can discuss it with Kaori-san over dinner. I’m sure you two have a lot to say about it.”
Shinichi’s eyes linger on her, reading her like a book, and Ran has her mind reeling again, afraid to be read.
“Yeah, we do,” he finally says, ending the conversation.
Only a few words are uttered the rest of the afternoon.
Momo resurfaces and curls beside Shinichi.
Momo’s purring is loud, but Ran’s shattering heart is louder.
.
.
Ran must not feel jealous. She is not a girlfriend.
Because she isn’t a girlfriend, he’s free to fall for and date anyone else. Who is she to gatekeep him? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s one big catch. Ran believes she’s a big catch, too. With the way she loves dearly, her future boyfriend is going to be very lucky.
Her future boyfriend is not going to be him.
“...mber the required fieldwork in one of my majors I told you? We actually go by batches. The first batch did theirs last month. The second batch was last week… and I— Ran, are you listening?”
“Ah! Yes,” Ran notices they have already reached her station and are now walking two blocks to her apartment. “Your fieldwork, right?”
“...Yeah,” he carries on. “I’m in the last batch... This whole winter break.”
“I see, I understand.” She smiles, getting what he means. No Christmas or New Year’s Eve together. The first time since they’re four. It’s fine, honestly. If it’s a required activity, then there’s really no way to go about it. She isn’t going to lash out just because she can’t be with him in her most favorite time of the year.
“And Hattori-kun and Hakuba-kun will be with you?”
“Hattori did his last month. Hakuba is in the previous batch. I’ll be stuck with the girls.”
Ran’s heart momentarily squeezes. “Where will your fieldwork be?”
“In Akita.”
Her pupils constrict. “That far?”
“Yes... so to cut on expenses, Kaori-san offered her house for me and the others to stay while we’re there—”
Kaori. Again with the tall, beautiful, intelligent Kaori. She bets it’s amazing to spend the holidays doing what he loves and with Kaori beside her, snuggling with him by the fireplace in a romantic snowy night and she might even confess, and it’ll be a great catch for Shinichi, and he’ll return with a girlfriend, and—
“Kaori-san is lucky.” The words flow out of her mouth, unbridled.
Shinichi looks at her. “Lucky?”
Ran remains quiet and keeps walking. It’s dangerous to say anything. She only has one thing in her mind and she doesn’t want to say it out loud. She has no right.
“Ran, hey.”
She doesn’t stop walking.
“Ran.”
She ignores his call.
“Ran… you’re jealous.”
She stops walking.
“Excuse me?”
“...You’re jealous…” Shinichi repeats quietly.
A contrast to his calm tone, his irises beset hers in the cold twilight and Ran attempts to shield herself but her bag and umbrella are in the way. She thinks of turning away but her feet are frigid like icicles, and Shinichi steps closer.
For the third time, he declares, “You’re jealous.”
Hearing her thoughts echo through his words renders her speechless.
It seems to take a moment before Shinichi’s brow arches, lips curl up as his eyes refuse to stray, and she hears a faint exhale even, like he’s exasperated, and suddenly he’s smiling - or is he smirking? sneering? - and...and...
It stings, is her immediate reaction.
For the longest time, she’d wanted him to take a hint. But if she had known this was how he’d react, she’d rather live a life having him oblivious of her emotional struggle. Dealing with that is more tolerable than witnessing him gaze her down in blatant mockery. He sneers as though he’s about to crack a joke and move on and forget such a laughable matter. That’s the last form of acknowledgment she wants for her honest feelings.
Heartbreak and shame and pain build up in her chest like a volcano closing eruption. Water begins to cloud her vision. She clenches her fist tight on her umbrella and Shinichi notices, and he takes another step forward.
“Ran…?”
“I am not, and you’re a fool.”
In a span of a breath, she’s sprinting in the opposite direction, tracing the path where they have walked, ignoring the distant yells of her name behind her. She runs and runs, and as she runs farther, with her thoughts muddy and breath short and dry, she wonders if she may have overreacted.
If he’s done that on purpose, screw him. If not, screw her.
After all, they are merely friends and she has no logical reason to act this way.
“Stop... running... will you!”
She hears heavy footsteps close in. It takes all the energy Ran has to prevent herself from turning her body around but his strong grip overpowers her.
“Let me go!”
“Why are you running?!”
“I can’t...deal with you!”
“Why? Was I right?”
“Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter!”
“Why doesn’t it matter?”
“Because I am your best friend!”
On another occasion, she would’ve successfully jilted away and run farther, but Ran is floored when he yanks her into a one-armed hug, so floored she drops her umbrella to the snowy ground.
“Stop saying that!” he hisses in her ear, frustration apparent.
“What are you— Let me go!”
He hugs her tighter.
“If you don’t let go in three seconds, I will screa—”
“I am happy!”
Ran stops struggling, eyes widening in shock.
Icy huffs tickle her neck as he half shouts, “I’m happy you feel that way!”
“You’re...You’re happy because I’m suffering?”
“What? No! I—”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? How?” The hurt in her tone is impeccable, prattling muffled against his chest as she spares him no moment to butt in. “You think I wanted to feel this? That I enjoy griping in helpless jealousy? And you’re rejoicing that I am? How full of yourself can you be?!”
“That’s not...You don’t underst—”
“I do understand! I understand that I am so incredibly stupid for catching this disgusting heap of emotions for an obnoxious, stuck-up deduction maniac that is my best friend and maybe it’s better after all that he never, ever sees me the way I see him!”
“Stop saying that, Ran!”
She thinks he has broken away, but he drags her back with an insistent tug, crashing his lips onto hers as she stumbles into his arms.
All willpower rippling through her disintegrates quickly like snow in high heat.
An impatient pop resonates as he separates, eyes slowly opening, breath thick and ragged.
“I know that is not how we explain things, but does that explain anything?”
She hears it. The madness. But more than madness, yearning bleeds through his voice so much that her frustration turns into physical pain. Blinded by an all-consuming ache, she tips her chin and presses her lips back against his, demanding for cure in the wrong place. Shinichi freezes, then relaxes. He moves his hand to her nape, four fingers in her hair, thumb treading her jaw.
They look like a scene in a movie.
Under his umbrella and hidden from view, they communicate through brushing lips and tilting heads. His mouth closing over hers with gentle force, her hands splaying across his chest, heavy with something that makes his heart pound under them.
She is so lost in the chase and his tender embrace that for a second she forgets she is kissing her best friend.
Best friend.
This doesn’t explain anything. It worsens it.
She pulls back, ending what she has so recklessly started. “N-no, I’m— No.”
She pushes him away, gathers the stuff she drops, and runs without looking back.
“Ran!”
He shouts her name. Twice.
On the third call, his footfalls die down. On the fourth, he stops running.
She doesn’t.
.
.
Thirty minutes before midnight, Ran stands outside his gate, boots buried half foot under the snow as she rings his intercom for the second time, thinking to herself how foolish she must be to cut communications with him for a week and then show up his doorstep looking miserable like a stood-up date.
It’s the start of winter break.
He’ll leave for Akita in ten hours.
She needs to give his Christmas present before his departure.
She’s crazy, pathetic, still frustrated, and hurtfully in love.
“Oi. You better have a good explanation for why you’re buzzing at goddamn midnig—”
“Shinichi.”
His surprised gasp is apparent even through the intercom. A rustle follows and with a croaky voice, he responds. “...Ran.”
Surely he isn’t expecting this. Not after the tantrum she threw days ago. He probably thinks she hates him more than ever. But what she truly feels is more overwhelming than all negative emotions combined, and may god grant her all the strength to address it all, tonight.
“May I come in?”
“The house is—The house is a mess I, um. I’m packing my stuff for...”
“I’ll help you.”
“...”
She’ll understand if he decides to turn her down. But the answer that follows the deafening pause is a low and quiet ‘Okay’.
Despite psyching herself hours before she came, courage wanes when he opens the front door and gate in his pullovers. She is welcomed in, and the trip up his room is wordless. Shinichi only talks when he points out that he’s already packed clothes for two days and will need help for two weeks’ worth. He lamely laughs when he instructs her to pick the tops and layers, and he’ll take care of the pants and underwear.
On a normal instance, she would’ve humored him and they would’ve been talking right after. Now she simply pulls an empty smile and then they fall back into silence.
She supposes he’s trying to act unbothered, to treat what happened a week ago as a one-and-done glitch in their friendship, never to be discussed again. She cannot fault him when she’s trying to do the same. But it’s not easy when in the stillness of the night the echo of their altercation howls, raging persistently in their ears.
What has he been thinking of for the past week?
Has he been kept up all night by the words she said and the words he left unspoken?
Are they still friends? Will they still be friends after this?
The kiss... What about the kiss?
So many questions. So little words. So little time.
Ran is seated on the floor, folding shirts and stuffing them neatly in his duffel bag. Her back faces Shinichi who is sorting out bottoms in his cabinet. She senses him sit on the floor, back against her but not touching. Neither dares to speak first.
A ringing phone cuts the silence.
“Mm, still awake. Good for two weeks right? Gotcha. No, I’ll meet you girls at the station, no need to fetch me. Pfft. I can walk. Ok, see you tomorrow.”
If Ran wasn’t so hyperaware of where she is and what she’s done, her mood would’ve shifted to the one she’d been trying to avoid. Now isn’t the time to think about that. Midnight sneaking out to go to his house is something she wouldn’t do even on good days. She scans her bag on the far couch, deliberately bringing a bigger one to hide his gift. Maybe she can just sneak it in his bag and leave once she’s done and he’ll discover it only when he’s prefectures away. Brown has always suited him, and he’ll definitely find the overcoat useful as spare protective gear.
That’s right. She always cares for him like this. She is his best friend first, and... and nothing second.
“Don’t just leave after putting your present in my bag. At this hour, I can’t let you walk home alone,” he says swiftly.
Ran’s eyes fly wide.
“How did you…”
He doesn’t say anything and continues with his business.
Again with the throat-drying silence.
Something in Ran’s gut compels her to speak, but she is surprised when he does first.
“I... I don’t like Kaori-san. If that’s what you’re thinking.”
Ran stiffens, pausing mid-motion from folding. “I’m not…”
He leans his back completely against her and she shudders, voice reverberating through her skin. “Ran, if you could just hear me out.”
Unable to talk and move, she does.
“Kaori-san and the rest... They know I love mysteries. They know I want to build my own private detective agency. They know my favorite Holmes’ story is The Sign of Four. They know how many crimes I solved in Tokyo. All the information about me which anyone can read from the internet and newspaper and from what I told them when they ask, they know. Ran, you know all that. All that and more.”
He angles his head to the ceiling as if he’s talking to someone there. Ran supports his weight, curling to her knees as she silently listens.
“You know of my first ever deduction because Christ, my first deduction was about you. You know of the two cases which haunt me until this day because I watched the culprit die in front of my very eyes. You were with me the nights I locked myself in here thinking about them. You know of the interesting, the boring, the absurd cases, everything, because I told you or you were there. You know of the odd way I play the violin while I ponder over a case. You know I forget to eat when swamped with new books to read. I have three copies of The Sign of Four but the one I keep beside my bed and read almost weekly is the one you gave me on my tenth birthday and that is all I need. You know me for me, Ran. Everything about me that is off the record, the good and the bad, you know all of those. Only you. The same way I do... about you.”
She feels him crane slightly to the side, addressing her.
“Ran.”
“Mm.”
“I love you.”
Ran’s heart almost completely stops beating.
“I love you,” he whispers, “more than I am even supposed to.”
All words seem to have fizzled out of her vocabulary as she sits still, stunned at what she’s hearing.
“I’m happy growing up with you, studying with you, bickering with you, acting stupid with you, investigating with you, eating with you, napping with you, hugging you, holding you, taking care of you, simply... being with you. Before I know it, it’s not the cases or Holmes or mysteries that complete my days, it’s you.
“For you to keep repeating that ‘best friend’ phrase, I…” He lowers his head.
“For who knows how long, I’ve loved you as that and more.”
Someone pinch her because in no way can this be real.
“I was happy thinking you’re jealous because it meant a sliver of chance you feel the same way. We could’ve remedied the misunderstanding easily, Ran. We could’ve talked it over like we always do. But I was stupid and emotions were high and in the end I… kissed you…” he takes another deep breath, “But—but you kissed me back, and my heart couldn’t stay still...”
Pulse drumming loud, Ran tilts her head on the side where he leans, wanting to see the slightest expression he makes as he continues.
“If my deductions are wrong and you’re mad for a different reason, and—and you returned that for a different reason...” she hears the pang of remorse in his tone, “then please forget I ever said anything and I’ll leave myself to die in humiliation once I’m out of your sight.”
He lays one palm flat on the floor and she notices.
“But if my deductions are right and you were indeed jealous, I...” She feels his head swivel enough to feel his warm breath fan across her cheek, before shifting back front and releasing a slow, guttural exhale he’s kept contained within.
“I’ll wait... until you accept it. Accept me.”
Ran may have choked on her throat for how long she’s held her breath.
In spite of herself, she knows she doesn’t need to think of what to say. She had it all in her head before coming here. Yet expressing it out loud is a different matter.
She isn’t ready, but when will she ever be ready? Shinichi undoubtedly isn’t too. Yet here he is, laying the groundwork for her, no holds barred and a stuttering mess at that. How she plans to build from it is the question she asks herself next.
Inhaling as though bracing herself, she places a hand beside him, pinky slightly grazing his.
“I didn’t... You never showed any signs.”
Careful and calm, he extends his little finger over hers. She doesn’t flinch, and both hands crawl closer until two fingers overlap.
“Either I’m a great pretender or you’re incredibly dense.”
“I’m...I’m not dense.”
“I’m a bad actor, then.” He slides his hand further.
“I was trying so hard to be a supportive best friend for you.”
“I sensed that but ignored it because I didn’t want to assume anything.”
“You did though. Now we’re here.”
“Would you rather we aren’t?”
“I would rather we spend the last weeks of this year talking like normal than being stupid idiots before you leave.”
“It’s just two weeks, Ran.”
“Two special weeks I would’ve wanted to spend with my best frien-... with you.”
Without knowing it, his hand has completely nestled atop hers, four fingers curled between her thumb and index finger.
“Ran... You must really hate the idea of falling in love with me.”
“Eh?”
“You’re so wrapped with the thought that we’re simply best friends that you hold your love in chains as though it isn’t permitted to grow.”
“I… I didn’t want to ruin the only connection we have-”
“Two friends falling in love are still friends… They are also more. You cannot ruin an indefeasible connection. Friendship and love may be the only bond we have, but they’re the most important bond of all.”
Ran falls quiet.
“Geez…”
He releases a thick sigh, brushes his thumb across her splayed fingers.
“I have shit art appreciation skills, but I can take you to museums too... as a friend and as a date.” A beat, and a mumble. “Even to better museums than Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum.”
She darts her head sideways, realizing something.
“Were you also…?”
“No.”
Ran doesn’t suppress the heartfelt giggle that bubbles out.
“Shun-san has a boyfriend, Shinichi.”
“I—” he pauses. “I wasn’t asking.” Ran giggles more.
“Shinichi.”
“Yes.”
“I love you too.”
The hand above squishes hers all too suddenly like he’s been blown away and is needing something to hold onto.
“I came here to give your present and to apologize for being so shallow and for acting without thinking and for a lot of things actually... but now I feel there’s no need, because then I wouldn’t have...” She looks down at their intertwined hands.
Before she can return his squeeze, he recoils.
“Oh, y-you do apologize. Running away like that.” He coughs, and she can practically hear the tripping in his tone.
“Aren’t you already used to it? I’ve done it many times,” she chides.
“No. Apologize,” he insists. “And look at me while you do.”
Ran’s stomach twists, heart kicking up a step.
It’s easy to talk without eye contact, but to be requested so after confessions are exchanged—
“Face me, Ran.”
The familiar voice of yearning strums her heartstrings, tone sounding a lot like a plea than an order and Ran finds her head instinctively craning at an angle, hand coiling on the floor trying to calm her nervous beating heart. She feels him shift behind as well.
She takes all her time to face him, partly unsure what to do, partly knowing exactly what she wants to do. Despite the deliberate slowness of their movements, it is when they lock eyes that time truly seems to stop.
Shinichi appears so different, so soulful. His blue irises glimmering, fixated on nothing but her as she reveres him with matching intensity. The same guy she treats as her best friend looks at her with tender love in his eyes, darting down her lips and up like no best friend ever would.
“I love you,” he says, breathless. “Make me your boyfriend.”
A wave of emotion sweeps over her, heartbeat fluttering in overdrive as they huddle on the floor, bags and clothes and time forgotten.
“From best friend to... such a shift-”
“Nothing will be different.” He rests his forehead on hers, gaze of soft blue patient though more intimate now, knowing what they share is mutual. “We’ll still do what we do... With exclusive romantic commitment and sweet nothings that translate to ‘I love you’ in more ways than one.”
She attempts a jab on his chest but he catches her fist, soft but jesting beam all too apparent and she does but play along.
“What about when we fight?” she asks.
“Same. But...” he slides a thumb over her quiet lips, parting them slightly, “I can do this once we make up.”
“...Like right now?”
“Like right now.”
A genuine smile is the last thing she sees before delicate pair of lips lands on hers, capping their one-week fight and their last night of the year together in the best and most unexpected way imaginable.
.
.
Ran keeps telling herself she shouldn’t be jealous.
Not because they are simply best friends, because they aren’t. Not because life would be easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven, because it wouldn’t.
Not because Shinichi doesn’t look at her that way, because he does.
She shouldn’t be jealous because she absolutely has no reason to, is all.
“I haven’t forgotten about your present. I was planning to buy yours in Akita.”
“Stop lying, you totally forgot it.”
“I didn’t. Stop that.” Half-mast eyes rake her side profile, and Ran covers a mirthful grin with her mitted hand holding the umbrella, then yawns. Hours of packing and talking and laughing left them with roughly four hours of sleep. It isn’t like she slept the whole period because while sleeping in his room isn’t new, cuddling while they sleep is. Ran couldn’t simply shut her eyes and heart to that.
“I believe though,” he wraps a hand around her free one, pocketing both of them in his brand new overcoat, “I gave half of my present already.”
“Hnn. That doesn’t count as a gift.” Her hand shifted, coddling his own to a warm fit.
“Really?” A smug smirk pulls up his face. “I believe I am a nice present, Ran. That’s why they—”
“Screw this. You are unbelievable. A humbug. Why do people like you.”
“I know. Why do you like me?” Shinichi laughs as he avoids the swing of her umbrella.
From afar, they see Kaori and the girls at the meet-up point outside Tokyo Station, though they seem unaware of their presence yet. Suddenly feeling conscious, Ran feels the urge to disentangle her hand, but Shinichi holds on, firm.
“Why?” He asks in a low voice.
“I dunno… maybe this isn’t the best time…”
“Isn’t now the best time?” His smile is proud and natural, not one ounce of reluctance visible.
Although she gets what he means, that doesn’t free her of shyness and guilt. Somehow she feels like apologizing to Kaori for… she doesn’t know. She just wants to. Letting her see them like this makes her think that she’s giving her an indirect slap on the face. Shinichi certainly won’t agree because ‘What’s with women and their logic?’, but still, whether or not it’s all in her head, Ran needs more time to prepare for this.
But to her surprise, Shinichi lets go of her hand. They are still a few feet from view when he steps in front of her and turns around. “Maah, fine, I get it,” he huffs, then smiles. “Then, just give me your umbrella.”
The moment she does, Shinichi closes their distance and dips his face onto hers. Ran is given no leeway to gasp as loving lips seal her quiet. It isn’t as long as what they shared a week ago, but the emotions are loaded and full, speaking fond thanks and temporary farewell.
She doesn’t realize she has closed her eyes until he separates, and she’s met with the most tender, most angelic expression he wears only on the rarest occasions. He’s saying without telling that her feelings are valid, she doesn’t have to worry, and he doesn’t have eyes for anyone but her. Somehow, the snow is the sea and fish are swarming around but neither cares because they have already caught each other.
“You don’t have to, silly.” Three layers of pink blanket Ran’s puffy cheeks.
“But I want to.” Grinning, Shinichi hands her back the umbrella. “You don’t like hand-holding. You don’t like being seen. Don’t you think that’s a great compromise?”
“Idiot, many people saw...”
“No, they didn’t!” Upping the duffel bag slung on his shoulder, he steps back and gives her one last goofy beam. “I’ll see you next year, Ran. I’ll call as often as I can.”
Wordlessly, Ran watches Shinichi’s back as he jogs to his waiting companions, who by then have already had their eyes pinned on the approaching figure.
“That is Shinichi-kun! ...And Mouri-san!”
“Ehhh!!?! You’re a thing!”
So much for being subtle, Ran flushes inwardly as she returns the wave the other girls are giving her. At that moment she really does feel immature for her past conduct. All of them are sweet. Even Kaori.
“I knew it Shinichi-kun! Mouri-san is sooo lucky, I’m so jealous!” Ran hears their banter and sees her jab his bicep before acknowledging her. “We’ll take care of him, Mouri-san!”
The Ran from one week ago would’ve had her heart crushed by such declaration, but now she’s nothing but pleased and the smile that forms across her lips is nothing but honest. “Make sure he doesn’t drag your group into a random dead body, Kaori-san!”
“Hey!” surfaces Shinichi’s shout amidst the mincing laughter of the group and the onlooking passers-by, and Ran bids her last wave before they enter the station.
Smiling to herself, Ran returns home, the lingering promise of his kiss committed to memory, knowing that she doesn’t have to get jealous because she has no reason to. Their indefeasible bond is all the assurance she needs.
.
.
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#shinran#kiss prompts#fanfic#lmk anon(s) if you see this and if you do then yaaay#thank you for requesting!#and thank you for reading!#:')#I have a love-hate relationship with this fic#it's only supposed to be 4 scenes#oh well it is what it is lmao#it's ok ig since this is the last (awww) from the kiss prompts!#😌#I tried so hard with a jealous Ran haha#jealous fics are good reads but writing them is hard :O
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i don't know if you're into au, but could you maybe write one where one of them are famous and because of that they have to keep their relationship as a secret? Also, thank you for all your fics. i love all of them 😘
Thank you so much!! Here it is, sorry in advance.
Maya wakes up in a cold bed, again. It's not too early in the morning but early enough for her to sigh seeing no sight of her girlfriend. She can hear noises in the kitchen and it hurts her when she can't even find it in herself to smile at Carina's morning singing. She's exhausted.
The blonde decides a shower would be good for her before she has to face reality again. She strips down her shirt and gets into the water, letting her thoughts wonder.
And they always wonder to unwanted thoughts.
It's hard for Maya, dealing with all of those negative feelings towards her relationship that was once the most joyful thing she's ever had.
It all happened so fast between them, Carina had been in the United States for a few months because of a tv show job she's gotten there. They met when Maya, a firefighter with almost no experience, was assigned to the set Carina was filming at, to make sure everything was safe. They hit it off from the begging, Maya completely enchanted by the Italian's - at the time - broken english, and the way her smiled would light up the whole room. Maya invited the brunette to the bar and the rest was history.
The blonde was madly in love after so little time, and Carina felt the same. There were kisses and promises and so many shared memories and then after four months the Italian had to go back to her country and it felt like Maya's paradise was being ripped away from her. When Carina invited her to come along, coming with her was one of the easiest decisions Maya has had to make, there was nothing holding her in America, no family contact, almost no friends. And firefighting? It didn't make her half as happy as Carina. It was crazy, she knew that, but she was crazy for the Italian and it made sense in that moment.
But when they got to Italy everything changed, the freedom they had when dating in America vanished. Carina had a solid actress career, and Italy wasn't as open to gay relationships as the US, they had to keep it low. And Maya was fine with that, she liked to keep things private, but after three years of not being able to kiss the love of her life outside the apartment... Maya was tired.
She loved Carina just the same, love wasn't the problem, and she knew the Italian loved her back. But Carina also loved her career, and Maya didn't want to take that away from her. She just didn't know what to do. Being hidden wasn't enough anymore.
The door of the bathroom opens and Maya is pulled out of her thoughts.
"Buongiorno bella." Carina walks in with her beautiful aura and dazzling smile. "You should've eaten breakfast before showering, the toasts will be cold."
Maya turns the shower off, a small smile on her face and doesn't bother to hide her body from her girlfriend, who looks at it like it was the most beautiful work of art she's ever seen.
"così bella." The italian sighs, pulling Maya's naked body to herself. She kisses the blonde slowly, her hands going up and down Maya's waist. It's nothing if not a genuine gesture they are so used to share with each other, there's no second intentions, just pure love at that moment... But only behind closed doors.
And that's why it's so hard for Maya, she gets lost in tiny moments, shared between her and Carina as if it's the moment she realized she was in love all over again, it's delightful, like finally reaching the end of a run. But the hapiness lasted so little, because there was always another run, and another sweet moment and then more running. And running for only a few minutes of hapiness at the end of it was not enough. Not anymore.
She found a home in Carina, years ago, but somehow lost herself along the way. And she didn't know how to get it back. Not like this. But what was the alternative?
"Do you have to go to work today?" Maya asks when Carina finally lets her go.
The blonde doesn't wait for a response as she leaves the bathroom, finding clothes to spend the day.
"No, not today."
Maya senses eyes are watching her as she dresses up and it's not longe before arms are hugging her from behind, and she's lost in Carina's scent again. Everything is okay. It will be okay.
Carina turns her around and simply looks into her eyes, hands caressing her neck. Maya looks back and all she can see are brown orbits filled with love.
"Ti amo, you know that right?"
"I love you too Car." Maya smiles, it's impossible not to, that is the love of her life right there.
Carina pulls her in for another kiss and Maya lets herself be controlled by the Italian. They end up in bed, Carina kissing her neck just the way she knows Maya likes it, aggressive and sweet, sucking and biting.
"We need to talk." Carina says between kisses and all Maya's body goes tense. She's heard that before.
"About what?"
"Can I keep kissing you for a few more minutes?" Carina almost begs and Maya frowns but nods. It's not like she's eager to break their bubble either.
Maya pulls her girlfriend back to her lips and it tastes like home, like it always has, and like it always will taste. She forgets about their needing to talk and lets herself feel completed by Carina's presence, Carina's body.
It's hours later when Maya finally leaves the room for the first time that day, followed by Carina minutes after. She eats cold french toasts and they don't taste as good, but Maya doesn't think it's because they are cold.
"Bambina." Carina calls from the couch and Maya sighs.
Another long conversation she thinks.
"Yeah?" She asks, not turning around as she washes the dishes she just used.
"I got a job."
"That's good, love."
"Yeah... But we'll have to reschedule out trip to America."
Maya closes her eyes. No, not this. Not the only thing she was excited about.
"Carina..."
"Look I know okay? I know you reconnected with Mason and you wanna visit and meet his baby, I tried changing the dates but they wouldnt let me, I'm sorry, it's just for two months later. We could invite them here you know."
"No Carina we couldn't, because your agent won't even let me enter somedays because he's scared people will get suspicious."
"Maya..." Carina comes to her and tries to hug her but the blonde backs away.
"No. You know I do want to visit Mason and meet my niece, I do. But this isn't the only reason this trip is important you know."
"I know Maya..." Carina sighs, she knows how their hidden relationship is taking a toll on her girlfriend, and she feels it too. Of course she wished she could kiss Maya whenever and wherever she wants, but she feels trapped, it's both of her dreams collapsing together and it's not the way she imagined it would go.
"I haven't kissed you outside of this apartment in so long, and even here I have go be careful because 'hey Maya someone might be watching from the window', this is exhausting Carina. I wanna take you out for dinner and hold your hands, I wanna sit by your side and feed you pasta, dammit I wanna propose to you without thinking 'well she won't wear the ring because people will ask'. I'm exhausted."
Carina is in tears and everything in Maya begs her to go and hold the other woman. She knows Carina isn't exactly to blame, it's how the industry works. But she's not part of the industry; only Carina is, and she doesn't want to be trapped anymore.
"Bambina I'm sorry, I don't... I don't know what to say."
"Well don't. But I'm going back to the US next month, with or without you. I'm sorry, but I need a break from this. I need this."
Carina nods. There's nothing she can do, she can't force Maya to wait, not when she knows how much all of this hurts the blonde.
And a month after, Maya is getting into a plane, alone, tears in her eyes and a ring she wished she gave to Carina left on the nightstand in their apartment.
(was it supposed to be sad? I liked this one a lot so if anyone is interest I could continue in AO3)
#marina prompt#station 19 prompt#prompt#marina au#carina deluca#maya bishop#carina x maya#station 19#ask
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So I'm sorry for taking so long but uni is truly getting on my nerves. But here we are hope you like it.
Chapter 3
The Iron Lady
Chapter 4
Words: 3600
"I hate that woman." That's what you say when you sit next to Asami and Korra on one of the sofas in the library. Most of the school was in class at the time, you were supposed to be studying for Professor Tenzin's history test, but you couldn't stop thinking in those eyes and those words. She seemed to have been teasing you for the entire reading of the play and now there was the iron lady again.
"Oh, you're doing a great job demonstrating that." Asami murmurs under her breath and your eyes go straight to her, who was actually reading her notes.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Asami just shrugs, but there is a small mocking smile in the corner of her mouth that makes you narrow your eyes.
"What was the year of the French revolution again?" Korra inquires, clearly bored as she flipped through a book with a cover that clearly said "Ancient History".
"1789." You answer without taking your eyes off the window. That was the kind of information your brain easily retained.
"So ... About what happened today ..." You glance at Korra again, only to notice the mischievous smile she has in her mouth as she places the book on the table in front of you. "I would say Professor Beifong is at the very least trying to provoke you and I don't even need Asami's great perception skills to realize this." A sigh leaves your mouth while you roll your eyes. Resentment starts bubbling up in your blood just remembering how suddenly she was all indifferent and bitter again. What was the problem with this woman being at least cordial?
"I have my own assumptions, but I will keep them to myself until further notice." Asami murmured again under her breath and you decided you truly needed some air.
"I'm going outside." You announce and Asami just nods, but Korra gets up.
"I'm not going to read anything before the day before the test, I don't even know why I keep fooling myself." You smile sideways and Korra puts an arm around your shoulder as you go out into the courtyard. There is a nice smell in the air, there were people mowing the football field and the moist smell that comes to your nostrils is pleasant, it calms your brain. "Oh don't fuck with me." You turn to Korra with a frown, but she's not looking at you. She's looking across the courtyard where a girl in a green blouse and a huge braid is heading to the building where the art classroom was seated. It takes you a second to realize who it was ... Kuvira.
"No ..." You start murmuring, trying to put a slight judgment on Korra's head. But she's already smiling from ear to ear, taking you by the hand. You know this is a stupid idea, you would end up screwing yourselves even more. Yet Korra never cared about that, which is why she has spent so many hours in detention.
She's already running and it's extremely hard to follow her pace as she grabs your hand. There is no one in the building. You should know there wouldn't be. Most of the classes here were before the break and now that most of the seniors were having some free time, there was no reason to be in the furthest part of the school. It was the perfect strategy, you had to admit that.
Korra crouches as soon as you reach the corridor that leads to the art room. You imitate her gesture, even if it's so stupid you don't know why you just didn't run the other way when she started pulling you.
You lean against the wall, the door to the art classroom is right next you. Korra gets a little closer and your heart starts beating clearly fast. This could end incredibly badly if Professor Su saw you and even worse if Kuvira saw you. Korra leans over, just enough to be able to look through the window glass.
She quickly comes back, covering her mouth to avoid laughing. Her blue eyes are twinkling with amusement.
"They are making out!" She announces in a completely nonstandard and extremely hoarse whisper. You don't want to see. But at the same time you are already here. Then you lean over Korra to look out the window, just enough for your eyes get a view.
Kuvira's sitting at Professor Su's desk at the back of the room, where she usually kept the paints for painting lessons. Professor Su's between her open legs, her hands so firm on Kuvira's hips you are sure she's leaving marks. You can see how her head is moving and how the kiss seemed to be the beginning of something else.
"I thought Kuvira was a top." You whisper when you crouch next to Korra again and she has to cover her mouth to keep from laughing.
It's at that moment you hear footsteps.
The sounds of heels hitting rhythmically on the floor. The panic begins to materialize in you. It could be any teacher ... Or worse ... It could be Professor Beifong.
You stare at Korra in panic and she widen her eyes the same way in your direction. What were you going to do? If it were another teacher, the chances of Professor Su and Kuvira get screwed were certain ... But if it were Miss Beifong ... She would know exactly what you were doing there.
There was nowhere to run. This was the corridor that led to the art classroom, the other rooms were distant. Either you would get into the art classroom or you would run towards whoever was there.
"Come with me." Korra gets up and you don't hesitate to take her hand, because you have no idea what to do. She pulls you up and then towards one of the corners of the wall. You are about to ask what the fuck is she going to do when Korra grabs your wrists, getting them around her neck and then wrapping her hands around your waist. You widen your eyes and she does the same in warning before leaning over to put her mouth on your neck. She doesn't kiss your skin, but that doesn't vanish the shiver running through your body. Korra giggles and you hit her on the back of the head, finally realizing what she just did.
When the footsteps approach you throw your head back, an Oscar-worthy performance that makes Korra giggle softly once again.
"But what ... WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?" The voice made you freeze in place while Korra jumped away from you. You can hear some sounds that sounded a lot like cursing from inside the art classroom.
Professor Beifong has both hands resting on her waist, her posture so harsh she could break a wall. You swallow. Oh it wouldn’t end well.
"Forgive me, Miss Beifong ... I couldn't help myself." You look from the corner of your eye to Korra. She was walking on thin ice here and knew it well. The teacher's face looked hard enough for your legs begin shaking.
But it is gratifying to make her so mad. Taste a little bit of her poison herself.
"This is a school not a brothel." She announces each word so slowly, almost as if she's trying to control herself so as not to grab your neck and suffocate.
"We are aware of that, Professor Beifong, we're sorry." Korra tilts her head in such false regret you would be really surprised if Miss Beifong believed. But her eyes were not on Korra, they were on you. The same look from the play. Why? You ask yourself and have to avoid the urge to raise an eyebrow in defiance.
She was about to say something. Probably "detention until the end of the semester", but then ... Kuvira walked out the door, looking pretty well fucked. Her braid was messy and her clothes were wrinkled. Professor Beifong's gaze seemed to pierce a hole directly in the girl's shirt.
"Get out of my sight. THE THREE OF YOU." She screamed the last part and you didn't hesitate before taking Korra's hand and running down the corridor, deciding she might as well take out all that anger on Professor Su.
When you told the whole story to Asami she wasn't angry ... No, she laughed out loud at the whole situation and kissed your cheek when she noticed the worried look on your face.
"It's okay, Y/L/N." She looked at you for a moment and you frowned. "I wouldn't even object if you ever want to try." You widen your eyes in her direction and Asami lets out another chuckle before settling on the couch with the book she was reading. "Jinora's going to love this one." You sit next to Korra and together you wait for a moment just to reflect on everything.
"We really should be going home." You mumble and Korra chuckles before pushing your shoulders gently.
"You guys can go ... I have to stay for training today, Coach Bumi is picking on us because college evaluators are going to start coming to watch." You nod and feel pure pride resting on your chest. Your friend could be extremely stubborn and end up putting you in a lot of trouble, but she was good at what she did, the best you've ever seen and deserved that scholarship more than anyone else.
"I'm going to study some more, I think I can go back with you." Korra nods to her girlfriend and then looks at you. A new sigh leaves your mouth. You could not study particularly well in the library, so it was better to find Jinora, Mako and Bolin to go home.
"See you two tomorrow." You kiss the girls' cheeks and then grab your backpack.
Jinora, Mako and Bolin were at the school gate, waiting for you. You grinned and explained Asami and Korra would stay. So you started walking.
You had never noticed how therapeutic this way home was for you. Just walking with the people you liked, sometimes rubbing your hand in Jinora's hand, watching the sun go down over the horizon and feeling the light fresh wind. Summer was almost here, summer vacation ... It was your last year at school, the last year of studying things you didn't like just trying to get into college.
"Have you decided what you're going to do when you finish school?" You ask Jinora. Mako and Bolin's house was already down the street, so they waved and smiled at you before they left. Jinora shrugged for a moment.
"Daddy wants me to be a teacher like him. In fact he's already infecting Ikki with this idea and since she's the little girl in daddy's eyes she is already wanting to go on a preparatory course to teach in high school." You frown at the thought. You were lucky to have comprehending parents. When you finally told them you liked girls, mom hugged you so hard you thought you could suffocate and dad chuckled because he already knew. You had amazing parents and they would always support you, even if you wanted to go to college in drama and cinema.
"What do you want?" You correct the question and Jinora grins at you with the corner of her lips. She looks so beautiful when she smiles like that.
"I have been thinking a lot about psychology or medicine. I want to help people." It's noble of her and Jinora was exactly the type of person who would do that. She looks up and her short hair falls down the back of her neck, locks of hair with chocolate color. "Can you imagine that we will probably never have moments like this again?" A lump forms in your throat at the thought. You grew up with these people. Professor Kya healed your first scratches. You used to have dinner at each other's house every weekend when you were kids. And then the second year came. Korra got tired of flirting and kissed Asami on the Fourth of July holiday. Bolin started dating Opal, Jinora started dating Kai and little by little some things disappeared. You grew up, that was the truth you often tried to ignore. You guys grew up. "Sorry ... I didn't want it to sound like that." You sniff, feeling some tears have accumulated in your eyes. How are you supposed to hear Jinora give a speech on graduation night without bursting into tears if you could barely think about it all ending without your heart squeezing to the point of leaving you breathless? "Hey." Jinora holds your hand in hers. Her hand's hot and seems to scare away any bad thoughts. You take a deep breath and look at your friend. Her eyes are warm too, so sweet.
"I think I will be your first appointment." You joke and she chuckles, squeezing your fingers one last time before releasing your hand. You notice her cheeks look a little flushed.
You frown. No. Korra was imagining things for sure.
You guys talked a little more and she laughed a lot at the whole story about the fake kiss with Korra. You were already thinking about faking an illness tomorrow just so you wouldn't have to face Professor Beifong.
You kissed Jinora on the cheek before leaving and she smiled brightly at you before following the path to her home alone. You still watched her go, her hair shining in almost the same shade as the sunset.
You didn't want to have one last time. High school could suck sometimes. But you loved your friends and the thought of losing them made you want to throw up.
(...)
"Hey, muscles." You greeted Korra with a smile when she stopped next to you in your locker. She leaned over to put a kiss on your cheek and you yawned right away. You hadn't slept very well last night, thoughts about the end of the school year, college, your friends, and certain green eyes did not leave your head. It wouldn't be surprising if it simply exploded at some point in the near future.
"What class are you having now?" Korra asked as she stuffed the geometry book into her backpack. You forced your head a little sleepy to think straight.
"Biology." With Professor Kya. You liked her a lot, she was one of your favorite teachers, she was cheerful, but not the silly type who doesn't develop the topics and just moved everyone to the next grade. She knew how to be strict as well and lectured about marine biology like no one else.
The buzzer sounds in the distance and you close your eyes for a brief moment, wanting to the damn person who created that shit to be dead. Your head started to throb. It's not like you're worried, Professor Kya was relatively relaxed with schedules, she was late sometimes. So you take your time getting what you need for the next classes. Korra doesn't look incredibly excited for the geometry class and looks at you with exhausted eyes. Coach Bumi certainly made her work out like crazy yesterday, he could never leave the star of the team with a poor improvement.
You pull the last book into the backpack and then throw it on your back, ready to face the day as best you can.
That meant you would probably sleep in some class, perhaps Professor Su's who didn't care greatly about it.
"Hey, you two!" Your tired head takes a few seconds to realize whose voice it is and when you do, your eyes widen, just like Korra's. You turn back almost at the same moment to face Professor Beifong.
God. She was deadly beautiful that day. Heels, tailored pants, a belt with a golden buckle, and that black silk shirt with the first two buttons open. Why did you have to be so weak for a woman so stupidly thick and cruel?
"The buzzer rang. Are you deaf?" You bite your lower lip hard enough to draw blood in order not to roll your eyes. She was on a bad day, you could tell by the heavy steps and the way she crosses her arms under her chest while facing you and Korra. Her eyes seem to shine, seem to ask for defiance. You were so tired and honestly, you were not in the mood for this little superiority game Professor Beifong seemed to appreciate playing so bad.
"We're on our way, you don't have to be all cranky pants on that, professor." Your eyes spot on Korra and the tiny smile she has in the corner of her mouth. Oh shit. You had extremely stupid friends. This was not the fucking time to tease Professor Beifong's humor, perhaps someday she didn't seem to break a wall with her shoulders it might work.
Professor Beifong looked at Korra for a moment, from the shabby shoes she liked to wear to the tip of her dark hair. A predator analyzing the prey. It takes everything in you to just not get in front of Korra.
"It looks like you're trying to get detention during the team's training for the rest of the semester." Your eyes widen. And you don't have to look at Korra to know hers are the same. This was real thin ice. Korra couldn't miss the team's training sessions, that was the college scholarship you were talking about ... You think she is probably bluffing because ... Who would leave the quarterback out of training? The director herself would not allow it. However ... When you look at Professor Beifong's eyes it's pure defiance you see shine there. If anyone could do that kind of thing at this school, it was her.
“Hey, she just made a little joke. There is no need for all of this. ” The woman's head turns slowly towards you as if she remembers your existence only at that moment. It's so evident when her eyes narrow, calculating, watching. You may feel your heart rate increasing, but for some reason, you aren't holding it back. You look back at her, because...Man, she is a teacher. She can't kill you in the middle of the corridor and if she wants to take that shit out of that temper...She can do that on you and not on Korra.
"Do not provoke me, Ms. Y / L / N." The way she says those words. It's calculated, like everything she says. She knows perfectly well what she is doing to you. The breath catches in your throat for a moment. Because her jaw is firm as a rock, you are sure she could cut your finger if you tried to run your hand over there. Even if you were never going to do that. You don't remember seeing that expression on Professor Beifong's face directly at you and you would lie if you said that it doesn't scare you.
Because she still looks like a high school teacher. But the way she tilts her head and her eyes shine in your direction makes a shiver swing your spine. She could break your neck with just that look. So easily.
You swallow. And it looks extremely dry.
You were a true brat with authority issues.
Because what comes to your head next... It's just that expression of indifference. That damn indifference after she got her face flushed reading a play with you.
Fuck that she was pissed. She could get mad and walk around this school as if she were the worst thing that ever came upon earth, but you knew she wasn't.Because she smirked at you. Because she had that sparkle in her eyes when she did. Because she got flushed when she read that play.Because she had feelings.
You just want to stop pretending you don't realize that.
Fuck. You shouldn't.
"Or what?" As soon as the words leave your mouth you regret it. When Professor Beifong swallows you are sure she will actually break your neck and you can’t even say you don't deserve it. You believe you can hear her teeth gnashing inside her mouth as if she is holding it up so as not to do anything worse than just scream. Oh you were so fucked up.
You're a stupid brat. Because your next thought it's about how sexy she looked when her lips were pressed like that.
"Detention." She growled. Professor Beifong ... She growled. An eyebrow raised towards you almost like a spasm of anger. Your fingers are shaking. Why do you want to touch that scar so badly? "Only. You." Each word was said separately, while the breath came out very weakly through the teacher's nostrils. She was pretty mad. The color started to appear on her face, a red shade you don't know if you've seen on her. She points her finger at the school corridor and it's Korra's turn to grab your elbow and pull you hard away from Professor Beifong. Her grip is difficult, but you can still turn your face to see Professor Beifong's fingers tremble as they point where you are supposed to go.
You have never seen her so pissed off. Not even when half of the class cheated on the English test last year.
That was what you would have to deal with after class.
It would be better to just have a stroke. But perhaps even that wouldn't spare you from Miss Beifong's fury or you own hots.
#avatar the legend of korra#tlok#lin beifong#fanfic#high school fanfiction#lin beifongxreader#fanfiction#high school#korra#jinora#asami sato#kuvira#su beifong
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