#also when she does something wrong she doesn’t even face the consequences really? weird shit i swear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beccascribbles · 3 years

Note

Can i ask for a suna x reader request where the reader is the team’s manager and swear she wouldn’t date another volleyball player after her ex, but suna changes her mind? 👀👀

a/n - this ended up way longer than i intended. whoops. honestly as i wrote this, i forgot all about the original plot. he does still change her mind though! it just became more of a best friends to lovers au (which i’m a big fat lover of). anyway, hope you enjoy :)

You swore off dating volleyball players the night you turned up at his house, tears rolling down your cheeks and red eyes. Your voice was hoarse when you told him, when you told Suna you would never date another volleyball player. The tears dampened his shirt as he held you, as he listened to you rant.

Suna hated to admit it, but a part of him was glad when he saw you on his doorstep that night. It meant you had finally realised what a piece of shit you had been dating and also opened up an avenue that had been previously shut for him. However, none of that mattered when you were in front of him. Any part of him that rejoiced at your broken expression disgusted him.

"All volleyball players are shit," you sobbed, pressing your face into his chest, choosing to forget that you were currently seeking comfort in the arms of one. "Can you believe he cheated on me?"

"I always told you he was a piece of shit," drawled Suna, rubbing soothing circles into your back. You bit back another sob, landing a light smack to his shoulder.

"And you're suddenly Mr Perfect?"

"I wouldn't cheat on you."

"Well, it doesn't really matter anyway," you sighed, curling into the warmth Suna provided, arms wrapping around his waist. "A volleyball player and me will never be a thing again. Fuck that. I'm not going through that pain again."

That whole night Suna was there to offer you comfort. He let you wash in his bathroom, giving you one of his favourite t-shirts and a pair of boxers to wear to bed. He even gave you his bed to sleep in, saying he would sleep on the floor. You couldn't let him do that, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him into the bed beside you. Suna was also the one who called your mother, explaining that you were staying at his house tonight.

And, the next morning, you were awoken to the smell of breakfast wafting through the house, walking down the stairs to be greeted by Suna on a video call with Osamu. It was clear Osamu was instructing him on how to cook, something that Suna struggled with.

"Morning, Rin, Samu," you greeted, waving at the phone screen as you stepped into view. Osamu eyes widened slightly at the sight of your clothing. You were still dressed in Suna's clothes, and, if you didn't know why, you would admit your reaction likely would have been the same.

"Ooh, y/n," sang Atsumu's voice, his head appearing at the top of the frame as Osamu pushed him away. "What have ya -"

He was cut off by Suna's barked 'shut up'. In a quiet voice, you stated simply, "My boyfriend, ex now I suppose, cheated on me."

"Did Suna make ya forget all about that loser?" asked Atsumu, his head now back in frame and pushing against Osamu's as he tried to claim the centre of the screen.

"Sumu!" snapped Osamu, shooting him a glare as he gave him a hard slap to the back of the head.

"If letting me cry and rant to him counts, then yes," you sighed, turning away from them and heading to the cupboard to grab a glass.

"Samu," called Suna, looking up from the pan helplessly, "what do I do now?"

He held up the food to show that it was burnt, charred to the point that it was disintegrating. Osamu let out a sigh. "I can come over and cook for ya if you want."

You nodded enthusiastically in the background, letting out an enthused shout. "Yes please!"

"Okay," he nodded, standing up from where he rested on his bed. "I'll be there in a bit."

"Don't bring Atsumu," pleaded Suna.

"I'm comin’," said Atsumu, poking his tongue out at the camera before Osamu hung up. Suna let out a sigh, looking over at you apologetically. His plan for a quiet morning with you to let you recuperate and prepare to face the world again was coming to an end. Instead, you would be thrust back into it with the presence of the twins, especially Atsumu.

You stepped towards him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Wordlessly, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. Head pressed against his chest, you mumbled, "I really don't mind you know. I love hanging out with the twins. You know that."

"I just wanted everything to be good for you, you know?" he admitted, resting his cheek on the top of your head. "Are you feeling better this morning?"

"Like you said, he was a piece of shit. I supposed it was about time I realised that."

"Yeah," he sighed, brushing a kiss to the top of your head. "It would've been better if you hadn't been hurt in the process."

"Well hey," you said, looking up at him with a small smile playing on your lips, "at least I know who not to date so don't worry. I won't go running into the arms of anyone on the team to make me feel better."

"You can come to me though," he murmured, voice low. You looked up at him, eyebrows raising in confusion.

"What did you say?" you asked, pulling away and moving across the kitchen to grab a glass from the cupboard.

"Um...," he hesitated, running a hand through his sleep mussed hair. He refused to meet your gaze, focusing instead on a point above your head. "Just that you can run to the twins if you need, preferably Osamu but I suppose Atsumu is good for a hookup. I guess it depends on whose hair you prefer. You've always had a thing for blondes..."

"Rin, I'm going to stop you there," you laughed, holding up a hand and cutting off his tangent. "You don't need to worry. Also, where'd you get the idea that I'm into blondes?"

"Well, your last few boyfriends..."

"Personally, I've always preferred brunettes," you shrugged, heading over to the sink to fill up your glass. You let out a light giggle. "Now that I think about it, it is weird that I always end up dating blondes."

“Evidence of your horrible taste,” he teased, forever thankful that you could take any awkward comment in your stride and put him at ease. It was something so natural to you. In fact, you had grown used to his occasional odd remarks, brushing them under the rug. There were times when you would tease Suna for it, but, most of the time, you let it slide. It was a part of your best friend.

You let out a gasp, holding a hand to your heart in fake shock. But then, you shook your head, face splitting into a grin. “You’re not wrong. Maybe you’ll have to teach me how to find a nice guy.”

“I don’t know if I’m the best choice for that.”

“You don’t know that. You’re always right about how horrible anyone I show an interest in is.”

Suna might always be right, but he was always searching for the bad points of those you dated. Jealousy drove him to overlook any of the good things, like how happy they usually made you the first few weeks you were together.

“Yeah, well,” he admitted, “I’m not necessarily looking for the good things when I judge your boyfriends.”

“You’re so overprotective,” you snorted, dancing around him to take a seat at the kitchen table. He didn’t reply to that, and you glanced upwards, taking note of his furrowed brow. You decided to change the topic of conversation, taking a sip of your water. Before you could, there was a furious knocking at the front door. Suna rolled his eyes as you stated, “The twins.”

“Well done, Captain Obvious,” he teased, ruffling your hair as he walked past you and headed towards the front door. He glanced back over at you. “Are you going to change?”

“Nah, it’s fine. They’ve seen me in worse states.”

That was true, and the fact annoyed Suna whenever he dwelled on it.

Atsumu, thinking he was being funny, had snuck into the bathroom while you were showering and stole your clothing, leaving your underwear. To be fair to Atsumu, he hadn’t attempted to peek at you in your naked state. It would’ve been difficult if he had tired considering the shower curtain was drawn. If he had attempted to look, he would have been subject to Suna’s wrath, and he had a number of photos of Atsumu in compromising positions that he could release. Suna wished you had just walked to his room and taken some of his clothes. Instead, you had strode downstairs in your underwear, ignoring the looks from the team that Suna had invited over and stood over Atsumu.

“Clothes, now,” you commanded, hands resting on your hips. Suna had been quick to leap up from his position on the sofa, pulling his sweatshirt over his head and tugging it over your own, moving you like a doll as he shoved your arms into the sleeves and pulled it down to cover your lower half. Then, Suna had also fixed a glare on Atsumu.

“You’d better fucking hurry,” he said, the set of his face threatening some kind of consequence. Atsumu hadn’t wanted to find out, getting up from his seat and jogging towards the kitchen, where he thought it would be wise to hide your clothes in a cupboard.

“You’re so irritating,” you grumbled, pulling on the leggings and then removing Suna’s sweatshirt, and throwing your t-shirt on. You held the sweatshirt out to Suna. “Thanks for the cover up.”

“Did you really need to strip again?” he spluttered, blushing furiously as he took his sweatshirt back from you.

“So dramatic,” you sighed, rolling your eyes at Suna’s embarrassment. Atsumu, meanwhile, had looked like a child in a candy store.

“I always knew ya were hot, but damn,” said Atsumu, letting out a low whistle. Though you appreciated the compliment, you didn’t hesitate to give him a hard slap to the back of the head.

“Don’t steal my clothes,” you said, before your lips tugged upwards in a teasing smirk. You leant in. “If you wanted to see, all you had to do was ask.”

It was Atsumu’s turn to blush then, looking away and avoiding your gaze. Both of you were aware your statement was a lie, but he couldn’t help his reaction. Suna watched with his arms crossed, quietly seething. His chest felt tight. Then, you had looked over at him with a bright smile and asked, “You picked out the film yet?”

Suna was jerked from the memory by an increase in the knocking and a loud shout through the door. “Open the fuck up, ya idiot. I’m hungry too.”

“Shut up, Sumu,” he grumbled, swinging open the door. He nodded towards Osamu. “There should be enough food in the fridge but, if you need more, just give me a list and I’ll nip to the shop.”

“I’ll go, too,” you piped up, appearing in the corridor behind him. Atsumu sprinted forward, pulling you into a tight hug which you returned. “Okay, you big oaf. You can let go of me now.”

“If you cry, he’ll let go of ya in an instant,” said Osamu, giving your head a pat as he walked past you and into the kitchen.

“It was one time, Samu,” whined Atsumu, releasing you and following his brother into the kitchen. “I’m great at comforting girls, better than you.”

“I can cook.”

“Yeah, well,” spluttered Atsumu, “I’m hotter than you.”

“We’re identical.”

“Still hotter.”

“Identical. Twins.”

“Just like normal,” you said, grinning over at Suna as he held his head in his hands. Any plans for a quiet morning went down the drain, but, when he glanced over at you to see your smile, he couldn’t deny that he was glad the twins had come over.

That happiness dissipated when Atsumu had been kicked out of the kitchen by Osamu and sent out with you to get the rest of the ingredients. Osamu had insisted that only Suna could be trusted in the kitchen, despite burning what he tried to make earlier. Ultimately, though, Osamu wasn’t going to trust him with cooking. He had simply wanted to talk to his friend, find out what was going through his head.

“So,” Osamu said, taking a sip from the cup of tea Suna had made before continuing, “how is y/n after last night? How are you?”

“I think she’ll be fine,” Suna said, trying to decide how much he was comfortable with sharing. Letting out an exhale, he decided he might as well take the chance to explain how he was feeling. Nothing good came from bottling it up, something that had become all too clear to him when he had almost taken advantage of the alcohol to finally kiss you.

It had been on your eighteenth birthday. Using the excuse that you only turn eighteen once, you had downed drink after drink, slowly growing steadily more drunk, evidenced by the way you had zero inhibitions to jumping up onto a table and swaying your hips enticingly for all to see. Suna had frozen at the sight, the alcohol he had also drunk making him feel slightly braver. He had walked over to you, offering you his hand as he helped you jump down from the table. He leaned in, yelling to be heard over the music.

“You want to go somewhere else?”

You looked at him in confusion, your drunken mind not being able to fully process his request. All you could really concentrate on was the party, the happy buzz lighting your nerves. “Why?”

Suna had drawn in a breath, steeling himself. “I have something to give you. In private.”

The promise of a gift had caused you to loop your arm through his, letting him guide you somewhere else. It barely even registered that he had already given you his present, a beautiful necklace, an ornate and delicate star as the one charm on it. He had pressed a kiss to your cheek after being the one to place it around your neck. In fact, you were wearing it at that moment, the lights glinting off the silver.

“So, what did you want to give me?” you asked under the light of the moon. He reached forward, tracing a finger along the curve of your face. Suna’s hand stopped its movement, cupping your cheek. “Suna?”

He let out a breath that tickled your face. Slowly, carefully, he leaned in, his lips a whisper away before a shout broke through the relative peace of the garden.

“y/n!”

Your head turned in the direction, pulling out of Suna’s grip in the process. Atsumu stumbled towards you, slinging his arm over your shoulder. “Come on. I convinced Kita to play ‘Never Have I Ever’ and he’s usually no fun at parties. You too, Suna.”

That moment between the two of you in the garden had been forgotten by you, but it replayed regularly in Suna’s mind. He buried his face into his hands, Osamu’s quiet support enough to prompt him to continue with what he was saying. “I don’t know if I will be though.”

When he looked up, his eyes were unusually vulnerable. There was a hesitation in his gaze, and Osamu waited a moment before prompting, “Why?”

As Osamu began to chop up some of the ingredients, Suna began to speak again. “She swore off dating volleyball players, and I think that extends to me. To be honest, she’s probably only ever seen me as a friend. Pathetic, right? I invest all this time into our relationship. Don’t get me wrong, I love her friendship. I’ll never take it for granted. It’s just frustrating. Do I act too friendly with her? Am I not flirty enough? Why was I friend-zoned?”

Osamu continued cutting, choosing his next words carefully. “She’s probably never thought to look at you in another way. It would make sense she doesn’t want to risk your friendship, Rin.”

“I understand that,” he sighed, “but, what can I do?”

“All you can do is try to show her how you feel and hope she realises you’re the one for her,” advised Osamu. Suna made note of this, though a part of him wondered if it was the best option. In his opinion, Suna was already showing that he had feelings for you. How could he make that more known? Seeing the uncertainty on his face, Osamu continued. “You could always ask Sumu for advice but I doubt it would be more useful than mine.”

It was some time before Suna was able to broach the topic with Atsumu, though this time with more hypotheticals than outright admissions. Your head was resting in his lap, your breathing steady as one of his hands rubbed absentminded circles into your back. You would be the first to admit you hadn’t had the best of sleep that night, falling asleep as soon as the film Osamu had chosen was playing.

“It must have been really boring if y/n’s already asleep,” teased Atsumu, giving his brother a playful shove which Osamu ignored. “She usually stays up out of pity.”

“Whatever, Sumu,” sighed Osamu, hugging a cushion to his chest as he became fully engrossed in what was unfolding on screen. It was hard to rile Osamu up when he was in his element, and, frankly, this film was one of his favourites. It made him dream of running his own chain of restaurants, though without the mafia using it as a front for drug trades.

“Hey, Atsumu,” began Suna awkwardly, immediately getting the other twin’s attention. Osamu was too focused on the film to care what was being talked about around him, something he would regret when Atsumu bragged about Suna confiding in him the whole way home. “Say you liked this girl, but she was your best friend, and swore off dating volleyball players. How would you change her mind and show her how you feel?”

“I’d just tell y/n how I feel,” he replied. “It is y/n we’re talkin’ about, yeah?”

Suna nodded, though the slight frown that twisted his face told Atsumu he wasn’t happy that he had figured it out. Atsumu simply shrugged, giving his friend’s shoulder a squeeze.

“It’s kind of obvious,” Atsumu said, glancing down at the way Suna gently brushed your hair away from your face, his other hands resting against the curve of your waist. “Anyway, she’d appreciate the honesty. No need to show her. You show her how much ya care everyday anyway. It might not change her mind straight away but havin’ it out in the open might help her come around to the idea.”

“Thanks, Sumu,” said Suna, genuinely meaning the words.

“They don’t call me the Love Maestro for nothin’,” he bragged.

“No one calls you that,” shot Osamu, tuning in for that part of the conversation. Atsumu turned to him, scandalised.

“Do too.”

“Name one person.”

“...”

“Exactly.”

Later that day, Suna walked you home, slinging an arm around your shoulder and leaning a bit of his weight on you as you walked. Your own arm wrapped around his waist instinctively to keep your balance. It felt so natural to walk along with him like this, something you genuinely missed when you were dating someone. It just felt disrespectful to the other person to act as you did with Suna while with them. A part of you recognised that the way you acted around each other could be construed as a relationship, but you had never thought to entertain the idea. He was just Suna, your best friend.

You came to a stop in front of your front door, and he released your shoulder in favour of wrapping both of his arms around your waist to pull you into a hug. Instantly, you relaxed against him, arms winding around his neck. When he pulled away, your hands still rested on his shoulders and you smiled up at him.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said, eyes unusually soft as he stared at you. His eyes landed on the necklace around your neck, the star shining up at him from where it rested just above the neckline of your top. “I’ll see you tomorrow but if you need anything, if you just want to chat, call me, okay?”

You nodded, giving his shoulder a pat before releasing him. However, you made no move to step away and open your front door. Suna leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek. At that, he stepped off your porch, turning away from you. “Goodnight.” I love you.

“Night, Rin.”

When his phone rang at two in the morning, he couldn’t say he hadn’t been expecting it. He was. It was normal for you to call him at random times of the night, particularly when you couldn’t get to sleep or had been awoken by a nightmare.

“Rin?” you breathed, voice quiet to avoid waking anyone up in your house. “Um, hi.”

“Morning, y/n,” he mumbled, switching you onto speaker and placing the phone down beside his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I was just having trouble sleeping. Um, can you tell me a story?”

“Don’t you think we’re too old for bedtime stories?” he chuckled, though he was already shifting through his brain for a tale he could tell you that had not already been shared.

“We’re still in high school,” you protested, and he could hear the pout in your voice. “We’re not adults yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Are you ready?”

He heard the sound of movement through the speaker, the sound of you getting into bed and placing the phone on the pillow beside you.

“Ready.”

So, Suna began, telling the story of a foolish knight who had fallen for the beautiful princess, a princess who was at home when she was sparring with the knights, when she could forget about all the eligible bachelors from other kingdoms. She was a princess who ate with the Royal Guard, prepared the roster for their training sessions, and offered her support whenever she was needed.

His voice lulled you to sleep, and, before you could question what had inspired such a tale, your eyes had slipped shut and sleep had pulled you under. Suna heard your change in breathing, your soft inhales and exhales slowing until they reached a steady rhythm. He trailed off, reaching for his phone, finger hovering over the button that would end the call. He pulled his finger away, letting his hand fall back down onto the mattress. Suna fell asleep to the sound of your breathing. He could almost pretend that you were beside him.

Your phone was flat when you woke up, and you cursed, hurriedly plugging yours into the charger. You hated being late, hated not knowing what the time was as soon as you woke up. You jogged down the stairs, reading the time on the clock in the kitchen and releasing the tension in one exhale. There was plenty of time. At a more relaxed pace, you continued to prepare for the day.

It was a busy day for you as manager of the volleyball club, something that you were thankful for as it meant you couldn’t dwell on your break up. Even if you weren’t busy with your club duties, the team would provide a distraction. Atsumu and Osamu argued more as third years, the influences of Kita, Aran and the others no longer there to calm them down. Suna was no help, urging them on whenever he could and then documenting the whole affair on his phone to send photos and videos to Kita and Aran later. To be fair, you did little to break it up either, preferring to let them work out their anger. It worked, though Kita insisted there was a better way. If he wanted to come back to Inarizaki and deal with them, he could.

The sound of your phone ringing sent you running back up the stairs, dodging out of the way of a parent that had just emerged from the bathroom. Suna’s name flashed on the screen, and you accepted the call, perching on the edge of the bed.

“I guess we fell asleep on call,” he laughed, his voice rough from having just woken up. “Your phone died, didn’t it?”

“Of course it did, idiot,” you sighed. “Why didn’t you hang up once I’d fallen asleep? You usually do.”

“You sounded cute,” he admitted, glad you could not see the flush that dusted his cheeks. “Plus, I figured you would be smart enough to have it plugged in if I was.”

“Not a valid excuse,” you quipped, resting your head in the palm of your hand. With a laugh, you said, “I panicked this morning thinking I would be late. The coaches wanted me to meet with them before class. You don’t know how pleased I was when I walked down the stairs to see I still had a while before I had to leave the house.”

“Sorry about that,” he muttered sheepishly before clearing his throat. “Is it charged now?”

You glanced down at your phone screen. “It’s at about 20% so it’s probably not going to last the whole day.”

“You can use mine if you need to. It is kind of my fault after all.”

“Kind of?” you questioned, humour in your tone. “Don’t worry though. It should be fine if I leave it off until I need to use it.”

“Just let me know if you need to borrow it, okay?” he insisted. “We have late practice.”

“Yeah, I know, got to make sure you lot are prepared for nationals. No losing to Karasuno this year.”

“Mmhm,” he hummed. “I’ll walk you home, alright?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rin,” you said. “My phone will last till then. Plus, you’ll be tired after practice. I’d be a bad manager if I didn’t make you go straight home to eat.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he argued. “Besides, I can just eat at your house. Your parents say that I’m always welcome.”

“But then you’ll be going home too late. Won’t your mum be worried?”

“She’ll be fine. I usually stay out late, or are you forgetting the nights I’ve snuck over to yours and we’ve gone on midnight walks?”

“Fine,” you sighed, letting him win this time. “Don’t complain to me if you’re tired at school tomorrow.”

“When am I not half-asleep?”

“I’ll see you at school, Rin.”

“See you.”

There was no arguing with Suna over things like this. He was stubborn to a fault when it came to your safety. You might have been able to convince him to head straight home if your phone was fully charged. When that was the case, he insisted on staying on the phone with you the whole way, not feeling comfortable at the thought of you walking home alone in the dark. Suna wasn’t overbearing. If you honestly didn’t want him walking you home or calling you, he wouldn’t so long as you messaged him when you got home. But, you liked talking to him. That was the simple truth. You enjoyed spending time with Suna, and enjoyed talking to him. It was only Suna who wanted something more.

“So,” asked Atsumu, slinging an arm over Suna’s shoulder yanking him closer, “when are ya goin' to tell her?”

“Tell who?” asked Osamu. The look Suna shot him made him nod his head in realisation. “Ah, y/n… Wait, tell her? What happened to just showin’ her how you feel?”

“If that was going to work, it would’ve already,” said Atsumu, puffing out his chest proudly. “As Suna and I discussed, comin' clean and confessing is the best way forward.”

“I hate to say it, but he had a point Samu,” agreed Suna, sliding out from under Atsumu’s arm. “Anyway, I’m not going to tell her anytime soon. She’s had enough to deal with. She doesn’t need her best friend confessing to her straight after a rough break up. It’s almost nationals time as well. Confessing might throw off the team dynamic and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“I think you’re just being a pussy,” declared Atsumu, lips quirking upwards in a teasing smirk.

“I think you’re being smart,” said Osamu. “Wait until the best time.”

All Suna had done, was continuing to do, was wait. However, he made a concerted effort to be there for you more often, being the shoulder you would lean on for support. Unknown to you consciously, a part of you had begun to reciprocate Suna’s feelings. On occasion, it would be you who would reach out for him, locking your pinkies together and sharing a secret smile across the lunch table.

Over the course of the next few months, there were many late night phone calls, which quickly transformed into video chats. He listened to you, helped you work through the residual feelings from your break up. Being cheated on had left you feeling inferior, and Suna had been there to build you back up.

One day, you turned to face your friend Reo, hardly believing the words that fell from your lips. “Tell me honestly. Do you think I’m falling for another volleyball player?”

“Another one?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow. Then, the realisation finally seemed to hit her and she let out a gasp. “Suna?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, resting your chin on top of your open palm. “Am I just projecting? Do I really have feelings for him or am I just craving that kind of emotional connection with someone? Plus, it’s Suna. He’s my best friend.”

“Is that all he is to you, though?” she questioned, studying you. “I know he’s your best friend, but I am too. Who did you seek comfort from after your break up? Who do you fall asleep with over the phone every night? Did you ever act the same with people you were in a relationship with that you do with Suna? I mean, I know you haven’t kissed him or anything but you are more physically affectionate and open with him than people you’ve been in a relationship with. I know you’re going to be stubborn about this, say that’s just how you’ve always been, but I want you to think about how you treat each other. If you want my honest opinion, I’d say the feelings have always been there, especially on Suna’s part.”

You blinked at Reo, taking in what she was saying. It made you contemplate, think back on specific moments in your friendship with Suna where it was possible you had crossed some invisible line that you weren’t supposed to. But every moment with Suna felt so natural you couldn’t pinpoint where the line would be, let alone when you would have crossed it. It became clear to you then. You had feelings for Suna Rintaro. There went your vow to never date another volleyball player again.

If only Suna had realised you had made this realisation already. He could have stopped planning out how to confess to you with Osamu and Atsumu, their idea involving him reducing his contact with you until everything was prepared. That fact itself was easier said than done, and they couldn’t control what he did in the quiet of his home (which was find any excuse to phone you and talk to you).

That night, he asked you, “Can you be ready for one in the afternoon tomorrow? I have something planned that I hope you’ll like.”

“Sure,” you agreed. “I have something I want to say to you as well.”

He felt anxiety grip him at your statement, fearing the worst. His fingers tightened around the phone, his breath catching in his throat. You could hear his struggle through the phone and reassured, “Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you don’t think it is. I’ve just finally realised something and want to tell you in person.”

"Okay," he breathed, though the knot of anxiety in his chest didn't loosen. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good sleep. Love you."

"Night, Rin," you replied, feeling your heart flutter slightly at his words. The words had been said before in passing, but always with Suna firmly placed as a friend. "Love you too."

At one the next day, you were sat waiting for him on your front step, fiddling with your phone in your hands. You had just spoken to Reo for advice, her words soothing your nerves. She had told you it was clear that Suna wanted to admit something too, and, for some reason, having that knowledge outlined for you by another put you at ease.

Seeing him approaching, you rose from your seated position, gesturing for him to wait for you on the pavement. Suna came to a stop, holding out his arms for a hug. You were quick to relax into his hold, arms giving his own waist a squeeze before letting go. Smiling up at him with unusual silence, you asked, “Can I tell you something before we go? I just think you deserve to know.”

He hesitated. A part of him was curious, wanted to know, but the rest of him feared that your news would ruin what he had planned. Suna wanted to confess to you before you revealed whatever you had realised. “Um, can I show you what I planned first? It’s kind of important.”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering how it could be so important that he didn’t want to hear what you said. At the nervous look in his eyes, you took his hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Still holding his hand, you pulled him after you, moving with confidence though you had no idea what direction Suna wanted to take you in. He pulled you to a stop, shooting you a smirk. “Wrong way, idiot.”

“It’s not like I can read your mind,” you sighed, throwing your arms up in exasperation. You gave him a grin. “Want to take the lead?”

“With pleasure,” he said, choosing to release his hold on your hand and drape his arm over your shoulder. In response, your own wrapped around his waist and you fell into step beside him.

The sight that greeted you was unexpected and took your breath away. It was oddly beautiful in a simple way, something no one had ever thought to put together for you before, despite its relative simplicity. You looked up at him, mouth dropping open in shock and disbelief. “You really went through the trouble of setting up a picnic for me?”

“Well, yeah,” he replied. “You said you always wanted to go on a picnic with someone you love. I figured I counted at least a little bit.”

“You definitely count,” you said, giving him a slight nudge with your elbow. “I’d probably rather do this with you anyway. On another note, who made the food? Because you can’t cook for shit.”

“Osamu might have helped a little bit.”

“Just a little bit?” you teased, smirking up at him.

“Maybe more than a little bit, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Whatever you say, Rin,” you grinned, wandering over to sit on the blanket. He sank onto the floor beside you, leaning his side against your own. You relaxed against his warmth, letting your head drop against his shoulder. His own head dropped to rest against yours, his hand reaching out to hold yours, tangling your fingers together.

For a moment, you sat in silence, cherishing just being together. Suna cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Before we eat, I have something to say to you. Can you promise whatever I say to you won’t change what we have right now?”

You looked up at him with concern. “I promise.”

Suna drew in a deep breath, releasing your hand and moving to sit in front of you. You let yourself miss the warmth of his body pressed against you, knotting your fingers together as you allowed your eyes to meet his. The hesitation in his face was clear, and you reached forward, resting a hand on his knee.

“Just tell me,” you reassured, smiling at him softly. “Nothing can change how I feel about you.”

“Okay,” he sighed, reaching forward, and clasping the hand you had rested on your knee. In that moment, he went for the bluntest approach. “I have feelings for you.”

You blinked over at him in shock, your grip on his hand tightening. That hadn’t been what you were expecting to hear, but hearing the words made your heart flutter. It made it so much easier to admit what you had finally realised. “I have feelings for you too.”

“Wait, you do?” said Suna, eyes widening in shock. This was far more than he could have hoped for. You nodded slowly, unable to help the own smile that pulled at your lips in response to his own.

Suna moved closer to you, letting his hand come up to rest against your face. He cupped it carefully, his thumb brushing against your cheek. Slowly, giving you the option to pull away he leaned in, only to let out a small gasp in shock when your hands gripped his top and pulled him towards you, pressing your lips against his. His hands slipped into your hair, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, letting out a low groan of satisfaction at the feel of your hands slipping under the material of his top and rest against his bare skin.

“Fuck,” he breathed, pulling away to rest his forehead against your own. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that for.”

“Hope it was worth it,” you giggled, leaning forward to brush your lips against his. He captured your lips once again, kissing you softly, delicately.

“More than worth it,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap. You fell into his chest, ear pressed against his beating heart. It was still racing now, even though you had accepted his advances. You lifted your head up, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Want to eat the food Samu made now?” you questioned, turning in his hold and resting your back against his chest. His stomach let out a low grumble. You leaned forward, grabbing a plate of food and letting out a giggle. “I suppose I’ll take that as an answer then.”

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onyxoverride · 3 years

Text

Fiend

Zeke Jaeger x Reader

◙warnings: 18+ minors dni. a ton of pussy eating. Some breeding kink, some fucking. Cumplay, cum eating, snow balling. Domestic, established relationship. Eating pussy semi-public. Somnophilia. creampie. I block blogs w no age indications and minors.

◙word count: 3.2k

◙summary: Zeke is a fiend when it comes to eating you out. So here’s some of the ways he does... “The Usual” “Asleep” “Punishment” and “After Fucking”

◙ note: “ohHoh he fuckin that shit UP” lmao Zeke Pussy Eating Fiend™ I also think Miche would be another Pussy Eating Fiend™ which is… ironic. inspired by these two posts gods bless this moot for joining me in Zeke brainrot.

The Usual

If there’s one thing you know about your husband, it’s that he eats well but when it comes to you- he is a fucking fiend. He builds his schedule, from the beginning of the day to the end around you. Every morning he demands to eat you out, “it’s stress relief, and it’s like my cup of coffee for the day, please” Your man is nothing, if not a slave to his own desires and his routine day. This is about the one time you will hear him beg, or say please in general. And every morning you give in, because he looks so sweet between your legs, begging like a puppy. He looks half asleep sometimes but still so eager to just devour your cunt. Plus, an orgasm first thing in the morning is… refreshing, to say the least.

He nudges you in the morning, way before he has to go into work, kisses your neck rubbing the scruff of his beard to agitate you, to wake you up. He’ll wait for your half slurred ‘yes’ or ‘okay’ and push your back against the bed, legs resting heavy on his shoulders. If he’s not careful his beard will rub your thighs raw, and if he does then you have to take a break from these morning escapades to heal. So he’s extra careful. Sleepy eyes, sometimes he doesn’t even bother to open them, savoring your slick on his tongue. Before he ever reaches for his glasses, he reaches for your legs to get between. Sucking your labia into his mouth, letting you squirm just a bit at his shameless eating. Hand digging into his bed-mused hair, pulling whenever it really feels good so he knows to keep going. Bringing you to an orgasm is easy, he knows just where to poke and prod with the tip of his tongue to get your walls clenching sporadically around nothing. Your head thrown back into the pillow, mouth open as he lifts his head up with your slick covering his beard.

You thrown an arm over your eyes, “Do you really need to eat me out every morning?”

He just sends you a smirk as he puts his glasses on as he heads to the bathroom, “Are you really complaining? I just gave you an amazing orgasm first thing in the morning. Be grateful.” Well, really you can’t complain. It feels way too good to complain.

Asleep

Sometimes he doesn’t even attempt to wake you up, he knows the signs when you are okay with letting him use you in your sleep, a little green sticky note on his bedside table. It’s exciting for him, because you are so pliant, letting him do whatever he wants while you’re so vulnerable. Turning your sleepy little groans into moans until you finally wake up in a start, thighs trembling as your orgasm washes through you. Yeah, he’ll get you there, he’s determined to.

It’s 3 am when he wakes up, a weird limbo time in the night where he usually just gets up to go pee, but this time that green sticky note tempts him to do something else. You’re a decently heavy sleeper, he has to adjust you onto your back to expose your cunt to him and fuck. You little minx, no panties on under this large shirt you’ve thrown on to sleep in, which makes his job so much easier. Spreading your lax legs wide just for him, only brushing the sides of his arms as he lays between your legs. It’s easier this way, your thighs aren’t suffocating him, even though he loves it when that happens, he won’t admit it but he likes the bit of breathplay it brings to the table. But spreading you out on the bed like a 5 course meal? Even better.

He can see your chest rising and falling rhythmically, it almost feels wrong to disturb your sleep but… that’s what makes this so fun. He takes two fingers to spread your cunt out for him as he observes. There’s just a bit of your slick starting up, your body must know what he’s doing, your hole clenching just a bit. Cute. He leads his tongue to trail over your clit down to your hole and back. After letting his spit soak your folds along with your slick, he sucks harshly on your clit. The little moans you let out while he works on you are so cute, soft and sleepy whimpers and airy moans. He keeps his fingers spreading your cunt out so he can lap at your cunt sloppily. He’s a mess already, your slick running down his mouth into his beard and some even sticking to his nose. You feel it all, he knows it, but he wonders if you are dreaming of something, of him maybe? He’s between your legs often, he wouldn’t doubt you would see him in your dreams at this point. He keeps eating you out like a starved man, he knows you are finally awake when one of your thighs sits on his shoulder and the shuffling of pillows is heard. He doesn’t stop, if anything he goes even rougher with your slurred moans of his name and curses slipping out of your mouth. Dipping his tongue into you as his nose bump into your clit is what sends your cunt fluttering around nothing, so close to cumming. Hands clenching the pillow behind your head, you roll your hips into his mouth. So he picks up the pace and continues until you are falling apart at the tip of his tongue with your thighs trembling. He finally comes up for the first time since he went down on you, “‘Morning sweetheart,” he licks around his mouth to eat up some of the slick that has gathered on his face and beard. You just lean your head back into the pillows. This man is going to be the death of you with orgasms like those.

In Public

This is supposed to be a dinner with his and your friends. Porco, Peick, Colt, Reiner, and you and Zeke sitting at one table at this decently nice restaurant, eating and laughing at bullshit jokes and memories. But no. Zeke just had to let his horny brain take over, his hand rubbing up and down your thigh under the table, displacing the napkin you put there at the start of dinner. You send him a look that says ‘get your hands off me you horny monkey’ but he just sends you a smirk, hand making its way to your inner thigh as Porco talks about- Ah, you can’t remember but you’re nodding and smiling at him anyways. You all have finished eating, now just enjoying some drinks and with a bit of alcohol flowing through Zeke, well, it’s not that he gets horny. He’s horny all the time, it is just when he has some alcohol he doesn’t want to hide it, or he can’t, you don’t know which. You take a sip of your drink while the tip of his finger runs over the seem of your panties under your skirt, causing you to freeze a bit. “Huh, you okay?” Porco steals your attention for a minute, so you respond with a sweet smile.

“I’m fine! I’m just gonna go to the bathroom for a minute,” Zeke is still smirking at your reaction. You know he is going to follow you but it’s better to be felt up in the bathroom than in front of your friends. Tugging your skirt back down while you slide out of the booth proves to be a struggle but you succeed and make your way to the bathroom.

You see Zeke mention something from your place near the bathroom door as he slides out the booth as well. Ah, this is a multiple stall bathroom, that hopefully won’t be too hindering. From what you can see the bathroom is empty. You are looking in the mirror when you hear the door open and close, locked with a small click. He comes behind you in the mirror, glasses glinting in the bathroom light, grasping at your hips roughly. “Seriously Zeke, can you ever keep your hands to yourself?” That makes him giggle, his chest against your back. “Why should I? I have such a beautiful wife, she just sits there so pretty all the time like she’s begging to be touched.” You roll your eyes, but it’s not like his touches aren’t doing anything, you can already feel a little pool in your panties caused by his rough touches and strokes. His hands wrapped around your waist as he gropes up your body to your chest, little gasps being pulled from you. His eyes are staring at you from the mirror, burning holes into you until you make eye contact. Then, he quickly flips you around, coaxing you to sit on the counter between the two sinks. “Seriously, here?” His actions have you gasping at the audacity but he’s done worse, why should you be surprised now?

“Yes. Right here. I want your pussy on my face now.” He’s determined to eat you out, so you let out a small ‘fine’ as you sit on the counter and throw your thighs over his shoulders, skirt gathered against the tops of your thighs. His tongue laps and drags over your panties, especially over the dark spots, before pushing them to the side, letting his tongue mix into the slick you’ve been producing. He lets out a groan at the taste of you. Your heels are digging into his back as he sets a rough pace into licking you, it hurts but you know he doesn’t mind, maybe even likes it. He could make you cum with just his tongue, he knows it but it takes too long and his friends will be too worried for their own good, so he’ll add his fingers into the mix. When he does sink two thick calloused fingers into you, it makes you lean back and slump against the mirror in pleasure. He curls his fingers each time he sends his tongue over your clit, “fuck, you taste so good.” You’re trying to bite the back of your hand as you brace yourself against the mirror, if you moan too loud- you don’t want to think of the consequences right now.

In fact, you can barely think with how he is curling his fingers into you, both his tongue and fingers merciless working on your cunt. He keeps going and going, so steady in his pace, even when your hole clenches around him sporadically, the build of of tension and the risk all send you closer over the edge. Your thighs tighten around his head one more time in your release. He keeps lapping until you bop the top of his head. “Stop it you horny monkey, I can’t keep going right now and it’s been long enough.” He pulls back with a sad look, like a kicked puppy as he licks his fingers clean. He adjusts his shirt and goes to turn to the door before you grasp at his sleeve, your skin is hot and you’re giving him an embarrassed look, “Clean off your face, for gods sake.” He sends you another sadistic smirk before he leans over the sink to wash his face a bit. He would go out there with no shame with your cunt juices dripping from his beard but he’ll save that for another day perhaps. You adjust your skirt and panties, taking a paper towel to dab at the wetness between your thighs before throwing them away. You let Zeke finish cleaning his beard with a kiss on his shoulder before going back to join your friends at the table.

They are all getting redder by the minute based off the influence of alcohol, Porco gives you a curious look to ask if you’re okay and you send him another smile. Finally, Zeke makes his way back from the bathroom to the table, sliding in next to you, nudging your arm a bit with a nerdy smile. Peick is smiling, “Hey Zeke, mind telling us why your beard is wet?” Oh, she knows, and now Reiner is perked up and blushing crimson looking between the two of you. It isn’t really clicking with Porco and Colt but by the time they both get home they’ll get it. Reiner nudges Peick to make her be quiet which is sweet of him considering you are trying to hide in your drink glass while Zeke does nothing but smirk.

Punishment

Zeke left fucking beard burn on your inner thighs from eating you out. Him not touching you for a week is punishment but it is also to let your thighs heal because ouch. He knows, he understands, but that doesn’t stop him from whining at you and complaining about how you are neglecting him. You can’t walk properly because of him, and not in a fun way. You would have preferred he blow your back out to not walk properly not leave a weird fucking rash on your inner thighs because of his beard. Finally though, it’s healed, and the last day of his punishment is up when he comes back from work. He feels deprived, he hasn’t been able to eat your pussy all week and it’s like a caffeine withdrawal. When he gets home he throws off his coat dramatically and plops onto the couch, face down on your lap. He is mumbling into your lap, “please for the love of god, sit on my face.” It has you laughing but you’ve missed him too, your body has gotten used to his tongue on you all the time. He’s pulling at your skirt impatiently to climb over his face on the couch. You give him a sweet kiss on his lips as a ‘welcome home’ before situating your thighs at either side of his face.

“No panties? Are you trying to kill me? Filthy minx.” What can you say? You knew he would come home like this so you were prepared but its not like you can tell him that as he’s sucking your labia into his mouth and tonguing over your clit. His hands are grabbing your hips and pushing them down on his face so he can have more access to your cunt. He’ll be careful and make sure his beard avoids scrapping against your thighs, he doesn’t want to ever go a week without your cunt ever again. Going a week without cumming is weird for your body, tension only building and now you are going to cum too quickly. But he’s a fucking beast, feral, eating your pussy out like it’s his last meal on earth. You’ve never been brought so close so quickly, it has you pulling at his hair, “Zeke, fuck-” Cue onslaught of moans spilling from your mouth as you cum into his. But he keeps going even after you cum and your thighs are shaking around his head, he’s savoring this. And he is not going to stop until he has his fill.

After Fucking

His thrusts are jostling you against against the sheets, your hips slapping against his in a dirty rhythm, his blunt nails digging into the fat of your hips. It’s turning your brain into cotton, fuzzy and floating as the curve of his cock hits the ridges of your walls so deliciously. You’re so close to cumming on his dick, it fills you out just right and he knows how to use it. To ruin you, it only takes a few calculated thrusts and dirty talk, he’s memorized what’s made you tick over the years. “C’mon, don’t you want to be good and cum for me? It’s pathetic how quick you are to cum on my dick like this.” He’s contradicting himself a bit but it makes your hole flutter nonetheless. Your tight walls are close to making him cum too, you only get tighter the closer you get, contracting around him as he thrusts in and out of your wet cunt. The sounds are sloppy and wet, skin smacking echoing off the wooden walls and back into his ears. Your moans are debauched and his join yours, though at a much lower volume. Your knees digging into the bed, face hitting the sheets, you thrusts back into him, spreading you legs a little wider to accept him deeper into you.

“Fuck,” he brings his hand down to smack your ass, “whore, you want me deep as possible in your pussy so I can fuc-kin’ breed the shit out of you, is that it?” Your nails dig into the sheets as he continues his pace, you don’t need to answer, he can feel your cunt tighten around him as he continues his rough pace. After a few deep thrusts you are cumming with a keening whine around his cock, leaving a ring of translucent white at the base. He leans over your back to push your shoulders deeper into the bed as he fucked you, “You’re so good, cumming around my cock like this. Being such a good cocksleeve for me, a good breeding whore for me, shit-” He leaves sloppy wet kisses against your neck which contrast to his deep thrusts into you. One more, and he fills you up, deep, staying inside for a minute while he leaves small kisses on your back. He leaves a small whispered “love you” against your shoulder as he sits back on his haunches. Keeping your hips steady with the strength of one of his arms as he watches your cunt clench around nothing, slowly his cum peaking out before sliding down to your clit. You can hear him whisper out curses as he watches, you would scold him but you’re tired and fuzzy after a wonderful orgasm, you’ll let him have his fun for now but that doesn’t stop the embarrassment from kicking in. Your pussy is puffy and a little swollen from the abuse of his dick, and your slick smeared all over your folds, even cuter now his is cum is accenting it.

Ah, he can’t help himself, you look delicious.

So he leans forward and wraps his lips around whatever he can reach around your cunt, sucking his cum into his mouth and holding it. He keeps lapping at your cunt even though you are gasping from overstimulation, really it’s too much and your head is still fuzzy from your orgasm. All the cum he gathers in his mouth he attempts to push back into your hole, even when it flutters and rejects it, pushing it back out again. It’s an interesting flavor, kind of gross but the actions he is doing plus the flavor of your slick make it better, hotter. Eventually he gives up on trying to push his cum back into with his tongue and holds it in his mouth to lean over you once again. Him pushing his own cum into your mouth is shocking, locking you into a make-out session with a sloppy mixture of his cum, your juices, and spit running down both your chins. Passing the cum between the two of you, you finally swallow some to get rid of it, looking at him with wide eyes as he smirks down at you, “one more time?” Fuck, how can you refuse after that? You are all hot and bothered again, “Yes please.” He wipes up some of the mixture dripping down his chin with his thumb and presses it into your mouth as you obediently wrap your lips around his thumb. “Good girl.”

𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 <3

//: 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Note

How about an AU where Jon and Gerry have been dating since Uni and have managed to keep it secret from everyone (including Elias and Gerttrude) by complete accident?

send me an au and i'll give you 5+ headcanons about it! requests closed!

by accident you say? 👀

1. jon and gerry meet somewhere completely ridiculous (yet also completely mundane) where the chance of them running into one another was like.... one in a million. like, maybe jon's class got out early and so he decided to walk a little further from campus to try a new coffee shop that he's never tried before and never will again because he realizes he really hates the drinks and that it's not worth the walk, and gerry is in the area looking into something leitner-related and he looks down at his phone a bit too long and runs smack into jon when he's walking away from the coffee shop with a lukewarm travel cup of hot chocolate because they were out of tea (what kind of coffee shop is out of tea? jon thinks with a scowl).

the hot chocolate spills all over gerry and jon's like 'oh god sorry, do you- do you want me to do something?' and gerry's about to brush past him when he sees the person he was looking for and shit, they're looking this way so without thinking he just... grabs jon and pulls him into the nearest shop. which happens to be selling something weird, idk, little ceramic figurines. and gerry does Not know what to say because like, he can't tell this stranger that he's hiding from maybe-a-fear-avatar! so he's like 'uh. you can make it up to me by.... helping me pick out a figurine? for, er. my mother. yes.'

so they're just walking through this shop, gerry's shirt still wet with hot chocolate, jon Very confused and also Very late for class but somehow nervous to just leave, so they look at figurines together. gerry keeps looking back out the window and nope, maybe-an-avatar is still there, and now they're sitting on the bench and it doesn't look like they're planning on moving anytime soon and gerry really doesn't want to take the chance and gamble that the maybe-avatar won't recognize him or realize what he's looking for. so gerry keeps shooting down every recommendation jon gives him with some progressively-more bullshit reasons--'oh, my mum already has that one' 'that one's too expensive, i can't afford it' 'that's too small' 'i don't like the way that one's looking at me' 'my mom's allergic to dogs, actually'--until jon's finally like 'okay what is going on and can i leave now?'.

and the maybe-avatar is still out there and gerry's certain now that they're watching him and he's suddenly very aware that he's spent a long period of time with this guy whose name he actually didn't quite catch and that it definitely looks like they're working together and ah, fuck, if i let him leave and he gets targeted because of me i'd feel horrible. so gerry sighs and thinks fuck it and is like 'listen i'm gonna level with you. i'm here looking for a book and there is somebody watching me right now and i know how that sounds but it's really not as shady as you think and also really not my fault but it is my fault that you're here too so. yeah. sorry i don't know if it's safe for you to leave.'

and all jon can think to say is 'a book?'.

and gerry's like 'don't worry about that bit, you really wouldn't understand' and jon gets all bristly and says primly, 'well, i'm a lit major and i work at the university library maybe i could help' and gerry can't help but laugh and say, 'really hope there's not a leitner in your uni library, mate'. and then jon gets this wide-eyed expression on his face like he's just seen a ghost and says 'what did you just say?' and before gerry can deflect again jon says, more intensely, but also hesitantly, 'is... is it called a guest for mr. spider?'.

and gerry's like 'um. no, it's not' and jon deflates a bit but now gerry's curious and he's like 'why?' and jon tries to deflect like 'oh clearly i misunderstood' but gerry's not budging and he's like 'no, no--have you read a leitner? gold bookplate, super fucked-up consequences?' and jon just goes pale which is really all the confirmation gerry needs. gerry feels the need to clarify that he hates them too--that he burns them whenever he gets the chance.

weakly, jon says, 'there... there's more than one?'. and then, a bit stronger: 'you- you're looking for another one? here? and you're going to burn it?'

gerry: yes, that's the plan. why--?

jon, without hesitation: i want to help

and maybe gerry is hesitant at first but, well. it seems like jon is already fully in this, so he reluctantly agrees, and they hunt down the leitner together and gerry lets jon burn it and then they're friends (and it really doesn't take long at all for that to transition into partners).

2. gertrude and elias missing that they're dating is a comedy of errors, including a lot of rather dramatic near misses including, but not limited to:

- jon always leaves a room just before one of them enters

- gerry always talks ambiguously about the person helping him hunt down leitners; elias always assumes he means gertrude, gertrude always assumes he means his mother. this is exploited to a comedic level

- getrude thinks 'going on a date' is code for gerry having a new lead on jurgen leitner and leaving to go chase it down

- when jon joins the institute as a researcher and runs into gerry in the building for the first time, he greets him neutrally in a mutually-agreed display of professionalism while working. gertrude and elias both remark at the fact that 'it's so nice that jon/gerry has a friend'

- gertrude, opening the door to the break room and bustling around inside, looking over at gerry where he's standing in front of the counter, jon sat atop it with his legs bracketing gerry's hips (they have very clearly just been kissing): oh hello gerard. jonathan. talking about leitners again?

jon, a bit embarrassed, slipping into Ultra Professionalism to compensate: i was just discussing with mr. keay the details of case number 0031211 regarding ms. cortena's experience with the talking vase--

gertrude, not at all interested, already knows that it's fake: right, right, carry on then

*after she's gotten her tea and left*

gerry, holding in laughter: 'mr. keay'?

jon, blushing: shut up gerry

3. gerry, casually, not actually aware that getrude doesn't know that he and jon are dating: yeah so then i had to leave my date early to go chase down this leitner and jon was not pleased

gertrude, after a hum of acknowledgement: how unfortunate. i'm not sure how jonathan's opinion on the matter is relevant, however. was he disappointed that you didn't ask him to track down the leitner with you?

gerry, Confused™️: he was.... at the date?

gertrude: at the date? whatever for?

gerry, now staring openly: because i was on a date with him? because we're dating? wait, did you not know that?

gertrude, not willing to admit that she missed that for nearly three years: of course i knew that, gerard. don't be foolish.

gerry, now even more confused: but--

gertrude, without missing a beat: i trust the leitner hunt went well, then?

gerry, after a long pause: um. yes?

gertrude, nodding: good.

4. there's an institute party and everyone's allowed to bring a plus-one

elias, noticing that jon's alone at the party: ah hello, jonathan. no plus one for you today?

jon: no, gerry couldn't make it, unfortunately. family business.

elias, somehow Oblivious, and also very Old Fashioned and way too familiar with his employees: quite. though typically, plus ones are of the romantic capacity. it's nice that you would consider gerard an acceptable substitute though, i suppose

jon, Bi confusion and suddenly unsure if his boss is homophobic: um. it.... it would have been in a romantic capacity?

elias, still Not Getting It: ah, i see. perhaps for the best, then--office parties don't make for pleasant first dates, in my experience

jon, unsure of how much of his personal life he wants to share with elias but not really wanting to pretend like he's not been dating gerry for going on three years now: um. it- it wouldn't be our first date. or- or really a date at all, just an- an event, i really don't think gerry would call this a date

elias, Getting it a little bit: ah. unfortunate, then. congratulations, i suppose, are in order. was it a recent engagement?

jon, ??????, biting the bullet: we've been together for three years, elias

5. jon, handing gerry a wrapped package on their fourth anniversary after they started dating: this is, um. this is for you

gerry, opening it and holding up the little ceramic figure of a dog: jon. is this--?

jon, in a rush: it's from that shop. where we, uh. where we met.

gerry, overcome with such love he really can't stand it, throwing all of his proposal plans out the window and digging the little square velvet box out of his pocket: jon can i ask you a question--

(jon is so surprised he just starts crying. it's only the fifth time gerry's ever seen him cry and he's so worried he said something wrong at first but then jon manages to say yes around his tears and jon wraps his arms around gerry tightly and buries his face in gerry's shoulder and whispers i love you and gerry hugs him tightly in return and says i love you, too, jon. i love you too.)

#the magnus archives #tma #jongerry #gerry keay #jonathan sims #ask #rugletthewren #((i'm still working on all of these just at a slower pace than before))#also this one came out very long and way more detailed than i planed ahsdglkglsa #'i'll give you 5+ headcanons' more like i'll write an entire fic in bullet form lmao #my fic

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earliebirb · 3 years

Text

nosedive

steve/tony, fluff, (newly) established relationship, 3250 words

Tony stares absentmindedly out the airplane window as he puts his phone up to his ear, watching people run back and forth, performing last-minute engine checks. Some of the guys look sweaty and out of breath.

From the comfort of the air-conditioned Stark Industries private jet, he feels a slight twinge of sympathy for the people having to suffer in the humid summer heat.

He loosens his tie and sinks deeply into his seat, closing his eyes with a massive yawn as he listens to the ringing tone. He hadn’t been able to sleep very well throughout his five-day stay in Tokyo, too anxious about the contract to rest properly.

The ringing tone goes on for a few more seconds before ending with a click, replaced by an achingly familiar voice greeting him in his ear.

“Hello?”

Tony’s eyes spring open. Outside, an aircraft marshaller walks by, speaking rapidly into his walkie-talkie.

“I had a blueberry muffin for lunch today. One single blueberry muffin.”

“...What?”

“It didn’t even taste that good. I couldn’t finish it. Too dry.”

“Tony, that’s not good. Is that all you had for lunch? You should really eat—”

“The meeting went well, by the way. Mr. Watanabe finally signed the contract, everything went as planned. My ride to the airport, however…”

“I told you things would go smoothly, you had nothing to worry about. You’re a brilliant negotiator—”

“The traffic? Fuck. I had to keep shifting in my seat to avoid pins and needles.”

“That sounds awful, are your legs okay—”

“Did you know that Tokyo is number nineteen on the list of cities with the worst traffic congestion in the world? I know that, because I looked it up on the way to the airport. But boy, did it feel like it deserved the number one spot. I think I lost feeling in my ass.”

“I did not know that. And, uh, is your ass okay—”

“Thank God for my private jet. These plush seats are the best things I’ve ever spent my money on.”

“That’s objectively not true, and you know it—”

“Then again, I think these seats in particular were Pepper’s choice? We remodeled the airplane’s interior like… two years ago. I couldn’t be bothered to meet with the airplane seat people and I just told her to pick whichever looked best. I had much more important things to tend to, like sewing up the holes in JARVIS’s Christmas stocking.”

“I am concerned about how you sort your list of priorities—”

“Hm, that’s right. I think it was around two, three weeks before Christmas and I didn’t want JARVIS to be upset about the whole stocking thing, you know?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have—”

“Also, you’re right, the single blueberry muffin was a bad idea because now my stomach won’t shut up. So I’ve ordered some pasta for my in-flight meal. Robbie’s making it, you’ve met Robbie—”

“I’ve met Robbie, yes, he’s—”

“Larry’s replacement after he resigned. Gotta say, I was sad to see Larry go. Guy worked for me for seven years. But then there was that thing with his grandma, and he had to leave, so… But! Robbie makes a mean carbonara, maybe even better than Larry, don’t tell Larry I said that—”

“I don’t even know Larry like that, how would I—”

“Mr. Stark, we’re ready to go.” The pilot—Paul—emerges from the cockpit, staring at him in anticipation.

Tony nods and makes a few rapid gestures with his free hand that he supposes Paul is only able to interpret perfectly after years and years of working for Tony. The gestures roughly translate to something like “Copy, I hear you, just let me wrap this up and then I’ll let you know when I’m done. Capiche?”

Paul—bless him—just gives him a curt nod and retreats back into the cockpit.

“Anyway,” Tony takes a deep breath and puffs his cheeks out with the exertion of his exhale, “I called because… I got a feeling, Steve.”

“A… feeling?”

“Just— A gut feeling. A feeling in your gut. Inside of me. Like a hunch?”

“Okay,” Steve says patiently, his voice low and warm, “what are you feeling?”

“I… got a bad feeling. Today. A few hours ago. The feeling came to me when I was sitting in traffic, and I just— I feel like something bad’s gonna happen today, Steve. I can feel it in the air. In my heart. In my gut. In my joints.”

“Your joints? Like… the feeling old people get when it’s about to rain?”

“Okay, maybe not in my joints. Also, are you calling me old, grandpa?”

“I did not, you told me you felt something in your—”

“Anyway, so yeah. Where was I? Oh, right. Feeling. Bad feeling. Like, like, I don’t know, something bad’s gonna happen. Like an accident. Like a plane crash.”

“God, please don’t say that. You’re scaring me, Tony.”

“And I guess, I just called because I… I feel like I need to do this before the plane crashes and I die a violent and fiery death.”

“Nothing bad’s going to happen, Tony—”

“Like, if I didn’t do this today, maybe I’d never get to do it, you know? And, uh, okay, I’ve honestly been ranting to stall for time, but the longer I keep it in the more nauseous I feel, so maybe I’m just gonna do it now so I can die in peace—”

“Do what? And stop saying that—”

“Look, I’m trying to be brave and honest here and— Wait, actually? Maybe I’m being a coward because if the plane actually does go down, I won’t have to face the consequences of my actions, so I guess I’m just going to say fuck it, and say that I love you.”

“The plane is not going to— Wait, what?”

“I, uh. Love you. I’ve known it for a while now. And, uh, I know we’ve only been dating for like, a week, but—” Tony blinks. They’ve only been dating for a week.

“...Fuck.” Tony can feel his own pulse starting to race. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Tony?”

They’ve only been dating for a week. What is he doing? What the hell is wrong with him? Normal people don’t do this.

“Fuck. Shit, I mean— Uh, I’m sorry. That was super weird, huh?” Tony laughs nervously. He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth and cursing his stupid brain. Of course it’s weird. He always gets too attached to people way too quickly. No wonder Pepper was his only long term relationship. She was the only person who could put up with him—everyone else just got weirded out. “Uh, see you tomorrow? Or not. Fuck, sorry, I’m just gonna hang up before this gets—”

“Tony, wait.”

“...Yeah?” Tony says, hyper-aware of how breathless he sounds. His heartbeat is ringing in his ears. Everything is going to be fine. Right? Right. The worst thing Steve could do is… break up with him.

Oh, God, that is the worst case scenario. He really should’ve just kept his stupid mouth shut.

“Tony, are you freaking out? I feel like I can hear you freaking out from all the way over here.”

“No, I’m not, of course I’m not. Who says I’m freaking out? You have no proof. I am calm, I’m calm as a clam, is that the saying? Did I get it right? Or was it happy— Anyway, I am absolutely calm, I’m the calmest I could possibly be. Any calmer and I’d be asleep. I’m—”

“Tony. Breathe.”

Tony forces himself to drag in a slow breath as he grips the arm of his seat with his free hand, focusing on the soothing hum of the airplane’s engine.

“Look, Tony, I—”

“No, listen. I’m sorry I jumped the gun, I hope I haven’t weirded you out or anything. You really, really don’t have to say it back to me. I mean it.”

“Tony—”

“No, in fact— Please don’t say anything. It’s fine. Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?”

“But—”

“Drop it, Steve. Please?” Tony pleads. Clearly, his brain hadn’t been firing on all cylinders. That is the only reason that could explain his temporary lapse of judgment. “Look, I feel like talking about it more right now is going to send me spiraling into a panic attack.”

“...Okay. Fine.”

“Thank you. Uh, I’ll see you when I get home. If I get home. If the plane doesn’t crash. Haha.”

“Would you please stop saying that? It’s not funny.”

Tony latches onto the change in topic like a lifeline. “It is objectively true, you know. In order for me to be able to see you tomorrow, the plane has to land safely, and unfortunately, some things are just beyond my control. Like, who’s to say the plane won’t explode mid-air and—”

“The plane is going to land safely and you’re going to come back home to me in one piece. This is non-negotiable, Tony. You hear me?” Steve demands, his voice all hard authority and no-nonsense, like there will be Consequences should Tony fail to comply.

As if he could ensure Tony��s safety with the force of his willpower alone.

Come back home to me.

That sounds good. Really good. Tony closes his eyes and pictures Steve’s baby blues in his mind’s eye. Warmth flowers in his chest.

“I hear you.”

“Great.”

“Awesome. I, uh, I gotta go now.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

Tony hangs up and lets Paul know that he is done with his phone call. The jittery feeling left over from his call with Steve refuses to leave him, however, so he pulls up the drawing application on his phone and begins sketching something just to give his brain something else to fixate on.

He tends to lose track of time when he is hyperfocused on a project, so he isn’t exactly surprised that the next time he becomes aware of his surroundings, the plane is already well up in the air, his sketch of what looks like a flying coffee pot is almost finished, and Robbie is placing a plate of spaghetti carbonara on the table in front of him.

“Spaghetti carbonara. With extra cheese.”

Tony’s mouth waters as he eyes the mountain of grated Pecorino Romano sitting atop the pasta. He sighs dreamily and smiles up at Robbie.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Enjoy, Boss.” Robbie grins and slips back into the kitchen.

He only realizes just how truly famished he is after taking his first bite, and proceeds to finish the rest of his meal with gusto. Afterward, he spends the majority of the remaining flight time sleeping, the result of post-carbonara food coma and his sleep-deprivation finally catching up to him.

It’s well past two in the morning when Tony finally makes it to his floor in the Tower, which is why he is surprised to see Steve sitting on his couch, one of Tony’s fantasy novels open in hand.

“Steve, what are you doing here?”

Steve’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice. Tony frowns. “Actually, why are you awake at all?” He is usually an early sleeper, unless—

“Nightmare?” Tony gives him a sympathetic smile. It wouldn’t be the first time. In the early days of their friendship, Tony and Steve would sit together in the living room whenever they had trouble sleeping, talking to each other until the sun came up.

Steve shakes his head, closing the book with his eyes still trained on Tony. “No, I was just… waiting for you.” Tony blinks.

“It’s…” Tony glances at his watch. “Half past two. In the morning.”

“I know, I just…” Steve stands up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He ambles over before coming to a stop right in front of Tony. “I wanted to see you.”

Tony stares at him uncomprehendingly. “You’ll see me later anyway.”

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t want to go to sleep without seeing you first,” Steve says, low and earnest. His gaze wanders around Tony’s face, as if he were cataloguing each and every facial feature and trying to locate any changes he might’ve missed during his absence.

“Oh.”

Steve steps closer, arms snaking around Tony’s waist and pulling him close. His next words are whispered against Tony’s shoulder.

“I knew you’d make it home safely.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You were wrong.”

“I was… wrong.” Tony swallows. “Uh, turns out the bad feeling completely disappeared after I woke up from my nap on the plane, so I suspect that perhaps the bad feeling I got was due to my severe hunger and sleep deprivation. I mean, I’ve heard about hallucinations caused by hunger or exhaustion, but this was—”

Steve presses a soft kiss to the column of Tony’s neck, effectively cutting off Tony’s ramblings.

“Tony,” Steve whispers against his skin.

“Yeah?” Tony squeaks.

“Please don’t call me before a flight and say that you think the plane is going to crash, ever again.”

“Right. Noted. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Steve says, pulling away slightly and loosening his hold around Tony.

Tony allows himself to relax, letting out a quiet sigh. This thing with Steve is so new and delicate that every single physical contact still sends his heart fluttering, butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

Which makes, in retrospect, his abrupt love confession—as truthful as it was—that much more insane. God, Stark. Never do that again.

Except, it turns out that Steve only pulled away to slide his hands down the back of Tony’s thighs, wrapping his hands around them, and then lifting him up without warning.

Tony yelps, and in his alarm, promptly locks his ankles around Steve’s waist. When Steve begins moving, Tony quickly wraps his arms around Steve, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“Uh, Steve?”

“Hm?” Steve says, calm and nonchalant, as he begins walking away from the elevator.

“Um— Wait— My suitcase—”

“Leave it. It’ll still be there in the morning.”

Tony blinks, staring dumbfoundedly at his lonely suitcase, abandoned by the elevator. It becomes smaller and smaller with every step Steve takes.

“Where are we going?”

“Your bedroom.”

“Why are you carrying me there?”

“Because I want to.”

“You know it’ll be faster if you just let me walk, right?”

“Maybe. But you won’t be in my arms.”

“Um.”

“Bear with me, will you? I missed you.”

“I, uh, missed you too.”

Steve hums, satisfied. Tony lets himself settle more comfortably in Steve’s arms.

When Steve has successfully carried him to his bedroom, Tony fully expects Steve to deposit him on the bed.

That is not, in fact, what happens.

Instead, Steve turns around and begins walking backwards towards the bed before sitting down on it. Tony, still seated on his lap, swallows and pulls back slightly to look at Steve.

“Look, Steve, as much as I’ve missed you, I’m kind of tired right now. I mean, don’t get me wrong. This whole carrying thing? Great. Very romantic. Ten out of ten. But I’m just not in the mood for sex, you know? Like, I’m not even sure I would be able to get it up if—”

“We’re not going to have sex.”

Tony blinks.

“We’re not?”

“We’re not. I’m just here to tuck you in.”

“Oh.”

Steve reaches up and begins undoing his tie. After setting it aside on the bed, he begins to unbutton Tony’s shirt. He takes his time, one button at a time.

“So…” Steve begins with a deep breath as he unbuttons the final button. “Did you mean, uh, what you said to me? On the phone?”

Tony closes his eyes, feels his own cheeks heating up. “Steve—”

“I’m sorry, Tony, I know you told me to drop it. But— I feel like if you did mean what you said, I owe it to you to… set the records straight.” When Tony opens his eyes again, Steve is looking up at him, blue eyes solemn.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We have only been together for a week. Well, eight days. In fact, we’ve only been on one date. And it was interrupted. By giant lizards.” Steve chuckles incredulously.

Tony remembers that day very well. They were in the middle of dessert at Tony’s favorite Italian place when they received the call to assemble—something about giant lizards wreaking havoc in Central Park.

The lizards had green, gunky blood that got into the nooks and crannies of the suit. It had taken forever to clean.

“But Tony…” Steve gathers the material of Tony’s unbuttoned shirt in both of his fists, pulling him closer until their noses are only inches apart.

The second their eyes meet, Steve smiles the sweet, lopsided smile that never fails to make Tony’s stomach flip.

“I need you to know that… I didn’t have to date you to know that I loved you. I figured that a long time ago.”

Tony stills, breath frozen in his lungs.

“I guess, what I’m saying is… I love you too. I’ve loved you for a very long time, Tony. Even way before—” Steve breaks eye contact, looks down as he clears his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is tight. “Way before we got together. I’m talking… years before.”

Tony still finds it hard to breathe. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, the word more breath than sound. He meets Tony’s dazed gaze. “So you don’t have to worry about… jumping the gun. Not with me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“...Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels a lightness growing inside of him, spreading outwards to his extremities.

“Good.” Steve smiles, warm and impossibly fond.

“...Glad we’re on the same page.” Tony’s gaze drops down to Steve’s lips.

“We are.” Steve inches closer, nose brushing Tony’s. He then tilts his head ever so slightly and takes Tony’s lower lip between his, kissing him so tenderly Tony’s heart feels like it’s about to burst with it.

Steve’s warm hands slide up Tony’s naked back under his open shirt, sending goosebumps breaking across his skin. Tony buries his hands in Steve’s hair and relishes the feeling of the soft strands caught between his fingers. They stay caught up in each other for a few moments, capturing and releasing each other’s lips until the need for breath becomes too unbearable.

They break apart eventually, accompanied by soft chuckles. Steve smiles up at him, lips slick and cherry red, courtesy of Tony. He reaches up to caress Tony’s right eyebrow with the pad of his thumb, fleeting and affectionate.

“Get some rest, okay? You must be really tired. I should probably go to bed, too.”

Tony looks down at his lap, clearing his throat. “Uh, I know that we haven’t done this before, but…”

Steve waits patiently for Tony to gather his thoughts, hands stroking up and down Tony’s sides.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?” Tony finds the courage to meet Steve’s eyes, holding his breath.

Steve’s blue eyes are gazing at him intently, looking at him like he’s the only person in the world worth his sole, undivided attention.

Tony swallows. “No sex. Just to sleep. If you—”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels his own lips slowly curve up into a smile, wide and unbridled.

“Good.” Steve nods, lips twitching, his eyes never leaving Tony’s.

Tony grins, feeling near giddy with delight. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“We are, sweetheart.” Steve looks up at him, blue eyes fond and smile radiant. “We definitely are.”

#stevetony #stevetony fic #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve/tony #steve x tony #mine #earl wrote something

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jeanslongschlong · 3 years

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a-z fluff alphabet for eren jaeger

these are self indulgent because i was really craving some eren fluff tonight. enjoy!!

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Let’s face it. This boy is known for being overly passionate about everything, so he adores absolutely everything about you. Specifically, the fact that you don’t try to baby him and often give him the freedom he needs (but not the freedom, if you get what I mean LMAO). He really appreciates that you allow him to do things on his own and aren’t too overbearing. He already gets enough of that with Mikasa.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Probably your hair. This boy could sit around and play with your hair aimlessly all day; it literally brings him so much joy he can’t even begin to explain it. Loves to braid it, pet it, run his fingers through it, basically anything you can think of.

If you don’t have hair, then probably your hands. He loves to hold your hand in public (since we all know this one is probably possessive as hell) just to show that you’re his. Especially in front of Jean. When you’re alone, he likes to lay back on the bed and trace patterns on your palms, play with your fingers, and laugh at the size difference between your hands, claiming he thinks the size difference is adorable.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

I feel like Eren isn’t entirely huge on PDA, so I wouldn’t go as far as saying he likes to cuddle in public, but when it’s just the two of you (or a group of you and maybe a few friends), expect him to be trying to initiate cuddles all the time. This boy is so seriously touch starved, he yearns for your touch all the time. I mean, who would say no to him, though? I love him 🥺

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think Eren is the romantic type perse, BUT, I definitely think if he were to have an ideal date with you it would include a late night picnic with extremely deep conversations about how you imagine your future to be. Lots of cuddles. You’d definitely have a good time, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you guys got so carried away in your chatting that you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

This boy is the worst at expressing his emotions, I swear. He’s sad? Angry. He’s happy? Slightly less angry. He’s angry? You’d better start running. When it comes to getting him to talk to you about his emotions, he really doesn’t like to be pushed. He has issues acknowledging that he has issues in the first place, but once he does realize it, he usually takes a few days to process and think before choosing to talk to you about it (if he ever does). This boy’s feelings are an enigma, but he’s working on it. This can cause a rift in your communication, but it’s an easy fix if you’re willing to talk to him about it. The last thing he wants to do is let his inability to express emotions ruin the best thing he’s ever had.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Okay, canonically? I don’t think this boy has ever thought about it. I don’t think he ever thought he’d live that long. Especially S4 Eren, starting a family is the last thing on his mind. So, probably not, I’d barter.

However, in a modern AU? I definitely see Eren wanting children with you. I can’t see him wanting them until he’s in his late twenties/early thirties, but I 100% think he would want some. Only if you did, though. Kids are something he can live without, even though he would really like to have some if he were given the chance.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Like I mentioned previously, I don’t think Eren is a very romantic person. However, he never passes up the opportunity to buy you something. I think it’s his way of compensating for not being able to express his emotions very well with you. He’s got to show he cares about you somehow, right? Expect lots of chocolates from him randomly. I can also see him sneaking onto your laptop just to see what’s on your amazon wishlist so he can go and buy them for you later.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

All the time! He loves holding your hand; I’d say it’s the only form of PDA that he’s really comfortable with. It keeps him grounded, especially during particularly stressful times in his life. For example, in the canon universe, he’d hold onto your hand a little extra before and after expeditions. In a modern AU, I’d say he’d hold your hand before a particularly rigorous exam, or after he’s had a really rough day at work. It just reminds him that everything will be okay because you’re there. He’s never really had anything to bring him back down to earth when he gets all caught up with his emotions, so he relies on it pretty hard in that sense.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

TBH? He’d probably get pissed LMAO. But not at you, anger is basically the only way this boy can express emotions. Deep down, he’d be really, really worried about you. He’d probably sit around and mope. He’d grumble in response to any questions you’d ask him. He’s just in emotional overdrive, poor baby can’t process anything bad happening to you, it makes him want to go apeshit.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

I feel like he jokes around with you quite a bit, but more so in the form of teasing. If you’re short, be prepared for the short jokes. He’s unrelenting.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Say it with me: P👏A👏S👏S👏I👏O👏N👏A👏T👏E👏L👏Y. He does not halfass his kisses. He gives the type of kiss that leaves you gasping for breath afterwards, the type that makes you see stars behind your eyelids. Kissing Eren takes you to another dimension. It’s fucking amazing.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

I’d say mostly through gift giving and physical touch. He’s not very good with expressing that he loves you through words since one, he’s afraid he’ll say the wrong thing, two, he’s too scared that he’ll embarrass himself, and three, there literally isn’t a way to put the way he loves you into words. The way he feels about you transcends all languages.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

The day you two first met. He will never forget the very first moment he laid eyes on you. He considers it to be the best day of his life (though he keeps that to himself because he’s afraid you’ll tease him about it and he wants to keep up his manly facade).

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

Unintentionally hurting you or losing you. Eren can’t imagine life without you, he wants to keep you around for as long as he can. He’s afraid one day he’ll go too far in an argument and finally push you away forever. He’s not prepared for that at all.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

Loves to hug you just so he can smell you LMAO. Sounds weird, but your scent genuinely just fills him with joy.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Sticking to the classics here: Eren really likes to call you baby and babe, specifically babe. I feel like he only calls you baby when he’s feeling especially affectionate OR he’s begging for something/trying to get out of an argument without any consequences. LMAO

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Alone and at home. Of course, he doesn’t mind going out to movies or out to dinner every once and a while, but he prefers to spend time with you in private, so he can love you without anything to hold him back and no unwelcome and prying eyes.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Heat Waves by Glass Animals. More specifically, the slowed and reverb version on YouTube. I couldn’t explain why even if I tried. I just get the vibes.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

The thing with Eren is, he doesn’t mind laying out his past to you plain and simple. He will tell you every grueling detail of his childhood (including things he hasn’t even told Armin). Presently, he doesn’t keep any secrets from you. The word ‘secret’ doesn’t apply to you. The only thing that I’d say he really keeps a ‘secret’ are his emotions, but I covered that already.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

I want to say that you got together relatively quickly, but I just can’t. If I’m being realistic, I’d say nine months to a year. Eren just wasn’t sure if he was ready to commit (or if he was ready to have something to lose) so he just kept you around as a ‘really good friend’ or you guys had some sort of friends with benefits deal going on.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He doesn’t know how to act. He doesn’t know what to say. He just sits and listens to what you have to say, provides the tissues, and hugs you when you look like you need it. He’s really very comforting once he’s relaxed enough in your relationship to show you his more sensitive side.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

Eren 100% loves to show you off. Especially to his friends. ESPECIALLY to Jean. It brings him a special type of joy when he can rub having you as his girlfriend in Jean’s face.

“She’s all mine, horse face.”

Poor Jean. Probably wasn’t even looking in your direction to begin with. Eren’s just a possessive and competitive shit.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

He thinks you’re a badass and respects your willingness in the Survey Corps. He would 100% fight for you; he would lay his life down for you if he needed to (let’s hope not). He would worry about you, obviously, but ultimately he knows that you can handle yourself so he’s not too worried. Often times you’re the one who has to keep him from getting chomped, so he’s really grateful to you in that sense. You allow him to fight on his own for the most part but when it gets a little too dangerous you swoop in.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

At first? Tch. Homeboy is OBLIVIOUS to anything you’re feeling. But after you’ve been together one, maybe two years? He can read you like a book.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Probably in a nonchalant way if I’m being honest. Just brings it up so casually in conversation one day that you almost completely missed it.

“Hey, Eren, what do you need from the grocery store? I’ve already got chocolate milk on the list, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Um…more shampoo? Some more shaving cream and…your hand in marriage?”

“Shampoo…shaving cream…and my hand in marriage. Got it.” Eren snickers. You knit your eyebrows together in confusion as to what he’s laughing at and scan over the contents of what you just wrote down to make sure you didn’t write down the wrong thing. When you notice it, you let out the loudest gasp known to man. “Wait- my…oh my god, are you serious?”

“Yep.”

“YOU COULD HAVE DONE IT IN A MORE OBVIOUS WAY, YOU ASSHOLE! I FEEL SO DUMB RIGHT NOW.”

“More obvious? What could be more obvious than that?” You mentally facepalm.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

He loves to play with your hair, but have I mentioned how much he loves it when you play with his hair? You could get this man to fall asleep in 10 seconds flat just by gently scratching your fingernails against his scalp.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager #eren x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #shinkgeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #eren jaeger fluff #eren jaeger headcanons #eren jaeger fluff headcanons #eren jaeger fluff alphabet

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brittie-frog · 3 years

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Fear Street Part 3

here we go:

- we love her already joking about marriage and reasons she can't

- this rhyme feels like foreshadowing because he's not blind - why does it exist, how did it come about??

- already got Hannah and Sarah flirting in public and the town drunk being a creep

- we do love Solomon though (for now at least) - and my brain just put together that his past name is Goode as in Nick Goode

- 'drinks blood of virgins' already sounds like such a nice lady

- if you find a book in a witch's hut that just has a list of demon names you don't start reading them aloud - that's stupid at least read in your head and show us the page

- just instantly going parting as if you didn't just get a horrifying prophecy about the devil

- yes Sarah protect your girl, insult the man and fuck in the woods

- I do like the dynamic of Deena being outspoken and not hiding her sexuality but Sarah being the one to push Hannah away and say that it's wrong and they shouldn't

- demons interrupting their time in the woods and the damn dog interrupting her self-care time

- HALF SIX and most of the morning work is done - it's still dark out and why didn't you wake her when you first started chores??

- also the fact that Hannah went out of her way to find Sarah and take her back to her house just to find a prayer passage when she's not meant to see her anymore is... ballsy - especially cause her mum comes home soon after and throws Sarah out the door

- pigs are terrifying if you think about it and also the noises of it eating its children doesn't help

- Poor Merryboy, he was nice dog when he wasn't making terrifying noises at the door

- yay Solomon for being the only non-homophobe in Union - also is the secret the seeing a possible demon or that she's gay and it wasn't a 'dalliance'

- he even left the eyes in a neat pile for ease of cleaning

- the horrifying imagery of the children lined up outside the hall like in the second movie showing correlation between Sarah's life and the people she cursed

- why are they letting the town drunk speak at the meeting like he actually has authority on the situation??

- is he trying to victim blame in a situation that he ran from and didn't see the conclusion of??

- at least all the other kids look guilt and like they don't want this to happen or their terrified of the curse but i hope it's cause they don't want to see their two friends get hung

- it's a stealth mission - clearly visible in in the grass and isn't being silent, throw something and instead of the person being like 'something was through and looking around the area for where it came from, spends 10 minutes looking at the item thrown giving plenty of time to sneak by

- she really said 'fuck all of them I'm gonna make the curse real cause they're a bunch of homophobes'

- the widow is dead time for a new witch to come to town

- of course it's Solomon should have put that together when I realised his last name because of the theory

- yeah you want to sacrifice one person but they get possessed and kill upwards of like 15 people which is a much bigger price to pay

- did he seriously think that Sarah would turn her back on the entire town and the person he cursed killed her brother?!?!

- that's a much more disgusting way of getting your hand cut off and least it explains why it was down there while her body was a car ride away

- wait punishment for witchcraft is hanging but they never did anything to the widow??

- I've just realised I still have another hour to go

- confessing to protect Hannah because no one is going to believe her if she blames Solomon

- I like these guys being nice and giving her a proper burial

- I've also just realised it's the same actor who plays Solomon and Nick, I need to go through the Imdb to find out other crossover actors other than the obvious

- at least the theories are correct that it's the Goode family behind it all and I'm not disappointed by the reveal

- first Deena stole a cop's gun then a cop car, Deena really does say ACAB

- yeah its gonna get a whole lot worse and that is so disgusting

- I already love this plan but did they seriously tell him their going to kill the Sherrif and not why - granted he just jumped in the car so...

- is there really time for a motivational speech right now when there are shut tons of killer after you??

- so glad we get the lyric songs back cause I don't think I could last two hours of a hour film with just 17th century instrumental

- but it's so pretty with the bioluminescent writing and neon signs

- I was waiting for the plan to go to shit and they just go after anyone

- okay that was very fast paced - but how many times is deena gonna cut open her hands and uts a lot of blood so its gonna be deep - they were on different hands so is she just gonna have two scars, one on each now.

- I was gonna ask how they're back in the cave system but the tree is there so the mall was built on top of the camp grounds so theirs obviously an entrance

- time for round 2 - I swear if Josh or any of them die now.. I dont know what I'll do

- well done Sarah finally making the Goode family face their consequences and none of the main 6 died in this film

- why does he have so many goats?? And is no one going to question why two girls covered in dirt and blood are walking out of Nick Goode's house??

- I just had to pause and cackle so glad it turned into a comedy at the end as that truck hit and then the music started with 'baby...'

- Martin in a school parking lot selling things to minors - has no teacher come out to check what he's doing cause I think even in 1990's that would seem a little weird

- Everyone getting their happy ending - Josh meets another cute girl, Sam and Deena have a date at Sarah Fier's grave - you know the usual

- of course ends on a bad note of the book being stolen but that was funny cause no one picks up an ancient time like your stealing a book from a friend that their reading, that quickly

And that's the end and I loved it and I want to spent this weekend reqatching all of them now.

#fear street #that was amazing #and as stated before #not disappointed in the twist because it was so well done #when i rewatch them #im gonna pay close attention to Nick's dialogue because it showed clips from 1978 #and him being like maybe i dont want to be what people expect of me #or some shit #but he still does #but that moment of guilt(?) was nice #wish he would have stuck with it and not sacrificed people but #at least hes probs dead now

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thewistlingbadger · 3 years

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Here's my review on the deh movie (spoilers ahead.)

In my honest opinion, the best words that i have to describe how i feel about the movie is that it is better than the in the heights movie. And i say that as someone who has always hated deh and my favorite musical ever is in the heights. The movie isn't perfect but, dare i say i enjoyed it.

I expected it to be super bad because of the white washing, the bad reviews, the story, and Ben Platt existing. And I'm not excusing any of those things (i pirated the movie I'll put the link at the bottom of this post) but I was pleasantly surprised. When you do an adaptation, you're supposed to improve the story to the best of your ability and i think that's what they did here. It wasn't all good though so let me go through the bad.

The bad:

Ben Platt??? Hello??? Honey, we know you can sing. You've got good albums and your performance in the obc was good, so what's going on here? It's such a rare occurrence to get someone from the obc into the movie, AS THE SAME ROLE! Not to mention he was talking so much shit beforehand talk about "I'm the best for the role" this that and the other, so why he didn't put his everything into the movie? It was mainly in the first half of the movie for some reason he was like "let me sing real soft".

As for the thing about his age, it's really not that noticeable imo. I think the hair isn't doing him justice. The hair aged him 60 years for some reason. Tbh i have no opinion on the hair, makeup, and costumes throughout the whole movie. They weren't great, they were boring. There weren't anything really.

... except for Connor Murphy. His design was HORRIBLE! Instead of putting him in all black like how he is in the obc, they decided to go with dark blue? He was wearing like a dark blue blazer, a dark t-shirt, and dark jeans. Like honey what? The fact that he had such a straight boy haircut but then his finger nails were painted black and he had a ring was just. smh.

The acting of everyone in general wasn't good either. Which is weird, because i know these people are good actors 🤔 so what gives? Especially Connor Murphy's acting. It was really bad lol

Waving through a window. There's a lot to unpack here. 1. THEY HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO ACTUALLY GIVE DEAR EVAN HANSEN IN OPENING NUMBER AND THEY STILL DIDN'T DO IT. LIKE REALLY? Does anybody have a map was NEVER AN ACTUAL OPENING NUMBER! An opening number is supposed to set up the plot. It's supposed to introduce us to the setting and the characters. Anybody have a map didn't do that and NEITHER DOES waving through a window. Starting the movie with waving through a window doesn't make sense really. Originally, waving through a window happens after Evan has been pushed. It's really dramatic and super cool. It makes sense that it would be there in the story versus starting the movie off like that. SHOW! DON'T! TELL! Originally you show us why Evan is the way he is but in the movie you just tell us that he's really nervous. It's not deserved. Ben Platt is singing super quietly throughout the whole song and when the ensemble is singing they don't look like they're singing. This had me confused throughout the whole entire movie. If people were aware of Evan singing or if they weren't. (This is why having an opening number is so important! You set up the world!) Not to mention that they do that modern shit. They tried to put a modern spin on waving through window just like how there's a modern spin on all the songs in the heights movie. (I hate that shit it sounds horrible.)

The movie felt too serious? There weren't many jokes. Like the opening of the musical is supposed to be a joke but in the movie they don't write it as a joke. (You can also tell how desperately they're trying to cover how old Platt is by just showing his eyes lol.)

Why is Larry the stepdad. I made this complaint when it was revealed to us and it's still a valid one. It didn't further the plot, AT ALL! IT HAD LITERALLY NO EFFECT!

I feel like everyone in this movie should have been gay. Everyone felt gay. Alana with her outfits, Zoe cuffing her jeans, jarred actually being gay and Ben platt's gayness shined though in his performance. And of course, there's Connor.

I think they should have been more dramatic. I'm supposed to believe that Evan is poor but he he lives in a two story house. (I'm not saying poor people can't live in a 2 story house lol I'm just saying). Evan's room in the movie is bigger than mine for Christ sakes. Put the Murphy's in a MC mansion or something ya know? Make there house bigger.

I hate hate HATE how they put an instrumental of good for you and anybody have a map at the beginning of the movie. I hated it when they did that shit in the ith movie, and nothing has changed. It's the worst way to tease a fan, ever.

What I liked:

The movie was different from the musical...but in a good way. I don't hate the changes they made to the original story. To me it feels like it's a whole different vibe. The musical has always been about Evan but I just feel like in the movie they focus more on him. You're not having Jared or Connor getting shoved on your throat every 5 seconds. The original made me feel icky because you were constantly being reminded of how shitty Evan is (as you should) but it wasn't enjoyable. We're raised from a young age to know what's wrong and what's right. And imo, I can never enjoy a piece of media where the story you know something is bad the whole way through. (Uncharted 4 for example). You have to have duality. You have to have a perfect balance of it feeling wrong and right at the same time. And that's how the movie felt for me. The movie was very well made. Cutting the songs that they cut really made all the world of a difference. Imo i really helped (and that's saying something because i LOVE disappear and to break in a glove.) The new songs are good. I significantly like Alana's character more. She came off as annoying in the original but now she's more genuine imo. I absolutely LOVE how they went really slow with the romance between Evan and Zoe. I don't think they even kiss in the movie (which is GREAT! WE STAN NOT MAKING OUT ON YOUR DEAD BROTHER'S BED!) But at the end of if i can tell her we can see Zoe leaning in for a kiss. I liked how they added that. Speaking of things they added, THE ENDING! 👏👏👏 YES SIR. AS THEY SHOULD. It was so cool to see that because one of the main criticisms when it comes to dear Evan Hansen is the fact that he faces no consequences. So for the creators of dear Evan Hansen to take that criticism and actually apply it to the adaptation, is so insanely cool. (It's bare minimum but I've never seen anyone do it before) it's such a better ending to see Evan take responsibility, and to improve as a person. (It was cool to see some elements of the book brought into the movie but at the same time. Where Miguel. Make Connor gay!)

#long post #deh #dear evan hansen movie #dear evan hansen #deh movie #mic gives opinion #mic does analysis #ith #in the heights #deh movie spoilers #deh movie review

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Me and You Together, 1/? (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: i honestly have begun this wip with glitter and jesus. i have no idea how many chapters it’s going to have or what exactly the plot is going to be…all i know is that it’s fwb (flatmates with benefits) to lovers taywhora with a background love triangle involving Ellie bc she’s my fav. pls enjoy and pls leave me love because i am a keyworker so really one comment = one 6pm clap xo

P.S. the Friday mentioned in this fic is the one A’whora’s obsessed with and was dancing to on her insta…not the popular Rebecca Black song. also 100 points to anyone who knows the song Lawrence and Ellie get excited about in the club.

content note: they’re freshers at uni in the UK and this country has a binge drinking problem xo. please don’t expect any of these girls to be acting responsibly. if you think you might be influenced by a fic talking about alcohol, smoking, sex and drugs, this might not be for you luv xo

December- Fell in love with her in stages

A year ago if you had asked A’whora what she was doing on a Tuesday night, the answer would’ve been mundane.

Homework, maybe, if she could be bothered. She could always copy it from Mocha in registration, after all. Making tiny outfits for Barbie dolls out of fabric scraps, very probably; she hadn’t stopped doing that just because she was older, the only difference from when she was nine was that she didn’t make her Barbies talk anymore. Invariably she’d stay up til’ well past her bedtime, earphones plugged in to her laptop and trying not to sing along to the playlist of dance music she’d spent a year cultivating. She’d poked fun at her Mum for still giving her a bedtime at the big age of eighteen, but she’d maintained that while her girl was living under her roof it would be bed by eleven on a weeknight and out no later than three on a weekend.

These rules, however, were quickly disposed of as soon as she’d got the keys to her uni flat. As soon as she’d found out her other flatmates were just as riotous and chaotic as she was and loved a night out just as much, her weeks had been filled with nights she’d never forget in bars she couldn’t remember, heads against speakers and sore feet from heels and ridiculous pre-drinks with even more ridiculous cocktails.

One such cocktail is the one her flatmate’s making for her now. Ellie doesn’t have any of the professional equipment a usual bartender would, but that doesn’t seem to stop her- the messy countertops are a treasure trove of obscure liqueurs and alcopops, and Ellie twirls a yellow-blonde curl around her finger before giving a gasp of satisfaction as her hand settles on a sticky green bottle.

“One shot of apple soors, half a can of blue Monster, top up the rest with vodka,” she explains as she works with the various bottles and cans quickly, pouring into the pint glass they’d stolen from one of the pubs on a bar crawl during Freshers Week. She hands it to A’whora with a cheeky, mischievous grin on her painted face.

A’whora sniffs her glass and feels her nose wrinkle up involuntarily at the concoction her flatmate’s poured for her. “Els, if I drink that I’ll die.”

Ellie, to her credit, simply gives a snort of disapproval in response. Her pink acrylics click against the quarter bottle of vodka as she tightens the lid and replaces it in their freezer, all shiny and slick with frost. “Well if you are gonna take three hours to get ready then you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences of playing catch-up, babe.”

“Bitch,” A’whora jokes, rolling her eyes before sipping from her glass. The mixture makes her screw her face up so she takes another sip, then another until the weird sour-sweet-burn in her throat becomes more like a cocktail than cough syrup.

“Good, right?” Ellie prompts her, leaning against their kitchen counter proudly.

“No,” A’whora deadpans, causing her friend to burst out laughing. Then, realising something, she cocks her head. “Wait a second. What the fuck did you call the green drink?”

Ellie frowns. “Soors.”

“…Sourz?” A’whora says back to her, already giggling at the difference in dialects.

“Don’t play the pronunciation game with me, bitch.”

“Oh, I absolutely will when you’re just saying it wrong.”

“Lawrence!” Ellie shouts through to their other flatmate, sitting on the sofa and frowning at the bluetooth speaker as if it’s personally committed some crime against her. Ellie holds up the bottle as Lawrence snaps her head round, dark curls flying over her shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Liquidised heartburn,” she says instantly. A’whora snorts as Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Fuck’s sake. What’s it called?”

“Soors,” Lawrence shrugs back at her, and Ellie gestures triumphantly at A’whora who can only pout in reply.

“Listen, I can get Tia, Bims and Tayce through here and they’d all outnumber you, so. Shut it.”

“Yeah bet you’d love to get Tayce through here, A’whora,” Ellie smirks, raising both her eyebrows at her in an infuriatingly smug expression.

A’whora is clamped for a couple of reasons, the first being the God-awful nickname all her flatmates use against her. She’d managed to acquire it the first time they’d all played Never Have I Ever together and A’whora had drank for pretty much every situation or scenario presented to her. Before she’d known it, her very lovely, very Disney Princess-esque first name had been replaced by a pun that Bimini had come up with in the midst of their third rum and coke, and thus Aurora was dead and A’whora was born.

The second reason for her silence is a result of the mention of one of the girls she’s living with. A’whora had never really expected to develop a crush on any of her flatmates, which had been a ridiculous thing to assume- given the fact she’s attracted to girls and was going to be living with other girls, the odds would dictate that at least one of them would be her type. Luckily, though, she hasn’t developed any feelings for any of them. At least, that’s the lie she’s telling herself, as the cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward.

Tayce is different to Ellie, Lawrence, Tia and Bimini, though. None of the others get A’whora so flustered when they speak to her, none of the other others get her heart racing so fast it threatens to fly out her ribcage. She doesn’t feel the same sense of dizzy joy when she’s alone with any of the others: only when Tayce makes dinner with her, or when she comes to her room at ten at night for chats, or when they play Tayce’s stupid video games together and she beats her way-too-many-consecutive-times in a row to be considered fair. A’whora has tried to explain it away as just wanting to be liked, just wanting to be good friends, just just just until she can’t justify her own excuses any more and has instead resigned herself to repressing the feelings she has for her friend. The tension between them is building, though, and it’s only a matter of time until something happens.

“BITCH!”

A’whora jumps a little, flinching as she realises she’s gone too long without a comeback. Ellie’s expression is expectant and impatient as she clicks her fingers once, twice, three times in her face.

“Shut up, Ellie-phant,” A’whora manages to mumble almost incoherently as she turns on her heel, walking through to the living room area to sit with Lawrence and join her on her quest to making their speakers work.

Their flat is an odd one. The front door leads to a prison cell-style line of equally pokey rooms- Lawrence’s, Tayce’s, A’whora’s, Bimini’s, Ellie’s and Tia’s respectively- and two bathrooms. Then another door opens out onto two hobs, endless cupboards and grimy, cluttered countertops, and a scrub of shitty green carpet and three worn out red-purple sofas that look as tired as Bimini does when they come home from a random afterparty just as A’whora leaves for lectures. It doesn’t in any way look like a normal flat, but A’whora supposes they’re about as far away from normal as a sentient slice of cheese.

“Oh babe, you must be crushing crushing. I don’t think I’ve heard you come out with a comeback as shit as that in the whole four months we’ve lived together,” Ellie continues the conversation, buzzing behind her like an annoying fly.

“It wasn’t shit, it was good!”

“Lawrie, what’s a good comeback to me calling A’whora a whore?” Ellie appeals to her friend again.

“Rich of you to be calling anyone a whore. You come from a long line of whores. You’re a whore, your maw’s a whore, your maw’s maw was a whore. There’s cave paintings of your ancestors wi’ twelve dicks in their mouths. There’s tapestries of them gettin’ shagged left, right an’ centre. There’s clay sculptures of them being whores. Pipe the fuck doon,” Lawrence reels off, Ellie growing more and more breathless with hysterical laughter beside her and A’whora falling into giggles too.

“Well this was a weird time for me to enter the conversation.”

A’whora feels her heart lift and her face light up when she turns around and sees Tayce walking through to join them, the posture of a model with her fingers curled elegantly around the stem of a wine glass. She flicks her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she sits down on the small sofa beside A’whora, and she wonders how Tayce can sit in a way that makes the stained, battered, scratchy upholstery seem like the set of a high fashion photoshoot.

“Just talking about you,” A’whora sticks her tongue out at her, laughing at the way Tayce reels in fake horror and Lawrence explodes with laughter across from them.

“The valour, the bravery and the backbone,” Tayce grumbles, rolling her eyes. Her gaze rests upon something behind A’whora- the back of the sofa. Maybe there’s a new rip in it, God knows how that can have happened. She holds back a gasp, though, when Tayce reaches out and runs a gentle finger down her spine against her bare skin; an advantage of the sparkly backless cowl neck top she’s wearing that she hadn’t known existed until now. “Speaking of backbones, you’re such a skinny minnie.”

“Did you go to the school of backhanded compliments?” A’whora teases, deflecting from the way her heart’s still thrumming in her chest at the contact.

“Shush, you. You know you look bloody gorgeous,” Tayce says back to her, and even though there’s a laugh to her voice A’whora knows she means it. Her heart’s still going like a train but she can chalk that up to the half can of Monster Ellie’s dumped into her drink, so when she mutters out a thanks hun, same to you she hopes it doesn’t sound as insincere as it feels.

The thing is, she does look gorgeous. She’s dressed in a black lace bodysuit with straps that criss-cross up the back and a tight leather skirt that makes her legs look even longer than they already are. She’s opted for heels like A’whora has (unlike Ellie and Lawrence who have designated night-out trainers stained with spillages of drinks gone by) but hers have straps that are laced all the way round her calves and tied with a knot at the top. Everything about her outfit makes everything about her look outrageously good, and A’whora thinks it should be illegal for anyone to be this ethereal.

Tayce looks as if she’s about to fire something back at her judging by the little smile on her face but she’s interrupted by an outrageously loud boom from the speakers, as something that could be Lady Gaga but is too deafening to be deciphered screams through it. As the girls all flinch there’s a frantic diminuendo that comes from Lawrence mashing the volume button until the pitch is finally bearable and they can all take their hands off their ears.

“Lawrence, did you get the speakers working?” Ellie quips sarcastically, to which Tayce and A’whora burst out laughing and Lawrence almost elbows Ellie off the sofa opposite.

In the melee A’whora almost doesn’t notice Bimini and Tia come in, and they look ready to start the night if a little panicked.

“What the hell was that?” Tia asks quickly, opening the fridge and grabbing her bottle of premixed Malibu and pineapple before perching herself on the couch beside Ellie. “I thought part of the building had exploded.”

“Nah that was just my vagina, babes,” Lawrence says offhandedly, the others either screeching with laughter or groaning in anguish. Bimini crosses the room with their selection of drinks cradled in their arms and budges Tayce and A’whora up with an oi, oi!, A'whora’s pulse thudding at her wrist as a result of her close proximity to her crush.

No- her friend. Her friend who’s never going to be anything more than that.

With the six flatmates assembled, drinks poured, and tunes on, their pre drinks can begin. Pres at their flat often look like drinking games, yelling along to early 2010s pop, tipsily booking taxis and then touching up their makeup in the waiting time before they arrive. Tonight is no different; they bicker about where they want to go and eventually decide on the union because although it’s “too het” according to Ellie, it’s admittedly cheap and a good night out. A’whora chips into the conversation every five minutes with shady, catty jokes that Tayce howls at and leans into her side and clutches her arm or her hand or her thigh.

The contact is nice. They’ve reached that stage of their friendship where they’re touchy and close a lot of the time- A’whora’s constantly playing with Tayce’s hair and Tayce thinks nothing of just walking into A’whora’s room and getting under the duvet with her. They throw their arms around each other and bump shoulders as they walk and touch legs on the sofa, much like they’re doing now. A’whora has never been a cuddly type of friend- to be honest, she still isn’t- but there’s something about doing all this with Tayce that she doesn’t mind. It’s a comfortable kind of intimacy, a knitted blanket of sorts, but it’s a fragile space for Tayce to occupy too and A’whora knows it’s risky to let her rip a wall down she’s never been aware of til now.

The night rolls along and with every refill of A’whora’s glass the music gets turned up a little more, a little more, a little more until they’re all having to yell over each other as they play wiggly wiggly woo, who’s most likely to. It’s all fun and games until it gets to who’s most likely to sleep with a flatmate, and there’s a confusing mess of finger-pointing where Lawrence points to Ellie, Tayce points to Lawrence, and Bimini, Ellie and Tia point to A’whora.

“Fuck off, why’s it me?” she screeches in outrage, trying to cover up the fact her cheeks are burning and that Tayce seems suddenly all too close to her.

“Because! It’s you! It’s A’whora!” Bimini laughs, their accent making them seem all the more mischievous and shit-stirring.

“Well! If I’m sleeping with a flatmate that must mean one of you’s gonna be involved, doesn’t it?!”

“Right, sorry, yeah,” Bimini nods understandingly, before immediately switching to point to Tayce. There’s an arena-crowd roar that erupts from the others, one that makes A’whora laugh and blush scarlet at the same time. She sneaks a look at Tayce, who’s regarding her with much the same expression.

“I’m down if you are, hun,” A’whora jokes-but-not-really, shaking Tayce’s arm as if it’ll take away from the weak joke she’s trying to make. Tayce only shoots her a wink with her tongue trapped between her teeth.

“In your dreams, love.”

A’whora’s glad of the others laughing so she can pretend to join in, occupy herself with something other than the overwhelming urge to reply to Tayce with exactly.

The rest of pres fly by tipsily and incoherently. They get a noise complaint from the weird flat underneath them which seems solely comprised of six boys who never go outside, which prompts them to book taxis even though the union is only about a ten minute walk away. A’whora helps Tia re-glue on her eyelashes in a rush and Bimini spontaneously fills a hipflask with Ellie’s apple sourz, “for the road”. When the taxis roll up outside Lawrence hurries them all out the door with the urgency of a mother of five, and before long they’re standing in a queue around the block, Bimini and A’whora sharing Tia’s huge puffer jacket because neither of them thought to pick up coats in their haste to leave.

Tayce pulls a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, flips the little cardboard lid of them open and offers them round to the others. A’whora takes one because Tayce is offering, and really Tayce could offer them grenades with the pins pulled out and A’whora would accept if only to get her smile flashed at her again or the chance that their hands might touch during the transfer. A’whora thinks Tayce is every public health campaign’s worst nightmare as she watches her hold the cigarette between her index and middle fingers, wrap her lips around the end and inhale. Her cheekbones are razor-sharp as she drags then lets the breath go, red lipstick on the paper and the smoke curling up into the sparkly, dark night sky.

She is beautiful.

It’s because she’s beautiful that A’whora shouldn’t be surprised by the events that begin to unfold as they enter the club. Ellie immediately makes her way over to a booth, picks up the little sign that says it’s reserved and chucks it onto the dancefloor to get trampled underfoot and covered in sticky cocktail spillages. Tayce’s round is first because she lost Ring of Fire back at the flat so she goes over to the bar for shots, promising she’ll be only a couple of minutes and the others believing her; the way she looks ensures she never has a long wait time at the bar.

So they wait. And they wait. At first they don’t even notice how long they’ve waited- the tunes are good and loud and so they all yell along happily. Until Lawrence turns to the others with narrowed eyes.

“Here. Where the fuck is Tayce? She’s been ages.”

They all scan the bar, and Ellie suddenly points dramatically over to the other end of it. “Oh!”

Because Tayce is standing at the bar with no drinks and no interest in any of the bartenders taking drinks orders. She’s talking to a tall blonde with a dazzling smile and a low-cut crop top, and something inside A’whora burns and sinks at the same time. Tayce is allowed to be talking to a pretty girl. She’s not not allowed to. But it doesn’t make her any less jealous of the attention she’s giving her.

It’s a horror movie she can’t look away from. She’s aware that Ellie has gone to get the drinks instead, but that’s all she can absorb from her surroundings. She tunes out of the conversation at the table as she continues to watch the two of them interact. The girl’s got muscles, and her hair falls in neat waves on her shoulders, and she’s smiley and charming and doesn’t talk much, preferring instead to listen to Tayce. A’whora is different. A’whora is constantly on transmit; loud and opinionated and gobby and, okay, sometimes a little bit judgemental. She can’t do charming and demure. She can’t be what Tayce is very clearly interested in.

A thud next to her causes A’whora to whip her head round, tearing herself away from the scene playing out in front of her and ripping the plaster off.

“Fuck’s sake. Jaegerbombs with Red Bull? Puh-rison!” Ellie half-whines, half-shouts.

“Red Bull is the standard, not everyone can have the same taste in energy drinks as a sixteen year old virgin gamer,” A’whora narrows her eyes, gratefully accepting the drink from her nonetheless and shotting it back as if it’ll help blind her, or perhaps forget what she’s seeing.

“God. Who pissed in your coco pops?” Ellie fires back, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Bold of you to assume anything specific has happened to make her this bitter, mean and salty,” Tia jokes from A’whora’s side, and as the others scream and laugh A’whora in turn fixes her with a glare, wishing momentarily she had laser beams for pupils.

“Ooh, that’s made me want a tequila,” Lawrence cries enthusiastically, too loud even from the other side of the booth.

“Eh, excuse me! I just got you a Jaegerbomb, finish that first,” Ellie chastises her like a world-weary parent, pushing the glass towards her friend and sliding her hand over the table, sticky with the ghosts of questionable drinks’ past. A’whora has to snort at her tone.

“Yeah Lawrence, finish your Jaegerbomb or you won’t get any dessert. Listen to your responsible Mum whose eyelash is coming off.”

A big roar of laughter flies up from the others, and it’s Ellie’s turn to glare at A’whora this time. She looks as if she’s about to say something back when Bimini sniffs their glass and frowns.

“Is Jaegerbombs vegan?”

Everyone apparently wishes to ignore the lack of grammatical sense to their sentence, and it’s Lawrence who responds first. “They’re vegan in the same sense that bleach is vegan?”

Bewilderingly satisfied, Bimini raises their glass to the middle of the table and the girls join them, cheering as they all clink them together and chuck the drinks back. The fact A’whora can’t join in leaves her eyes to fall on Tayce and that girl again. Tayce is smiling and it’s the brightest thing in the club, laughing as the girl flips her hair and touches her hand and tells some joke that’s obviously not as funny as anything A’whora could say. She wonders if she’s ever made Tayce smile like that. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but she can’t remember.

“You know they used to use Jaeger as cough medicine? And for ages it was drunk by, like…old Tories who went on deer hunts,” Tia reels off excitably, and A’whora can’t help but roll her eyes affectionately at her friend’s bizarre general knowledge. “There’s this rumour that it’s got deer’s blood in it.”

Bimini splutters, coughs, and chokes all at once. As Lawrence slaps their back entirely too roughly in a way that’s about as helpful as a water gun at a house fire, A’whora can’t help but turn to face Tia incredulously.

“What the fuck did you say that for?!”

Tia shrugs, too tipsy to register A’whora’s disbelief. “Fun fact.”

“You didn’t think to pipe up with that when Bims was asking if it was vegan?”

“It’s just a rumour!” Tia says defensively, then turns to Bimini to check they’re okay. A’whora huffs in exasperation, folding her arms and throwing her back against the supposedly cushioned walls of the booth. As she stares straight ahead and ignores the fuss her friends are making, her eyes fall on Tayce again and her heart hurts more than it should to see her with her phone out and the girl beside her doing the same. They’re so clearly swapping numbers. They’re allowed to swap numbers. It’s not like A’whora’s got dibs on Tayce, it’s not like she’s got any right to feel a burn in her stomach and a flame in her heart and a feeling of something slipping away.

“Right!” Lawrence all but yells, forcing A’whora to tear her eyes away. “I’ve finished my Jaegerbomb, Mum, can we get tequila now?”

Ellie sighs. “Fine! But you’re buying me this one, bitch.”

“I’ll come with,” A’whora says, thinking she’ll need at least ten more units of alcohol to stop feeling feelings.

“We’re going for a boogie, catch us up,” Bimini decides, as Rhythm is a Dancer blasts on the overhead speakers and Tia lets out a whooo! that’s way too white for a mixed-race girl.

So they move, A’whora bum-shuffling her way out of the booth and following Lawrence and Ellie, her feet sore in her heels. She purposefully blocks Tayce out of her peripheral vision as she leans against the bar, but she’s only separated from her by about six people also waiting and if she tilted her head forward she could definitely catch her eye if she wanted.

“Rhythm is a dancer, two for one at Asda,” Ellie sings along, bopping her head enthusiastically. A’whora laughs weakly, her proximity to Tayce and that bitch she’s talking to entirely too distracting.

“Shut your hole and tell me what you’re wanting,” Lawrence orders her. Ellie drums the palms of her hands against the bar as she semi-shouts sambucaaaaa, and A’whora asks for a vodka. She’s aware she’s mixing entirely too many spirits and her hangover tomorrow will be potentially life-threatening, but she doesn’t care.

“Tayce is still there. Should we shout her over and see what she wants?” Ellie suggests, craning her neck. A’whora firmly shakes her head.

“She’s wanting that baby Hulk she’s been talking to all night, apparently,” she all but spits, shocking herself at her venom. It’s clear she shocks the girls as well, and Lawrence turns around and simply raises her eyebrows at her.

“Men’s dress trousers in a hotel.”

A’whora can only blink. “What?”

Lawrence pauses for dramatic effect (or perhaps that’s just the Jaegerbomb making its alcohol content known). She points a finger at A’whora, then finishes whatever point she’s making. “Pressed.”

“Purrr!” Ellie laughs in agreement, grabbing A’whora’s shoulder and shaking it in an action that’s probably meant to be gentle but almost shakes her bone out of its socket. “Oh my God, that totally explains why you’ve been such a bitch all night.”

“This wee cow’s been a bitch her whole life,” Lawrence joins in. A’whora knows she’s got a proper face on by now, Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle, but she can’t help it. She hates being wound up and she makes this perfectly clear to her friends via her furious silence.

“Nah, but tonight she’s a jealous bitch,” Ellie sticks her tongue out at her, and A’whora huffs.

“I’m not jealous!” she lies. “I’m just pissed off that she comes on a night out with us and she spends it talking to some random bitch she barely knows instead of her friends.”

“Wait. Oh my God, do you fancy Tayce?” Lawrence asks, a bull in a china shop on cocaine. Before A’whora can defend herself Ellie barks a laugh.

“Aw Lauzza, come on to fuck! Have you ever walked in when it’s been just the two of them? They’re so fucking flirty it’s disgusting.”

“DISGUSTEN!” Lawrence shouts, and it goes about ten percent of the way to drawing A’whora out of her mood.

“I don’t flirt with Tayce! I don’t fancy her either!” A’whora cries, exasperated. She realises too-late that her volume may have been too loud, but when she looks over at the topic of conversation again she’s both disappointed and relieved to see that she hasn’t registered a thing. “Anyway, you know you can’t shag your flatmate. It’s like the first rule of having flatmates. It would just make everything awkward.”

“That the only thing stopping you?” Lawrence looks at her pointedly.

“The bartender’s free,” A’whora glances just over Lawrence’s shoulder, and she turns around so fast it almost makes her feel dizzy. While Lawrence orders it leaves Ellie to turn to A’whora and pat her hand sympathetically.

“Why don’t you just go up to her?” she suggests. “I mean would it be so bad if you did just shag and get the pent-up tension released and then you can both just move on? I mean it’s not like you want to be her girlfriend or anything.”

A’whora presses her lips together and doesn’t reply. Her silence seems to communicate too much as Ellie’s mouth drops open a little and she fixes her with a pointed stare. “Oh, A’whora.”

“Look, I don’t know,” A’whora rushes to defend herself, her words spilling out over themselves in the way they sometimes do when she’s tipsy. “Like obviously she’s gorgeous but also, like…I do like her as a person as well, and I like being around her and just enjoying her company-”

Ellie splutters a giggle. “Enjoying her company, are you eighty years old in a care home?”

“I’m gonna slap you in a minute, shut up!” A’whora laughs incredulously. “But, like, I just…I don’t know if she likes me back like that, you know?

Ellie frowns. “I think, then, my advice would be…don’t shag her if you don’t think you can keep it to just that. ‘Cause obviously you don’t want to end up getting hurt.”

“Right, yeah,” A’whora replies, nodding.

If she’s honest, she’s disappointed. Obviously she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to sleep with Tayce- because fucking look at her- but just like Ellie said, she knows she would end up getting hurt if anything happened between them. Tayce would probably consider it a one-time thing and A’whora would be let down, or it would turn into some long, drawn-out friends with benefits scenario that would probably make everything worse.

The thing is she can only repress her feelings so much and tonight she’s feeling like one of Ellie’s cans of Monster that Tia shook up as a joke and ended up spurting out its contents so violently that there’s still a green-blue stain on their kitchen wall. A’whora’s way too close to telling the girls about every time she’s pictured her and Tayce falling asleep together and waking up together, every time she’s imagined them planning actual dates, every time she’s wanted to kiss her on the sofa- not necessarily even a kiss kiss but just a peck on the cheek, a soft one pressed to the crown of her head, a little one against their knuckles as they hold hands.

It all sounds ridiculous and silly and way too high school. Nothing seems to work the same at uni. Everyone just seems to shag, hook up, kiss strangers they’ll never see again in the shadows of grimy clubs. Everything seems to happen when everyone’s drunk. Everything’s done out of lust rather than love. Everything is so short-term because you can’t plan for the long term if you wake up and don’t remember the night before.

A’whora loves uni, but she doesn’t like that.

Besides, she’s already done all that in high school anyway. Sixth form had been like a crash course in freshers’ week; if she wasn’t drinking in parks or going to house parties she was sneaking into nightclubs using a fake ID that even Stevie Wonder could’ve seen right through. She’d half-heartedly slept with boys and figured out she liked girls when a sleepover after a party took a turn. She’d tried smoking and she came to the conclusion that she didn’t like it enough to buy her own cigarettes, she’d tried mandy once and that was once too much for her. All of that has prepared her well for uni- she’s street smart and has her head screwed on (for the most part- she’s still testing her limits as far as alcohol’s concerned). But feeling like she’s feeling for Tayce is uncharted territory, and out of everything she’s already done and experienced A’whora finds it hard to believe there’s not an age limit on this sort of thing because it all feels more risky and dangerous than smoking roll-ups in a children’s playpark at one in the morning ever did.

A wayheyyy! from Lawrence cuts through her thoughts and she accepts the shot she’s holding out to her, wordlessly clinking it together with Lawrence’s and Ellie’s and slamming it back as if it’s some form of medicine she desperately needs.

“It’s so weird that you don’t do the whole lime and salt thing,” Ellie wrinkles her nose at her friend, who in turn punches one of her own tits with what seems to be pride.

“‘Cause I’m made of strong stuff, babes. Right, what’s the conclusion on this one? Does she fancy Tayce or no?”

“Surely this is a bathroom stall conversation?” A’whora pouts, annoyed that her feelings for Tayce have been brought back up.

As Ellie relays to Lawrence what she’d said to A’whora, A’whora momentarily wonders if she’s in control of anything in her life any more.

Lawrence nods when Ellie’s done. “Smart advice. ‘Cause it would make things awkward for the flat. ‘Magine trying to make a Pot Noodle in the middle of a live-action episode of Eastenders.”

A’whora screws her face up in confusion. “All episodes of Eastenders are live action?”

“Y’know what the fuck I mean,” Lawrence rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Well we’ve given you our blessing and basically we represent the whole country, so. Go for it.”

“Thanks, Nicola Sturgeon, good to know I have your approval,” A’whora smirks at her, amused. When some Becky Hill song comes on over the speakers she takes it as her cue to smooth down her skirt, flip her hair over her shoulder and rest her little shot glass back on the bar. “Right, we going to have a dance or what?”

As she takes her friends’ hands they all but strut over to the dancefloor, and A’whora can see Bimini and Tia pulling shapes that they probably think make them look mysterious and sexy but actually just make them look as drunk as they no doubt are. Before A’whora can push through the crowd, Lawrence tugs her and Ellie back a bit.

“Here, I think I’ve remembered something Tayce told me once, if this is of any use to you?” she begins.

All of A’whora’s nerve endings light up like one of those colourful optical fiber lamps she had when she was small. Her eyes have clearly flown open and her mouth’s dropped slack without her even having to try, so desperate is she for what Lawrence is about to tell her. Ellie’s beside her equally expectant and anticipative, and Lawrence laughs at the pair of them before she continues.

“It was the pair of us and Tia…Christ, when was it…cannae mind. Think you’d gone home for the weekend and Ellie was doing something wi’ Bims…anyway, coupla’ bottles of wine in and we start playing wee stupid games. We’re doing snog, marry, avoid and Tia gives her…fuck, cannae even remember. Let’s say it was Ellie, Bimini and you. Now I can’t remember what she said for the other two but…” Lawrence pauses dramatically, and A’whora is a hair’s breadth away from practically begging her for the information she’s taking so long to impart. “…she said she would marry you because then she’d get to shag you more than just once.”

A’whora doesn’t think her eyes can go any wider but she somehow manages it. She doesn’t really know how to react but Ellie’s doing enough screaming to suffice for the two of them.

“When the fuck were you gonna tell us that?! Fuck, I can’t believe you never told me that! When did this happen?!” Ellie practically screeches in her face.

“Telt you I cannae mind! Maybe like…a month ago? I don’t know,” Lawrence supplies unhelpfully. Usually A’whora would try to rip the piss out of the way her accent’s gone ten times more Braveheart than usual after her series of drinks, but all she can think about is what she’s been told and, well…she can’t help the butterflies in her heart and the way a satisfied, triumphant grin spreads slowly onto her face.

Ellie’s equally as excited beside her. She whacks A’whora on the arm as she squeals with enthusiasm. “See! Now we know she likes you too!”

A’whora feels as if she’s made of glitter and confetti as she spins around in the direction of the bar. Her heart gives a dip on its rollercoaster of emotions as she sees that Tayce has somehow caught the attention of a different girl- long, dark hair and a blue and orange outfit and a mouth that’s moving at about a mile a minute.

There’s a second before A’whora makes to turn away in disappointment when Tayce’s pupils suddenly flick over to rest on her. Tayce’s self-assured expression and body language seem to falter when she catches A’whora’s eye, and she shoots her a little smile that- if A’whora didn’t know the girl better- she’d say was shy.

“Now the challenge is actually getting a chance to talk to her,” A’whora pouts. Chatting up Tayce and maybe getting to fall into bed with her really isn’t a time-sensitive issue; it doesn’t need to happen tonight, but A’whora’s had a chaotic combination of alcohol that makes her think there’s really no time like the present and hey, maybe this is her one and only chance.

“Well, we can keep an eye on her and when she’s free, then that’s your chance,” Ellie smiles, supportive and excited.

“What chat-up line are you gonnae use? I’ve got a cracker you can have if you want,” Lawrence insists, and A’whora and Ellie share a doubtful look.

“Go on.”

“What did one haggis say to the other haggis?” Lawrence begins. Without giving the other girls a chance to interject, she finishes. “…’Gonnae shaggis?’ ”

“And on that note,” Ellie shakes her head and rolls her eyes, taking both of them by the hand and pulling them into the crowd to join their other friends.

It’s amazing how easy it is to forget about the object of her affection chatting to random girls on the other side of the room when Bimini’s grabbing her and almost launching her across the dancefloor with their euphoric pogo-ing along to each and every song that gets played. The five of them drunkenly bum-ba-ba, bum-ba-ba along to Head & Heart and cheer for Tia when she does Nicki’s rap in Swalla without even stopping for breath. A’whora laughs in confusion with the other girls as Lawrence and Ellie get way too excited, squealing and clutching each others’ hands when some clubland tune that’s apparently much bigger in Scotland than it is in the other three corners of the UK gets put on, the lyrics of which seem to consist solely of the words up-up-up and awayyy. Bimini and Lawrence collect more drinks from the bar and A’whora very nearly knocks Ellie’s out of her hand when Friday comes on and she punches the air.

And then Tayce is on her own.

A’whora’s heart almost siezes up with how fast it jolts into full-blown palpitations because this is the moment she can finally go over and talk to her, the chance to turn their friendship into maybe something more even if that something more is only a random hookup after a night out, but it only takes the time for her to shake Ellie’s arm and point in Tayce’s direction for her to see that, yet again, she’s been approached by someone tall and confident and stunning and everything that A’whora wishes Tayce thought about her.

Her face falls and Ellie snaps her fingers in her line of vision, forcing her to look at her and the motherly expression of tough love she’s wearing.

“Hey. When has anyone ever stopped you getting your own way?” she yells at her over the music, and A’whora laughs half in amusement and half in agreement. As she falls silent, Ellie jerks her head towards the bar. “Go get her, bitch.”

It might be the alcohol, but it hits A’whora with a ironically sobering clarity that Ellie’s right.

So she takes a breath in and struts confidently over to the bar, practically able to feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins (although that could well be the caffeine from the second Jaegerbomb she’s downed this evening with Bimini’s encouragement). She smooths down her skirt so the split runs up the front of her thigh and not the side, adjusts the neck of her top so it’s framing her chest the way she wants it to. She could be nervous but the combined alcohol she’s drunk so far this evening pushes that feeling to the back of her head, replacing it with all-consuming confidence that she can feel from the inside out. She looks good, better than good, and she knows she can flirt even though she’s never really tried to flirt with Tayce. Well, never intentionally.

Okay, that’s maybe a lie.

The realisation that she’s actually going through with this is enough to make her want to freeze to the spot but by some miracle she’s still walking forward until she’s three, two, one steps away from her flatmate and the girl at the bar with too much plastic surgery and hair the shade of a vomit-coloured highlighter pen. A’whora wedges her shoulder in between the pair of them, hears the girl give a little tut/sigh hybrid from behind her but A’whora’s not really interested in bickering with her, not when Tayce’s eyes have fallen on her and she’s looking at her, really looking at her with a little playful smile on her painted lips.

“Hey baby boo,” Tayce says by way of a greeting, and A’whora feels her heart melt just a little. She’s being adorable, but she’s not going to let that damage her confident, composed exterior. Until Tayce follows up by running a hand down her arm and lacing their fingers together. “I haven’t seen you all night, I missed you.”

With that, A’whora feels the little cocky smirk she’s wearing break out into a shy grin, one that she hopes doesn’t look as ridiculously goofy as it feels. “Well. Maybe you would’ve seen more of me if you hadn’t been playing Take Me Out with half the bloody girls in here.”

“Who, me?” Tayce gasps, clutching the gold chain around her neck and pretending to be affronted. A’whora doesn’t mean to roll her eyes but she clearly does, and the small giggle she draws out of Tayce as a result makes it almost worth it. The squeeze Tayce gives her hand turns that almost into a definitely, as does what Tayce follows up with. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know.”

“You’re cute…all the time,” A’whora claps back, wishing she had some sort of drink in her hand to press against her face as she feels her blush start to bloom across her cheeks.

“I know, babe, that’s why I’ve been getting my drinks bought for me all night,” Tayce winks.

If Awhora uses that as a signal to pull her bank card from her bra, that’s nobody’s business but her own. The way Tayce’s gaze flicks to her chest lights a match in her heart. “Well…let me buy you one and then you won’t have to miss me so much.”

Tayce’s awed smile spreads slowly onto her face and they agree on tequila shots, the phase of the evening where they were nursing their drinks left firmly in the dust as the bartender hands them a salt shaker, two little shot glasses and two wedges of lime. The way Tayce’s tongue slides over the side of her hand before she sprinkles the salt and the way their eyes meet as she licks it up makes A’whora’s mouth dry, so the tequila’s welcome for a split second before she remembers why she hates it, the flavour and sheer strength of the alcohol akin to being hit by a truck.

As she grabs desperately for the lime like it’s an oxygen mask on a crash-landing plane, Tayce laughs and shakes her head pityingly. “You always end up ordering tequila and you always, always hate it.”

A’whora blinks as she composes herself, gives a little shiver of recovery. She cocks her head at Tayce inquisitively. “I didn’t know you remembered that.”

Tayce looks to the ground as she smiles, tucks a piece of her long hair behind her ear. It’s endearing and soft and it makes A’whora panic, so she presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow at Tayce questioningly. “So, how’d your little episode of Blind Date go anyway?“

"Gosh, you’re really pressed about this, aren’t you?” Tayce’s eyes are narrow as she smirks at her, and now it’s A'whora’s turn to look embarrassed. The soft laugh Tayce gives is reassuring so A'whora’s gaze drifts back up again and their eyes meet as she speaks again. “Well, there was, uh…blonde lady. Blonde lady with the muscles and the eyeliner. God, what was her name?”

“This is off to a flying start.”

“Kameron!” Tayce yells in her face as she remembers. It makes A’whora snort with laughter, something that’s probably wildly unattractive but she knows Tayce has seen her do it before. “And then there was, uh, Priyanka. I remember her name because she kept telling me every two minutes. That was a wild conversation.”

“Uh-huh. Who was the bitch I elbowed out the way?”

Tayce smirks at her, wobbles a little in her heels and steadies herself against the bar. “That was…Detox.”

“Radox?”

Tayce splutters. “Detox!”

“Should’ve called herself Botox, would’ve been nearer to the mark,” A’whora turns up her top lip. Tayce explodes in an outraged laugh beside her, clutches her wrist in a way that makes A’whora hope she won’t be able to feel her rapid pulse.

“Says Aurora Georgia Boyle, who asked for lip fillers for her eighteenth and was actually allowed to get them!”

“Don’t full name me, piece of shit!” A’whora gasps in mock-offence, shakes herself away from Tayce’s grip but finds her inexplicably nearer to her than she was before. She’s not necessarily complaining, though, because her whole left side is against Tayce’s right and there’s some form of other-worldly magnetism that seems to keep them pressed together. It makes her heart flutter so she tucks a section of hair behind her ear before she frowns. “I never told you that. How come you know that?”

“You did tell me! Back in freshers week! You just don’t remember,” Tayce giggles, poking her cheek with one acrylic nail. It should hurt more than it does. Maybe it does hurt and A’whora can’t feel it. She’s had a lot to drink.

It’s the alcohol she blames when she hooks an arm around Tayce’s waist, tilts her head and drops her volume to a murmur. “You seem to remember a lot of things about me.”

Tayce’s eyes widen just that little bit. “Well you’re a bit of an unforgettable person, really.”

Her words make A’whora’s heart light up so much that she can feel herself glowing from the inside out. She brings her other arm around Tayce in a tight hug, her hands joining at the small of her back, and Tayce mirrors her so they’re both anchoring each other. It’s hard for her to remember whether they’ve ever shared a hug like this before. It seems too intimate for friends, but A’whora doesn’t mind.

“Tayce.”

“Rory,” Tayce replies, mimicking her whine and the way she draws her name out. A’whora likes the nickname she gives her probably more than she should; she supposes it’s because only Tayce uses it and because it’s rooted in her actual given name.

A’whora pouts, squeezes Tayce’s waist. “I missed you tonight, you know.”

“Missed you too. Missed you so much,” Tayce murmurs back.

She’s already said it, A’whora knows she’s already said it, but with the way they’re both gazing at each other it seems to mean something more, something different. It’s ridiculous- they’re both drunk, and famously no good decisions have ever happened when two people have had this many assorted shots, but somehow it feels like all of this is just right.

A’whora drops her head to rest it on Tayce’s shoulder and she feels her arms tighten around her in response. Her lips graze her neck as she murmurs against it. “Not leaving me again.”

There’s a pause where she can’t really see Tayce’s expression or how she’s reacted. Her heart freezes, and the terror and reality of having crossed the line between friendship and whatever the hell this is suddenly consumes her whole body. She’s relieved, then, when Tayce eventually mutters against the crown of her head.

“All yours, baby.”

And she presses a kiss to her hair. Just like A’whora’s been dreaming about for so long.

She feels giddy and dizzy with absolute euphoria, so it’s that she blames when she puts her lips against Tayce’s neck again and plants one, two, three little kisses there in quick succession.

“Tayce,” she whispers again. She doesn’t really know what she wants to say or how to say it, but she knows she doesn’t want to go back to the dancefloor, and she doesn’t want to be with their other friends. She just wants her and Tayce together for however long she’ll let it be that way, and she doesn’t even care about the busy bar or the drunk students that bump into them every so often or the stares from the rowdy group of rugby lads that would usually make her feel intimidated, but not when she’s with Tayce.

When she’s with Tayce everything seems a little bit better somehow, just by her being there.

So maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the tequila, or maybe it’s the feeling of having Tayce’s arms around her that makes A’whora tilt her head back up again and meet Tayce’s waiting lips with her own. There’s none of the usual hesitation or awkward pause that comes with kissing someone new because really the amount of times A’whora’s imagined this, dreamt about it, thought about it in daydreams that completely unhook her from reality, it’s as if it’s happened before.

Nothing has prepared her for the real thing though. How Tayce brings a hand up to rest at her jaw and how the other stays placed against the bare skin of her back, warm and supportive. How the both of them sway a little, unsteady in their heels as if they’ve been knocked for six. How Tayce’s body is close against hers and A’whora pushes a hand in her hair in an attempt to somehow bring her even closer. How kissing Tayce leaves her breathtaken and satisfied yet somehow amplifies her feeling of longing, because the more she gives to her the more A’whora wants and with every second that Tayce’s lips are on hers she can only feel the heat that’s pooling in her stomach growing more and more intense.

When Tayce pulls away and A’whora can only catch her breath, she fixes her with a lazy, half-lidded smile that makes her insides turn to melted honey.

“That was nice,” she blinks, and she’s a second away from kicking herself- because, really?- when Tayce giggles softly under her breath. She brushes a little piece of A’whora’s hair off her face, and the gentleness of the action throws her a little. A’whora brings her arms up to loop around her neck, and she leans in close again. “I wanna do it again.”

“I want to do…a lot of things. With you,” Tayce says, casual and chill as if her words haven’t just sent A’whora up in flames.

“Like…?”

“Like…maybe come back to mine and I’ll show you, baby.”

The whole moment’s perfect enough for A’whora to almost overlook the blunder Tayce has just made, but her nature dictates that she can’t let her get away with it. “We…we live together.”

Tayce lets out a snort, bumps her forehead against A’whora’s as she despairs of herself. “Right. Well…we gonna go home, then?”

A’whora doesn’t need to be asked twice. She laces her fingers in Tayce’s, resolves to text the others to tell them they’ve left, and stumbles towards the exit with her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

When she blinks, she’s tired, she’s in bed, it’s bright, and she’s confused as all hell.

The headache hits her like a sledgehammer to the face and she blinks slowly and heavily, adjusting herself to her surroundings. She’s in her own room, she can tell that much from the photos of her and her friends from back home on the cupboard and the fairy lights on her desk that aren’t switched on. Her mouth feels like a badger’s shat in it and her eyes are all achey, and as she throws an arm up to rub at them she’s surprised when she doesn’t see any leftover eye makeup on the back of her hand.

“The kraken awakes.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” A’whora flinches, her head whipping over to the foot of her bed to find Tayce sitting cross-legged leaning against the wall, her phone in her hand. She’s wearing her old leggings with the bleach stains and the hole at the calf, and a purple tie-dye sweatshirt that’s a size too big for her. Her hair’s loose and framing her face and the only makeup she has on is the little scattering of eyeliner that’s hanging tight to her lash line and has managed to escape the makeup wipe.

She looks disarmed and shy. There’s something comforting about it, because A’whora feels confused and completely on the back foot and she has no idea what’s going on. But there’s a warm smile on her face and it meets her eyes, so despite her disorientation A’whora feels safe.

“How long’ve you been there? Were you just watching me sleep like some…creepy Twilight vampire?” A’whora groans, sitting up and leaning forward and taking a deep breath as if it’ll make her headache go away.

Tayce laughs in a way that makes A’whora think the question’s flustered her, but she’s not sure. “The others went to get breakfast. I said I’d stay with you. Didn’t want you to be on your own feeling like shit and maybe having the fear.”

“I am having the fear. I don’t even know how we got home.”

The way Tayce’s face drops in what looks like abject panic makes her wonder what did happen last night. “Wait. What do you actually remember?”

A’whora’s heart is racing as she scans her mind for memories. Pres, club, drinks, booth. Tayce talking to some girl. Dancefloor. Tayce. Talking to Tayce. Kissing Tayce-

Kissing Tayce.

“Oh, no,” A’whora blurts out involuntarily. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Tayce. “We…did we? We did?”

Tayce’s face seems to relax as she bursts out laughing, and it all comes flooding back to A’whora and hits her like a train. Everything that had seemed like such a good idea last night now seems like the most awkward situation in the world now that Tayce is here, on her bed, and they’re both sober.

“Tayce, no,” A’whora whines, putting her head in her hands as her friend keeps laughing. “No! That’s so awkward. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was a good kiss,” Tayce smiles back, somehow both coy and self-assured at once. It’s her reaction that causes a new wave of cold horror to crash against A’whora, a wave on a rock.

“Oh, Jesus. Did anything else happen?”

Tayce grows animated. “God, yeah, we had the best sex ever. Sixty-nines, scissoring, we got the vibrators involved. It was bloody lush.”

A’whora’s too hungover to realise that Tayce is winding her up until she screeches with laughter right in her horrified face. “Oh my God, Rory, your face! No I’m joking, ‘course I’m joking.”

“Thank fuck,” A’whora sighs a world-weary sigh of relief, throwing herself back down against her pillows and immediately regretting it for the way her brain ricochets against her skull and makes her headache ten times worse. “So what did happen?”

“Well, you wanted to walk back because you wanted to look at the stars, so when we got to the square we lay down and looked at the stars for a bit. And then I wanted to go get chips and cheese but you were dragging me back home because you were so horny,” Tayce looks at her pointedly, and A’whora groans with embarrassment, grabbing her pillow and shoving it over her face. “But then after we got up the stairs and in through the door you said you felt sick, so I then had to hold your hair back while you threw up last night’s pasta bake and what looked to be about fifty different kinds of alcohol into the toilet bowl. Then I had to put you to bed and stay up half the night making sure you didn’t choke on your own tongue while you were asleep. Best one night stand I’ve ever had.”

When A’whora takes the pillow away, Tayce winks at her. She feels like putting the pillow back.

“I’m honestly so sorry,” she pouts. She is sorry. Part of her wishes she could at least properly remember what it had felt like to kiss Tayce. All the memories of the moment are much too paper-thin and flimsy, butterfly wings that’re all too rapidly flying away. Tayce isn’t giving her any cause to be embarrassed, but A’whora is anyway.

So she’s not sure what Tayce is going to say when she leans forward, takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “Go brush your teeth.”

A’whora thinks she might be the first person in history to have cause of death: cringe written on her birth certificate. “You’re really adding insult to injury, aren’t you? Telling me all the embarrassing shit I did while I was off my face and then basically telling me my breath smells like dog shite.”

Tayce laughs as she shakes her head. “Just go do it, idiot.”

She’s never been one to say no to Tayce so A’whora drags herself out from under her duvet towards the little sink tucked away in the corner of her room, the cold chill of the freezing air hitting her bare arms and her feet and rendering her even more miserable. It’s only when she’s halfway through scrubbing at her teeth when it registers that she’s even got pyjamas on.

“Did you have to put my pyjamas on for me?” A’whora asks around her toothbrush, realising all too late that trying to talk through a mouthful of toothpaste is probably as unattractive as vomiting into the toilet bowl.

(The toilet bowl is definitely worse, but she’s just thinking this to help herself feel better.)

Tayce looks up from her phone and raises an eyebrow. “Nah, you managed to do it yourself. You did make me watch you put your stick-on bra on your forehead, though. Apparently it was the funniest thing in the world.”

A’whora just groans as she turns back to the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and following it with mouthwash just to completely clean her mouth of the various alcoholic sins of the night before. She crawls back into bed with a wearied sigh, and she’s surprised when Tayce falls on her side and scoots up beside her, laying on her side and facing her so their noses are almost touching. A’whora feels her heart lift and her pulse speed up, and it’s not helped by the way Tayce reaches out and tucks a little piece of hair behind her ear.

Tayce trails her fingers across to cup A’whora’s cheek, and she’s almost whispering when she speaks. “Thank God. Just wanted to do this again.”

When she leans in A’whora shuts her eyes, meets her halfway, and feels every cell in her body electrify when their lips touch. If kissing Tayce in a club when they were both drunk was good, then kissing her hungover in bed is somehow even better, and A’whora’s mystified at the way her headache seems to completely disappear with every second she spends with her lips on Tayce’s, kissing her gently and softly as if they’ve got all the time in the world. Tayce smells of everything comforting- Tresemme shampoo, snow fairy shower gel, the fabric softener she uses that’s way too expensive for a student budget. Fresh and clean and somehow new. It’s the simplest heaven A’whora has ever experienced.

Tayce pulls away and they both giggle, embarrassment and awkwardness gone now that the elephant in the room’s been addressed. A’whora only realises Tayce has taken her hand when she lets it go, pushes herself off the mattress and crosses the room towards the door.

“We should do that again some time,” she smiles wickedly by way of a goodbye, and A’whora can only nod bashfully in reply and agreement. Tayce has given her hope to hold on to, and she knows she’s going to cling to it ridiculously until whatever this is happens again.

She can’t wait.

Just as Tayce opens her door and A’whora resigns herself to her leaving, she lifts her head off the pillow when she hears her flatmate’s voice again as she disappears into the hallway.

“And go have a shower. You smell like tequila.”

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #me and you together #taywhora #uk2 #lesbian au #university au #british au #college au #freshers au #roommate au #friends with benefits to lovers #tayce #a'whora #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi

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frunbuns · 3 years

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Fics that punched me in the face and stole my lunch money

one more time with feeling by Soulykins (Not rated, 4009 words)

When Five Hargreeves is four-years-old, he discovers his power.

He also discovers a whole lot more than that.

They’re all figuring out their powers, and as a consequence they all move out of the nursery into their own rooms after a somewhat unfortunate incident regarding the discovery of Six’s powers. Regardless, Five isn’t very fond of the new arrangement because he’s lonely.

He can’t sleep without the sounds of his siblings around him. One’s sleepy whuffling and Four’s random exclamations, Six shuffling around and Two kicking his blankets off in the night. It’s too quiet.

That is, of course, when the man falls into his room.

Probably one of my all-time favourite fics. It hits hard and is honestly the reason this rec list was made. I swear the ending knocks the breath out of me every time I read it.

little white lies by Soulykins (General Audiences, 3750 words)

The first time Five lies, really lies, he's four-years-old and taking the blame for something he didn't do.

And then he doesn't stop.

Five lies to everyone. He lies to his father, to his siblings, and even to himself.

(Five has broken himself apart and put himself back together so many times over the course of his life. When you're broken, you use whatever is at hand to glue yourself back together. Love and loyalty and determination, of course. But hate and spite and fury all work as well.

Five never noticed when he started gluing himself together with lies. Lies are not very good glue, they come apart too easily.)

Five protecting his siblings? Angst and hurt? Yes. It hurts, but in a good way. Like all good angsty fics do. The ending? My god. A very nice way to end all that angst. Thank you very much.

Delusions of a Practical Nature by KnightNight7203 (Teen and Up, 5045 words, 3 chapters)

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. He was supposed to get through the next layer of his equations, finally narrow down the limits he’s been searching for for the past month and a half. But maybe he should sit down with his family more often. For the first time in a long time, he feels something akin to peace.

In which Five doesn’t always have to make it through an apocalypse alone.

You think this is nice. A few things that make you go “That’s weird”, and then it punched you in the gut with the ending and you realize; “oh shit” and it’s actually really sad. This is yet another one of the fics that made me make this list lol.

Don’t waste your time (or time will waste you) by rosewitchx (Teen and Up, 4408 words)

He was an old man. He is sixteen. Ben dies next week. How does he know that? “I think I broke it,” Five stutters, and for the first time in her short life Vanya sees absolute terror in his eyes.

- Or, Five travels back again. Something goes wrong.

Heartbreaking in all the best way. This one hurts, but it wraps up nicely at the end and I like that in a fic (or anything tbh). It kinda feels like one long gut punch at times.

losing you to the gutter by tiesmp3 (Teen and Up, 2328 words)

fire, it burned my skin but i still want to play with it. - “baby boy”, mother mother

or, five is teetering on the edge of a very steep cliff—or, maybe he always has been, but no one’s ever really cared about it, anyway.

Hurt and comfort. Five’s PTSD being adressed. Getting the help he needs. All the good stuff.

and i'll be back (again and again and again) by artfulacrostic (Teen and Up, 3560 words)

Five stumbles to his feet and looks up at his family.

They seem so...startled. Staring, like they can't believe he's back, even though he's been back over and over and over.

Of course, they don’t know that. They never do.

Five relives the eight days before the apocalypse over and over again in a whirlwind of equations, alcohol, and failure.

This one’s a ride, y’all. Oh my fucking god. It’s so good. The feels, holy shit. I have no words. Just read it. This was also one of the fics that made me make this list.

Bolt from the Blue by TheArchaeologist (Mature, 84665 words, 39 chapters)

When they were sixteen Klaus successfully escaped for the night, and to celebrate went to the disco with a girl he barely knew. He was young, terribly misguided, but overall the night had been amazing.

He just didn't expect to have a baby dumped in his arms nine months later.

Or,

The author takes a throw away joke in the show and runs with it.

This is a looong one, I have to be honest with you all. It really is. It’s so good and heart wrenching and sweet and oh so sad. In an Alternate Universe Five is Klaus’ son and we follow him and Ben as they try their best to raise him with the little they have, until it all goes to shit. It’s part of a longer series and let me tell you; It’s a wild one.

And I Will Run Fast, Outlast by beastboy12 (Teen and Up, 27345 words, 7 chapters)

Five is fine. Getting his siblings to see that is a different matter entirely.

In which Five has a very difficult time accepting that he may not, in fact, be okay.

This one’s also on the longer side, but not terrifbly so. It’s another fic where Five struggles with his trauma and gets help. Some recovery. A very nice read. Make sure to read the warnings though, as it covers some difficult things. Be aware of that when reading this.

Side Effects May Vary by CivilBores (Teen and Up, 6565 words)

Allison crosses her arms. “Five,” she says firmly, “when was the last time you slept?”

“I don’t know,” Five says honestly. At Allison’s expression, he quickly adds, “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t know what it’ll take for all of you pea-brained idiots to realize that.”

“We may not be as intelligent as you, Five,” Allison says, “but at least all of us are smart enough to know how to take care of ourselves.”

A week after the world is saved, Five convinces himself that he is still experiencing lingering side effects of paradox psychosis. His family has something to say about that.

Five’s falling apart and he thinks it’s paradox psychosis. The siblings try to help him. It takes some time, but eventually they get through to him. Turns out it’s not that serious, but Five is a disaster so what do you expect?

we are alive, here by pilotpoison (General Audiences, 1364 words)

The Apocalypse was diverted, and Five finally gets to feel.

Probably one of the shortest ones on the list. Five has a bit of a breakdown after finally stopping the apocalypse for good. Angsty with a hopeful, nice ending.

(i heard a rumor) i put a band-aid on a bullet wound by telm_393 (Teen and Up, 3220 words)

Allison tries to figure out who she really is. Allison tries to calm her brother down. There are no quick fixes.

Allison centered fic where she struggles with the loss of her voice and powers. It delves into Allison’s feelings towards the sitauation and her siblings (mostly Vanya). Basically she kinda learns how to live without the use of her voice, which has been such an imprtant part of her before and she also has a nice moment with Five where she calms him down after a nightmare. It’s also an interesting look at what Five’s trauma might look like from an outside perspective.

Derivation by obvious_apostate (General Audiences, 3199 words)

Grace wants to give the children something special for their birthday. She succeeds for six of them.

Your typical fic of the siblings recieving their names, expect in a slightly different direction. Grace sends out letters to the sibling’s mothers to ask what their names should have been and Five’s the one that never gets one. It’s sad and it hurts, but it’s so good.

#tua #Umbrella Academy #The Umbrella Academy #tua netflix #tua fanfic #tua fic rec #allison hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five hargreeves #number five #tua five #tua allison #fanfics #fanfic recs #fic recs #mine

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energyanon · 3 years

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Surprise reading as I can’t seem to shake off the curiosity. Ok, I’m gonna set them up in relation to this drama. Personally, I don’t believe it. NV would have to have various personality disorders in order for this to be true, among 5000 other reasons why that is not normal, sane human behaviour. But the Instagram.. so many things don’t match up. However, both me and another anon felt fuzzy headed when we were representing her.. maybe it’s not just her overthinking, maybe it’s something more relating to some kind of disorder, but that’s not my place to say. Let’s check it out. Once again I’m gonna type as I go.

I’ve decided for three set ups here: 1. NV, 2. The group chat as a whole as cited on said Instagram, and 3. Henry.

Set up 2. (The GC) first. I picked up NV and got a headache.

First flag: Natalie wanted to be on top of the GC… that’s weird..

Henry is at a distance but he is staring at them both. Starting to feel like I may have been wrong in my judgment here ha.. 😬 I’m really hoping it’s not true cause otherwise that’s fucking sad and NV has genuine issues. But, I’m ok with being wrong.

Alright, let’s start as NV (cause GC, I feel I already know their feelings regardless of if it’s true or not) FYI, I have moved NV to being close but not on top, as one energy on top of - group of energies would be much too hard to decipher.

NV:

Immediate dizziness. I feel very hot and my air con is currently blasting down upon me so it’s not me. The group chat feels very little to NV. like tiny, as in I could step on them. (1. This can mean they’re not even being seen, she barely cares about them, or 2. Can feel more powerful than) as we know in the screenshots the latter was supposedly the case, so I’m not going to cross that out just yet, but it feels more like I’m just not even seeing them. they’re dirt under my feet. They don’t really have her attention and she’s not super bothered by them, but once I brought her attention to it She does want to stamp it out, it’s a complete nuisance. She wants to cover them up. I gave them a little tap, which ended turning into many taps which turned into actually wanting to destroy their rep all together. so she’s angry about it. (At this point I don’t know if she’s angry about This situation being a lie, as in she’s sick of these people doing this to her, or if she’s genuinely angry at the group for exposing her) the tiny dirt now feels a bit bigger but more like a basketball sized nuisance. She still feels bigger than them, it’s just that this is so ANNOYING. Still wants to rip them up into little pieces, she’s annoyed, she’s moving me around a whole bunch, she’s angry, she’s frustrated, she’s tying her hair up, she’s not having it. like it’s fucking annoying. this is all so ANNOYING. She’s stressed, she’s annoyed, she wants this over and done with.

No more energy shifts. Incoming questions.

Q: do you know them?

No I don’t fucking know them

Ok do you think that was a friend who exposed you?

I don’t know I can’t think I- (just a bunch of profanities) [note: it’s like she’s keyboard smashing in my brain right now it’s REALLY annoyed]

Jaw clenched, I’m swaying from side to side my hands are on my hips, hair away from my face I want to move somewhere else but I need to deal with THIS FUCKING THING FIRST ISHDJFKSJXJDSNX.

god it is SO ANNOYING like if you guys were all in front of me right now you’d be heading me yelling and screaming and So irritated I’m so I’m SO Annoyed. I can’t even think of any other questions to ask cause I’m too busy getting keyboard smashed atm.

I’m gonna move to the group to just see if the intentions there are legit. I need a break from NV.

Ok the group:

the group have some anxiety, stomach dropped. They’re not angry they’re just looking at NV. None of them can be sure if It was NV - I think some of them doubt but it was a “get it out just in case” situation. At least one of them feel bad. Nervous jitters from my right leg. You know how you fidget when you’re waiting to get in trouble?

Q: do you believe it was NV?

There are many of them so I’ll just say it as it came up. No (1) I don’t know (majority) one of them is a yeah, feels like the leader of the group but even then the yeah isn’t a solid resounding yeah. But it’s also not like a “yeaahhh?” It’s like I’m just gonna make a decision and it’s yeah.

Q: are you mad that nv is with Henry

I’m not mad (1)

We’re not mad, we just think he could do better. (Majority)

Q: why did you do this

To expose her

Q: why to expose her if you didn’t truly believe it was her

There is a very weak “it was the right thing to do” like.. when I say weak it feels like they don’t even believe that, but they’ve convinced themselves it is..?

Q: at any point did you lie or fabricate the screenshots?

Resounding no, but one solid yes from someone.

Q: Yes?

One of them.

Q: which one

(I was shown one of them, it was one of the purple and black ones, one where there isn’t much purple - I’ll have to check it after)

Ok, my leg isn’t going crazy anymore - there is just an expectant waiting. They’re looking at NV, she’s taller than them but not much taller (not like they’re a basketball being looked down upon, just normal human heights) the feeling is just waiting. Waiting to see if there is a response. That’s it, that’s all I’ve been given I can’t even conjure Up another question. (Sometimes when the energy is done sharing its just done, I can’t force it past that and I’m not in my right to)

Checking Henry:

Henry is tired, he’s disillusioned, he’s just staring into space. The other two are in front of him (facing one another) but he doesn’t see them. Genuinely no thoughts from him it’s complete disassociation. But I did ask if he knew about this situation, he doesn’t seem to know yet.

And yet he’s still disassociating.. the thought “I don’t know what to do” came up, but it was so slow and fractured it was like… you know that video of that kid who’s trying to say have you ever had a dream that you could do anything but he muddles it up for 20 seconds before getting to it? It’s like that (I’ll link it when I’m done)

“I don’t kn- I just I - what do I ev- wh-“ and it keeps going but imagine it taking FOREVER for him to say it.

He’s stuck in the disassociation. Weird choice, but I need to do it. I’m gonna slap him. (Which yes, means slapping myself)

Ok, that didn’t make much difference, he’s still super tired, he still didn’t see the other two but I tried to bring his attention to NV and he was already turning around to leave “I don’t care, I don’t care I’m too tired” and then he turned back and said to NV to clarify “I do care, but I don’t, I’m tired” and I took him out cause he was walking out of there anyway.

Back to NV one last time, and then I’m doing other stuff with my day and then I’ll do CE tonight.

It’s always dizziness with this chick, I swear. Everytime im with her I’m dizzy, I’m losing blood pressure. She’s calmed down at least but fuck I’m dizzy more dizzy than I usually am (can be her, could also be me continuously going into different energies, I don’t tend to feel like this though but don’t rule it out)

Dizzy, Im not tired, but fatigued like I don’t need to sleep, I need to just lay down. I see the GC but they can fuck off I don’t care. She wants to kick them out of the way. As soon as she does she wants to leap out at them and tear them to shreds. She goes from 1- 100 real quick. I don’t want her to destroy my representative for the group, cause I don’t want anything to accidentally manifest in real time for the actual group, so im going to create a little thing that she can destroy instead - just in case there are any energetic consequences of her destroying the representation of the GC. Found a little piece of paper I called it placebo GC and we’re tearing it up.

Ok so, I got her to tear up Placebo GC. She got raveonous with it. I am now coming to believe that NV has some major anger issues. To be fair, im feeling how annoyed she is and I get it honestly it’s the only way to get out this level of emotion. It’s not healthy, therapy is needed for sure, but I’m not gonna sit here like this and say that she’s overreacting cause when you’re feeling like she is, there’s no where else for this to go

She ripped them up, crushed them, tore at them with her teeth, crushed them into a little ball again and chucked them away and then we just screamed “FUCK!” For literally about 3 minutes and she was LIVID. I’ve sat her down now while I write this, she’s still annoyed, she’s not livid.

Interesting to note though, all throughout the screaming there was never a single thought that came up that was like “why can’t they just let US live, why can’t we just BE together” she really doesn’t seem to care about the affect it has on her and Henry’s relationship, she’s just annoyed people are talking shit. Like she just doesn’t care that people won’t accept them.

Oh! I haven’t checked on her vs. HC so lemme do that. I wanna see if she checks up on him too, cause from a normal relationship perspective, this would affect him too. But let’s see.

Yup, ok, nothing from her end, if anything she’s giving him the silent treatment. Like she’s looking at him in the way you do when your partner has said something stupid and you’re too angry to answer. But she doesn’t care that he’s there. I went to him also to see if he would comfort her and he was just a brick wall, kind of more like “here I am I’m showing up but idc. I really idc. Sorry that you’re going through it I guess.” Both of them had the ~aura~ (I don’t know how to explain it on text) of “this did not go as planned” however, they didn’t SAY that, just as an FYI, it was just a bit of a shared feeling translated into words.

That’s it. I’m ending it there. I’ve got life admin to do, be back later for a CE reading as promised. :)

#ooo I should also check on the “quote NV unquote in the Instagram #fuck that would have been a good idea to see if it was legit her or not.#I’ll leave the set up as it is #do my stuff #do CE as promised and then try that out #reading #nv #hc

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duelofthefatesmp3 · 3 years

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i DO actually wanna know how youd make kotor 3 !!!!!

this ask has been sitting on my inbox for so long on PURPOSE! i wanted some time to re read the revan book + watch some swtor gameplays so i could give a concrete answer about why the book and swtor arent satisfactory and what i would do instead (im not like. a storytelling god so i this is just my PERSONAL idea). under the cut!

to begin with, what's wrong with revan the book and swtor, mai?

i am very fond of swtor i think it was such a nice idea to have an "open" world game set in star wars old republic time. but ultimately, it was not a good conclusion to revan and meetra's storyline! now, i don't really know what happened in the development of the third kotor game (if there ever was a plan for one) but it's clear they dropped the ball on that and decided to start a whole different project. i don't think we can blame disney for that one, because it was announced on 2008, launched in 2011, and disney had just bought star wars that year. so who knows.

the thing is that it's painfully evident that a bunch of the story that was gonna be in the third game, ended up in the book + misc parts of swtor. much of the book feels like a gameplay.

now, it was clear when the book was planned that they wanted to keep revan's story open so when the game came out, they could have a cool Revan storyline so he could make a cool villain appearence and draw in some of that kotor nostalgia. which ehhhhhh. uh. i don't really think did any favors for revan's character. he didn't have a satisfactory arc (I'm not saying "a happy ending" because good arcs aren't always happy) but at least some closure?

revan went through many big events in his life. we didnt need to keep his ass in stasis for his fun villain moments 300 years later. we already had what we wanted from him: jedi turned sith turned jedi again to defeat a terrible threat. that was it we could have let it there and it would have been cool! but then they decided to drag and drag his story just to leave him right where he was before. he just suffered a little more in the in-between.

you could say he finally redeemed himself of all of his crimes this way, but wasn't that the whole purpose of the first kotor game (and would have been the purpose of the 3rd?)

swtor does not centre revan in his own narrative. he's a side character for the player to experience. and look, i get it, we've had a different protag on each game, why not have another one in this one. well, because the protagonist has no personal relationship with revan. meetra was one of his closest friends, and fought with him. there is a connection that can be exploited. but the swtor protagonist is just some guy 300 years in the future who happens to stumble into revan and his life. not even his descendants get to fully interact with revan.

also, there is the fact that revan is not the centre of the game itself, only of a particular storyline. and it's weird, because swtor could have happened without revan's involvement.

ms. meetra surik, ms. bastila shan, women of the world I'm sorry

so it's no news that star wars is misogynistic as fuck right. cause it is.

so you decide to make your gender neutral protagonist a guy. then you decide to make your other gender neutral protagonist a woman. cool. now let's guess who gets underdeveloped, turned into a plot device without reason, and promptly fridged in the most unceremoniously fashion just to fullfil some manpain moments. which one do you think got that treatment.

i know the revan book is supposed to be about revan, but why make meetra go through a whole arc just to undermine her character and turn her into the faithful servant of the guy? she leaves everything behind for him, sacrifices herself for him, hell not even dead is she not serving the guy. and she was the second game’s protagonist! she beat up a bunch of powerful people and now she’s just meh, there? she had so many interesting ways to interact with revan (meeting kreia, revan’s first master, encountering another force consuming entity, etc.)

meetra went through a whole arc about dealing with the guilt of doing something horrible and having the consequences of it cut her from the force. we see her broken, then slowly come back to the world and reconnect herself with the force, then stop running and face the consequences of her role in the war. thats such a cool character with tons of potential! and nothing happened!

then we got bastila who is. a whole deal. so you make her go through a “promising jedi who defeated revan, to questioning reluctant companion, to fell into the dark side, to was redeemed thanks to her bond to revan, who helped her come back because he’d been through the same experience” arc, and then you decide to push her to the side to have a baby?? which is... its clear that the writer didnt know what to do with her (or with the other characters outside of canderous) so hey, lets get her to marry revan and have a baby.

my ideal kotor 3

to preface, im not a game developer, so some of my choices could be stunted by what a kotor rpg can do lol. of course, it would follow the same mechanics and have the same format as the first two, because consistency!

the fun way to start the game, would be from scourge’s perspective. we get to play as a sith! i’d even say you get to change scourge’s name and gender and looks (i know sith have different looks)

in scourge’s storyline, we get from his arrival to normound kaas, to his talks with nissyris, to his missions working for her. in some of these, we can make scourge lean into the dark or the light side! fun! plus we get some exposition with dialogue options. it all continues untill we get to nissirys story about the emperor. we get a fucked up cutscene of his childhood and then BOOM when its over, we see revan waking up from a nightmare and their pov starts.

ok, as for revan’s story, since we’d have to pick it up from where kotor ended, i’d have a little cutscene of revan back into the ebon hawk, with bastila, and them telling the crew to take them to courascant. then cut to a council meeting where revan and bastila get scolded in private, then rewarded by the republic. i would also like to see some revan mournink malak’s death mayhaps. since he was their childhood friend and all.

i would 100% scrape the marriage and two years passed part. as the book said, the council had no use for revan aside from the legend(tm), so why would they stay in courascant. revan was very alienated from the jedi at that point, despite being back in the “light side”

then like, to revan asking around for meetra and other jedi from the mandalorian wars, we can cash in that atris cameo, then revan starts to have these visions about the sith emperor, and maybe we could get a playable dream sequence about revan’s fight with mandalore the ultimate (I KNOW I WOULD LIKE TO SEE IT.) and we get the whole exposition to mandalore telling revan that the sith are behind it all. i believe we should get a bunch of these flashback/dream sequences of revan’s past doing shit. cut to revan burying the mask in a planet, then back to the present. we see a bunch of mission and juhani scenes trying to reach him, but he keeps pushing them away. revan and bastila meet canderous, travel to the ice planet, meet clan ordo (god i love clan ordo) you get the whole quest, you decide weather to spare veela or not, maybe you get a cheeky mandalorian companion (force sensitive mando oh?) and leave canderous behind.

we can visit like, a couple more planets searching for clues maybe, etc. then when reaching nathema, you are forced to go alone as revan, get to explore nathema a bit (raiding ancient location yay) nathema as a location can be so fun because you can have it weaken you hp bar and also you cant use the force (which, in game is pretty cool)

then we get to scourge and nyssiris arriving to the planet, they fight but since theres two of them and revan doesn’t have the force, they beat the shit out of them, and while running away, they get in a fight with bastila and the companions in the ebon hawk (ebon hawk shooting game my hated). bastila manages to get a glimpse of revan’s thoughts before they take them away. but the ebon is so ruined it takes bastila, t3 and the mandalorian a while to fix it, and they get stuck into the unknown regions for a while. the ebon hawk is left in an outer rim planet with t3 fixing it, bastila and the mandalorian run back to the jedi council, only to get caught in the middle of the jedi civil war. we can have bastila choosing to hide in courascant and trying to make sense of what she saw, reading texts about the sith empire, trying to plot a course to where they took revan (more atris! but shes pissed at her now)

cutscene to meetra’s pov, leaving malachor v behind, getting calls from everyone at the hawk (atton my beloved) but just as she’s leaving she gets a force message from revan, calling for her to find him and sending visions of normound kaas. then, through her force bond with visas, she tells her not to go because they’re gay and in love and whatnot.

then boom, she gets intercepted by bastila’s ship, with the mandalore and the other mandalorian (yes i do love having a bunch of mandos on board) and they go on their way to find revan.

now i want there to be an underlying message of “we can’t take our friends with us because we have to do this ALONE we’re powerful JEDI we don’t need our FRIENDS.” meetra gets asked if she wants to bring any friends and she’s like “no. we have to do this alone.” along the game you get constantly contacted by other game characters, you get the chance to talk to them or ignore them.

so, we get back to nathema, and meetra has a whole “holy shit this is just like darth nihilus but ten times worse. but i beat darth nihilus. i can do this!” then she finds peace in this place without the force, we get a whole speech about how the odds arent against them, they find a way to normound kaas, and get going.

in normound kaas i thought about them getting a whole mission about how to infiltrate the citadel, only to get helped by scourge. he joins the party, we get a little flashback of all the years he spent trying to make revan remember and they storm the citadel. we get to fight the dark council members, fun! then we get to free revan and the game switches povs. bastila hands the mask to revan and he has a cool “yes im revan im pretty cool” then a nice heartfelt yet rushed reunion with everyone.

then have a small CONVERSATION WITH MEETRA where she talks about the sith triumvirate she defeated and revan is impressed with her and is like “we are the last hope of the jedi, we’ve learned to walk between light and dark, we’ve done horrors but we can still make things right, our experience has made us more powerful etc.

then they fight the imperial guard, ALL OF THEM, meetra revan and scourge make it into the throne room, they all fight the emperor. meetra shows the emperor that she has seen the void, she has cut herself from the force, and she’s not afraid of him, revan supports her, talks about redemption and hope and NOW.

NOW. how the alternate endings could go:

if you decide to take scourge through the light side, he manages to form a forcebond with meetra and revan since they’ve both teached something about the duality of the force, they get 100% stronger, but its still not enough. UNTIL. a bunch of ships (jedi and mandalorian, even non republic ships) arrive to dormound kaas, the gangs from each game storm the room and together they make the emperor and his guard a bunch of punching bags. they beat him! (unknow to them, this was a backup body because the emperor can do weird shit like that, and has only debilitated his plan, but he’ll come back dont worry). then they fly back to the republic, to tell the chancellor about the sith threat, and preparations for the war begin. meetra and revan get to live happily ever after for a while, then they die away from the jedi or the sith (waaah im thinking about them helping canderous rebuild the mandalorians, and them doing it since they killed so many mandos in the war)

BECAUSE IN THE END KOTOR IS ABOUT LEARNING TO PROCESS TRAUMA AND RECOGNIZE YOUR MISTAKES AND LIVE WITH THE GUILT WHILST TRYING TO FIX THE MISTAKES YOU MADE ALONG THE WAY. AND ALSO TO HEAL FROM TRAUMA YOU NEED A SUPPORT SYSTEM SO EVEN THOUGH IT MAKES SENSE TO YOU YOU SHOULDNT PUSH PEOPLE WHO LOVE YOU AWAY. AND THINGS AREN’T BLACK AND WHITE ITS COMPLICATED SO YOU DONT END UP BACK ON SQUARE ONE YOURE A CHANGED PERSON.

if you decide to dark side scourge further, he betrays revan and meetra, they all die, and the emperor unleashes his angry lightning or whatever on everyone + a bunch of visions of all the enemies of past mocking them, and their loved ones suffering. and since you’ve had that “im not calling my friends bullshit” no one comes, you die there, and the emperor is only stalled for a few years. swtor ensues. scourge becomes the emperor’s hand.

now you could of course bring revan and meetra up in swtor, but maybe only as force ghost guides, or have some of the other characters of the game have relevance (visas tries to heal the miraluka planet 2021)

WELL THAT WAS A LOT OF WORDS. HOPE THIS IS SATISFYING ENOUGH

#this is bonkers but ive been thinking about it since 2011 so.#wow 10 years since i played kotor. wretched little game.#also if i switch pronouns midway its because it would make it clearer #kotor 3 rewrite

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cupiiid · 3 years

Text

//March 27th 1967//

Chris heard the door close from her place on the floor. "Babe, I'm home!" Ginny's cheery voice bounced from the doorway. She heard the clatter of keys and the dropping of a bag. it all she could think about was how much of a disaster her day had been. First, she'd been late to the office because her train had been late, then she realised she'd forgotten her lunch and finally, the asshole higher-ups had humiliated her again because she was a woman. If was bullshit! She was better than half the fuckers there.

"Honey?" Chris was snapped out of her thoughts by the sound of her lover's voice searching for her.

"'M in here, Gin," she whined from the floor of their living room. Before she knew it, Ginny was standing over her, a confused look on her face, tilting he'd head in that adorable way she did that made her look a lot like a puppy, a habit she'd adopted from Neil.

"What're you doing down there, love?" Chris groaned again and put her hands over her eyes. She felt Ginny sit down next to her and pull her head into her lap, gently stroking her hair.

"Rough day?" She asked gently. Chris nodded, not removing her hands from her face. "D'you wanna talk about it." Chris sighed.

"It's just been a bunch of shit honestly." She removed her hands to get a look at Ginny, resting them on her stomach instead. She saw her lover's face harden.

"Is it those squares from the office again? If they've messed with you again, I'll kill them myself." Chris huffed a laugh at her lover's antics.

"It's just the normal stuff, no need to get involved." Ginny gave an irritated sigh.

"It's not fine, Chris. They're treating you like shit for no reason. Your writing is incredible! Why does it matter that you're a woman?" Chris smiled up at her, the other woman didn't notice, too caught up in her antics. "It's such bullshit! Do you think Todd would have to go through shit like that? No. You've worked just as hard as he has and and people still don't take you seriously." Chris hummed and traced Ginny's lips with her fingers.

"Todd still has to deal with a lot of shit. Being a woman just isn't one of them." Ginny frowned.

"Yeah, that's true. Still sucks though. I hate having to watch people belittle you. You're the most amazing person I've ever met." Chris grinned and sat up, facing her lover. She took the brunette's face in her hands.

"Look, it sucks. I'm not going to tell you it doesn't. Everyday, I wish it wasn't like this and that I'd be respected by everyone but that's just the way it is." Ginny was about to cut in but she didn't let her. "But, that doesn't mean I'm going to stop fighting. I've earned my place here. Plus, I have you and Todd and Neil and Charlie and while I'd love outside approval, the only real approval I need is you guys'." Ginny's hands came up and over her own, smiling proudly.

"I love you. I love you so much." Chris leaned forward and met her in a dizzying kiss, trying to communicate the pure love and adoration she had for the woman in front of her.

"I love you too." She whispered into her lips. "I love you more than anything." Ginny's lips traveled down her throat and for a while, she didn't think of work (or anything other than Ginny for that matter) at all.

Some while later, the two of them sat of the couch together, watching the Andy Griffith Show. It was a nice evening, it was sprinkling lightly outside and the cool weather made Chris feel better. Around five thirty, Ginny checked her watch.

"Shit," she muttered. Chris pressed a kiss to her jaw.

"What's wrong, love?"

"Todd's out late tonight, meeting with someone about his book or something and I don't think he left Neil anything to eat." Chris snickered. Neil, as lovely as he was, couldn't cook for shit. If they left him to his own devices, he'd end up with burnt mac and cheese and half the kitchen blacked with soot.

"Should we invite him over for dinner then?" Ginny looked at her.

"Are you sure? We can just relax with the two of us if you're not up to it."

"Have him over, he is your husband after all." Ginny huffed before speaking.

"You know that's only a technicality, Noel!" She said before playfully hitting Chris on the shoulder as she laughed. Once their laughter died down, Ginny pressed her lips go Chris' in a silent thank you.

It was true. Earlier that year, all four of them had a wedding ceremony. First, a hurried one at a cheap chapel where Neil and Ginny exchanged vows (trying their hardest to make the other laugh) before Chris and Todd did the same thing (also making up total bullshit). Then, after that trainwreck, once they were legally married to avoid suspicion, the four met their friends in Chris and Ginny's living room for a real (and very much illegal) wedding.

Neil and Todd went first, Charlie as Neil's best man and Jeff as Todd's while Knox 'officiated' the rest of them crowded around in the way too small room and cheered once they kissed at the end.

Ginny and Chris were second. It's still the happiest day of her life. Even though she's legally married to Todd, the look on Ginny's face when she read her vows and the hollering and champagne and cake made everything worth it. Cameron was her own best man, Charlie's partner, Alex, being Ginny's (those two had made fast friends and they were overjoyed to be Ginny's best person)

They were luckier than most. They had managed to find a house for people like them in New York, two buildings connected by a basement door. Chris and Ginny lived in one with Neil and Todd in the other, creating an allusion of two straight couples living next to each other instead of the truth, one person from each household being able to switch quickly if necessary. She wouldn't give up this little life if hers for the world.

Chris got up to start making the pasta as Ginny ran to go fetch Neil. As the water was boiling, the two brunette's trailed into the kitchen, Neil carrying a bottle. He smiled brightly when he saw her.

"Chris! Thank you for having me over." He pressed a kiss to her cheek before passing the bottle to Ginny and leaning against their dining table. "I brought some wine as a way to thank you." He smiled his classic Neil Perry grin as Ginny examined the label.

"Neil," she snorted, reading the label. "this is grape juice." Chris burst out laughing as Neil hurried over and took the bottle from Ginny.

"No, no, I could've sworn this was wine." The two women laughed at Neil's fumbling.

"Jesus Perry, you get one role without me and you become a mess!" It was true, for one of the first times in their careers, Neil had gotten a rather large role without her. Shortly after, Ginny had managed to snag an equally impressive part in another show but it still felt weird not seeing them together.

Neil grinned and rolled his eyes. "Well, it'll have to do."

Neil sat at the dining table as they worked on the spaghetti, not trusting him to help after what happened last time. Once the dish was done, the three of them migrated to the living room with their plates and glasses of grape juice.

They squished on the couch that was really only made for two (there was another couch plus a couple of arm chairs but that couch had the best view of the television and none of them were going to give that up) and watched some sappy soap opera that was playing while laughing at the characters and talking about their days.

"...and then Lizzie stepped on my toes again!" The girls wheezed, almost falling off the couch in the process. "It's not funny! This is the seventh time it's happened!" Ginny wiped tears from her eyes.

"Like you didn't do that when I taught you how to dance, you hypocrite!" Neil waved his hand around wildly.

"Yeah- when I was seventeen!" The hysterics dies down after a while and they all sat in a comfortable silence.

"Do you remember when I taught you to dance so you could impress Todd at the Welton-Henley dance in highschool? The one Chris snuck into." Neil nodded along knowingly. Chris looked at them shocked.

"That's what you two were up to?" She asked. Neil nodded.

"Yep. And if didn't even work." He sighed. Chris looked at him indignantly.

"Are you kidding?!? You should have seen him, he was all over you when you danced with Ginny. We couldn't stop looking at you two all night." Neil blushed before realising her words.

"Wait- we? You were looking at Gin?" Now it was Chris' turn to flush as she felt Ginny's eyes on her.

"Well... yeah. That's what got Todd and I bonding in the first place. Both of our pining for two hopeless theatre kids." She was met with two sharp 'hey!'s.

After Neil had left, they got into their bed and Ginny circled her arms around Chris' waist, resting her head on the nape of her neck. Chris hummed in content. "Was what you said earlier true? About watching me that dance?" Chris laughed and placed her hands on top of Ginny's.

"Of course. I couldn't take my eyes off you. I drank so much spiked punch just to get away from the feeling really." She felt a soft press of lips to her neck.

"I love you, Chris. I love you so much I don't even know how to describe it." Chris turned in her arms to face her lover.

"You're such a sap." She said lightly, tracing her face with her fingers. Ginny closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling. "I love you too. So much." A smile tugged on the brunette's lips.

Chris' life wasn't perfect by any means. She was living as a lesbian with a secret lover in 1967 and trying to make her way as a journalist in a male dominated industry while misogyny ran rampant without consequence. It would always be hard, at least to a degree, but right here, in bed with the person she loved more than anything in this world, all was good.

#just a sweet drabble #i feel like i do so much anderperry so i wanted to give these two some spotlight #i love them <33 #ft neil because i love this dynamic #dead poets society #chris noel #ginny danbury #dps #noelbury #neil perry #todd anderson

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makiema · 4 years

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I love Dead Apple so much and not just bc it’s fan service galore but also bc it’s riddled with a shit ton of symbolism which gives like a LOT of insight into characters! and also character dynamics!! The best example is ofc Fyodor’s monologue that has so many implications in what 4-5 lines but, my personal favorite is the Soukoku moment. part of it has to do with the fact that they’re da OTP but that aside, the meaning behind it and the representation of it all is so subtle and beautiful, I fall in love every time. so anyway thought i’d share my thoughts on the scene uh putting it below the cut bc it got long lol

First off the idea of Dazai enclosed in a circle, above the ground, beyond what can be called the realm of humans, can be construed as an allusion to his detachment from everyone. And, in a way, the manifestation of his ability “no longer human”. The main theme/conflict in DA is characters vs their abilities (and by extension, abilities represent issues each character faces and eventually overcomes) but a physical representation of “no longer human” is not possible like it’s not an animal/person/anything; it’s more like a concept. so, it’s represented on a symbolical level with Dazai trapped in a circle up above, cut off from the human world under. And the fact that Chuuya is the one who breaks into the circle is a reference to how he shares his pain and faces the same issue— isolation. (Only difference is that Dazai’s detachment is self-imposed while Chuuya’s isolation comes from the alienation he’s subjected to by others) This motif is explored in Fifteen too when Dazai decides to live after learning about Chuuya’s identity. But anyway coming back to DA, the main conflict (ability vs human) is resolved by winning against the ability and also by accepting it to a certain degree (like when Kyouka says that she needs Demon Snow) Now Dazai does it too— he wins against “no longer human” and also accepts it; but all that happens with Chuuya in the frame. The moment he touches Chuuya, he uses his ability to save him which shows his acceptance of an ability that others detest and even, he might personally hate at times, but that can be used to save someone. Unfortunately this ability also represents his nullification from being human—the deeper psychological issue as far as Dazai is concerned. However, someone does break in and make it possible for him to fall back on the ground, in extension, makes him human again/reminds him of his humanity/brings him back to the human world. And that ofc has to be Chuuya, someone who does share this issue of alienation thanks to him being half Arahabaki and half human. so, basically the subtext here is that just like Chuuya needs Dazai to save him from himself (something that is literally represented) Dazai needs Chuuya too (something that is represented thru a series of metaphors, symbols and motifs) Chuuya is the figure that makes Dazai think living is worth it simply bc he has it far worse than Dazai, he has a literal God trapped in him and his first 8 years is a void, so if someone that alien/“non human” can still push on then why can’t he (this is the message in Fifteen) and the message in DA is that Chuuya experiences the same isolation that Dazai does. The freeze frame of both of them, enclosed in a dividing bubble, cut off from everything, is strongly suggestive of this. so, Chuuya can and should be the one who helps Dazai win against his ability or rather, fight against his issue; he is the person who can help Dazai reconsider human ties and consequently, make him feel like he’s as much a part of this world as anyone else. because when isolation is shared, it doesn’t really feel like isolation anymore. the sharing becomes significant and like a doorway— it is the first of many potential bonds that are in fact possible for Dazai, giving him a chance at belonging. just like he belongs beside Chuuya, just like his ability can be used in tandem with Chuuya’s, he can, in fact, belong with others too and co-exist with them along with his ability. The things separating him from others are his own fear of loss, his uncanny intelligence and his weird ass ability but, with Chuuya in his life, the gulf closes bc Chuuya is far too strong to die on him and actually needs Dazai’s ability to survive; Chuuya is quite possibly the only person grateful for Dazai’s ability because it’s literally a life saver in his case and also, Dazai’s intelligence doesn’t put him on a solitary pedestal (like Fyodor) bc Chuuya has enough physical strength to counter it and hence, stand his ground against it. He has been doing that since they met and thanks to their rivalry, Dazai didn’t end up developing a God complex like Fyodor. (he still has an annoying superiority complex but it could have gotten worse if Chuuya wasn’t there to sort of humble him) Chuuya can stand beside Dazai as his equal and he’s imbued with every human quality imaginable; he is entirely reliant on the connections he has forged and values and embodies qualities like trust and loyalty to a profound extent, so he becomes the key for Dazai, the key to save Dazai from himself, from the darkest part of himself. The darkest part of Dazai is actually his double, Fyodor and by the end of DA, Dazai is with people while Fyodor is not which signifies that Chuuya has indeed saved him. When Dazai says, “I hope that man fulfilled his loneliness” with a soft smile, it’s not just an observation, it’s more than that— it’s a v subtle personal realization. so what DA implies is that Chuuya can and does reach him at a place where no one else can. and that is something that serves as a constant reminder to Dazai that he’s not really non-human/cancelled from human society like he thinks he is. Just by existing, Chuuya helps Dazai overcome all three of his issues:

suicidal tendencies— he thinks living is worth a try as opposed to his prev conclusion that there is nothing worth prolonging a life of suffering.

isolation— there’s a strong sense of belonging and connection with chuuya in DA that, in turn, foreshadows the development of future connections with others something that Dazai does crave but, doesn’t/can’t pursue bc of his own fear of loss (oda and ango) and also bc people idolize him too much and altho it doesn’t seem too bad on the surface, it does end up alienating him bc the dependency is working one way (akutagawa and atsushi)

superiority complex— he counters Fyodor by saying that even if humans are ‘sinfully stupid’ (and who is a better example of this than chuuya lol. the fact that the panel of fyodor saying this comes right after a chuuya panel is no conincidence it’s fairly telling) there’s nothing wrong with it! dazai’s superiority complex could have gotten worse and developed into a god complex just like fyodor’s had chuuya not strived to maintain an equal footing with him or if he hadn’t seen chuuya, someone who is actually half-god, going out his way for people and in a way, being more “human” than he ever can bc chuuya considers himself at the same level as others, if not lower (i mean, his self esteem is so low that he thinks he has to swear loyalty to a p*do) unlike dazai. so yeah that self-sacrificing nature and sense of loyalty, which may seem “sinfully stupid” is something appreciable to Dazai simply bc empathy, loyalty, trust,etc are things that human connections are based on. things that dazai lack, but chuuya embodies. things that dazai wishes he had so he could belong. so anyway, my point is chuuya just being himself does a number on dazai’s superiority complex whcih in turn helps him challenge fyodor!

All in all from the way Dazai and Chuuya’s arcs and their interactions are planned out, it’s safe to say they are indeed soulmates and I’m not trying to push this romantically, bc altho the canon is strongly suggestive, it’s not of romance per se it’s more like suggesting how they need each other to complete and save each other. Like, Dazai needs to incorporate Chuuya’s qualities and vice versa to become better versions of themselves and also needs each other on a very literal level just to survive/live on. Asagiri mightn’t draw them holding hands or smth or use conventional soulmate tropes/proofs that’s fanfic material but I’m just saying that it is v much canon that they really do complete each other and absolutely can’t survive w/o each other and that to me is really really beautiful <3

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #soukoku #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #bsd meta #bsd thoughts #i wish i could talk abt fifteen too #and the other symbols peppered thru out the manga #but that'd be LONG long #and i don't have enough time rn #but anyway the symbolism in DA is the best one tbh #so yeah #the gloves/bandages parallel is also v nice doe 🥺#like the way gloves is an attempt for chuuya to cover up his inhuman parts #and bandages for Dazai is the physical representation of the barrier he puts b/w humself and others #; ; sobs #they so belong together #plus the way chuuya is like haha u suicidal maniac @dazai #but the fact that he is just as much self destructive #and the way dazai is jealous of chuuya simply bc mf wud get stabbed than cut off people #smth that dazai cudnt imagine doing before s3 #no wonder fyodor was so unsettled bc ofc someone like him wudnt do that but whos gonna tell fyodor that dazai is learning from his soulmate #and has come a long way #also not @15 yo dazai saving chuuya by assuring him it's okay to live for himself #these bois out here saving each other and helping each other live thru everything #.....fuck #im emo

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homebody-nobody · 4 years

Text

you’re a part of me

(WHAT?? Jax wrote ANOTHER fic?? THREE FICS?? in TWO WEEKS?? I know, I’m shocked too. We’re gettin closer and closer to bein a Real Fic Writer lads.) How many juke first kiss fics will you write, Jax? all of them. as many as I want. I dunno. you're an adult obsessed with a tweeny-bopper show. shut up. who even has the patience for 5 +1s in this house it's 3 +1 and only barely bc I don't know how structured fic works so it's not even separate like it's supposed to be. anyway enjoy some dumb teenagers falling in love if the dialogue is cringe sorry lol I was trying to stay in the tone of the show and may have gone a little bit too disney channel (Also if you see typos/the same adjective used twice in one sentence/paragraph, no you didn't I don't edit it makes me nervous) ------------------------------- (ao3) ------------------------------ '... Luke has thrown out any semblance of personal space. He orbits around her just as closely as the others, no longer threatened by or hyper-aware of the consequences of his proximity. Basically, he’s getting entirely too comfortable.'

(3 times Julie and Luke almost kissed and 1 time they did) ------------------------------------ Luke is overly physical. Theoretically, Julie already knew this. She’s seen him with the boys, the way he lives in other people’s space, hanging off Reggie and lurking next to Alex, not caring where his lanky limbs or knees or elbows end up, even if it’s in other people’s ribs. He was never like that with her, too afraid of the crushing disappointment that came when she phased through his hands. But now, there isn’t the strange, tingles-up-her neck way-weird, way-wrong sensation that came when she accidentally brushed through him. So even though Julie’s used to keeping a respectful distance, Luke has thrown out any semblance of personal space. He orbits around her just as closely as the others, no longer threatened by or hyper-aware of the consequences of his proximity. Basically, he’s getting entirely too comfortable.

She notices it the first time during rehearsal, when they’re hashing out the particulars of a melody -- Luke wants it to go down, and Julie thinks it should go up. She plunks herself down at the grand piano to prove that her idea will sound better, fanning the half-finished sheet music out across the top, pointing out the measure they’re arguing over, smudged and crinkled from repeated erasings.

Luke narrows his eyes at her from across the room, his face set in his trademark (adorable) grumpy expression. “It just sounds better!” she argues. “Listen.” She puts her hands on the keys, left hand hitting the chord, right dancing over her proposed melody. “So please, keep chasing me…” she sings, building to the last word and sliding her voice over an intricate run ending in a step up. Looking up, she tilts her head, her wild hair piled into a tenuous bun, curly tendrils framing her face. Luke’s stomach does an interesting flip. “See?”

He stands up, swinging his guitar strap down across his chest before walking around her, putting his right hand over where hers had just been on the paper. He stands just behind her shoulder, sending goosebumps down her spine. “It should go down,” he insists. “It’ll flow better with the next line and then the break before the chorus makes more sense. Listen.” He puts his foot up on the bench and swings his guitar back up like it's an extension of him, playing a riff and singing the line they’re arguing about before dipping in to the next. “So please keep chasing me,” he sings, his voice gracefully stepping up and then back down, “Cause even though I’m runnin’, I know you’re the one I need.”

“You’re making it too simple!” she cries, slamming her hands down in her lap and turning to face him. She opens her mouth to continue the argument, but when she looks at him, she starts, finally realizing just how close he is. The toe of his sneaker brushes her leg, and he leans over the sheet music, closing her in against the piano. His dark eyebrows pull together, mouth slightly pinched as he concentrates, solid and strong and very much in her space. “Um --” she says.

He shrugs, shaking his head a little bit. “What,” he says, not understanding what she’s having a problem with. Julie’s eyes drop to his mouth, close and stupid kissable, and he notices the motion. The air crackles as both of them unconsciously draw closer, song forgotten, focused only on each other. Luke leans in, half an inch, and Julie’s breath hitches in her chest. This is stupid. She knows this is stupid. Luke is dead. Full ghost. Not real. Well, real, but not a viable option. He might have a physical presence now -- a very strong, very warm, very attractive physical presence -- but that doesn’t make him any more possible. And yet, here she is, pulled into him like he has his own gravitational field and she’s helpless to it. Luke licks his lips, and Julie tilts her chin up, fractional motion tiptoeing toward something irreversible and dangerous.

Just as she’s about to step over that uncrossable line, there’s an almighty crash. Both of their heads whip up in time to see Alex topple off his stool -- he’d fallen asleep as they were arguing. The noise wakes Reggie, whose head was lolling against his amp. “I didn’t do it!” he yells, flailing into sitting up straight.

Julie clears her throat and turns back to the keyboard, stretching her hands over the keys. “You’re, uh --” she says, glancing at Luke out of the corner of her eye to find him smirking in an infuriatingly adorable manner. “You’re right. It should go down.” He stands up straight, mildly surprised at his easy victory, and backs off from the piano to show Reggie the chords. They sketch out the verse and Alex adds a backing beat, the moment forgotten.

That is, until Carlos comes in to nag her to eat. Alex poofs out and Reggie dives behind his amp. Since the whole discovering-corporeality thing, they’re not totally sure if Julie’s the only one who can see them still, and they’d rather not have to explain to Julie’s dad what three teenage ‘holograms’ are doing living in his garage. Carlos delivers his message and then darts back inside, eager for dinner, and Julie stands up from the piano, gathering the half-finished song and tucking it into the folder she keeps her in-progress projects in.

Reggie emerges in a comic mess of limbs and grins at her, Alex poofing back on to his stool. “I’ll be back after dinner to finish this,” she says, hoping they don't notice the shake in her hands as she tucks the folder away. Luke pops his chin over the edge of the couch, behind which he’d taken cover.

“Hey Julie!” he calls, and she turns back to look at him. “Just remember; KISS.”

Her brain short-circuits, heart tripping over itself as she remembers his eyes on her, his shoulders and his hands and his stupid concentration face. “I, uh -- What are you --” she sputters.

A shit-eating grin spreads across Luke’s face as he puts his elbows on top of the couch and pushes himself up. “Keep it simple, stupid.”

Julie practically runs out of the garage. Alex raises an eyebrow, his gaze arcing from the door to land on Luke. “That was uh…” Luke schools his expression into one of false innocence. “Bold.” Luke rolls his eyes and brushes him off, but Reggie gives Alex a knowing look. Their friends are idiots.

It happens again one afternoon when Carlos has a baseball game and Julie has the house to herself. Or, so she thinks. She’s lazing around on the couch, avoiding her history homework spread out on the coffee table, Adventure Time babbling on the television. She’s slowly working her way through a bag of gummy bears and m&ms (her favorite candy combination), wearing an enormous hoodie that used to be her mom’s, home alone; life is fantastic. Until --

“Oh, sweet, cartoons!” Luke poofs into existence directly next to her on the couch, and she starts violently enough to shake candy into the couch cushions. Some of it lands on his chest, and he holds up a green gummy bear with a wistful expression. Julie just stares at him, still mildly in shock, definitely still annoyed, and really not in the mood to endure his moping about food when she was having a perfectly nice time by herself.

“Hey,” he says, either ignoring or unaware of what he’s just done to her heart rate and her peaceful afternoon. “You think now that I’m corporeal --” (he over-pronounces the word, having just learned it from Flynn days before) “I can eat like, regular human food?” It isn’t until he looks to her for an answer that he realizes what he’s just done. “Oh, sorry,” he says, that same stupid-ass grin settling on his face, not sorry even a little bit. “Did I spook ya?”

His glee at the pun, which he definitely stole from Reggie, sparkles in his gray-green eyes, and Julie’s heart, which had just started to recover from his sudden appearance, trips over itself one more time. Emerging from the shaken-up snowglobe of her brain, she blurts out her first thought. “You’re the worst,” she says, even while thinking the opposite.

He looks genuinely hurt for about half a second before turning the gummy bear towards her, too, and speaking for it. “You should be nice to Luke,” he says in an absurd voice. “He��s so handsome and talented!” He laughs at his own joke and pitches his voice up to continue with the bit, but she snatches the candy out of his hand and pops into her mouth, grinning. He feigns shock. “That bear could have had a family, Julie.”

“If they did, they’ll all be happy together in my stomach,” she says, eating another one to punctuate the statement. Luke laughs, and the sound has a heart-stopping melody of its own. It’s comfortable, the relationship that they’ve developed with each other. He always laughs at her jokes and is the first to offer her a compliment after rehearsal, and she loves his dorky sense of humor, even when she gives him a hard time about it. They write music and goof around, and even with the (very strong) undercurrent of romantic (she hopes) tension between them, a friendship sits comfortably on top. He’s only been in her life for a short time, but she can’t imagine it without him. Her feelings for him endanger that, so she does her best not to let it show. He asks her what she’s watching, and she explains the basic premise of the episode so that he can understand what’s going on.

She’s hyper-aware of him as they watch the show, and she envies the ease with which he occupies her space, his shoulder brushing hers, their knees occasionally bumping. He slouches all the way down on the couch, one foot kicked up on the table, turning the remote in his hands and messing with the battery cover, completely at home. (He’s always fiddling with something -- a pen, his necklace -- or bouncing his leg, or clicking a guitar pick between his teeth. It’s a habit that’s mostly adorable and only sometimes annoying.) If he notices her staring at him, he doesn’t say anything.

It takes a couple more episodes, but she finally relaxes, and the distance between them -- already spare -- vanishes, her shoulder tucked under his, her head angled toward him, their feet bumping on the table. Half her attention is on Finn and the land of Ooo, and half on the boy beside her, who doesn’t seem to give any indication that he’s thinking about this as much as she is. Luke has a way of pulling her in until she’s closer than she ever planned to be, like she can’t help but touch him. Ever since the night they played the Orpheum, he’s become magnetic, his presence a force she can’t resist. If she tilted her head down, just a fraction, it would be resting on his shoulder. What would he do? Would he shrug her off, or rest his head on hers? She watches his hands play with the remote, imagining what his strong, slender fingers would feel like laced with hers. She’s had crushes before, of course -- she liked Nick all the way from seventh grade up to this year -- but nothing so real and powerful as this.

“Don’t you think Finn sounds just like Reggie?” Luke asks, pulling her from her thoughts. She looks up at him, and he looks down at her, and -- oh.

He’s very close.

His eyes always remind her of an overcast sky, swirling with unknown depth, and they widen when they meet hers, filled with awe. Blood rushes in her ears, muting the TV, tuning out anything that isn’t him. Her heart is beating so hard and so fast she wonders peripherally if he can hear it, and then that thought fizzles out with the rest of any kind of logic when his gaze drops to her mouth. He’s going to kiss her. He’s going to kiss her!! Panic and elation and anticipation all scramble in her chest. She’s never kissed anyone before, and even though she’s never asked, she knows he probably has. What if she’s bad at it? She’s half freaking out and half telling herself to shut the hell up as he turns his entire body towards her, his hand reaching up to hold her face and --

The front door slams open, announcing Carlos and Ray. “Mija!!” her dad calls. Luke jerks back from her like he’s been burned, eyes filled with absolute terror, before he disappears.

“JULIEEEEE!!” Carlos hollers, launching himself across the living room at her and landing on her stomach, knocking the air out of her. Her arms come up around him automatically, despite all the sweat and the diamond dirt sticking to it. Feeling mildly shell shocked and like she’s been hit by a hell of a lot more than her little brother, she barely listens as Carlos and their dad babble over each other in an attempt at telling the story of Carlos’ game-winning home-base slide. She’ll be happy for him once her heart rate slows down.

Luke stays away for almost a full twenty-four hours after that particular mishap, long enough she almost asks Reggie and Alex if he talked to them about it. There’s about a thousand reasons not to, but mostly, she doesn’t know if she can even explain just what happened. She does tell Flynn, who launches into a very confusing monologue that starts with her admonishing Julie for thinking anything good can come from involving herself with a literal ghost and ends with her gushing about how many cute love songs they could write together, zero percent of which makes her feel better.

The only reason he doesn’t continue avoiding her is rehearsal, which, of course, he would never miss. She’s hoping to talk to him before they get started, but then the bus gets stuck in traffic and all of her boys are already set up with their instruments and having an impromptu jam session by the time she gets home. “What --” she hisses as she heaves the doors shut behind her. “Did I tell you guys about playing in here without me?” Alex shrugs and apologizes, and she can’t really be mad at Reggie, at least not for long.

But Luke -- he barely looks at her, nervous fingers dancing across a complicated riff even as the other boys stop playing. It takes a second of silence before he looks up to see the rest of his band staring at him. “Oh,” he says, the phrase ending in the discordant sound of fingernails on steel strings. “Yeah, right. Sorry.”

They get started, but nothing sounds right. Luke rushes the tempo and refuses to make eye contact with anyone, spinning off into fancy riffs that have no place in the song they’re working on. Reggie keeps trying to keep up with him, tripping up Alex and frustrating Julie, and when the song grinds to a cacophonous halt for the fourth time, she stands up from the piano. Reggie takes a step back.

“What is your problem?” she practically yells, stomping over to Luke. He’s been surly and unusually stubborn, and the shift from his usual cheerful, passionate demeanor builds her own stewing anxieties to a dangerous head.

“It’s not my problem you can’t keep up,” he says, and then, after watching the words register in Julie’s expression, immediately regrets it. Alex’s eyebrows shoot up and Reggie makes a very soft ‘ooooohhh’ noise under his breath.

“It’s not keeping up if you can’t hold a steady tempo,” she says, too upset over his refusal to cooperate to catch the reaction from her bandmates.

“Okay, so maybe I was rushing,” he admits, trying to walk it back. But Julie’s on a roll, and once she gets started laying into him, she very rarely lets up.

“Thank you!” she yells, the sarcasm clear in her tone. She’d been especially fond of the product so far, a song she thought embodied the perfect blend of Luke’s harder edge and her singer-songwriter roots. His sudden, uncharacteristic left turn is as much an interruption in their rehearsal as a knock to the tenuous pride she’d been building in the piece. “And what are all those riffs you’re tossing in? You have to hear how they don’t fit.”

“Oh come on,” he says, proud in his ability and therefore less willing to step down. He rolls his shoulders back and moves toward her, the challenge set in his spine. “I was shredding and you know it.” Luke is sweet and kind and silly and compassionate, but he’s also a musician, and a lead guitarist at that. His ego, though it rarely becomes an issue, is far from insubstantial.

“If you want a solo, fine!” she cries with exasperation, her hands flying through the air like they always do when she’s upset. “But you have to say something so we can give you room for it!” Her annoyance has turned down the sensitivity on her Luke-nonsense monitor, caught up enough in the trouble that she can’t see that he’s riling her up on purpose.

“What, you afraid of a little improvisation?” He’s smiling now, and his obvious glee, such a stark flip from where she thought this was going, throws off her tirade. He starts walking toward her, and his newfound physicality gives him an ability to fluster her to a much greater degree than before.

“No --” she stammers, stumbling backwards, distracted out of anger by his sparkling eyes and the power in the body approaching rapidly. “That’s not what I --” There it is again, that power he has to turn the rest of the world into radio static, her vision blurring and her hearing dulling until it’s just Luke filling up the world in front of her.

“C’mon Julie,” he says, and right now she hates his stupid smirk and the stupid way he rolls her name around in his mouth before letting it out. “you have to take risks once in a while.” She’s backed up against the piano now, her hands wrapped tight around the lid, and he’s still pushing it, strong and warm and undeniably, frustratingly male in her space.

But Julie isn’t one to let him intimidate her into silence, no matter how cute and well-muscled he may be. She takes a breath and looks him in his ridiculous sparkly eyes, poking him in his absurdly firm chest.“I am not afraid of taking risks, mister,” she says, “Let’s not forget who performed in front of her entire school to get back into the music program --”

“My idea,” he scoffs, not backing up. Why isn’t he backing up.

“Or who fronts a band of actual ghosts!” she continues, her voice increasing in volume again, and the speed of her heart tripping over itself could be from the argument or the boy who’s collarbones are less than a foot from her face. Both are entirely possible.

“Less ghost now,” he reminds her, tilting his head, his weight leaned one one leg, his hand resting on the head of his guitar, relaxed when they’re supposed to be arguing.

“You just get to poof out after we perform!” she says, only about two-thirds of her mind still focused on the fight itself, the other third completely wrapped up in the feeling of Luke in front of her. “I’m the one who has to stick around and ask questions!”

“So you’re saying you take chances,” he says, diabolically diplomatic instead of challenging. He leans forward, putting his hands on the piano behind her, caging her in with his arms. She refuses to back down again, even though his face is now inches from hers. “You’d take a leap of faith?”

“Yeah,” she says, only half-certain, because she’s not totally sure they’re still talking about music, and her heart is in the base of her throat and her stomach is somewhere around her shoes, and suddenly her hands are sweating when they definitely weren’t a minute ago. This definitely isn’t an argument about the song anymore.

“Oh yeah?” he says, and there’s the challenge again, except this one sounds more like a dare, and he’s definitely looking at her lips this time, not even trying to be subtle about it, and her hands are braced on his forearms and when did they get there? And Luke is warm and when she looks up, his eyes are on hers, and despite all that bravado and provocation there’s still a question there, and all she would have to do to answer is lift up on her toes and finally, finally press her lips against his, and --

Alex coughs. The oxygen goes out of the room like someone opened an airlock, and Julie feels herself sink, just barely, back down on her heels. The world fills back in, colors and sounds suddenly too bright, too abrasive. Tearing her eyes off Luke, she glances over his shoulder to where Reggie and Alex are, still with their instruments, watching them intently. Alex looks politely put out, his eyebrows tilted up with incredulity, like he's asking if they seriously just made him watch that. Reggie, on the other hand, hides nothing in his expression, shock and amusement there in equal parts as he glances between Alex and the two of them still tucked close against the piano, jaw askance in a surprised smile.

"Are you done?" Alex asks, in a tone that sounds less like a question. "It’s not that I mind…" he gestures between the two of them with a drumstick. "This, but like, time and place, dude." He's not talking to Julie. Luke clears his throat, appropriately chastised, but still looking smug as shit.

"Um, sorry," she mutters as he returns to his spot next to his amp.

Alex shrugs. "Not your fault," he says, "from the top?"

"Uh," she says, frozen for a moment in embarrassment and confusion. She looks to Alex, and he gives her one of his soft, kind smiles, the sort that makes her feel like everything is going to be okay. “Right, okay,” she finishes, as her hands twitch and she settles back into her body. Rushing back around to the bench, she flexes her hands over the keys, curling them into fists and then back out again when they tremble. “From the top.”

The rehearsal goes -- okay, after that. The magic is missing; therefore, while she usually feels inspired and courageous and empowered walking out of the garage, she just feels exhausted and drained. She eats dinner with her family, and her dad definitely notices that she’s uncharacteristically quiet, but saves asking about it until after Carlos is safely sequestered with his iPad. “How ya doin, kiddo?” he asks as she helps him clear up the dishes. “Everything okay?”

Julie looks at her dad with mild alarm, wondering what exactly he knows. He does his best, he really does, but it took him a while to even notice she was in a band. Not to mention, he still believes they’re holograms. “Um,” she says convincingly. “Yeah?”

He smiles kindly, in the way that means he’s very politely calling bullshit. “Alright, mija. What’s going on?”

Heaving a sigh, Julie keeps her eyes on the dishwasher she’s loading, trying her best to plan an escape route out of this conversation. “I promise, Dad,” she says, “It’s nothing.” and then, what she thinks are the magic words. “Boy stuff.”

But Ray’s been prepping for this, had conversations with Rose about it before she passed, while the cancer slowly ate her alive. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to be there for her daughter through the time in her life a girl needs her mother the most, and she wasn’t about to let him hide behind toxic masculinity and leave Julie to figure it out on her own. “Okay,” Ray says, trepidation clear in his voice but also not unwilling to approach the topic. “What’s his name?”

Julie almost drops the pot she’s scrubbing. “Does it matter?” she asks, her voice crawling up several octaves.

“Just trying to learn who is in my daughter’s life,” he answers diplomatically, sitting down at the counter to make it clear he’s not letting her out of this one easily.

“I promise, Dad,” she says, doing her best to frantically dodge the interrogation she knows is coming, regretting she brought it up at all, cursing herself for being so obvious. “It’s dumb. You don’t even know him.”

Ray nods slowly, pretending to believe her. Julie goes after the pot a little harder, because maybe if she just finishes the dishes she can go upstairs and bury herself in her bed and not have to have this conversation anymore. “It’s not that guitarist, is it?” he asks, and her spine goes stiff as a ramrod. Ray’s her dad, but he’s not blind. He’s seen the way they look at each other when they perform, the way the boy follows her around the stage like a puppy, desperate for her attention, disappointed when she jams with the other members of their band and not him. He’s an excellent musician, but Ray knows too many stories of near-legends gone sour with misdirected young love.

“No!” Julie cries immediately in an obvious lie. “Of course not!” She turns, half-laughing, explanations falling out of her mouth “We’re just friends,” she insists, lacing her fingers in front of her and nodding exaggeratedly. “Just friends. Only friends. Uh-huh. Friends. And!” she continues, gesturing widely, “he doesn’t even live here! So that… wouldn’t even make sense!” she laughs awkwardly. “So no way. That it’s him. No way it’s him.”

Ray sighs out a laugh that Julie’s too panicked to hear and leans forward on his elbows. “Alright, nina. Just be careful, okay?” She’s nodding along, edging her way towards the stairs. “You and your band…” She looks like Rose, in that hoodie that practically swallows her, hair piled messily on top of her head. Her mom was also a terrible liar, he remembers fondly. “You have something special. Don’t throw that away for a boy.”

Julie nods rapidly and then bolts, thundering up the stairs before throwing her bedroom door closed behind her and diving headfirst onto her bed, burying herself in decorative pillows. How does everyone know?? First Flynn and then Reggie and Alex and now her dad? Is she that obvious? (Um, yes.) She flops onto her back, staring up at the colorful tapestries slung across her ceiling, the string lights and posters and art. Usually, she loves her room, the feeling of her creative mind as a space she can inhabit, exploring her heart and the things she loves without having to shut out the outside world. But tonight, she feels trapped in her own head, so she grabs her notebook and squeezes out the window, perched on the roof outside her room.

The evening air is cool and crisp, the gentlest bite warning the oncoming winter, as much as there is a winter in LA. She spends a while scribbling down half-baked lyric ideas and doodling angry black scribbles around the edges of the pages when nothing comes out right. It’s harder to write on her own, now, without the steady pulse of Luke’s genius behind her, the electricity that flows between them as they create impeccable harmonies. Sometimes, it feels like music belongs to the both of them together, a joined force, like they’ve given up their individual melodies for something greater. It’s thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Eventually, she just ends up holding the notebook open to ‘Perfect Harmony’ with one hand, the other arm wrapped around her legs, her chin propped on her knees. She still hasn’t shown it to Luke, afraid of how real it feels, how clear it makes her feelings for him. Also, it’s a ballad, which they haven’t even approached yet, and she has no idea how Reggie and Alex will feel about such an explicitly romantic duet. She’s thinking that maybe she might be able to vague it up, maybe even make it a solo piece, when Luke appears next to her, like thinking about him draws him to her. (Which might actually be true -- she hasn’t examined that very closely.)

“Hey!” he says cheerfully, all awkwardness from the evening’s rehearsal ostensibly disappeared. He plucks the notebook out of her hand, using the other arm to hold back her immediate demands for its return. “New stuff?” he asks. This is not normally such a grievous invasion of privacy. Ever since they started writing together, their songwriting journals have become common property, and half the pages in hers are marked up with his handwriting and vice versa.

“It’s not ready yet!” she cries, pushing against the (stupidly strong) arm he has across her collarbone, willing to climb bodily over him to snatch the notebook back. Luke’s face very slowly falls as he reads it, the lyrics sinking in, and her protests trail off as she stops scrambling to grab it out of his hands.

He stands suddenly, pacing across the roof. “Did you --” he starts, breathing shallowly, his tongue tucking his teeth between his lips, nostrils flaring before he speaks again. “Why did you copy this out of my songbook?” It’s not accusatory, only a question, born of true confusion.

“I didn’t,” Julie replies without skipping a beat, equally baffled.

“I wrote this after the garage party,” he says. “How is it in your notebook?”

“I wrote it at school before the garage party,” she replies, doing her best to keep down the memory of the Luke in her imagination and the song coming to her fully formed in the form of a Patrick Swayze-esque daydream. She didn’t even tell Flynn about that part.

“At school…” Luke repeats, studying the lyrics with a furrow between his eyebrows, and as much as Julie is also reeling from shock at the mystery, it’s kind of adorable to watch him try and solve it. “This doesn’t make sense,” he says, looking up at her, signature grumpy expression in place. He tilts the notebook flat, like he’s presenting it to her, hoping she has the next steps. Like he’s reached his conclusion, and it’s that he’s confused.

“It doesn’t,” she says, and it comes out as half a laugh unintentionally, just looking at his ridiculous, adorable face.

“Why are you laughing?” he demands with exasperated urgency. “This is super weird!” He rushes over and collapses next to her, a mess of flannel and limbs and beautiful dumbass. He shoves the notebook back into her hands as she folds her legs underneath her, relinquishing her grip on her knees.

“Yeah,” she sighs, unable to wipe the grin from her face. “Yeah, it is.” Luke looks like he wants to ask her what she’s smiling at, but then he starts smiling, too, because her happiness is his happiness. Julie’s already past the strange coincidence, lost in the joy of his gray-green eyes and the feeling of him next to her. She’s too used to strange, to the ever-changing rules of the afterlife and the constant uncertainty that Luke and her boys bring to her life. Yes, it’s strange, but she’s in a ghost band and her crush is dead and still manages to look at her like that so she has a certain level of perspective when it comes to things like this.

“What are you --” Luke tries to say, but her eyes are on his and they’re warm and brown and kind and he’s finding it a little hard to form sentences.

“This is ridiculous,” she says, and he’s nodding without knowing what he’s agreeing to. “We wrote the same song on the same day,” she laughs, and he nods again, half-listening, half lost in her. She’s excited now, about the possibility brought on by magic and her connection -- their connection -- souls tied together with passion and music and love. “That’s impossible!” It cements something for her, the feeling of coming together, of sliding into place. They’re so solid, tight, together, on the same wavelength… musicians have put it a thousand ways throughout the years, to communicate the feeling of a co-writer, a bandmate, a partner, reading your mind, singing the next line, playing the next riff that was just in your head. Julie and Luke get the added bonus of being inexplicably spiritually linked. Nothing can break that, or replace it. She’s not scared of it, anymore.

“Impossible,” he echoes. He always feels a little bit stronger, a little more alive whenever he’s with Julie like this, just the two of them, hanging out or writing music, and he’s in her immediate proximity, soaking in the warmth of her brown skin and brown eyes and the chaotic energy of her wild, incredible hair. She pulls him in, without knowing the power she holds or the light that she emits, casting a golden glow over everything around her.

“Luke,” she says, and he tunes back in, realizing that he’s steadily leaning toward her as they sit on the roof, Julie cross-legged, Luke angled toward her, one leg stretched out, his elbow propped on his other knee. “Are you listening?”

“Um,” he swallows, “Yeah?” but he’s looking at her lips, not her eyes, and he’s thinking about kissing her, just once, just to see what she tastes like, remembering the smell of gummies and m&ms, hoping she’ll be just as sweet. She doesn’t say anything, mostly because she forgot what she was going to say in the first place, watching his eyes watch her mouth, breathing him in. He’s too close again, closer than any friend or bandmate should be, and there’s no mic between them, and the door to her room is closed, and there’s no bandmates or brothers or dads, and her heart pounds in her chest.

When she tilts her chin towards him, she feels ready, finally, knowing what he means to her. Only a breath separates them, but they both stop, waiting for the inevitable interruption, the door slamming open, or someone calling up from the yard below, but it doesn’t come. Realizing what they’re both waiting for, they breathe out a simultaneous laugh, their foreheads dropping together. The tension fades, and Julie’s smile feels uncontainable, demanding every inch of her face as this beautiful, goofy, genus, talented boy adores her while she sits there, falling in love with him.

It’s easier, this moment, than the one before, because it feels less laden with the weight of someone pulling away, unsure or unwanting. This moment is comfortable, joyful, the two of them acknowledging every minute of want and disappointment and hilarious misfortune over the past few days, acknowledging what they would have asked for instead. And when Luke finally reaches up, pulling her in gently with his hand on her neck, his thumb sliding over her jaw, it’s with confidence and tenderness, reassured that she wants this, too. Julie leans easily into the touch, and when their lips meet, the spark and rush is better than any performance, any screaming crowd drowning in lights. They kiss each other, moving together, leaning in as one, harmony made in the movement of mouths and the press of lips, and this moment -- it’s perfect.

#jatp #juke #julie and the phatoms #julie x luke #luke x julie #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms fic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #my stuff #homebodynobody #julie molina #luke patterson

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discotreque · 4 years

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LwD 1.10, “No Small Parts”

Well, that was the most fun I've had watching Star Trek in literally a quarter of a century.

I had high hopes for this series. I love TAS, largely because of its wacky outsized concepts that could only have worked in animation—not that they all did work, but the potential was so apparent to me, even as a kid reading the Alan Dean Foster novelizations—and as an adult, there's something about the imagination of Lower Decks's FX setpieces that transcends even the glorious CGI bonanzas of Discovery.

Pause for a confession. I've long pushed back against criticism of serialization in new Trek. That's just how TV is now, okay? Might as well complain about it being in widescreen. But I'm backing down a little, because I've realized there is something about Star Trek that's inextricable from at least a partially-episodic format. And while Picard was telling a different kind of story, I can't deny that my favourite episodes of Disco have been the ones with a mostly self-contained A-plot. After 10 delightfully episodic instalments of LwD, its focus on long-term development of characters instead of a season-spanning puzzle-plot (okay, mostly just Mariner, but we only have 10 × 22 minutes and she is the star) has been downright refreshing.

So here we are, at the end of the most consistent and well-executed Season 1 of a Star Trek series since, arguably, Those Old Scientists. And sure, if they'd had to produce another... yikes, 42 episodes? Then sure, they probably would have dropped a clunker or two—but they didn't, and winning on a technicality is still winning. I'm practically vibrating with excitement for Disco to come back next week, but damn, I'm going to miss this little show while it's on hiatus.

Spoilers below:

Something I've been keeping track of finally paid off this week! (Which never happens to me, lol.) The destruction of the USS Solvang marked the first present-day death(s) of any Starfleet officer on Lower Decks, the only other on-screen killing at all being a flashback in "Cupid's Errant Arrow". Which makes sense, being (a) a comedy, and (b) about typically "expendable" characters: it hasn't been afraid to flirt with a little darkness here and there, but killing people off at Star Trek's usual pace wouldn't just be wrong for the tone, it would be downright bizarre.

But... people die on Star Trek. That's one of the core themes of the show, really: space is full of knowledge and beauty, but also danger and terror, and believing that the former is worth the risk of the latter is (according to Trek) one of humanity's most noble traits. I'm the least bloodthirsty TV watcher I know, but the longer we went with a body count of nil—ships completely evacuated before they were destroyed, main characters hilariously maimed without permanent consequences, etc.—well, I didn't mind per se, but the absence of truly deadly stakes was definitely getting conspicuous.

Turns out they were saving it up for maximum impact. And holy fuck, I've never felt such a pit in my stomach watching a ship get destroyed that wasn't named Enterprise. It felt grim and brutal and somehow both much too quick and dreadfully inevitable—and yeah, it looked extremely fucking cool—and I'd like every other Star Trek property for the rest of time to take notes under a large bold heading labeled RESTRAINT.

Comedy doesn't need to do this, but my favourite comedy does, and in a way that few other art forms can even approach: lower my emotional defences by making me laugh, endear character(s) to me with goofy-but-relatable antics—then BAM, sucker-punch me in the motherfucking feels. M*A*S*H is probably the classic example on TV, Futurama was notorious for it, and even Archer has pulled it off a few times; it's also a staple of some of my favourite standup. I wasn't sure if Lower Decks was going to go there in Season 1—and wasn't sure if they'd earn it—but I knew if they did, that they'd nail it, and damn. Feels good to be right.

Last batch of notes for the season!!! I rambled enough already, so let's do it liveblog-style:

I fucking KNEW they were going to use "archive" visuals from TAS at some point, I KNEW IT :D

"THOSE OLD SCIENTISTS" ahahahahahahahahahahahaha

I like chill and confident Boimler a lot? You can really see—

oh bRADWARD NOOOOO

That opening shot of the Solvang tracking down to the red giant was extremely Discovery-esque... minus the motion sickness, that is

A lady captain AND a lady first officer? That's—oh hey, it's Captain Dayton's brand-new ship. Hahaha, that means they're totally fucked, right?.

Yep! They sure a—umm, wh—shit, okay, but—oh no—no, you can't—wait DON'T

...fuck

FUCK.

Narrator: "And then Amy needed a five-hour break."

[live-action Star Trek showrunner voice] "Gee, Mike! Why does CBS let you have two cold opens?"

Okay, yes, the bit with Rutherford cycling through all the different attitudes in his implant was transparently an excuse for Eugene Cardero to vamp while waiting for something to do in the story, but as far as I'm concerned they can contrive a reason for him to do a bunch of different silly Rutherfords in a row any time they damn well want, because that was classic!!!

EXOCOMP EXOCOMP EXOCOMP EXOCOMP

AND THE EXOCOMP IS PAINTED LIKE THE EXOCOMP IS WEARING A LITTLE EXOCOMP-SIZED STARFLEET UNIFORM

EXOCOMP!!!!!

The slow burn and now the payoff of the Mariner-is-Freeman's-secret-daughter plot has been executed so well. I'm beyond impressed with this writer's room, y'all—they are threading a hell of a needle here

"Wolf 359 was an inside job" would have been a spit-take if I'd had anything in my mouth

...how many memos do you think Starfleet Command has had to issue asking people to stop calling the USS Sacramento "the Sac"?

CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW THEY'VE DECORATED THE SHUTTLECRAFT SEQUOIA THOUGH

Is, uh, is it weird if I'm starting to ship Tendi and Peanut Hamper a little? It is weird, isn't it. I knew it was weird...

Coital barbs??? I take back everything I said about wanting to know more about Shaxs/T'Ana.

The "good officer" version of Mariner is... kind of hot, tbh! But Tawny Newsome has done such a great job of building this character all season that her voice getting uncharacteristically clipped and martial and "sir! yes, sir!" is also deeply, deeply weird

Ah, so this is literally exactly like when TNG (and DS9) would bring in, and then blow up, a never-before-seen Galaxy-class ship, just to underscore that we're facing a real threat this week, baby. And hey, it fucking worked—my heart was in my throat, omg, for the reveal of the—

PAKLEDS?????????

The fucking PAKLEDS have been gluing weapons to their ships for the last 15 years. GREAT.

(We interrupt the SHIP BEING SLICED INTO SCRAP for an interesting bit of world-building: on Earth, the traditional First Contact Day meal is salmon!)

"I need a dangerous, half-baked solution that breaks Starfleet codes and totally pisses me off! That's an order." I'm starting to think Captain Freeman might actually be overqualified for the Cerritos, y'all—she's REALLY awesome

OH SHIT IT'S BADGEY, this is a TERRIBLE IDEA

"How much contraband have you hidden on my ship?" "I don't know! A lot!"

Awwww, Boims!!!

AHAHAHAHAHAHA, FUCK THIS, PEANUT HAMPER OUT

BADGEY NOOOOO

AUGHHHHH WHAT THE CHRIST DID HE JUST—BUT—RUTHERFORD'S IMPLANT????

RUTHERFORD!!!!!!!!!!

SHAXS!!!!!!

F U C K ! ! ! ! !

ahaIOPugdfhagntpgjrq90e5mgu90qe5;oigoqgw4ouegrw5SP;IAEHURVa IT’S THE TITAN???????????

IT'S CAPTAIN WILLIAM T. RIKER ON THE MOTHERFUCKING TITAN??????????

i'm screaming I'M SCREAMINGGGGGGTGGGTGQER;LBHAOIBVNV;OAPBIJNVagr;h;oagruipuwtnaetbaetgq35ghqet

I'M SO GLAD THIS WASN'T SPOILED FOR ME WTF

I AM WEEPING LIKE A CHILD

...

(Just a brief 20-minute pause this time)

And oh wow, seeing Will and Deanna hits different after Picard too, in a few different ways, which I may even get into later now that my heartrate is back to normal, lmao

Oh, I am always here for some jokes at the expense of the Sovereign class. The Enterprise-E sucked. They should have built a new bigger model of the D and new Galaxy-class interiors for the TNG movies, and I will die on that hill

OKAY, FINE, YOU GOT ME, RUTHERFORD × TENDI WOULD BE ADORABLE AND THIS IS ACTUALLY A PRETTY GOOD SETUP FOR IT

Awwww, Shaxs though :( Congrats on the single most badass death in Star Trek history, dude. The Prophets would—well, the actual Prophets would probably be slightly confused about most of it, but Kira Nerys would be proud of you and I feel like that probably counts for more. RIP, Papa Bear

I am here all damn DAY for the Mariner–Riker parallels, ahahahahaha

Pausing it to record my prediction that Boimler's commitment to not caring about rank anymore is going to last 3... 2...

Yep.

Bradward, how DARE YOU.

"Those guys had a long road, getting from there to here." OH FOR THE LOVE OF—

What a brilliant way to resolve and renew the various character arcs and relationships moving into Season 2! The writers could easily have brought everything back to status quo—chaotic Mariner fighting with her mom and being a bad influence on Boimler, etc.—and done another 10 just like these, but I suspect that wouldn't have been ambitious enough for these writers. What a blast. I cannot wait for more.

Thanks for following along, friends! Stay tuned for my (similarly patchy and amateur) coverage of Discovery, starting next week!

#star trek #star trek lower decks #lwd spoilers #lower decks spoilers #lower decks #amy's episode notes

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raguna-blade · 4 years

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So this just occurred to me to think about but shared symbols in the persona series. I’m sure there are others that I miss, especially relevant to the first two games, and right now i’m looking at just the one, but there should be SOME right?

And in this case the one i’m thinking about is glasses. So in persona 4, the glasses the characters wear are used specifically to be able to see through the fog in the other world, that is to be able to better navigate the world that is hidden and obscured right?

Heck, a critical scene in the game shows the absurd difference wearing them makes early on and Narukami hot flinging them away in the final scene is an indication of him more or less coming to fully understand the situation and having “true” sight of what’s going on around him. Which is cool!

But what’s interesting is that none of the Investigation team actually wear glasses in their day to day which is fine really. It’s as much a design thing as a story beat but what i’m getting at is going into persona 5 then, there can be this expectation that if one is wearing glasses they have a degree of special insight/ability to see things as they really are right? Not strictly, but as part of the same story family it’s not like those symbols disappear as a thing in play strictly, they just wouldn’t be emphasized because that’s not really the theme here.

So it’s interesting to me then that every single character who wears glasses normally in this game (with normal including their metaverse selves should they have one) demonstrably has special insight into the world or events going on, or else just general insight. Literally all of them, i’m not joking.

We’ll go in order here, Phantom Thieves>Allies>Foes>Maruki, and there’s probably more i could go into here but for the moment it’s kinda idle thoughts so forgive that.

Protag: So the thing to note is that his glasses are fake right so that may off the bat give you the vibe that this is wrong but well, that literally doesn’t matter for our purposes here. That Protag definitely has special insight into the world and events however is inarguable. Having been cast out of the standard safety net of society he gets a front row seat to a lot of weird things that aren’t immediately obvious. He see’s through the masks of all of the targets to some greater or lesser degree (admittedly not unique to him, but the thieves as a whole), get’s to understand to workings of the world and how it specifically fails outcasts, has inside knowledge on several of the major players (Shido, Maruki and Akechi most notably) that isn’t immediately obvious that they themselves aren’t aware of all the time, and as seen through the Confidants specifically he’s a remarkable judge of character and an expert and understanding people, something he does consistently.

That his glasses are fake actually, now that I think about it, is actually an interesting trait here. They exist solely to put him under the radar, which actually works so there’s that element of understanding appearances, but the fact that he really DOES NOT actually need the glasses to “see” the world accurately perhaps rolls back to his Designated Role as the Trickster (or at least one of them, We will get to Akechi in a second), and his ability to understand how the world works or specifically does not.

Akechi: Akechi is interesting here because in the real world he doesn’t wear glasses, as Prince!Crow he doesn’t either. So...Where does he wear glasses?

As Black Mask. And notably, they’re red tinted lenses, which actually lines up with another thing here. He does have true insight (and he’s sharp as hell we can’t possibly deny that) but he also, notably, has a crazy distorted view of things. As was kinda pointed out during his whole mental break down in the boat, he didn’t have to do like...any of the fucked up things that he did to achieve his goals. Even if he still wanted to kill his dad or just ruin his life he didn’t have to do it the way he did. He’s, one, literally seeing red, but two for all that his vision is keen it’s also more than a little distorted.

But also, as the other Trickster, the more destructive one at that, he also has keen understanding of the world and how it works, breaks down, and utterly screws over those who fall outside of it. Indeed, his insight is miles better than Our protags given he was more or less kicked out of the system from the get go due to family matters and had to actively claw his way back into the system in the first place. But of course, going back to his red lenses, as opposed to Akira who more or less rejects the system and wants to see it broken down one way or the other, Akechi desires to be part of it despite knowing intimately it’s copious failings. He has the vision and the ability to see but also fails to act on it (a thing he explicitly states more or less)

Futaba: Futaba is perhaps the most straightforward here. Does she have inside knowledge of events? Some, given her understanding of Cognitive Psience for sure, but her talents lean specifically in computer stuff, and the varying ways of getting information and such there. Of everyone here her glasses as symbol match up the cleanest with the Persona 4 use, in that her clear view vision is related to the world of cyberspace and how all of that works. That they carry over into her Rebellion outfit likely has to do with her understanding of cognitive psience as well, which while (relatively) basic is still far better than pretty much everyone else in the cast save 1 or maybe 2. It’s worth pointing out that, if I recall things correctly, she basically was the one who put together that entire escape plan for Joker to not get hot shot in the face.

Sumire: Now here’s a fun one! She doesn’t get her glasses until the very very end of the game, when she stops being Kasumi and starts being herself. Another straightforward one in two ways. One, she is able to actually accurately percieve herself as herself indicating clear and unobstructed vision for her self. Easy peasey, but also, of the group she’s the one who most understands what Maruki is doing and why. Despite having issues with his end game, she also makes it abundantly clear that if it weren’t for what he did she probably would have killed herself. It’s an understanding that the others have a little of, but they also don’t have quite as deeply for as long as it went on with her.

Ohya: Straightforward again. She’s an investigative reporter, and a damn good one. She was on her way to cracking something with Madarame, before the story even began she and her partner had some dirt on Shido (which seems on one hand easy cause Shido is kinda sloppy, but also considering the range of influence he has even getting a bit is wild), knows Kaneshiro as a mafia boss despite him not really being arrested, and yeah she just get’s it. She’s sharp.

It’s also noticeable that her glasses are also distorted, in that they’re sunglasses.That’s not “clear” vision since they shift colors. Obviously, she’s going to see things a bit off, and in her case it’s less general insight and more specific to her present circumstances. Relating to sunglasses, at the start of confidant she’s stuck working entertainment stuff which she hates and isn’t fond of, but she doesn’t feel she has other options or the ability to follow her true passions in journalism. And she’s not...really wrong actually. She does have a correct view of the situation, because if she doesn’t stick to what’s what, she’s going to lose her job, but at the same time the degree of resignation is well also wrong, as she get’s into pretty quickly. She still has options, but at the moment she couldn’t really see em.

That they are amber sunglasses and she’s seemingly a depressed drunk i’m sure has no relation.

Sojiro: Sojiro is straightforward really. He understands the world, how it works, how it breaks down, how various things look, has a keen insight into people and events in general, and has insight on the main villain specifically. He’s not exactly trying to upset things no, but he’s made the system work for him to have a peaceful life with his daughter and ward, which is perhaps super impressive given how absolutely obnoxiously petty Shido is.

Kunikazu Okumura: Very simple, he knows exactly who’s involved with the conspiracy. Also tied with that, as he’s also a member of the conspiracy, is a knowledge of how the world as it is works, for better or worse. Like...It’s fucked up, but unambiguously everything he does do actually does advance his goals. As much as it hurt people, as much as it hurt his daughter, it worked. It’s awful, but it worked.

Shido: So...Shido is interesting. He’s especially interesting in comparison to the last glasses boy Maruki, but Shido is interesting especially because well...

Shido is right? Like, his view of the world as it is is kind of unambiguously correct. People in power have the ability to manipulate and reshape the world as they please, avoid the consequences of their actions, the world really is going to shit, and he has the ability to save whoever he wants, and he has connections and power that would allow him to basically reshape things as he see’s fit.

He’s unambiguously correct in this. He understands the world and the systems at play intimately. He understands the people he works with Intimately, to the extent that not only are their cognitive forms almost indistinguishable from absolutely normal humans, but they behave in ways that don’t even necessarily benefit him even in their assigned roles in the cognitive space. I mean look at the Cleaner. He damn near let the phantom thieves walk if Yusuke would have agreed to be his personal artist, and the moment he got his ass whooped he just left.

It is, frankly, a terrifying amount of insight.

But again, his glasses are off color. His view of the situation is, in some way, incorrect, despite this insight. So where does he go wrong?

Once again, as seems to be the case with all of the tinted glasses now that i think about it, the issue lies in self reflection. His view of the outside world and such is correct, but where he makes his biggest mistake lies in both his view of himself as untouchable (he’s not) and that his method of salvation is at all the only one available, or even perhaps tenable.

The second point is perhaps the more critical one. Had Shido used his connections, insight and knowledge for good he could very easily change the situation that was leading to the disaster that he saw himself saving others from. He could make things better if he wanted to, if he thought to, but his failing is that he didn’t and perhaps couldn’t. And critically, his belief that he and his would be able to be safe on that ship for any period of time when the world around it has been utterly devastated is well...short sighted.

Maruki: Last but not least, Maruki. While his insight isn’t perhaps as broad about things, what he knows and what he talks about is...Well. It’s another version of Salvation for sure, but it’s one that the phantom thieves and I think the players have to argue with. Maruki says it extremely clear, it’s better for you to overcome your hardships yourself, it’s better to face your problems head on and fix them that way....But sometimes you can’t. Sometimes you really just cannot do it, you cannot surmount the challenge no matter how much you may need or want to, sometimes you’re just going to be broken and hurt and in incalculable pain and that’s extremely fucked up.And if that’s the case, if that’s how the world is, shouldn’t it change? If the system is broken, if the way the world is is wrong, shouldn’t it be changed?

It’s not unlike the phantom thieves, although the direction and end goal are different.

#Persona 5 #Persona 4 #Shared Symbols #akira kusuru #spoilers #Persona 5r #sumire yoshizawa #goro akechi #futaba sakura #takuto maruki #glasses are deep yo #ramblings

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