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jolieflows · 2 years

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—Solo—

VII

It was peculiar. More sophisticated but still possessing an odd charm. Only a one-hour special with Barbara Walters was all that Angelina had consented to. What happened to make it a three-episode event? Because of the ping-pong-style questions about her father and their rocky relationship. Her romantic life, her tattoos, and finally, what mattered most— Angelina's new life course. Her life had undergone a very significant transformation. In some ways, she appeared to have found her niche. There would be no more ricocheting between high and low emotions, no more craving for a spark-igniting sensation. Angelina felt at ease being who she was. She genuinely enjoyed being alive.

Barbara moved about in her chair, her eyes seeping right into Angelina's. “Before we start, I have to ask— have you done something different?”

“...Different? You mean like dieting?” Angelina's eyebrow lifted softly; she was confused about the question.

“The last time I interviewed you, you seemed...”

“Unhinged?” Angelina laughed softly but boastfully. She didn't have an issue with calling herself unhinged. Because it was true. There were heavy moments in her life, that didn't add up. If they so happened to— it was due to other outside influences. Which never seemed genuine.

While the cameras were rolling, the ladies' hair and cosmetic artists patted their cheekbones and nostrils with subtle glitter. To check her watch, Angelina slightly craned her neck and narrowed her eyes. This was consistently the part of Hollywood that appeared to drag on. Interviews never appeared to have a single subject. Angelina never felt especially skilled at them, though. In an effort to divert the conversation and draw attention to crucial concerns, she would do so. However, trivial issues like hair, makeup, attire, and dating rumors kept coming up. That was always Angelina's favorite. She seemed to be dating every prominent person. It was amusing to her when they pinned her to Ethan Hawke the previous week.

“Okay, last time we spoke, we talked of your enormous success. Your ground breaking roles. Your amazing achievement— and the films that helped you do it.” Barbara took a pause, her thin lips pursing softly, then she continued. “Now, you've signed on to do Tomb Raider 2, A movie with Ethan Hawke, and you've become a member of the UN Special Envoy Council for Refugees. A writer for TIME magazine. You've certainly changed course, yes?”

Angelina crossed her legs at her ankles. A nervous flutter hit her stomach, “Yeah—yeah, things have really changed.”

“Is there a reason you've changed? Is there someone who's pushed you into this change?”

“I wanted to change. I wanted to...well, I needed to see life from a different perspective.”

Barba had leaned forward now, her eyes fixing right on the actress across from her. “Was it your interest in foreign affairs that made you want to join the UN?”

Joining the UN wasn't just a result of Angelina's interest in one particular area of international affairs. She was aided by her inner and exterior curiosity. The difficulty of taking on significant responsibilities, which required some background knowledge, was another obstacle. And like many other things in Angelina's life, when she felt drawn to a particular topic and truly felt a sense of delight from learning about life, she had to be all in. She began to describe how she got involved in setting up for the UN Special Envoy group with a nod of her head. Babra continued to lift her eyebrows slightly, as if she were too shocked to believe it.

“I had received the script three years earlier and I wasn't sure I could do that particular role...” With a pause, the dark-haired actress gave a small laugh. “You get older, and things look different, you start to challenge yourself and I know for myself, I want to do more. Be more, help others through different ways.”

Barba smiled softly, leaning back in her chair. “You’ve certainly made an impact on others. Just last week you put out several TIME magazine articles. Is that a goal for you too? To become a writer?”

The middle and index fingers of Angelina were placed under her chin. She hadn't planned on that happening and hadn't given it much thought either. It was a release to write. She found that writing poems helped her maintain a healthy perspective on reality. She had strong opinions regarding the articles she had written for TIME magazine. Angelina understood that in order to be a writer, she would need to hold a lot of very strong opinions. Maybe. She might reveal her secrets at some point in the future, and she might even compose a couple scripts or more.

There were three sets of five minute breaks. In between those, hair and makeup bustled in and out of the room. They were rolling again, and Barbara was back to the personal questions again.

“You’ve expressed your life in many ways. You've also been candid about your relationships with woman.”

“Yeah,”

Barba chose her words carefully, “Is that something you're still interested in?”

Angelina absent-mindedly licked her bottom lip before answering. “I don't see it becoming something that I'll turn into a hobby. It isn't a hobby— I just found that I had a great time expressing myself in a relationship and that person happen to be a woman.” A few seconds of a pause came, and the actress nodded to continue. “I don't think it's a big deal or something that needs any further explanation.”

“Though, right now— are you in a relationship with a woman?”

“No.”

How long had Barbara been wanting to ask that? It was like she was nearly ready to explode if she couldn't ask Angelina, that question.

Barba continued by inquiring about secret marriages, which Angelina denied. She had two marriages in her life. Eight months were spent in each marriage. Eight months of total enjoyment spent together. Barbara gestured at Angelina's left arm as she was seated with her legs crossed and her hands folded on her lap. Angelina had a tattoo in lovely cryptic writing. Barbara and the camera could see that as well as the tiny roman numeral tattoo on her wrist.

“Is it true that you had a shoulder tattoo added and a tattoo on your back removed?”

“Mmhm. I uh, had to get that removed and then, I wanted something else.” Her laugh was sweet— Angelina's eyes widening from excitement.

“Something else? You've reported that you already have about thirty tattoos so far.”

With a goofy laugh, Angelina shrugged. “Yeah! What's the harm?”

Barba laughed too and like sly person she was, and slipped in a question. “Are you in love?”

Angelina slowly tensed up as her gaze focused on Barbara. She moved a hand to her head, tucking some hair behind her ear, and her facial gestures might have suggested a confused expression. “I am.”

“Have you changed because you're in love?”

“Doesn’t love or isn't love... suppose to bring change? Obviously in ways that are good?”

“You’ve been married twice, divorced...” Barbara, let out a trite chuckle maneuvering in her chair. “Do you think being in relationships changes you?”

Angelina let out a dejected sigh; Barbara choose this subject to talk about out of all that was possible. In the unlikely event that Angelina ever wanted to discuss her personal life in this way, she didn't want it to stem from the past. “I don't know, I can only be myself. But I know that I've changed, I've grown up. I've stopped being so inwardly intense with myself. I've been through darker times, and I'm finally happy being myself.”

Behind Barbara, one of the onsite directors help his hand— signaling that they had five minutes. Tomorrow, part three would be filmed and that'd be it. Angelina was sure, it'd be awhile before she agree to do anything like this, again.

“You wear leather,”

“Right.”

“You ride motorcycles,”

“Mhmm.”

“You write poetry, you love photography, you travel for charities— are you still a bad girl? A wild girl?” Barbara finally asked.

There were brief bursts of eagerness among the unnaturally quiet sounds in the room. Angelina nervously grinned while fidgeting with the bracelet on her left wrist. That was a substantial and slightly challenging question. Her gaze swept over Barbara's stern countenance, taking note of the interesting way with which she asked the question.

“I am. I'm still a bad girl, I still have a wild side.”

“Do you? ...Where has it been? You've done a good job at hiding it.”

“I don't hide it, it just has it's place now.” Angelina answered honestly. “It’s saved for my relationship, my experiences, my adventures— for my passions. Friendships. I just know where it is.”

The segment's final wrap-ups got underway. Regarding the next projects, scripts, and premieres that Angelina would be undertaking, Barbara made some remarks. Surprisingly, Barbara requested Angelina autograph a TIME magazine for her. Given that Angelina was convinced Barbara had not read it, it seemed surreal.

Angelina was worn out after three hours of carefree emotional self-exposure in front of the camera. Speaking of oneself might always feel like an out-of-body experience. Or perhaps she didn't feel the need to defend herself in front of others. She was appreciative of anyone who supported her and liked her. She had no use for anything or anyone that was negative.

#angelina jolie #solo writing #roleplay

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mercy-burning · 3 years

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Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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theoreticslut · 3 years

Text

The Start of Something New // s.r.

spencer reid x reader

requested: nope! the first of seven (!!!) fics for my 2k writing challenge event!! I used the prompts “weddings” & “did you need something?”

summary: A wedding for a mutual friend might just be the start of something new for you.

word count: 2k

warnings: weddings, fluff

A/N: I LOVED writing this one so much! I’m kind of thinking about writing a second part to it, but i’m not sure yet. I’ve got a handful of other fics I’d rather get out beforehand. But if you want one, definitely let me know! I’d love to write more for spencer and I think it’d be really cute to show the progression of their relationship. Anyways, I hope you like this! & if you’d like to join the challenge, you can join up until this sunday!

“Oh wow, she looks gorgeous.” You whisper to Penelope, smiling when you catch sight of JJ’s smile.

She looks beyond happy to be marrying Will, and you couldn’t be happier for her. After what she’s been through, she deserves every moment of this.

“She does.” Penelope quietly coos, emotion overtaking her voice as she watches your guys’ friend.

“I can’t wait until your wedding day. I just know it’s going to be perfect.”

“My wedding day? Penelope, you’re dreaming.” You scoff, laughing at the idea. You couldn’t be any more single if you tried. Between this job and your deep-seated fear of abandonment, you have little ability to hold a relationship.

Sure, you’d love to have someone to come home to and to share yourself with, but the reality is that it’s not going to happen for a while. At least not until you do some serious work on yourself.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, muffin. I see the way you look at our young doctor.”

“Spencer?! No. You’re delusional now, Garcia.” You whisper-laugh, ignoring the light blush you can feel warming your cheeks.

“Am I though?” She retorts, giving you her knowing look before turning back to your friend as she makes her way down the aisle.

You shake your head, trying to ignore her as you turn your attention back to JJ, but you can’t help yourself from glancing towards Spencer.

You can’t deny that he’s cute in his own adorable way, but you wouldn’t say you're crushing on him or anything. He may fill your daydreams from time to time, but it doesn’t mean anything more than the fact that you spend a lot of time around him due to work and that you find him nice to look at.

Putting it out of your mind, you watch as JJ meets Will at the altar, both of them carrying bright smiles filled with love for the other. She really does deserve to be this happy.

It easily brings tears to your eyes as they say their vows, JJ herself getting watery eyes as Will slides the ring on her finger.

You can’t help but cheer as they’re finally allowed to kiss, both you and Penelope clinging to each other at the cuteness and overwhelming happiness of it all.

“Our girl is married, Penelope.” You sigh, pouting slightly although you couldn’t be happier.

“I know. It’s beautiful.”

“It really is. God, I’m so emotional right now.” You chuckle, carefully wiping at your watery eyes.

“How are you doing, momma?” Derek asks, his words directed at Penelope as he and Spencer join the two of you, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

“We’re emotional.” She chuckles as she wipes at her eyes as well.

“We can see that.” Derek laughs, squeezing his arm around her, attempting to console her.

“Did you know, biologically the reason you are so emotional right now is due to your parasympathetic system?” Spencer starts, demonstrating his brilliance once again. You’re not complaining, though, as you actually enjoy hearing his random knowledge.

“Psychologically, however, your emotional state could be due to an unconscious perception of helplessness or it could be to show vulnerability, solicit sympathy, advertise trust, or the need for attachment.”

“Alright, mr. smarty-pants. Ladies in this state just want consolation, yeah?” Derek retorts, drawing a laugh from both you and Penelope.

“We’re fine. It’s just such a happy event.” You chuckle, wiping yet another stray tear from your eye.

“That it is, y/l/n. JJ deserves this.”

“She does. I’m actually going to go find her and congratulate her. If you’ll excuse me.” You smile, dipping out of the conversation.

~.~

You can’t help but smile as you look over the small crowd, all of them basking in the happiness of the night.

It’s been a couple hours now and you still can’t believe that one of your best friends is now married to the love of her life. She is definitely one of the lucky ones to have found such a love, and to have such a beautiful kid with him too. You can only hope that you’ll have this one day too.

Thinking about your own special day, you can’t help but recall your earlier conversation with Penelope. Are you really looking at Spencer that differently that others can notice?

Sure, Penelope seems to be more observant than others, but you must be looking at Spencer differently for her to even consider you liking him, right?

Let’s say that you did like him, it’s not like he feels the same back. You are just coworkers, teammates. Sure, you could be considered friends, but it’s not like you spend much time together outside of the office.

“Are you alright, y/n?” You hear Spencer ask, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Yeah.” You smile, nodding lightly as you take a sip of the champagne that Rossi brought out for the event. It’s honestly amazing how perfectly he put this together. You don’t think it could be better if anyone else did it.

“Are you sure? It’s just, you seem like you’re pretty distracted over here.”

“Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking about a few things. Nothing important, though.”

He nods lightly, clicking his tongue as he gently rocks back on his feet. You can’t help the little quirk of your lips, entranced by the fluffy-haired boy.

“I’m sorry, did you need something? Or were you just, uhm, checking on me?”

He laughs a bit, looking down at the ground as he attempts to hide a smile. Even now you can’t help but find him adorable. It’s just who he is.

“Sort of. I, uh, I was wondering if you’d like to dance? With me?” He questions, blushing lightly as he watches you for a reaction, finding himself relieved when a soft smile finds its place on your lips.

“I’d love to, Spence.”

At his smile, you feel your own lips quirking up more. You set your glass down, letting him lead you out to the makeshift dance floor, joining your teammates as they all dance with each other.

You see Penelope give you a smirk and you just roll your eyes, turning your attention to Spencer as he wraps his arm around you.

“You look really nice tonight, by the way.” He smiles as he spins you around to the music.

“Thank you! You look very nice yourself, Spence.”

At your compliment, you notice him flush, smiling giddily. He doesn’t say anything, however, and you take it as he’s just not sure what to say.

You dance to another song, smiling and laughing occasionally, before Rossi decides to cut in - which you happily let him do as he’s been a father figure for you since you joined the BAU.

“You know, you and Einstein look good together.” He starts, nodding towards Spencer who joined in a dance with Penelope.

“Do we?” You chuckle, smiling as he nods.

“The next wedding I put together better be yours, kid.”

You can’t help the small laugh that leaves your body as you shake your head.

“I’ll make sure to inform you whenever that may happen, Rossi. I think you’re good for another few years, though.”

“You better. Now let me show you how to dance, because watching you was an eyesore.” He jokes, earning a boisterous laugh from you as you slap his arm.

~.~

By the end of the night, you’ve spent far more time dancing than your feet would have liked, but you can’t complain. You managed to snag a dance with each of your teammates, including JJ, who couldn’t stop smiling.

You had indulged on Rossi’s phenomenal cooking, and you even happened to miraculously catch the bouquet - which had earned cheers and more teasing from the girls.

Now, at nearly 1 am, you were beyond ready to get home and go to bed. You had had a wonderful time, having a bunch of fun with everyone, but you were tired and there was no denying it.

“JJ!” You call, spotting her at the refreshments table grabbing a drink.

“Y/n! Hey, how are you?”

“Good. How are you, JJ? God, I can’t believe you’re married now. I’m so happy for you, though.” You smile, grabbing a small glass of water for yourself.

“Amazing. This has been so...perfect. I can’t believe Rossi did all of this for us.” She chuckles.

“I know, it’s been such a wonderful night. I think I’m going to head home though, okay? I’ve danced myself out.”

“Oh, absolutely! Get home and get some sleep. I am so glad you were able to spend the night with us and celebrate.”

“Of course, JJ! I wouldn’t have missed it. You have a good rest of the night, yeah? I’ll see you on Monday.” You beam, pulling her into a hug.

“See you on Monday. Good night, y/n.”

You hug her goodbye before making your way around to the rest of the team. You're wishing Penelope and Derek a good night when Spencer joins the three of you.

“Are you leaving?” He directs to you, noticing how you’re hugging Penelope.

“Yeah, I think so. I’m exhausted. I’ll see you on Monday, alright spence?”

“Wait, I-if you don’t mind, I think I’ll head out with you?” He suggests.

“Oh, sure. I’m just catching a cab, though.” You explain, wanting to make sure he wasn’t planning on just catching a ride with you.

“Perfect, I’ll join you.”

“O-okay . Well, I still need to find hotch and Rossi.”

“No problem. I’ll see you guys on Monday.” Spencer waves, wishing Derek and Penelope a goodnight.

“You too, pretty boy. Behave on the ride home, yeah?” Derek smirks, winking at the two of you.

You silently groan, rolling your eyes as Penelope smacks his arm but is laughing along with him.

Spencer nods awkwardly, looking more than confused, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he follows along behind you as you make your way through the small crowd to find hotch or Rossi.

“Spencer. Y/n. Are you heading out?” You hear hotch ask as you’re still trying to weave through the few guests still celebrating.

Pausing, you turn to find hotch and his guest - beth - smiling happily.

“Hotch. Yeah, We were actually trying to find you to say goodbye.” You smile, looking between him and Beth as she holds onto his arm gently.

“Ah, well I’ll see you both on Monday then. I’m glad you’ve stayed awhile.” He smiles, nodding politely at the both of you.

“Me too. It’s been wonderful, especially seeing JJ so happy. Rossi really did a wonderful job.”

“He certainly knows how to throw a celebration together. Have a good night, both of you.”

“You too, hotch. Beth, it’s been wonderful to meet you.” You smile, nodding politely as Spencer says his goodbyes.

You eventually find Rossi, wishing him a goodnight and talking for a few moments while Spencer finds Emily and JJ. Within a few minutes, though, you’re both making your way down Rossi’s driveway, laughing lightly as you stumble in your heels.

“Do you want to take those off?” Spencer questions, steadying you as you stumble a little more.

“When I get home. A cab should be here soon, Rossi called one for us.”

“Sounds good. Thank you for letting me catch a ride with you.”

“Anytime, Spence. Having you come with actually makes me feel safer taking a cab this late at night.”

“I’m glad?” He chuckles, not really sure what to say to that.

“You really do look nice tonight, y/n.” He compliments after a moment.

“Thank you. I don’t get to dress up often, but it’s kind of fun.”

“You’re good at it.” He mumbles, but you hear him, a shy smile finding its way onto your face.

All this time you thought that he couldn’t possibly like you as anything more than a friend, but here he is saying things like this. You can’t help but wonder if maybe he does like you.

As the cab pulls up, however, and he opens the door for you, helping you in before getting in himself, you don’t mind finding out if there is a possibility that you could be walking down the aisle soon enough. You especially don’t mind as he carefully interlinks your hands in the middle of the backseat, after motioning for you to rest your head on his shoulder upon seeing you yawn.

Maybe, just maybe, the rest of the team knows what they’re seeing between the two of you that you had failed to notice before now.

------------------------------------------------------------------

General - @jillys-feral-fandoms @your-hispanichufflepuff @yikesyikesyikes95 @livvysnaps @i-love-scott-mccall

Spencer - @stoopidwithtwohoes @harrysboo28 @roonilwazlibswhore @justfangirlingoverhere

#theweasleyslut's 2k writing challenge #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #cm fanfic #criminal minds fluff #cm fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff

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corpsentry · 3 years

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january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

#my stuff

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yinses · 4 years

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ethereal lullaby

| days, months, years… it didn’t matter. you were willing to wait a lifetime.|

siren!gojo satoru

rating: T ( yeah i know, surprised myself)

a/n: not going to talk about me accepting this without understanding what a siren was. thank you to new friends for helping me not look like an idiot. took the friends to lovers approach because simp vibes. amen. i might do a sequel just to up the rating a bit because this already got so long. we’ll see.

thanks to @kinbari14 for the hc. it was a fun challenge.

your parents tried to highlight the positives- how could they not after dragging their fifteen year old away from home. you were in the middle of your teenage years, just starting to hone confidence in your social skills. they told you it would be exciting.

r_ight next to the ocean_, they coaxed as if you’d ever cared to swim.

sitting on the shores now with your toes curled in the sand, you wondered if your friends were missing you as much as you missed them.

the moon full and bright, high enough to signal that it was well past your curfew. but your parents were more lenient this summer, trying anyway they could to smooth your transition. it was a brief allowance that you would take advantage of while you could.

collecting the shoes at your feet, you sighed heavily, deciding that it was time to head back for the night. the more effort you made the easier it would pass through.

your back had just turned to the shores when you heard the sound- soft, melodic as it seemed to warm your ears.

it sounded like a song, but you’d never heard anyone on the radio sound this good. the voice tickled your consciousness and you shook your head to fight away the haze. yet the cloud lingered, drifting down to your feet this time.

it felt like you were walking on cotton candy, a jovial step, knocking your knees together as you put more distance between yourself and the house. a tinge of fear cooled your spine but the sensation wasn’t strong enough to sway the superior force.

the closer you got the more you came to recognize the sound. not able to tie it to a specific person but certain that it was a person. it reminded you of the choir melodies from your old school but not even the star could compare.

you were able to register the shift from sand to rocky gravel but not the sharp pinch as rocks dug into your feet. the song still carried you closer, around the bend and towards the mouth of a cave.

despite every strand of common sense warning you not to, you crossed the threshold. the cavern played a devil’s advocate- enticing you with mystery while amplifying the the lyrics you still couldn’t place.

the effort to figure it out didn’t seem worth it, nothing superseded the call.

all too quick you reached the wide pool that spread out at the end and suddenly the song stopped. the splash of water at your feet was enough to startle your system, sending you reeling back as you tripped against the damp ground.

something too intense to call an emotion trampled your ability to move as you were left frozen to watch as a figure pulled itself to the edge.

the first thing you took in was the shock of white hair but that was nothing compared to the two turquoise pearls blinking up at you.

“huh… you’re what i caught?”

it almost sounded bored.

the shrill of your scream drowned out the slow drawl of condescension. the- boy? hissed and shrank back, hand coming up to cover his ears.

“no, no! stop. goddess that hurts.”

you instinctively go to kick back, but he is faster, something wet and slimly curling around your ankle. the grip draws you closer, uncaring of the way the unforgiving ground bit into your back.

your lips part to scream again but the sound gets stuck at the sharp glare you receive. water continued to drip from the strands of his hair, the drops that met your skin were ice cold. he was close enough now that you could smell the salt from the sea against his skin. near enough that you almost lost yourself in the bright pools taking you in equally.

his eyes track the motion as you lick your lips. “who are you?”

the hand that still ensnared you loosened to a soft caress as his fingertips traced your skin. as he did, you came to note that his wasn’t quite as smooth- something akin to glossy ridges.

you didn’t like when he hummed. not because the sound was unbearing, but because of the opposite. the pull wasn’t as powerful as before but there was no denying the source.

“who are you?” he echoed back.

when your eyes narrow, he shoots you a wicked grin full of sharp teeth.

unable to do much else, you offer you name and find yourself surprised when he returns the gesture.

“satoru.”

you try the name for yourself. neither of you can deny that it doesn’t fall quite the same from your lips. your gaze cuts down as he shifts again, revealing the bareness that stopped just short of his waistline. cheeks warming, you decided that his eyes were the lesser evil.

“aren’t you cold?”

satoru’s head tilts at the question. “no … are you?” as if he could check, his thumb brushes against the sensitive side of your ankle. you can’t resist another kick, but he’s more than prepared.

this time however, he doesn’t just hold it down, instead lifting it closer as he inspected your heel.

“these were always peculiar to me. so many little appendages, yet too small to do much.”

these?

as if you enunciate your curiosity, your toes wiggle in response. the action prompts melodious laughter.

“what, and yours are better?”

the old battle of boys vs girls somehow melds into the bizarre situation. as if catching on to the challenge something akin to glee lights up in his eyes as he draws closer. but before he could accept the provocation, another voice breaks into the conversation.

the voice is urgent, worried and carrying your name.

astonished, satoru’s grip loosens enough for you to wiggle out as you scramble to your feet. his eyes narrow as he realizes this and he his arm shoots out to reclaim his prize. this time you’re faster though and step back.

you don’t like the way he rises to this new dare as if he as prepared to intervene if necessary.

“that’s my dad,” you explain, not sure if you should even be telling him this. “ i need to go.”

“no.”

your mind halts at the intensity behind command.

‘’what do you mean no? i’ll get in trouble. i’m already in trouble.”

the waters shift violently behind the boy as he raises onto his elbows as if to present a greater turbulence should you not heed.

troubled, you bit your lips as your father’s voice carries near. it was only a hunch, but something told you that their meeting wouldn’t be a good thing. quickly you scramble for an alternative.

“if you let me go now, i’ll come back and bring you something. its summertime so i have more freedom.”

though you felt your privileges dwindling the longer you lingered.

satoru took too long to consider your offer and you began to question your chances of just running for it.

“fine, but you better be back.”

relief filled your chest as you already turned towards the mouth of the cave.

“yes! i promise. sooner than today though, i wont be able to be out this late again.”

you tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it wasn’t returned. there was distrust in his eyes but he didnt pursue.

“when the sun sets then.” he adjured. and you were but a humble servant on the prince’s shores.

“sunset,” you agreed as you broke into a run.

the moment you broke free of the grotto you crashed into your father’s arms. the relief on his face was evident.

“there you are! why didn’t you answer, we were worried.”

his arms come around you and you realize you’re shaking.

“jesus, you must be freezing. let’s get back before your mother sends out a search party.”

your arms encircle his waist as you let him drag you away. in one ear, you hear him start up a conversation about the neighborhood you had yet to explore to its fullest, tacking on a few names of children who belonged to some of his new coworkers.

in the other, you heard the beginnings of a new song, one that didn’t seem to reach your father. and you didnt know what to do with that information.

sunset came all too soon the next day, the sun lowering just as dinner came to a close. you lingered close to your mother as you finished the last of the dishes. the tasks were dragging longer than needed, but no one would ever complain about them being extra clean.

as you ran a rag over the porcelain you wondered what would happen if you didn’t show up. you couldn’t get the image of those teeth at of your head, the sharp glint gnawing into your dreams last night. they came off as an obvious threat but surely he couldn’t hurt you.

then your mind drifted to that song. the same nameless lyrics that put you in the predicament in the first place. there was no denying that there was something going on there as well. just avoiding the cave wouldn’t be enough.

all that was left was your curiosity, left to simmer under the plague of ‘what if’. the mysterious surrounding satoru wouldn’t leave you until you made good on your promise. the vow becoming something of a vice.

with your mind made up, you turned to your mother.

“do we have any mochi left?”

your parents hesitantly let you out with a curfew. you’d mentioned that you were held up late by a friend last time- to which your father questioned why you hadn’t mentioned it until now. they were obviously worried about your lack of agreeableness to reach out to the other kids so this initiative helped to ease their weariness.

clutching the small container of sweet mango filled dough to your chest, you made your way back to the little cave. the distance traveled was kinder to you this time with shoes as you made haste down the gravel banks.

uncertainty slowed your steps as you approached the widening curve of the stillness pool. depending on how you gauged the sun, you weren’t terribly late. it was technically still sunset.

a mix of disappointment and relief swam in your gut as you came to the conclusion that your new acquaintance hadn’t met their own end of the deal. maybe his parents had also got onto him about being so late.

it was probably for the best anyway.

“what’s that?”

the volume of your scream made even you wince as the tupperware toppled to the ground. turning on your heel, you came face to face with satoru. you never heard the water part at his entrance.

he wore a bored expression but there was a hint of a smile to his lips. this time he didnt scold you for shrieking, too interested in the container that had toppled near the shore.

bringing your hand to your chest, you reasoned that scolding him would be useless. “its mochi.”

for once, it was his tongue that made the words sound off. apparently the rounded desserts werent part of his vocabulary.

carefully easing onto the ground, you brought the container into your lap.

“it’s my surprise. i hope you’re hungry.”

as you cracked the top, satoru move closer, nose twitching as the smell of mango drifted out. your mother had been all too happy to pack all the extras for you to share.

you offered one.

satoru took it carefully, bringing it to his nose for another cautious sniff. you took in the point of his nails as he split the soft dough. he collected the orange the oozed out and brought it to his mouth.

in the span of seconds, he devoured the entire bun in one bite and snatched the remaining from your hands.

“this is good! i’ll excuse your lateness, this time.”

without the weight in your lap, you drew your knees to your chest as you watched on as he greedily ate one after the other. you considered warning him of the stomachache he would endure if he held the pace, but you decided that it would only fall on deaf ears.

instead you ask,” so about those toes?”

it seemed like such a weird question to ask. equally as strange to satoru as he brow pinched. he brought his fingers to his mouth to clear away the stickiness.

“what are those?”

an age old meme resonated within you and you waited with baited breath for him to carry the joke, but only silence drenched the space between you.

pursing your lips, you shake your foot in reminder. “remember? apparently yours were better?”

“oh.” satoru’s lips smacked audibly as he polished off another bun. and as if it was the most natural thing in the world he shifted back, a bright blue tail that matched his eyes broke the surface.

if you were sure before, you were certain he was going to eat you this time.

because you screamed again.

satoru demanded that you bring him mochi everyday from then on for hurting his ears again.

yes, everyday.

there would be multiple days to instil the notion that you had met a mythical creature. you were still trying to assure yourself that you have been awake the whole time.

your parents no longer needed to worry about you making friends, because apparently you’d managed to befriend a merman.

siren, satoru had hissed after bitting into a blueberry mochi. asking your mother to make mochi only worked for the first few visits. eventually her curiosity to win and lead you down a path you weren’t ready to accept yet.

the trail leading to the acceptance that you were conversing with a fishman- boy.

lounging on your blanket, you had come to store little things for comfort around the cave. sunset rolled back a few hours to afternoon and before you knew it you were spending the majority of your days with satoru.

“don’t your parents ever worry about you being gone so long?”

as usual, satoru was eating. he’d already finished the dango you had brought and moved on to the squid you’d turned down with barely restrained disgust. undeterred, he’d only shrugged and proceeded to gnaw off one of the tentacles.

“no.”

and that was that.

so instead you quizzed him on the mythical world you had and most humans were blind to. he talked about submerged cities, described aquatic creatures you could have never dreamed of if you tried and dissuaded your worst fears.

“so you don’t eat humans?”

“no we do. but i don’t want to eat you.”

you waited for the yet but it never came. satoru seemed content consuming whatever sugary treat you brought and sated the rest with whatever he caught swimming by.

Eventually you let go of the imagery of ariel and her seaside romance and began to soak your free time in legends of beautiful sirens of the sea who took pleasure in drowning their victims. every story warned land dwellers from entering the waters, something you had never shown interest in doing nor had satoru pressured you.

“how old are you satoru?”

“how old are you?”

he always did this, answering questions with his own. it came to you that he might just be remaining within your boundaries to keep you from screaming at him again. a fair assumptions, but you were genuinely curious.

“fifteen,” you offered, prepared to have the same response thrown back at you.

“sixteen.”

satoru raised a brow at your suspicion of disbelief. “i think i know how old i am.”

and you couldn’t fault him for that. you just weren’t expecting him to be so young. sure he looked like he could have been a boy at your school aside from the freckled scales and obvious tail.

“i beat you again, by the way.”

his words draw you from your thoughts. “huh?”

he swallows the remainder of a melon bun.

“i’m older. so i win again.”

you roll your eyes.

tail or not, apparently some things are the same.

two weeks have passed before you realize he hasn’t sung for you since that day. the two of you often meet in the morning now, break for lunch and resume in the late evening. as far as your parents are concerned, you’re on the way to making a new best friend which will only be promising for when you start school.

“you act all funny when i sing. its not meant for your pleasure anyway,” he adds.

for once he’s not eating. he’s lying closer to you, tail still dipped under the water but more of his top half is lain out on the shore. when you try to give him a blanket to lie on to put something between himself and the rocks he gives you a funny look but concedes. now watching as he nuzzles into the the fabric of your cotton blanket, you hide a knowing grin.

“but it sounds pretty, toru.”

when you had first tried out the nickname, you had hesitantly rushed it into a sentence. you were growing comfortable with the siren but the dangers were still present. like most things, it didn’t get past him and he grinned smugly but didn’t tease you further than that.

you were grateful for that as it allowed you to become more comfortable with its usage, likely his intention.

he hums in agreement, eyes sliding close as he readjusts. his tail follows the movement lowly, making small ripples.

“can’t you sing in a way that wont affect me?”

satoru’s eyes flash up to you suddenly and your breath catches in your throat at the sudden shift in the mood.

“no, because then it would be bad for me. if i cant control you then i cant drown you.”

you dont bring up how that would also be bad for you.

you dont bring up his singing again.

summer is edging near completion and your parents start to curb your outings.

“you’ll see them more when school starts. if you dont start to getting to bed earlier now you’ll just make it worse for you.”

there is no way for you to explain how it will be harder to approach your situation to satoru. you were knowingly wedging yourself deeper with him. the first day you met him had marked a streak of possessiveness that kept drawing you back in.

you weren’t just his friend.

you were his.

the thing he looked forward to each morning and regretted parting with each afternoon. you knew this for a fact, because you felt it too.

“okay, i’m going to go a little earlier today. then”

your mother lets you go with a short kiss to your temple and a promise that you’ll return for lunch.

satoru took the news about as well as you would expect.

“you can’t go.”

letting your head fall back on your shoulders, you stared up at the small break in the grotto above. “i have to go to school, toru. if i dont go then ill get in trouble and if that happens then i definitely cant come back.”

you know he knows this too. satoru was smart. a species like his didnt survive this long unknown without intelligence.

but then again, he let you in on the secret and it was too early to gauge the genius in that.

you were more comfortable around each other now, legs bare as your feet dipped into the water. satoru still resumed his post on the shore, arms crossed by your hip as the white of his hair brushed against your thighs.

he seemed to still be digesting the news which gave you the opportunity to probe again.

“i mean, surely you have stuff to do as well. what did you do before you met me?”

satoru deflected the question, head lolling to the side to rest against your skin. the slippery surface of the scales littering his cheek always felt like ice chips.

“ate more stupid people.”

you’d asked about this of course. probably worrying your parents when you brought up with questions of drowning in the area. they seemed unsure before your father assured you that they wouldn’t have let you venture so close to the shore if that was a problem.

so if satoru was indeed eating people like he said, it wasn’t from around here.

part of you still felt like there was a bit of myth still lodged in his truth.

“so you can only meet me at sunset again?”

you make a noise of affirmation, hand raising as it hovers over his head. you had never actually touched it before but as it tickled the inside of your thigh the curiosity grew. before you talked yourself out of it, your hand dropped.

his hair was silky, still damp but drying at a reasonable pace. his head moved under the weight of your hand, but it wasn’t to shake it off. you accepted the invitation and weaved your fingers further.

“on most days. with homework i wont be able to everyday like this either.”

his loud groan rumbles against your leg and he slowly slinks back into the water. your hand clenches around the absence.

“for every extra day you’re not here, you better bring me something great.”

its probably time for you to be going anyway.

you go about collecting your things and tucking away what you could. when you finally stand, you trying to shake way the numbness that had settled.

“we should probably figure out days, so you’re not always just here-”

“no need.”

satoru swam on his back for about half a meter, showing off his full length before his slipped under and reemerged at your feet.

“when you come back i’ll be here.”

the two of you managed to meet a few more times before the first day of classes started. satoru was noticeably nicer to you, or atleast as pleasant as he could be. after finally realizing that you had no interest in dead aquatic animals, he began corralling live ones for you to view.

you realized that the two worlds had different names for a lot of things as he listed off various species and colors. you took a few of them with your phone before the idea hit you.

“hey, toru can i take a picture of you?”

he made a face like he might disagree. there was no need to explain the device as you’d already done plenty of show and tell. one of the earlier showings leaving you to soak your phone in rice for two whole days.

eventually he shrugs and you snap a photo immediately after.

the night sky begets a short flash, one that he winces at and moans in protest. but the picture is worth the complaint.

he looks almost like a human boy wading in a pool- aside of the assortment of blueish scales to his cheeks. your only regret in that he’d closed one eye in reaction to the sudden light. there was a light frown to his face too but that was as genuine as it got.

“let me take one of you.”

you were too surprised to deny him, wordlessly handing off your phone with less worry than you probably should have had. he handles it carefully though, biding by your instructions before you too were wincing away from the flash.

the smile you get from him was better than anything you could have captured.

“can i keep it?”

you laugh, “no, toru. but i can make you something you can.”

highschool was hard enough transitioning up with your junior classmates, the challenges of tackling your first year without out them met your expectations but not the worst of them. you learned quickly who to avoid and who you could be amicable with.

being the new girl was an easier pill to swallow when you came equipped with a few stories from your past home. it gained the interest of a few which made a way from conversation to acquaintanceship.

nothing was quite as exciting as your meeting with satoru but that was to be anticipated.

satoru … unfortunately was seen less and less as the weeks went by. your parents were keen on you making a good first impression which meant a heavy emphasis on your school work.

you mother had offered for you to invite your ‘friend’ over more than once, and invitation that had spanned since your early meeting. but the only thing harder than trying to explain that your satoru was a fish was to add that he was also a boy.

your father might actually overlook the former in favor of the latter.

so you were left to visit him on the weekends and thus compiled your allowance to purchase bigger treats and delicacies alike.

his introduction to cake had a been a messy occurrence. naturally he would forgo the fork you brought to dig in with his fingers.

satoru surprised you by asking about your schooling.

“what? it’s not like ive ever been around that many human before. sounds smelly.”

you laugh, because he’s not wrong. you go into detail about your different teachers and classmates, offering vivid retellings that you hadn't even shared with your parents.

satoru hung onto every words, though not without crass comments and frequent jokes, his attention sent something new aflutter within you.

“i can’t believe the year is almost over, toru.”

your hair is getting wet but you can’t be bothered to care. the two of you are resting from opposite directions with your heads on the bank. your eyes are trained on the pink hues above but your cognitive of satoru’s warmth and the feeling of his breath fanning against your cheek.

it was nearing a year. a full eight months at your new school and a solid nine of knowing satoru. you were already planning something for your year anniversary.

friends did that, right? it wasn’t weird just because he was a boy.

speaking of boy, it didnt escape your knowledge that he was changing as time passed as well. he still held onto his boyish features but there was something different.

“did i miss your birthday?”

“huh?” the question surprises even him as he tilts his head to look at you.

time has made you better about not getting lost in his eyes, but it doesnt stop you from looking. not even the night sky can dim the ethereal shine.

your shoulder shrugs against him, “you know, when you get a year older? you told me you were sixteen so obviously those add up.”

he blinks,”oh, yeah i’m already seventeen.”

you dont expect the shock to be painful. when you sudden sit up, satoru makes a sound of protest but you ignore it in favor of leaning over him.

“you had a birthday and you didnt tell me?”

“i was here, you werent.”

he said it so matter of factly, as if it didnt pierce your heart with another blade.

you dont notice the tears until the first drop meets his cheek. satoru recoils immediately face pulled in confusion.

“why are you crying? you were at school.”

you knew you were a blubbering mess, snot slinging as you rub the back of your hand against your face uselessly. why was he so indifferent about it? did he not want you to celebrate with him?

“that doesn’t mean that i wouldn’t want to celebrate with you? am i not your friend, toru?”

satoru sits up at your question, rising to a height taller even as you sat side by side. you feel the gravel crumbling away from his palm before the skin of his hand. he doesnt seem to care about the wetness as his hand combs back to tuck away your hair.

“youre my everything.”

it feels like it should be taken more seriously but the moment is cut short when he pulls away, huffing as he rinses his hand off in the water.

“if you want to make it up to me, bring me something you’ve never brought me before.”

and then he smiles and your heart grows three times bigger.

you beg your parents to take you back home to sendai that weekend under the precipice of seeing your old friends.

the next day you bring back kikufuku.

satoru says he’ll forgives you for the next five birthdays.

you can only hope for more.

as summer approaches again, so does your birthday. your parents had conveniently waited until two weeks after before laying out the news of your move. last year you celebrated with old friends, and this year some new.

you still received some gifts from sendai. a plethora of little plushies and memories from the past. your new friendships here offered to throw you a small party, all gathered on your porch as you mother cut the cake.

you leaned into the kiss she life at the crown of your head, thanking her again for all the arrangements.

“i wish your summer friend could have come.”

“i plan to meet them later so it’s okay!”

after seeing your distress about birthdays, satoru had made a note to take them more seriously this time. he didn’t care if you had school, demanding that you come to the grotto before the day ended.

with a laugh you assured him that you were free and would meet at your usual time. it felt selfish to accept all your gifts and still crave whatever satoru had in store for you. much like you offered him, he promised to give you something new as well.

he gave you plenty of things over the past few months, aside from knowledge, an exchange of different shells and things lost at sea. you were growing a nice little collection in your room.

before leaving that evening after seeing off your friends, you took the time to make room on your shelf, prepared to add your new edition when you got home.

a late additional gift from your parents was a reprieve on your curfew, as long as you didn’t push the limits too far.

equipped with the best day ever that was only going to get better, you dashed towards the cave.

satoru had already drug out one of your blankets and spread it out for you.

“had a good day?”

with a giddy grin, you plopped down next to him. “the best!”

he smiles back, hand reaching out to caresses your cheek. you lean into the touch without prompting. there was no doubt that he could feel the light buzz of anticipation under your skin. the sound of his laughter confirmed it.

you bit your lips to try to contain it better as he took his time easing out of the water. you watched as the scales of his tail shimmered as he brought himself to sit next to you. for awhile the two of you just sat there as the sun dipped lower into the horizon.

and then satoru parted his lips.

and sang.

you dont know anything about siren songs or have any hymn books to follow but there was something different about this song. satoru was always hesitant to speak about the songs, not at all interested in delving into the history.

you were starting to wonder if this was why.

there was no longer a sensation of compulsion. the strings that had tugged you to his doorstep all those months ago. this song dipped into your veins and soaked you in everything that was satoru but also a bit of yourself. this wordless song felt like a mixture of you both.

it was both of you.

“toru…”

the song didnt stop as his face neared. his nosed brushed along the curve of your jaw and your head tilts up on instinct. its an invitation that he accepts full heartily as he continues to mouth the sound against the column of your throat.

the warmth under your skin felt as though it was burning when it came in contact with his constrasting temperature.

for the first time, his song was audible. the a single word as his lips brushed against yours.

your name.

the sensation of his chilled lips against yours prompted goosebumps- but the good kind you decided as you leaned in.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo blessings

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

Text

Cliche (Tobin x Reader)

Request: Marriage Proposal

Author’s Note: Special Thanks to @literaryhedgehog

“I’m just saying, I opened my inbox. SOMEONE should have messaged me,” Tobin said, tugging on her hair frustratedly. You watched in amusement, loving the way the sunlight caught her hair, as you exited the movie theater. She was so focused on her tirade that she didn’t even look down as she stumbled over an uneven brick in the patio, just continued walking. “It’s been open for days and I reblogged several of those ‘send me a number and I’ll answer a question’ posts!”

“Babe, you run an anonymous fandom blog for a sci-fi television show that stopped running 15 years ago,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“19 years, ago,” Tobin corrected, “and it has a pretty strong fanbase! That fanart I made got at least 100 likes.”

“You’re just lucky they didn’t match the brush strokes or something and figure out it was you. Like they did with your other fake Tumblr. They’re like crazy detectives,” You said side eyeing your girlfriend.

“I mean, I was making fanart of us on that one, it was pretty obvious.”

“I love it when you paint me, but It’s really creepy that you put it on the internet,” You huffed, crossing your arms tightly across your chest.

“Oh come on, I only posted the ones I made from press photos. You have a problem with the high definition, you talk to Alyssa’s girlfriend. She’s the photographer.”

“As long as you keep your drawings just for us, yeah?” You asked. Tobin had quite the eye, and she often found her greatest inspiration when you were relaxed. When you let your guard down. That mess the that many of her sketches of you were most certainly not suitable for public consumption.

“Anything I draw from life instead of from a screen I keep.” Tobin winked at you and linked her arm through yours. “So, what did you think of the movie? Or was it too romantic for you, you action-thriller loving fiend?”

You shrugged. “I think it was a little too cliche. Like who the fuck brings a diamond ring to the airport and uses the intercom to propose to the girl who just dumped him for a job across the country? And then she chooses him?” Some plots just made zero sense. At least your action movies didn’t force a girl to choose a person who was completely wrong for her.

“Oh come on, everyone loves cliches. I’ve seen the number of ‘there were only one bed’ fics you’ve read.”

“Those aren’t forced heteronormative love stories that don’t actually care about the characters” You scoffed.

“I have seen your archive of our own bookmarks, do we want to continue this conversation?” Tobin said sweetly, looking at the windows of the shops you passed, though you could see her suppressing a smile. She loved winning, be it argument or soccer game.

“My archive history doesn’t count,” you grumbled, pouting. It wasn’t your fault you had been kinda into Bellatrix dating Hermione, especially when they were both the same age and you got to see some Hogwarts hijinks (it helped you weren’t a Ron fan either).

“Sure, sure. Tell you what. You don’t like my new favorite Rom-Com? Show me you can do better,” Tobin gestured to the outdoor coffee shop along the route ahead. “Real life coffee shop AU. Here’s your chance to defy heteronormative love stories and cliches in the most romantic way possible.”

“Just please don’t spill your drink on me ok? You already have my number,” You asked, raising your eyebrows. You happened to like this shirt and didn’t want it to get ruined.

“That would be a cliche, wouldn’t it? I thought you wanted to avoid those?” Tobin said, raising her eyebrows to mirror yours as she pulled out a chair from one the tables, “you’re chair, mon chere?”

“You can be quite the Gentlelandy miss Heath if I do say so myself,” You smirked, settling into the chair she had pulled out for you, kissing her cheek.

“Why thank you,” Tobin said, tossing her hair back playfully before settling into her own seat. She grabbed the menu and opened it up. “So, what are you thinking? Asking the barista to make heart-shaped foam? Splitting a pasta dish and reenacting lady and the tramp?”

“I was thinking a cafe mocha with no whip, and I’m pretty sure this place doesn’t sell spaghetti,” you said, setting your chin on your hands, leaning on the table.

“I think I’ll get a nice chai latte. And a muffin on the side.”

“Lame. How do you live in Portland and hate coffee?”

“I thought you were supposed to say nice things. We already know each other, this can’t be enemies to lovers AU!”

“You’re still stuck on that?” You asked, sighing when Tobin raised her eyebrow at you. “Fine. How nice of you to choose a predictably unusual drink, and healthy snack for our date. Better?”

Tobin snorted. “Undeniably.”

“Good,” you watched her as she placed your orders with the waitress, thinking over what to do. She managed to place the order with her usual level-headedness, but she had the slightest smirk as she turned back to you. It was both loving and a challenge.

“Babe,” you said, “I literally have no idea how to make this a living coffee shop AU. I can’t remember the last time I read one of those where neither of the characters was a barista.”

“First I think we talk about random things while sipping our drinks, wondering how we get each other so well,” Tobin started, setting your drink on the table in front of you.

“So basically do what we normally do, but with added pressure?”

“Yep! Wanna start? You can tell me about that new fanfic writer you’ve been reading? The one who writes the really cute Sonnett fics?”

“Oneanddone has a couple… it’s like they actually know about Snippets from her and Lindsey’s relationship,” You said, your lips ticking up.

“That sounds fun and not at all creepy,” Tobin said, leaning forward.

“The best one was where Lindsey flew all the way to Sweden to propose. It was cute, but entirely too cliche,” You winked at Tobin, so she knew you were continuing the joke. “She just showed up and proposed after Emily won the championship and Emily kissed her hard hat and all. Like they would give the fans that much PDA in one shot,”

“Hmmm, better check for cameras then,” Tobin said, ruffling in her pocket. You heard the sound of candy wrappers, as usual following a movie with her.

“What?”

Tobin got down from her chair and kneeled in front of you. “Y/M/N, I have liked you since the first day I met you. You were smart, beautiful, and had a hell of a right hook. Watching you on that punching bag was one of the sexiest things I had ever seen, up until the day you agreed to go out on a date with me. And the date after that, and the date after that. I fell in love with a woman who’s not afraid to have an opinion, who will ask to pet every dog she sees, and who loves listening to me rant about any subject over the moon. Now I know you don’t like cliches, so I didn’t get you a diamond,” She pulled her hand out of her pocket and held the ring pop up for you to see, “I got you a cherry. I also have a grape and orange in my purse. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” You breathed out, forgoing the ring pop in favor of kissing your girlfriend- fiancé.

“Such a cliche,” she murmured against your lips, threading her fingers through your hair.

“Shut up and kiss me,”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #tobin heath imagines #tobin heath x reader #literalhedgehog

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evanpeterssource · 3 years

Text

Evan Peters and Billie Lourd Discuss the Art of Dying Onscreen

BILLIE LOURD: Let me set the scene for you: I’m sitting outside my house in my never-washed car, because that’s the only silent place in my home, and it’s not even in my home. I have a wireless breast pump with me, so if you hear a weird sound, that’s what that is.

PETERS: I’m in my bedroom, currently in my PJs. I worked a night shoot last night and am doing a night shoot again tonight. So, I’m drinking coffee and trying to wake up and get back into it.\

LOURD: I know how that goes. My hands are on my temples for you. Okay, Ev, I’m fucking obsessed with Mare of Easttown. I do not watch any shows because if I ever have free time, it’s usually spent napping or just lying in a silent room. But I failed all my nap times with watching this show. You’re a fucking genius.

PETERS: Thanks Billie. I appreciate it.

LOURD: Tell me the story of how it all came to be.

PETERS: They sent me the script and it said that Kate Winslet was going to be the lead, and that it was an HBO crime drama. So I was like, dude, I’ve got to really work on this one. I did the self-tape thing, so it was super awkward and weird.

LOURD: It was a self-tape? Wow.

PETERS: Yeah, I sent that in, and then the director and writer and showrunner were like, “You want to have some lunch?” And I was like, “They’re going to tell me to redo the tape, I know it.” And then they offered me the part, thankfully.

LOURD: That’s when you know you’re a really good actor, is when you get a part off a self-tape. I’ve never done that.

PETERS: Oh come on, you’re a great actress. You can do that single-tear thing.

LOURD: I do have a single-tear thing!

PETERS: That’s incredibly hard to do.

LOURD: Only when there’s a promise of bratwurst at Krafty’s will I do a single tear. What was the scene that you had to tape?

PETERS: The earlier scenes, where I’m coming in and meeting Mare and she just does not want me there at all.

LOURD: I was going to say, if you had to do that drunk scene, or the breakdown scene, that would be a nightmare. Did you know you were going to die? How did that make you feel? I’m a therapist now.

PETERS: It was a little stressful trying to navigate that. You had a finite amount of time to cram in all this stuff. Because you knew how it was going to go, and you wanted it to have an interesting arc, but… poor Zabes.

LOURD: Dude, it was fucking devastating. Zabel is so sweet, and you’re like, “No, he was on such a fucking upswing!” You’ve gotten shot in the head a couple of times now, which is pretty rare for an actor.

PETERS: Yeah, he’s got to work on that quick draw. But it was a cool scene to shoot. We kind of stretched out time and it was like The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, where it was a stare-down, and you’re like, “God, this feels like a really long time to be staring at people.” But Craig, the director, was like, “We’ll edit it. It’ll look good.” And nowadays, everything’s CGI, so back in the day they probably would have used blanks to help with that, but it was just a click. Or the other actor going, “Bang!” and all of a sudden you would have to get shot in the head. And you’re like, “What are we, 12, playing with guns?” It was such an awesome set that they built. They found this property that was like an abandoned bar, with a house on the back. And then set dressing came in and made it that amazing, creepy, disheveled, messed-up house that it was. So it was really cool to be in there and feel like, “Oh my God, we got the guy.”

LOURD: It’s amazing to watch you piece it together and look at each other and hear the pipe banging. It’s so suspenseful. We’ve got to talk about Kate. Can I call her Kate? Should I call her Kate Winslet? She’s so fucking magical. What was that like working with her.

PETERS: I was pretty terrified and nervous and stressed out before meeting her. I’m such a huge fan, and she’s one of the best actresses of all time. But she was so warm and down-to-earth and immediately disarming. What’s really cool is that she’s very collaborative. I thought she was going to be like, “Nope, I’m right. You’re all wrong.” You know, because she’s brilliant. But she was very open to new ideas and exploring things. I found that really reassuring, and surprising, since she’s set at such a high caliber.

LOURD: That’s so cool to hear. I feel like every actor’s dream is to get to work with her. Did you stay in your accents all the time? I always wonder that when people do accents.

PETERS: I was in it the whole time. I’m not good enough of an actor to be able to pop in and out of it. Somebody on set said there are different levels. There’s the learning it, there’s the “I have to stay in it,” and then there’s, “I’m so good that I can pop in and out of it.” Kate was that. She was incredibly English throughout the whole thing. Like [in British accent], “Oh, hi, Zabes. How are you doing babes? You good? Everything good? Okay, great.” And then she’d be like [in Philadelphia accent], “Let’s go get a hoagie. Let’s go down to the shore and check out the store.” I was just like, oh my god. How do you do that?

LOURD: That is so trippy. I don’t think I could do that.

PETERS: No, I could not do that. She’s really impressive that way.

LOURD: What was your favorite scene to do with Kate? I have to stop calling her that. Lady Winslet?

PETERS: There were so many. The bar scene was pretty awesome because it was so improvised.

LOURD: Oh, really?

PETERS: Yeah, it was just kind of fun to be at a bar with Lady Winslet.

LOURD: That’s my dream.

PETERS: But there was another scene that I really liked too: When I first got in the car, and I’m like, “Hey, are we carpooling?” And she’s like, “Ugh, this fucking guy.” And then I get in the car and she slams on the gas and I almost smoke my head. I thought that was really fun because it was one of the earlier scenes that we shot, and it set the tone for how much Mare was annoyed at Zabel being there.

LOURD: How did you do the bar scene? Are you allowed to get drunk?

PETERS: No, you can’t get drunk unfortunately. But I would say I’ve done a ton of research over the years. You know, at a couple of your birthday parties.

LOURD: Would you rather do a death scene or a killing scene?

PETERS: Oh, that’s a hard question. It really depends on how you’re killing or dying. Dying is such a challenge, as an actor.

LOURD: I don’t like dying.

PETERS: It’s so hard. It’s like, how do you do it? And does this look believable? Can they see me breathing? It really depends on how you’re getting killed as well. There’s so many questions and so many ifs.

LOURD: Killing me in American Horror Story was such a laugh. I hope they put in parentheses, “She said sarcastically.”

PETERS: Yeah, that was a pretty horrific day.

LOURD: That was a rough one. I’ve watched it back and I can definitely see myself breathing. And the eyes are so hard, like to actually keep your eyes open. I feel like I’ve made the decision to close my eyes. Do you do open-eye or closed-eye deaths?

PETERS: I like to do a little halfsies—a little open, a little closed.

LOURD: I like it. Split the difference. Have you been on the streets since Zabel died? Do people come up and hug you and thank god that you’re actually alive?

PETERS: No. I’ve gotten some text messages that were like, “Sorry, man. You’ve got to work on that quick-draw.” I’m super stoked that people like the show.

LOURD: It’s one of those shows that’s now part of the zeitgeist. Even my baby loves it. How long did it take to shoot?

PETERS: Gosh, we started in October 2019, and then I was supposed to be done at the beginning of March 2020. I had about two or three weeks left. Then the pandemic hit and they punted it to September. I was like, “Oh man, I’ve got to keep learning this accent for six months.”

LOURD: And not eat all the double doubles in sight. You had to keep that accent and keep that bod.

PETERS: Yeah, it was a challenge.

LOURD: What do you think would have happened with Mare and Zabel if Zabel didn’t die? It’s a real thinker.

PETERS: Ooh, that is a real thinker. I think they would have gone on a few more dates and then Mare probably would’ve realized that Zabel’s not the one. Zabel would have been devastated again.

LOURD: I think they could have had a shotgun wedding in Vegas and lived happily ever after. It could have been great.

PETERS: I like that for Zabel. That sounds good.

LOURD: Do you think you would have moved to Easttown or would he have gone back?

PETERS: I think he definitely would have had to move out of his mom’s place. For sure that would have been step number one.

LOURD: Were you sad when he died or did you think that this was the perfect ending for him?

PETERS: I thought it was an interesting ending to the character. He kind of came in, and then it was so shocking, but that’s the way death is in real life. You’re never really expecting it, and then it happens.

LOURD: It’s amazing you got to know the whole arc of the character before you played him.

PETERS: Yeah, it’s rare to get all the episodes beforehand. You make a choice in episode two and then you get to episode seven and you’re like, “Oh wait, that was totally wrong, what I did in episode two… Can we go back and reshoot that?” And they’re like, “No.”

LOURD: Did knowing the ending affect how you played him? He was so lovable anyway, but did knowing he was going to die make you play him even more lovably, if that’s a word?

PETERS: Yeah, that did play into it. There was talk about making him a little bit more arrogant and cocky. But I thought, when he dies, it’d be more tragic if he wasn’t that. So we tried to make him a little bit bumbling and not as good of a detective and really trying. We wanted it to be as shocking and sad as we could.

LOURD: Did you do any actor-y stuff? Like, a cologne you wore? Or did you wear a special hat?

PETERS: That’s so funny. I wish I wore a special hat to work every day , like an old-school 1940s detective hat. I did always have my coffee mug. There was a little bit of a Zabel-mug thing going on. And there were rituals. I would write in the mornings and try to get into it, stuff like that. But god, I wish I wore a hat.

LOURD: We should incorporate that into our future careers, to make sure we have a hat for every role we play. And then you could have a case at your house of all the hats you wore.

PETERS: That’s so goddamn funny.

LOURD: People are going to be like, “Billie Lourd is a psychopath.”

PETERS: Oh, you know what I did do? I wore a cross. You can’t see it, but when he died, I wanted you to see the cross on his neck. He’s got this weird thing with religion where he was raised religious, but then being in the line of work that he’s in and seeing all this death and awfulness, you start to question that. And then his mom is very religious. So I wanted him to be, underneath it all, a little bit religious and hopeful and needing the protection of god when he went out into the field.

LOURD: That’s way better than a hat.

#evan peters #billie lourd #interview #mare of easttown spoilers #txt #ours #extraordinaryxmen

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twh-news · 3 years

Text

Interview: Makeup Artist Douglas Noe on Loki’s Looks Through the Years & Creating Anew for ‘Loki’ [EXCLUSIVE]

Douglas Noe has been in Hollywood for three decades. An award-winning makeup artist, he’s worked on projects such as World War Z, Planet of the Apes, Spider-Man 3, I Saw the Light, and Birth of a Nation. On top of these impressive credits, he’s also been Tom Hiddleston’s personal makeup artist since joining the MCU in The Avengers, designing all of the looks for Loki’s subsequent appearances.

Noe has been nominated for three Emmys with one win, and five Makeup Artist and Hairstylist (MUAHS) Awards resulting in two MUAHS awards. His skills include creating making natural and period looks, prosthetics, hair, and tattoos.

Along with being the head of the makeup department for the most recent Disney+ series Loki, Noe is also creating looks for the new Netflix comedy series True Story starring Kevin Hart and Wesley Snipes.

We had a chance to chat with Douglas Noe about his work on Loki, The Avengers, the incomparable value of teamwork on set, and most importantly, Richard E. Grant.

Nerds and Beyond: So you started your Marvel journey with The Avengers, but what drew you to your field in the first place? And how did you get your start?

Douglas Noe: Star Wars was a huge influence to me as a young boy, both sketching and drawing, and a little bit of sculpting but not much. Cut to 1983, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” comes out and I find a magazine called Fangoria on the newsstands where I can order blood and wax and pencils and fake hair. So, I started playing with these things. I was also taken with the horror movie craze that was happening in the early 80s — Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th, and others, obviously.

In High School, in 1984, I joined choir thinking I would get an easy credit, but my voice had not changed. So the choral instructor had been waiting for a boy soprano to do a theatrical opera presentation. So with that I sang the lead, I quit choir after that, because my peers were merciless, but, I learned the world of theatrical makeup which I hadn’t been introduced to.

I did years of theater. I went to a performing arts high school — it’s called Fort Hayes School for the Performing Arts in Columbus, Ohio — graduated, went to beauty school, and continued working in Ohio doing industrial, commercial, theater, and opera [makeup]. Worked for Maybelline and Revlon, got restless, worked in Cincinnati on my first film in the summer of 1990, it was July so 31 years ago, A Rage in Harlem. And my boss said you come to Los Angeles, I’ll make sure you get on your feet.

Nerds and Beyond: So you mentioned that it’s been about 31 years since your career started, what’s changed over the course of those 30 years in your field?

Douglas: How much time do we have? I’d say the biggest, biggest change would probably be the way we make these things now. Although another large change, more specific, would be the materials that we use. There’s a constant evolution and reinvention of almost all aspects of the materials that a makeup artist uses. That said, I have to shine a light on the way we do things now with the onset of digital and digital cameras. Shooting on film now has almost completely fallen by the wayside. Film was very forgiving, quite frankly, and now it’s not so forgiving. And because of that, the bar has been raised. The wonderful thing about this journey is watching my peers just get better and better and better, my colleagues rising to meet the challenge of not having anything to hide from with this new way we make films.

Nerds and Beyond: So, sometimes you kind of throw prosthetics to the wayside in favor of a more traditional makeup. How do you make that decision on which one to go with?

Douglas: That’s an excellent question. The decision is based purely on what are we going to see. That’s where I start, what is the lighting? I have a conversation with the director of photography and I find out what is the dynamic. Obviously, I know from the script whether it’s an interior or exterior, or if we’re exterior but we’re going to be on a stage, if it’s day or night. These variables all play into my decision as to whether or not I should rely on my theatrical experience and ability to paint 2D to appear 3D, or go ahead and make small prosthetics and put them where I need to put them and use actual prosthetics in lieu of paint.

That has everything to do with lighting, locations, logistics, and because most of his [Loki’s] wounds appear on his arm and some on his face in the Void, it’s all very moody and very dark. And again, the theatrical quality of the paint is not going to be altered by the changing light, it’s just going to react the same way the rest of the face is going to react. It’s purple light, it’s going to make everything have a purple hue. There was no accounting for any correction that didn’t need to be done. There wasn’t anything wrong with that. It’s real.

Nerds and Beyond: So, you did make up for not only Tom on Loki, but you helped plan out the looks for everybody?

Douglas: Yes, what I do is I surround myself with strong talent. It’s all about team. I designed Wunmi Mosaku, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Sophia DiMartino, and Tom [Hiddleston]. Regarding the rest of it, Neil Ellis, both Dennis Liddiard and I, added to the elements of his scars and wounds, which you would only see in close-ups.

The rest of it, the parameters are set — Blade Runner to Mad Men — and stay in those confines. And obviously, I choose color palettes for the women and there are parameters set for the men, but then it’s about team. I’m a big one on a team and not putting my thumbprints on other people’s work, but rather build other people up so they feel like they own what they’re doing.

My team consists of artists that also have stronger resumes and quite frankly, skills that exceed mine. It’s the mutual trust that allows us to keep a high level of artistic integrity in every aspect of the job. It also means I get the very best from my team, and it shows on the screen.

So, I didn’t have every look in my hand. Dennis Liddiard designed the Mobius character and I had Ned Neidhardt run with Gugu and turn up the volume on some of the elements that she already possesses that we can play with. Her eyes and lips, I think Ned turned the volume on both. And because we’re shooting in order, it’s a progression in the makeup you did.

Nerds and Beyond: When it came to Sylvie and Loki, when you when you’re doing those, did you try to kind of plan them both to have any similar things to give them a Loki look?

Douglas: It’s a fair question, but the answer is no. So again, I think the characteristics and traits that were going to be similar among them, aside from wardrobe and costume hints, were all character driven. And I did nothing with the makeup and hair to try to make them look or even closely resemble each other.

Nerds and Beyond: I want to kind of back up a little bit to Tom in the first Avengers film. That was by far one of his most standout looks. Can you tell me anything about what went into the creation of that absolutely tormented, haunted look that he had throughout that entire movie?

Douglas: Yeah, and that’s probably one of the elements that, because the character has evolved, we kind of left with Avengers because by the end of Avengers, and we carried it into Endgame, he does have a bit of an edgier look in Avengers, and not many people pick up on it. But the reality is he’s a little sculpted in Avengers.

I remember sculpting his cheekbones and temples, and doing a little play on his forehead for when he’s in the cell on the Helicarrier carrier with all that overhead lighting. I did like a little devil horn shadow, which is so subtle. The only person who’s going to notice is anybody who looks back at it and having read this and knows what to look for, but it is so nuanced and so subtle. And that’s the only place I think we did that. But the rest of him is very much chiseled and sculpted, but it’s a light touch.

And I think, again, as he evolved through the Marvel Universe and into the other movies that was something that was easy to leave behind, because I think that look played directly into his evil desire to rule over Earth. We rested that design element with that storyline.

Nerds and Beyond: It’s very clear too and I’ve always loved looking at that, because I’m a huge fan of the character. I’ve always loved kind of comparing how he looked in that movie to the rest of them.

Douglas: You’re on to me!

Nerds and Beyond: I’m not! I swear [laughs] So, what’s your best method for making the actors comfortable in the makeup chair? And with the final outcome?

Douglas: It’s dialogue; listening, talking to them, talking to their representation, whether it be an agent or a manager, and doing my homework and doing my due diligence to find out what’s going to make them comfortable the moment they walk through the door. I do my homework on them. It’s not just IMDb, it’s an internet search. So, I spend some time on the web and find out who these folks are, and if I find out, for example, they’re not one that likes to talk a lot, well, the writing’s on the wall, we’re not going to talk a lot, we’ll cut to the chase and get to the point. But also, it’s about building a rapport and building a relationship. Also, knowing that, I’ve said this in previous discussions, knowing it’s necessary to get out of the way.

Like if, for example, I’m not a proper fit for somebody, I have to be plugged in, I have to be aware enough to understand that it may not be working before somebody says to me, “Hey, this isn’t gonna work.” So it’s just about being open, especially as Tom’s personal on these projects and running the department, knowing that I don’t get to do everybody. I don’t get to put my thumbprint on other people’s work. Because not only is that disrespectful, it’s very often unnecessary, because I hire good people. I hire contemporaries and peers. Truly, you’re only as good as your weakest crew member. I surround myself with good people.

So, take Owen Wilson, for example, it would have been wonderful to do Owen’s makeup, but there were times when he was not going to be shooting with Tom and I was going to need to be ready for Tom or available to Tom, so it didn’t make sense. So I never touched Owen, I had Dennis Liddiard design that look and run with it. And then Ned Neidhardt took over that look when Dennis had to depart. That’s just one example of not trying to do everything.

Another one was the Classic Loki. I wanted to do Richard E. Grant’s [makeup] so bad, I can’t even tell you. I’ve been a huge fan since 1987. I wanted so badly to bring that full circle, didn’t make sense. It just didn’t make sense. So again, I never touched him. It wasn’t necessary. Ned was always there. And I think the same thing happened to me on Ragnarok reshoots, which I ran in Atlanta again with Dennis Liddiard. I wanted so badly to do Sir Anthony Hopkins makeup, but it didn’t make sense. So I was happy to hand it off to Bill Myer.

Nerds and Beyond: Oh man, I loved Richard E. Grant in this show so much.

Douglas: He’s amazing.

Nerds and Beyond: He’s so good!

Douglas: He really is. And he’s that good in person. He’s just so fun and interesting and alluring and attractive. He’s such a wonderful, wonderful person and, of course, a phenomenal actor.

Nerds and Beyond: I was watching little videos that he posted and he just seems like the warmest person.

Douglas: You know, just one last tidbit about Richard Grant is he’s got wonderful stories and as he’s telling them he’ll often stop and pause and just laugh. Just laugh, not for the sake of the stories or for anybody that he’s telling the story to, but because recounting the story brings him true joy. So he’ll stop and embrace that joy. Oh, it’s so wonderful.

Nerds and Beyond: That’s so amazing to hear. What is the most memorable job that you’ve done?

Douglas: The most memorable … That’s a tough one because I have so many fond memories of so many projects. The first Avengers film was memorable because there was a buzz, there was a vibration, a frequency, that was in the air when we were shooting that. We kind of knew we were making something big and something special. I don’t think any of us knew how big or how special it would be, but that certainly is one of the most memorable and most special projects.

I’m pretty good about focusing on the positive aspects of all these things, regardless of how difficult the project may be for whatever reason. The pros always, always heavily outweigh the cons, but I have a lot of wonderful, memorable experiences. Another one, it’s the polar opposite only because of the conditions in which we shot, but Birth of the Nation was one of the most memorable and exceptional experiences of my career. I was on the wrong side of 40, had 25 years of experience, and had still never worked so hard in my entire life. We did a 50-day shoot in 27 days. So proud of the work we did.

It was 100 degrees with 99 percent humidity, we shot it in the summer in Georgia, in Savannah, so it was hot, humid, and just getting the makeup necessary to be on individuals to stay put was its own challenge. And then the other challenges only added to that. But Nate Parker, the director, writer, producer, and lead actor, he is a special human being. And he was inspiring from start to finish. Usually, the first people in are the teamsters, transport department, and usually I’m second. He beat me in almost every single day. He’s in three hours before he needs to be. That was a very special experience.

Nerds and Beyond: Finally, are you excited about the news of Loki Season 2?

Douglas: I’m beyond thrilled! I invite being in the dark a little bit, I kind of like surprises and I like not knowing, so I suspected, but hearing the news confirmed, I was thrilled, naturally. What are they going to dream up? This is amazing. How do you top season 1 of Loki? That’s the burning question.

#loki #loki series #douglas noe #interview #article #nerds and beyond

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host-club-hq · 3 years

Text

Call of the Scar pt. 1

➼ pairing: harry potter x reader

➼ genre: sfw, fluffy, fantasy

➼ word-count: 3.4k

➼ summary: Harry Potter and Y/N Weasley embark on their great journey together in their fourth year at Hogwarts. What does this unsuspecting year hold for them this time?

➼ part 1 of many :)

➼ want to request? do it here. let me know what i can write for you :)

➼ talk to the characters!

Frank Bryce sets a kettle on the stove and- with a shaky hand- adjusts the flame. He leans forward, squinting to get the fire right, and the window beyond his is revealed. Something flickers. Softly. Then again. Frank turns.

Atop the hill, light dances in one of the windows of the manor.

CLANG!

Frank emerges from the cottage, walking stick in hand. He limps into the yard and approaches a door almost completely covered in ivy. He fits a rusty key into the lock

The knob squeals dryly. The walking stick pierces the shadows, then Frank himself enters. His nostrils flare against the sour air. He cocks an ear. Frank's shadow spreads darkly on the landing. Above a small table is an old calendar, freckled with Mildew. August 1943

Frank reaches the top and stops. His breath drifts like smoke.

At the end of the hallway, a door stands ajar, casting sliver of light across the dusty floor. Frank edges closer and sees a narrow slice of the room beyond. A feeble fire flickers in the grate. From within: voice.

"But where here, my Lord? It seems so... inhospitable.

"How fastidious you've become, Wormtail. As I recall, only recently you called the nearest gutterpipe home. Could it be that the task of nursing me has become wearisome for you?"

"No, my Lord! I only meant-"

"I have my reasons for coming here. Thirteen years of reasons."

"Perhaps if we ere to do it without the boy..."

"No! The boy is everything!"

Just then, the tip of Frank's walking stick vibrates against the floorboard. He eyes it curiously, then- in mute horror- watches a giant snake emerge from the shadows behind him. As it skims past his shoes and into the room, an eerie hiss greets its arrival.

"Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail. According to her, there is an old Muggle standing just outside this room."

The door flings wide, revealing a short balding man- Wormtail.

"Where are your manners, Wormtail? Step aside so I can give our guest a proper greeting..."

Slowly, Wormtail withdraws. Frank's eyes dilate. A flash of green light sears the walls. The walking stick clatters to the floor, handle charred black, weeping smoke. A brittle whistling rises from the shadows of the empty Gardener's Cottage, a tea kettle squealing madly, rising like a scream on the night sky.

Harry Potter sits bolt upright, a gasp in his throat. He winces and presses his palm to the scar on his forehead. Across the room, Ron lies sleeping.

"Having a bit of a lie-in, are we?" A smug voice comes.

Harry spins, seeing you, his closest girl friend, grinning from beside his bed.

"Y/N. When'd you get back?" Harry breathes heavily. You had gone for a morning walk- as you usually do when sleep eludes you.

"Just now. You?" you’re referring as to when he arrived at your family’s burrow.

"Last night." Harry begins to sit up.

"Must have missed you. Though, how could I? With your clumsy arse." you ruffle his hair and Harry groans.

"Says you." Harry bites back playfully. You grin.

Hermione comes stalking in loudly and Ron wakes. "Bloody hell!" Ron bolts up and tugs the blanket over his chest.

"Oh, honestly. Come on. Get yourself dressed or we'll miss the whole thing." Hermione claps at Ron.

You watch as she leaves, then look at Harry. The two of you stare at each other before you whack him upside the head.

"Blimey, Y/N! What was that for?"

"I dunno, maybe I just wanted to hit your dumb ass." you walk out.

Harry rubs the back of his scalp before turning to Ron, who was still on the verge of sleep.

"What are you looking at me for?" Ron grumbles.

"She's your sister. I wonder where she gets it from." Harry throws his feet over the bed.

"Not bloody likely... more like all that time she spends with Hermione. God awful, the pair of them."

"Don't be dramatic, Ron." Harry shoves him slightly as he gets dressed.

A string of sleepy silhouettes- Fred, George, Harry, Ron, you, and Hermione- trail a huffing Arthur Weasley. Fred has a battered pair of omnioculars slung over his neck.

"Where is it exactly, where we're going?" Harry turns to you.

"Dunno. Say, Dad. Where're we going?" you holler forward.

"Haven't the foggiest. Keep up!" Arthur replies. Harry looks at you expectantly.

"Why are you looking at me like I know where we're going?" you raise an eyebrow.

"Why don't you know where we're going?" Harry teases back.

"Because I've never been to the bloody thing. Merlin, Harry, sometimes you're so daft." you sigh, teasingly, again. Harry eyes her curiously. Daft? Yeah, right.

A ruddy faced wizard appears atop the crest ahead.

"Arthur! It's about time, son!" The man shouts in greeting.

"Sorry, Amos. 'Fraid we got a bit of a sleepy start. This is Amos Diggory, everyone. Works with me at the ministry. And this strapping young lad must be Cedric, am I right?" Arthur guesses.

An extremely handsome 17-year old boy shakes hands with Mr. Weasley, whom he towers over.

"Sir." Cedric confirms.

"Bloody hell." you sigh. Harry looks to you.

"What? You think he's attractive?" Harry raises an eyebrow.

"How could I not? Look at him." you grin widely. Harry pouts.

"Don't be a baby, you're still adorable." you pinch his cheek and he yelps.

"Bugger off." He swats your hand away.

"Merlin's beard! You're Harry Potter, aren't you? Ced's talked about you, of course. About playing Quidditch against you last year. I told him- Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will: You beat Harry Potter!" Amos grins. Lorelei frowns and steps beside Harry.

"Harry fell of his broom, Dad. I told you, it was an accident-"

"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you? Best man won. I'm sure Harry'd say the same." Amos grins. Harry frowns and you take his hand in yours. As much as you tease each other, you both know how much you care for each other.

"We'll see about that this year, won't we?" you challenge with a subtle smirk. Amos's eyebrows furrow before Arthur interjects before his daughter escalates.

"Well, shall we? We don't want to be late." Arthur clears his throat, as he should.

"Hm? Oh, right. It's over there." Amos points.

Harry cranes his neck. Lying in the short grass is an old boot. Each person places a finger to the book, arms extended like spokes to a wheel. Harry leans to you and whispers.

"Can you tell me why we're all standing here pressing our fingers to this manky old boot?" Harry grimaces.

"It isn't just any manky old boot, mate." Fred interjects.

"It's a Portkey." you finish.

"A Portkey? What's a-"

SWOOSH! The hill lurches then tilts. The sky begins to spin. A howling wind rises and the sky spins faster and faster and faster still... and becoming a blur... until...

... Harry slams hard onto his feet and- like the others beside him- topples onto his back. Above him, the sky reels dizzily, like a carousel, spinning slowly to a halt as Arthur, Amos, and Cedric cycle into view, windswept but upright.

"That'll clear your sinuses, eh!" Arthur exclaims.

"And I thought I hated Floo Powder." Harry groans. A hand comes into his view and he trails his eyes up the arm that connects to you.

"Come on, then. Up you go." He takes your hand and helps himself to his feet.

"Floo Powder is still my least favorite. Getting covered in soot just to land in a ruddy fireplace." you grimace as you recall your first Floo Powder experience.

Harry looks past you to the field beyond. Thousands of tents stretch to the edge of a steep cliff, to the deep bowl of a stadium.

"This reminds me of just how many witches and wizards there are sometimes." you appear next to Harry, your knuckles tightening around the straps of your backpack as if you were anxious. Or, you could be excited- Harry can't tell.

"That's an interesting way to look at it." Harry acknowledges you with the tilt of his head, nudging you.

"Keep up, we don't want to be left behind." He starts off first, trusting you’ll follow. And you do.

Harry glances about in fascination as he and the others trudge through the sea of tents. Exotic accents dance upon the air, every nationality in evidence.

"Well, here we are!" Arthur pulls aside the flap of a small tent. A very small tent. Harry watches curiously as the others pass through.

"How in Merlin's name are we all meant to fit in that?" Harry gestures lazily to the tent in disappointment. You peer in from his point of view and shrug.

"Dad's got all sorts of tricks up his sleeve- just you watch." you inhale deeply and disappear inside the tent. Harry draws in the same sort of breath and ducks inside himself.

Harry looks around and smiles- he's standing in what's equivalent to a 3-bedroom flat. "I love magic." He grins as she sloppily drops his bag on the floor.

"I'll take that. You're welcome." you sling Harry's and your bag own over your shoulders. Harry rolls his eyes and follows you at your heal.

"I could've done that myself." Harry says matter-of-factly.

"You wouldn't owe me that way, would you?" you raise an eyebrow at Harry. You know Harry can't raise a single eyebrow and you take every chance that you can get to tease him with your ability.

"Ah, I knew there was a catch." Harry grins goofily as you place his rucksack on one of the beds on the boys' side of the tent. You turn on your heal to place your own where you and Hermione will be sleeping.

"We're separated?" Harry blurts unknowingly. The color red creeps onto the apples of his cheeks as you turn at his query.

"Yes... why do you ask?" you tilt your head as you turn your body to face him. Harry shrugs nonchalantly.

"Harry..." you gently takes his hand in yours, causing Harry to look down at you with sparkling eyes.

"I'm sure you'll be alright for a night or two. What do you do at home when I'm not there, hm?" your thumbs stroke the back of his hand as you look up to meet his eyes.

Harry learned that you were quite skilled at helping him through his nightmares and you were more than happy to lend your skill. Often when you were younger, you helped Ron through rough nights of nightmares after he'd eaten too much for dinner, or too much for dessert. You quickly learned that it was best to not wake him, for he could reel all too quickly back into reality and startle himself. You would bring the blankets back up over his chest to restrain the thrashing, stroke his cheek to maintain the mumbling, and whisper positive affirmations into his ear to send the nightmares into the abyss- replacing it with a nice, pleasant dream. As soon as you saw the smile on Ron's face, you’d known you’d done your job, and would quietly slip out of the room back to the welcoming warmth of your own bed. The nightmares often only came once a night. You wouldn't have to go back after that.

All of the same techniques seem to work in calming Harry from his own nightmares. Although, you find it best to embrace him in his sleep to restrain thrashing, as the blankets can do next to nothing to restrain him.

"Dunno." Harry bites the inside of his cheek and breaks eye contact. Your hand moves from his hand to his shoulder and you smile brightly.

"If you really do need me, come and get me, yeah?" you pat his shoulder thrice and turn on your heal to the girls' side of the tent. Harry's eyes follow you warily as you walk and he sighs shortly.

Ron claps Harry on his back, startling him as he spins around.

"Don't worry too much, mate. She's a light sleeper. If she hears you, she'll wake and be at your side before you know it." Ron starts to unpack his rucksack and Harry nods.

"Yeah... yeah, no, I'll be fine." Harry forces a smile, which Ron returns.

Harry and the others climb to their seats. Flags of all nations ring the stadium and vendors apparate here and there among the crowd, selling their wares.

"Get your Quidditch World Cup programs! Only five Sickles!"

Fancy gold handwriting races repeatedly across a giant blackboard: Gladrags Wizardwear- London, Paris, Hogsmead...

"There's the Peruvian Minister for Tourism. And that man there's the African Head of Magical Games and Sports. And- oh lord- there's Ali Bashir. He's been truing to import flying carpets for years. I keep telling him they'll never replace brooms, but he sees a niche market for a family vehicle..."

"Blimey, Dad. How far up are we?" Ron marvels, ignoring his father's rambling about their surroundings.

"Well, if it rains, you'll be the first to know."

The voice is Lucius Malfoy descending the stairs with Draco. Arthur, tight as a drum, only glares.

"Father and I are in the Minister's box, by personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself." Draco boasts with a smug smirk.

"Oh, bugger off-" you begin.

"Don't boast, Draco." Lucius jabs his walking cane into Draco's chest. Draco grunts and places his hand over where he was jabbed, looking at his father incredulously.

You look to Harry with disbelief.

"Well, that's a first-"

"There's no need with these people." Lucius finishes.

"Ah." you cut yourself off with a disappointed sigh. Harry chuckles and nudges you. You smile.

Malfoy's eyes trail nastily over you and Hermione, landing on Harry.

"Mr. Potter."

As he passes, Harry eyes the walking stick in Lucius Malfoy's grip. A silver serpent encircles his ring finger, inlaid with emerald chips for eyes.

Harry and the others have settled into the upmost row, where the wind whips coldly. As a fleet of broomsticks jet into view, a roar rises in the crowd.

"It's the Irish! There's Troy!" Fred exclaims excitedly.

"And Mullet!"

"And here comes Moran!"

Before Fred can finish, a fleet of dark-clad riders soar over the opposite rim of the stadium. The crowd roars again.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about." Although your cheeks are smeared in green, (curtesy of your older brothers and Ron) your interest in professional Quidditch have never exceeded your brothers' of course. You do find a small interest in the magic of brooms, but the sport itself has never perked your interest.

"Here come the Bulgarians!" George points as he leans over the railing.

"Hm. Who's that?" you squint your eyes at one particularly young player.

"That, sis, is the best Seeker in the world." George smirks with a smug nudge to your side. You swat him.

"He flies rather well, doesn't he?" Hermione acknowledges. The boys exchange amused glances.

"You could say that." Fred stifles his laughter as George nudges him.

Fred lifts his Omnioculars to his eyes and spins a dial. He dials Krum in closer, then runs the image forwards and backwards.

"What's his name?" you ask as you place your hands on the railing.

On cue, thousands of fans on the opposite side of the stadium flip large cards bearing the face of the surly looking boy with thick eyebrows. Each one is emblazoned with his name: KRUM.

"Krum?" Hermione guesses.

"Krum." Harry, Ron, Fred, and George assure in unison.

As the boys look up in admiration, Krum gets past the vast mosaic of his likeness with a nary glance, flying with such breathtaking skill that Harry's jaw fairly falls open. You lean over and press your index finger to his chin, effectively shutting his mouth.

"You'll catch flies." you smirk as Harry swats your hand from his face.

"Lay off." he grumbles.

In the ministry box, Cornelius Fudge rises as Lucius Malfoy and Draco take their seats nearby.

"Good evening! As Minister for Magic, it gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup! Let the match begin!"

A ball of light busts from Fudge's wand. Harry watches Viktor Krum rocket upward, the crowd roaring as he rises into the glittering night sky, the stadium growing smaller, a glimmering disc of light.

Harry and the others lie about, unable to sleep as they excitedly re-live the match.

"Such a big fuss over a sport. All he did was catch a ball." you grumble as you flip to another page of you book from where you lie on your bed, shoes tossed lazily about on the floor next to you as you rhythmically tap your sock-clad feet.

"An incredibly fast ball that's near impossible to spot!" Harry drapes an Irish flag over your lounging figure and you growl, tearing the flag off in the split second after it made contact with your body.

"You're infuriating." you wad up the flag best you can and chuck it towards Harry violently, who catches it with ease.

"Thank you." Harry smiles cheekily.

"Brilliant Krum, wasn't he? Did you see him put Lynch into the ground with the Wronski Feint? It was positively brutal." Ron rambles on.

"I think you're in love, Ron." you giggle from where you sits, eyes never leaving the spot on your page.

"Quiet, you." Ron bites back.

Just then, a chant of voices rise like a lion's roar beyond the tent. Fred grins.

"Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on." Fred ambles confidently towards the flap of the tent before Arthur bursts in urgently and looks around frantically.

"It's not the Irish."

The others turn to see Arthur standing by the flap peering out. Something in his voice causes their smiles to wither.

"Get yourselves dressed." Arthur orderes hurriedly. Once he notices the hesitation in everyone else, he barks another other. "Now!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and you scramble out of the tent and stare with disbelief at the hellish tableaux before you. All around you, people run in terror, trampling fires and kicking up sparks. Then you see why:

A teeming clot of black-robed wizards, faces concealed behind hideous masks, are marching across the campsite, laughing drunkenly. Some clutch torches while others point their wands skyward, where four people tumble eerily high above.

"Who are those people? In the air?" your hand shakes as you gesture to the bodies above.

"Muggles." Arthur answers solemnly. You gulps hard and divert your attention.

"And the ones on the ground?"

"Death Eaters." Hermione answers in the same fashion.

Harry looks puzzled by this, but as Arthur draws his wand, Harry does the same without question.

"No." you grab his wrist and push his arm back to his side.

"Get back to the Portkey, all of you. And stick together. Fred, George, you're responsible for Y/N. Y/N, you listen to your brothers." Arthur insists firmly as his eyes scan over the group. You shift uncomfortably and open your mouth to reply when a scream cuts you off from a passing civilian. The scream set everyone on edge and Arthur takes his tone up a notch.

"Y/N! Did you hear me?!" he scolds intensely. You blink, startled by your father's fierce expression, then nod slowly and surely. Arthur dashes off.

Fred and George glance at each other and nod. They gently shove you towards Harry and you grunt, spinning around to face them. "Dad said to-"

"We know what Dad said. You're better off looking after Harry and him after you." Fred smiles slightly.

"Yeah, and with your clumsy ass and your looking-for-trouble attitude, you balance each other out." George finishes curtly.

"Stay safe!" They disappear into the frantic crowd.

Harry is the first to move, reaching back and swiping your hand from your side and holds it close to him. "Come on." he beckons, pulling you along through the chaos.

They streak past blazing tents. You feel your hand become less and less tightly gripped in Harry's fingers before you find it slipping away. Lost in the mob, you falls back. Fred and George flash briefly in the crowd, then vanish. Hermione turns, frantic eyes finding Harry.

"Y-Y/N was with you- where is she?" Hermione's frantic eyes search the panicking crowd. She sees no glimpse of you.

"Where is my sister?" Ron steps towards Harry and gazes at him accusingly. Harry looks back and realizes that his hand is in fact empty. He takes immediate action.

Harry dashes on, buffeted back and forth by the raging crowd. He stumbles, falls, struggles to rise, and is trampled again. Bootheels punish the earth all around him. One strikes his temple hard and he collapses. He sees you, frantic, before his vision escapes him.

#Harry Potter #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter x reader #harry x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter series #harry potter movies #hogwarts #hermione #Ron Weasley #hermione granger #fred weasley #george weasley #weasley #harry potter smut #harry potter angst #Magic #wizard #witches

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letoscrawls · 3 years

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Hiiiii

I hope you're doing well!

I would like to ask if u have and advise about starting and art account on insta. I have a small one here on tumblr but people say insta is better for art accs. So I just create an account and start posting? Or do I promote myself in some way, maybe taking dtiys and other challenges?

Thanks in advance:D

Hi! thank you so much for checking on me! :)

okay, i get this question quite often and i wish i could give you solid advice, but the problem with instagram right now is its algorithm. when i started my account it wasn’t that fucked up, so i don’t really know how it is for new artists who have just started their accounts now! but i can tell you that it really affected every artist, even the bigger ones, so please keep that in mind. if you “fail” to reach your audience it’s not your fault, instagram is literally sabotaging artists and i don’t know for how long it’ll be “the best platform for art”. so just to warn all of you, i don’t want you to compromise your mental health for a social platform that makes money out of our stress and insecurities, i’ll try to share what i think could work because sharing art can be really rewarding and shouldn’t be an ordeal so i’d be happy to help somehow!!!!!

so this is the “algorithm tricks” part:

when i first opened ig, i remember my stories were viewed by at least 100 people for the first two days even though i had less than 10 followers, so i think that’s instagram way to encourage you to keep posting, so my first advice would be to post your art in the stories too, at least for the first week or something?? now, i know the algorithm is currently promoting reels, so if you’re skilled with those go for it! make videos of your creating process and stuff like that. it’s important to inform your followers when you make a new post bc the chances of it being noticed are higher, you have to do the work bc ig won’t show that post to most of your audience (did i mention that i hate whoever made this algorithm?? yes??) i’m not really sure about this but i think ig prefers the reels you make with their set of editing tools instead of just uploading a pre saved video (i think it’s their way to sabotage those who post their tiktoks), i’ve never tried them so i don’t really know what they’re like, but i’m pretty sure tiktok is way better. i read somewhere that IGTV aren’t ig big thing anymore, so i don’t think you’d get much engagement from them. in general i’d say to always promote your posts in your stories and to wait at least an hour before editing a post bc i think you’ll lose engagement if you edit it right after posting (i know, it’s so stupid).

the use of hashtags is the only thing that i approve, because it’s an helpful tool made by social media before it got so bad and they really help you to reach more people (that’s like their purpose, i just wish there weren’t dozens of other stupid rules to follow in order to be noticed besides hashtags). so using tags like “art”, “artists on instagram” and “daily art” along with tags related to the pic you posted (like the name of the character or the fandom etc) is really helpful, just don’t use unrelated tags bc it’s annoying and idk how convenient it is :P the last thing is promoting your posts by using the sponsored feature; i never used that because i’d rather eat a slug than give money to instagram, but if you have the possibility and you are okay with that then you could try!

now for the “artsy” part

artists have found many ways to bypass the algorithm and keep the community alive over the years, challenges are probably the best way to do so! dtiys are awesome, not only they help you get more recognition, but they also make artists incredibly happy! i should host one very soon myself, i’m looking for a pose and an outfit to draw one of my ocs in, hopefully you’ll see it soon! i cannot explain how happy it makes me to see people draw a character of mine, and it’s great to see them in so many different styles, so i highly recommend dtiys! usually the artists who host them post the entries in their stories too, so yeah, you should definitely try those! there are other challenges like art vs artist, memes etc, it’s incredible how creative the community is despite all! and lastly, draw fan art! contributing to a fandom with your art is so cool, personally i prefer it over original content most of the time, i feel the need to share my point of view and to let out all the idiotic thoughts i have when i consume some kind of media so i’m really biased, but every artist is different, so don’t force yourself to do something if you don’t feel like doing it! drawing something you don’t particularly enjoy because you want to get recognition is gonna make you burnout REALLY BAD, trust me, i personally think that passion>effort, so never forget to put your enjoyment first!!!!

okay this took me a while and i hope it was helpful! good luck!!! i definitely forgot something dskfjhis

#ask #faq #art tips

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fallingoverharrypotter · 3 years

Text

If We Make It Through January 7th

Draco and Harry on the wrong side of the holiday season, making the gloom a little bit brighter. Also on AO3 here.

I’m barely through the front door of the place before I catch a glimpse of the man behind the counter and freeze up. Right there in the doorway.

A frustrated cough comes from behind me, and I hear a rude “excuse me.”

I swear. “Sorry,” I move out of their way, back onto the icy cobblestones: the patron flicks me an insincere smile as they hurry into the warmth of the bakery, and the door shuts in my face with a clang. The noise of the store, regular café sounds and music with it. That’s unfortunate, as Diagon still has Christmas jingles incessantly twinkling across the cold brick back and forth down the alley on this side of the new year, and that’s… only one part of the reason I want to enter.

Surely there are other places on Diagon that sell hot drinks and buns this late on a Wednesday. But… I know there aren’t. Even in muggle London.

Going home empty handed on Monday was one thing, but going home empty handed on Wednesday seems out of the question.

The cheerful drawings of smiling faces and steaming pastries on the glass are mocking me - there’s raucous noise of laughter just from the other side of the windows. I’m drawn up close and shivering in my winter robe, and it’s so cold that the warming charms keep wearing off. There are the sludgy remnants of snow on the cobbles, and I had to save myself from a couple of falls on the way down here. The blush on my cheeks is definitely from the embarrassment of the wobbles, but thankfully it’ll be passed off as the bite of the air. He probably won’t realise a difference anyway.

I take a deep breath, and go to reach for the door again, but then my hand stops, barely within my control. I close my eyes and try once more. Breathe deep, hand out to grasp the handle. I pretend not to think about whether any patrons of the bakery are staring at me through the glass. I hypothesise that if this takes me longer than five minutes, I’ll get an Auror called on me for drunk and disorderly, and wouldn’t that truly make my day.

Suddenly, it’s too much. I don’t even want to see his face. Wednesday pastries will just have to go without. It’s a silly tradition anyway. Surely if I’m ever allowed to forgo a habit, it would be as a new year’s resolution. It was his neurotic practice anyway. Probably one of those things I should toss out like I did all the rest of his stuff.

I take another deep breath and point my chin up, stare challengingly at one stupid smiling figure on the glass, and turn to make my way down to the other apparition point at the end of Diagon.

Stupid ex-boyfriends and stupid bleeding-heart holiday seasons. I manage to keep my feet reasonably stable as I walk down the almost icy path on this darker end of the street.

Unfortunately for me, however, a loud noise startles me and I completely wipe out.

A loud grunt expels itself from my chest as my back hits the ground. Thankfully my neck and head seem to be pretty well protected by the thick green scarf I’ve got wrapping me up, but my ass doesn’t fair all that well. “Fucking hell,” I mutter, and groan as I roll over onto my side. I wince when a sharp twinge in my back is set off with my movement.

Thankfully I’m not alone in my predicament, because the noise that startled me was an initial slick sharp sound of a slip against the icy cobbles. I tilt my head up and see heavy black boots, worn just slightly at the sole, and the figure of their owner, a man in amongst a mountain of sludgy snow that someone had just moved to the side instead of vanishing. I mutter to myself about the absolute travesty which is Diagon without proper foot traffic. People here get bloody careless this time of year.

I push myself up by my gloved hands, now soaked, along with the backside of my cloak. “Are you alright?” I half-heartedly direct to the man who I can hear angrily muttering to himself in his current position. I have to pay direct attention to getting my feet under me so that I don’t make another trip, but I do finally stabilise myself. I sigh crossly. My penance for getting so startled is that I don’t immediately get to grab my wand and dry myself off.

The man sighs too. His reply is muffled, but I think I can make out a “yep”. Charming.

He’s not moving though, so I huff out a breath impatiently and wander over to where he lies carelessly under an awning, face shadowed from Diagon’s twinkling lights. Good King Wenceslas chimes out of the charms on the street, and seems to mock me, and I have to force myself to think of how best to rectify this. I hope this guy isn’t drunk. Or maybe I hope he is, so that I can just call the aurors to deal with this.

“Are you pissed?” I ask, just to know.

“I wish.” Is his muffled reply. “Would be a bit less embarrassing if I were, I think.”

I roll my eyes. “Can you get up?”

“Yep.” He repeats, and then groans again as he pulls himself out of the soaking wet, dirty grey cushion, that is the snow bank.

My mouth drops open. “Potter?”

And, yep indeed. It’s Potter. He’s leaning back on gloved hands when he looks up at me quickly and then he groans. Throws his wet haired head back, and those green eyes look up at the awning like he’s berating whatever trickster god pulls his strings of fate. Or, so I assume.

He leans his weight on a single hand and stretches out the other in my direction.

For a second, I think he’s extended it so we can shake hands, before I realise that he just wants a hand up. I flush and hasten – carefully – over. A quick pull from my hand and he does the rest of the work, but he has to grab at my shoulders when he’s upright, a little wobbly.

He looks at me and grimaces. “I’m a danger to myself and others.” His hands release my shoulders, but only, it seems, to brush off bits of snow and dirt off of my coat.

I huff, my breath making a cloud of vapour in the space between us. “Well, I won’t disagree with you on that. Do you need me to go and get someone for you, or can you make your merry way to your reserved bed at Mungos?”

He laughs just a little. “It’s always a pleasure, Draco, honestly.” He’s joking, so I reserve the right to kick him until later. Maybe when he’s a bit less pathetic from the slip. “Are you okay?”

I scowl, and don’t answer his question. “It’s bloody 6pm on a Wednesday. In the middle of winter. After a snow storm. Who’s honestly buying wands this time of year?”

He smiles, winks slightly. “Gotta be made, don’t they?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, I get it. You’re chained to your desk. A snowstorm fit for the arctic circle could blaze through here and you couldn’t be moved.”

He laughs. Harry laughs the same way he’s always laughed, and I blush just a little bit, as I’ve always done. I feel a shiver start to come upon me, but I keep it away by share force of will as he continues. “The new year is good for the thestral tail hair.” A dirty glove subconsciously comes up to rub at his wet hair, and he grimaces when he feels it. “Decay, new life, you know. The Death-horses and Winter going hand in hand.”

I smirk as he tentatively tries to rub his dirty glove off against a cleaner part of his cloak. “Cruel of them. Not taking the time to consider your plight.”

“Well,” he challenges, “I doubt it’s a major concern. It’s actually not every day that I slip and fall on the pavement. I survive my walks, mostly.”

“Well,” I answer, “I never slip or fall.” I raise a haughty eyebrow at him, and I can see the humour dust his eyes a little bit more. “Don’t go blaming me for this.”

He rolls his eyes and grimaces. “Why are we still so wet.” He flicks his hand and a wave of annoyingly familiar magic crests itself over my figure until the dirt and the moisture are driven right away. I flick a warming charm over him in thanks.

He seems to pay a bit more attention to his surroundings now that he’s dry and warm. “You just come from Finch-Fletchley’s? You mind reminding him that if the other shops are closed down for the holidays that it’s his job to vanish the snow after a blanketing?”

I avert my eyes, drawn to the bright lights of the bakery. I scowl. “You can tell him yourself, thank you very much.” I take a deep breath, and straighten my back. Keeping some decorum, hopefully. “We’ve broken up.”

Potter’s eyebrows are up when I glance quickly back to his face. He looks at me, and his face is very controlled. He looks at the bakery. “When?”

I swallow. “Week before Christmas, if you can believe.”

He can’t seem to stop himself from whistling sympathetically. Then he winces. “Sorry.”

I shrug, casually. “No matter.”

He snorts.

“I’m serious” I say, pointlessly.

He crosses his arms and looks hard at me. “Oh yeah? What are you doing here, then? Surely not too many muggleborns turning 11 around this time of year.”

Not to back down, and turn to face him properly and cross my own arms. “You know full well that’s not all I do, Potter.”

He rolls his eyes. “Like my point doesn’t still stand. What? You doing a lot of muggleborn house calls the week after new year’s?”

“Not every muggleborn celebrates Christmas and New Year’s.”

“Sure, technically. In reality, though?”

I turn away, and don’t answer his questions. He snorts, but then steps a little closer. We’re facing the bakery, because of course we are. O’ Holy Night plays above us. I wonder who chooses these songs.

I hear him take a deep breath in and out. “I really am sorry.”

I sigh, too. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“It’s only been two weeks, Draco.”

Two weeks and 5 days. If we’re counting. I don’t say this though.

He bumps my shoulder. “Not to pick at the wound, but what areyou really doing here.”

I consider lying to him again, but we’re not really in the business of doing that. It’d just be a bore. And he’s always been… good about things like this. “Christmas.” I swallow. “It gets lonely, you know.”

He hums.

I kick out at the ground with my foot and it slides a little bit too far, and I end up having to take a step forward to balance myself again – Potter grabs at my arm.

He laughs, a little anxiously. “Never slip and fall, huh?”

I ignore that, my face flushed and hot. “We had a tradition. Wednesday pastries at the bakery. I would assume it’s common decency to let someone know in advance if you’re going to break up with them. So that one can plan for these moments, right?” I close my eyes against the lights of Justin’s bakery, feeling unwelcome. “I apologise. I’m morose. It’s not exactly the post-holiday cheer I’m sure you want on a nice evening.”

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t call this a nice evening.” My warming charm wears off, and he flicks his wrist for another one to settle over us. He lets go of my upper arm, and puts a hand on my shoulder – drags me around a bit to face him. “Fuck him, right?”

I roll my eyes. “He’s not a bad guy, Potter.”

He rolls his eyes right back, and then looks quite serious. “Be a little indulgent with yourself sometimes, Draco.”

I look back at him. He’s only just shorter than me, and I’ve always cherished that fact, but now he almost seems to be towering over me, even with a bit of a slouch to his stand. His messy hair and his shadowed cheeks and under-eyes the likes of which I only really see during the summer break when I’m chaperoning muggle families and their muggleborn children to get their first wands before September. Working too hard. Chained to his desk.

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” I blurt out.

His eyes widen. So do mine. The heat in my face expands to a blaze, and I groan as I drop it into my cold gloves. “Merlin, I’m sorry. You just said the indulgent thing, and I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” He grabs at my wrists lightly and tugs a bit, but I don’t budge. “Draco.”

A clang mutely sounds from just up the street, the usual echo of the door in the cobbled street trapped by the snow. “Draco?” I hear, and look up. Startle, because that’s definitely Justin at the door, surrounded in the glow of the lighting. I take a step back almost without thought, and Harry’s grip on my wrist unfortunately makes me lose my balance. I go right down, and he follows. Right on top of me.

I groan loudly, my head and back and arse all once again wet and cold. Harry groans too, and his warm weight gets off me very quickly, tugging me up by my hands, and then a hand tight on my waist to right me. I don’t step out of his grip immediately, too overcome with the situation. Ready to take another crack at the cobbles and see if this time I brain myself.

“Hell, Draco,” Harry mutters, and then grabs his wand to get the wet and the dirt off the both of us again. Another of his beautiful warming charms settles over my body. “We’re even now, okay? No more falls, for god’s sake.”

Justin has wandered a bit closer by the time I look away from Harry’s face, a little consternated. “Draco? Are you okay? Merlin, what are you doing standing out here?”

I don’t respond. Harry coughs. “That’ll be me. I basically tripped him earlier, and we got talking.”

Justin’s eyes widen just a little, and he looks at Draco in concern. “In this weather? It’s freezing! I’ll grab you mug of spice cider, alright?”

“No,” I say, finally finding my bloody voice again. “No, I’m fine. And anyway.” I shoot a glance at Harry. “We’re tied one-for-one.” Harry smirks.

Justin continues when I look back to him. “Dray, come on. A cup of cider, a bite to eat.”

I shake my head, wanting this day to be done with already. “I’ve got plans.”

Justin eyes get just a little softer. “Come on, please?”

“He does. Have plans.” Potter says, and my neck twinges with how fast I turn to look at him. “We’re going to dinner.”

Justin goggles, just a little, looks between Harry and me. There’s a certain part of me – a different part to the one that’s processing whether or not Harry means what he said about dinner – that’s a little vindictively pleased about Justin’s reaction. “Oh!” Justin says. “Okay, no… No worries!” He meets my eyes, and I flush. “It was good to see you. Please, do come around. The staff miss you, you know.”

I smile politely. “Thanks, Justin.” I stand a little taller, and nod to him. “Take care.”

“You too.” And he grins kindly, lifting a hand to Harry and me, before hastening back into the warm sanctuary of his bakery. The door does its little muted clang again as it closes. My mouth – still sitting in a polite smile – relaxes, leaving a little pain in my cheeks.

Harry hums. “Do you ever think that we’re all a bit toomature now?”

Surprisingly, I laugh loudly at that. I’m nodding even before I get the words out. “Yes. I’d almost wish to be fifteen again and have a real proper tantrum about this.” I sigh, laugh a little again. “But, you know. Fifteen-year-old me? Good riddance.”

“I don’t know…” Harry trails off, “there were some redeeming qualities. He was certainly a creative sort.”

I goggle at him, and immediately stop when I realise that I’m imitating Justin to some extent. “Stop having me on.”

Harry… laughs. “Yeah, I’m having you on. You were a right bastard.”

I shake my head, and turn away from the lights of the bakery, and start walking. He’ll surely catch up.

“I was serious.” Harry says, and I turn my head a little to let him know I’m listening as I walk. “About dinner.”

“I assumed so,” even though that’s a bit of a lie.

“And,” Harry catches up. “I mean ‘dinner’ as in. A date.”

I’m not proud of this, but I slip. Just a little. “Fuck,” I say as I try to catch myself. Thank goodness that Potter’s a bit more onto it, though. He just grabs my arm, and an arm around my back. Straightens me up.

“Bloody hell, I should have talked to him about the snow vanishing,” Harry’s saying as I brush off my cloak to hide my flush. “It’s all the Diagon Business Association talks about during winter, I don’t know what he’s on-”

“Harry.”

He stops and looks at me. Christmas music is still playing, and its still grating, but goodness the lights work well on his complexion. And his eyes.

I smile, just a little. “We’ve got dinner plans, I thought? We could talk about this there, surely?”

He laughs.

#drarry fic #drarry #drarry fanfic #harry potter fanfic #this came out of nowhere and was supposed to be something much different before it became this #fluff #pure and simple #and god now all i want is to have 30k of Harry as wandmaker and Draco as the muggleborn liason #brining the little muggleborn kids and their families through Diagon before they go off to Hogwarts #and Harry and Draco learning to like each other through that #and falling kind of just #slowly for each other because of it #and Draco deserves a little date #as a treat

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the-hydroxian-artblog · 4 years

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Hey Hydro - love your art! I wanted to ask you a question. You draw almost every day, right? How do you stay interested? Whenever I get in a long-term drawing groove, I inevitably lapse when I get bored with doing what feels like the same thing every day. How do you keep it fresh? Thanks! You're a big inspiration.

Thank you! I'm afraid this answer might not apply to everyone, but maybe someone can relate:

Keep the effort amount low, and make sure you're drawing something you like. If you feel you've been drawing the same thing, then your clear goal here is to explore other things you may like to draw but just never considered doing. Keeping the effort low will prevent potentially stepping outside your comfort zone from being too daunting.

In brief, you need to take baby steps.

I tried to do a sketch every day about 2 or 3 years ago, and gradually my technique refined on its own. My goal was to draw whatever could scratch an itch I'd have at the moment in order to stimulate my bored brain. A funny joke, a character idea, etc. It was crucial that the drawing should be simple, yet stimulating enough for me to want to do it. The goal was just promising to do any modicum of effort at all, and reward myself with something I liked.

However, by just committing to a modicum every day, doing super rough sketches started to take less effort. Which was good! But because there was less challenge it also began to stimulate me less, which would dercrease my motivation. So to stay stimulated and motivated, I kept pushing for anything slightly better, until that "better" became my new normal. "Better" could mean cleaner lines, more elabotate detail, more solid anatomy, more interesting pose work, funnier punchline, etc etc. And gradually sketches came out better, cleaner, all while only committing a fairly low amount of effort each day.

It's also worth mentioning that I'd set a deadline of some kind for myself, as simple as having a drawing done before I sleep. I haven't been diagonsed but I could bet a thousand that I have some form of adhd. Waiting until the middle of the night does something weird to my brain and makes it work properly. Setting and early deadline and then scrambling at the "last minute" to do it is a great way to effectively trick yourself into drawing consistently.

It's a battle, though. I have an idea, though I haven't committed to this myself yet:

Jot down characters and subject matters from fandoms, real life, whatever-- as long as you like it. Then, number them until you get 12 (or more, I'm not your dad). After that, make a list of things characters can be or do. Happy, walking, sad, telling a joke, reenacting a meme, anything that comes to mind. Jot these down, and number them until you get 12 (or more, I'm not your granny).

Then, on any day you're hesitant to draw, roll dice or use a random number picker to decide the character first, and then what the character will do second.

Congrats: you've just given yourself a drawing prompt. Do the prompt using the lowest amount of effort you're comfortable with committing to. An hour? 30 minutes? 10 minutes? 5? Any time necessary to fulfill the prompt.

Maybe after a month you can try a completely fresh set of characters and subjects to keep things from getting dull.

Drawing every day is a matter of coming up with something. Using a system like this can make you rely less on a sort of last minute panic like I often do to come up with something ""good enough"". Oh yeah advice no. 2, abolish the idea of "good enough to draw", it often only wears you down with hesitation. If your only output is a thicc Dr. Eggman talking about his mcnuggies, you've done more for yourself that day than if you drew nothing at all.

It also helps to do studies. Even one contour sketch and one 5 to 10 minute sketch of a face, every day, can keep the gears oiled.

#long post #FAQ #studies

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youarejesting · 4 years

Text

Temptation KTH X Reader

[Masterlist] Pairing: CamBoy!Taehyung x CamGirl!Reader Beta: N/A Genre: Romance, Angst, Fluff, NSFW, Smut Rating: 18+ Words: 3.7k Request: @pars-ley

Summary: You sign up for the world’s newest and sexiest Late-night Television program called ‘Temptation’. Where you are competing with nine other Cam workers to win One Million dollars. The catch? You can’t cum?

Warnings: Oral f & m recieving, Doms & Subs, Orgasm denial, Penetrative sex, Handjobs, Fingering, Vouyerism, Exhibitionism, Bratty, Daddy Kink, Impregnation Kink, Auralism (sexy sounds moans etc...), Orgy, Dirty talk, Group sessions.

You were a cam girl, but you had been recruited with the best of the best to participate in an elimination game show. Basically, you were not allowed to come, which didn’t include private masturbation unless you were with a housemate in the previous half-hour. The winner would win one million dollars.

There were a few catches, you were each given a phone that would give you commands on things you had to do with other contestants. You had permission to do anything to anyone if the phone told you so. So if you were told to give a blow job you could, but the male was not allowed to finish. Equally so if you were told one of the males could eat you out, you weren’t allowed to finish.

With a sigh, you sat in front of the camera and began talking about the first day while rewatching the footage. You were told to react as if it was happening and relay the thought you had in the moment. “right here I thought ‘oh it is going to be easy’,” I signed up to Temptation and I am going to win. I have to win, I am planning on paying out my family's mortgage and perhaps buying myself a home something permanent.”

You took a moment to pause and thought “it wasn’t the easiest growing up poor, I have a good job now and a good apartment but I don’t spend money on myself until my family are in a better position”

You met the other contestants and you could pick out which ones would go first, the ones who had no resolve. There were four doms and you knew you could get them in seconds. Everyone was dressed normally and you each took the time to greet one another.

This would be the easiest money you ever made. Everyone introduced themselves and their highlight cam videos appeared on the screen and you paled. Suga, RM, J-Hope, Honey, Jimin, lovelymi, Jungkook, EatJin. Names you hoped would “Hello, my name is V, I have been in the cam industry for about seven years, I do partner and solo videos, I am a switch.” His voice was so deep and it stirred something in you.

His videos started playing and he was grunting and fucking a girl. Him talking dirty while he used his hand, he was big and looked honestly amazing. He was holding a girl’s hair as he bucked into her mouth. All while looking and sounding so freaking sexy

“This be harder than I thought” you laughed “he is handsome and his voice is truly amazing, from a purely sexual point of view he is attractive”

“But what will his personality be like? That's the question. Things can make you excited but if he opens his mouth and is a jerk well that excitement plummets.

��Hey guys, My cam name is Baby, I have been in the cam business for a long time I can’t even remember, I am a submissive, I have done partnered and solo cam video” Your videos began playing, you were thankful for the quality of your videos and editing things looked desirable and left you wanting more. You acting like a brat and being punished. You acting submissive calling your cam partner Daddy.

This last one had the dom’s in the room squirming and you knew you had some power over them.

“I joined the cam industry because I was interested, I got to have pleasure in the privacy of my own house and get paid. I use a fake name and I entertain clients with videos. I choose what I do in the video if I don’t like it. I'm sorry, I choose who can watch me. If someone is acting rude or threatening I can kick them out the website and my setup at home is protected so common creeps cannot find me. The people I film with are people I trust and also work in the business”

You shrugged raising your hands up “I mean what can I say it all sounds like a great deal, orgasms and money what else do you want”

You smiled and the Host spoke over the PA, “Please check out your new rooms and your attire which has been carefully selected in your size. Relax and freshen up dinner will be served shortly.”

You stood up and looked innocently at the doms. “What should I wear for dinner mummy and Daddies?”

The four doms Suga, Jhope, Honey, and Jin looked at you with firm eyes. “Would you like me to dress you, baby?” Honey asked

“Wear something pretty?” Jin said his voice firm as he walked off, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his dress shirt as he walked down the hall.

“Wear something to impress daddy?” Jhope grinned and you went off to your room, looking through the cupboards and you thought the others would go for blatantly sexy but you actually snuck into Jin’s room while he was in the shower and stole his dress shirt and left, you made sure to wear a pretty set of white lace underwear but you didn’t put on shoes and you let your hair down and put on natural-looking makeup.

The shirt dwarfed you and you didn’t do up all the buttons at the top or bottom. Everyone walked out to dinner and you grinned. All the guys were either just in pants or in suits except Jimin and Jungkook who were in harness’. LovelyMi was wearing lingerie, big heels, and full hair and makeup. Honey wore leather and big shoes stepping out. You yawned pretending you woke up your hands unseen in the big sleeves.

“Is that my shirt?” Jin asked

“Daddy's shirt smelled so good?” Jin stirred, you bit back a smile and everyone started eating dinner and you reached for something and V made a small groan as the shirt fell open revealing your breast. You sat back down and grinned when Suga’s phone chimed.

“One of your well-known skills is Tongue technology, pick one girl and eat her out.” He said with a laugh.

“Suga, genius. The only two things you need to know” he shrugged looking at the floor. “Enough said”

He walked down the table and pushed your chair back. You looked up at him innocently. “Daddy is going to eat this pussy, is that okay my sweet baby?” Suga caressed your cheek, you did like praise.

“I want a different daddy” You huffed pulling off your underwear and throwing them at Jin. Suga pressed his tongue to his cheek, looking visibly pissed that you were questioning his authority knowing you were playing as the rules stated if you didn’t want to participate you would use the safe word.

“Spread your legs, brat” this was a command and your legs fell apart. He placed them on the arms of the dinner chair and V looked down swallowing hard trying not to look but you commanded his attention.

“What a pretty little pussy, for such a bratty girl” Suga smirked, wasting no time, you picked up your drink and drank it slowly thinking about the dinner. After the initial surprise, you knew you would be fine he wouldn’t get you to finish but he was so close.

Another phone went off and Jimin read aloud his instructions to give RM a blow job. You continued eating dinner zoning out completely you were pretty skilled at keeping yourself from cumming. What surprised you was when Jimin came it was the first night, but the boy had an oral fixation and that coupled with an audience and the moans around the room, he came while deepthroating RM.

You were sad to see him leave but you were thankful the orders for the night were complete.

“Suga has tongue technology all right but, there is one sure-fire way to put me on edge and that is with a deep voice. I cannot stand V’s voice it is way too sexy”

It had been a long first week, you had been drawn to the edge by Honey and had given a blow job to Jhope who held himself together with swears and shaky breath. You were all sitting in the pool at the end of the week and LovelyMi was eliminated. The fans had voted her out.

The next week saw Jungkook eliminated. Honey had him tied up and he couldn’t hold back. There was no voting elimination but there was a challenge. You had to answer sex facts to earn points. Some of the questions were how many times can a woman orgasm. You won and the hosts Adora and Pdogg asked how many times you had successfully finished.

“Eleven,” You said, “I could have kept going but I took a break and ended up falling asleep.”

“I am impressed?” RM grinned, he had got the next answer right and the two of you got to draw from the hat some cards.

“Hell yeah, I got a free finish card” You grinned

“I got an extended order time card” RM laughed and you both high fived and headed back to continue playing the game.

After a few games such as the fastest to dress in their role-play costume, you all picked what door you wanted and you laughed when you were dressed as a businessman, you laughed at the array of costumes but V was the winner having won wearing a nurses dress. Another game was won by Jin and it was called ‘whose lips are these?’ You each took turns being blindfolded and you were kissed by the others.

For you, Jin’s lips were the easiest to identify, followed by Honey’s and you just knew when a large hand took your waist and your heart sparked that it was V. Three out of six wasn’t too bad.

“They always guessed when it was me, do I kiss a certain way or weirdly?” You touched your lips confused and mumbled in an afterthought “I thought I kissed really well.”

You stepped up to V your heart racing nervously and you slipped your hand into his hair pulling his hair firmly and he groaned making you lick your lips. You kissed him and he kissed back his tongue entering your mouth and you pulled away watching him sigh in relief.

“I got every one of them wrong except her, there was something about how soft her lips were, and the way she tasted like strawberries it was kind of delicious.” V spoke his cheeks red “I want to kiss her again”

Jhope won a game of sex bingo where you had to mark off what you had done but the catch was there as like a hundred different things. Where you looked through your cam videos and marked off what was in each of them. Honey and Suga didn’t have a single card. V had a free from elimination card and Jin had a kink assisted order. Jhope won a group order card.

“Some would say, I am well versed in sex, and they would be right!” JHope laughed, clapping his hands. “I enjoy trying new things and well I have preferences but I can at least say I have tried it”

That week was fun, you had filed away the free finish card for when you needed it and hoped like hell you wouldn’t need it. RM used the time extend card for his order to fuck Honey but accidentally eliminated himself and Honey simultaneously.

Eliminations came along and Suga was the next to be voted out. There were four of you left. You and three males, this was going to become quite difficult. You were sitting on the couch watching movies with Jin when you got an order.

“Give a blow job to the nearest contestant” You smirked and sank to the floor unzipping Jin’s pants and you hit accept on the phone and got to work you had a time limit and you weren’t going to lose one million dollars because of a six-minute timer.

You used everything called him Daddy made all the right sounds and gave him all the right looks but he didn’t come. The timer rang and he grinned tucking himself away and you rested your head on his thigh. “Please daddy.”

“She is dangerous, I almost didn’t want to stop but I am here for the money, she isn’t playing around” Jin sighed “I can still hear her saying those words in my head and I want more than anything to continue our session.”

You noticed V in the kitchen with a piece of orange in his mouth, eyes wide he had seen everything and you blushed.

“That was the hottest thing I had ever seen, she really wanted to win and I am just thankful that it wasn’t an order for me” He shivered running his hand over his jaw. “I wouldn’t have made it, and I don’t know if I would try”

He looked at his hands ringing them out before looking up “She is my opponent and I will do my best to win against her!”

Jin had used a kink assisted and you were given headphones filled with V’s moans while Honey had given him a handjob last week.

“She either really likes V or she likes deep moans that is good to know?” He snickered “I think she is in love with V the two are smitten”

You bit your lip and turned to the camera’s “Oh this is playing dirty.” You hissed Jin was skilled with his fingers, he apparently played guitar and some piano but no matter how much he rubbed your G spot and clit at the same time. You weren’t going to come, even if V sounded sinful in your ears.

“There is nothing I want more than to win, but I almost didn’t think I was going to make it. Have you heard him, growling and moaning” You blushed burying your face in your hands “He is the only one who can make me lose this game”

You looked up and leaned back on the couch throwing one leg over the other. “So now we are all preparing for war”

Amongst all the sex, you and V grew close, the two of you Swam in the pool and played games, when you weren’t talking you were having deep conversations and at one point you even stayed up late chatting until he leaned in pressing his lips to yours. You couldn’t help but kiss him back with similar vigor.

“Baby” Jhope called and showed you the screen of his phone reading out loud. “Jhope ten minutes with Baby everything except penetrative sex”

“Okay?” You nodded

“And I am calling the group card” he grinned

You were surrounded by all three men and they quickly discussed what they should do. JHope grinned, telling Jin to return the favor for the earlier blow job and V looked disappointed.

“I know why he chose me, I am called EatJin for a reason.” Jin explained seriously “these lips can devour women… and a good steak”

“Was I disappointed that JHope asked Jin-hyung to eat her out?” V scoffed a few times “me? never”

He got up out of his chair as he took his microphone off and walked away with a dark tone “What would ever give you that impression”

The next elimination saw JHope leave. And it was you and the two handsome young men, you understood why they weren’t voted out.

You had an amazing evening watching V give a rather enthusiastic Blow Job to Jin who came with a loud cry.

Now it was just you and V.

“Am I scared?” You laughed at the question, touching your mouth in thought. “Why because it’s just the two of us now”

“It’s her who should be scared?” V looked proud as he held an intense gaze.

“I do this for a living, why would I be scared?”

You tried to bluff unsuccessfully “I’m bloody terrified, Have you seen him he is handsome as hell and I know he will be the end of me”

“My biggest fear is not being able to stop. She is magnificent, we have gotten to know each other so much over the four weeks and she is cheeky and charming and sweet and I truly believe I love her.”

He licked his lips “it started out that I thought she was my type but it became that she was my everything”

When you woke its first day with just the two of you and he smiled over breakfast. “The house feels lonely without everyone doesn’t it?”

“The house feels too big and too cold” you mumbled.

You spent the week together which would be fast-forwarded on the week's episode.

“Today is the last day the challenge is going to be extreme,” he said, “you think you're ready for it?”

“Yeah, I think I am ready, what about you?”

“I think I am more nervous I wish we were on even grounds your free finish card has me worried”

“What I am about to do is either incredibly stupid or incredibly stupid” you buried your face in your hands.

“I would like to use my free finish card” you pulled the card out from the back of your phone. “You better be worth it?”

V’s mouth fell open in shock and you looked at him feeling a little mischievous.

“She is going to give up her free finish now so we fight an even and fair match tomorrow.” He said biting his lip “I love her, and I am not going to waste this moment I am going to rock her world”

You followed him to his bedroom. He held your hand the entire way and you grinned as he pressed you to the door. Kissing you hard and moaning into your mouth. He slipped his hand up your little skirt and plunged his fingers down the front of your underwear.

He didn’t let up and he was kissing and sucking at your neck before he moved you to the bed and buried himself between your legs he moaned the whole time and he was torturing you.

His tongue working magic on your clit and his long fingers curling up inside you. It wasn’t long before your legs began to tremble and you gripped the sheets as all the sexual tension that had been building up finally released causing your back to arch off the bed.

You shivered watching him lean back onto his heels and lick his fingers and palm with a soft moan. “You are delicious”

“I have made a mistake” you whispered quietly.

It was the big day you were both dressed immaculately and this was the moment of truth Adora and Pdogg watched from the sidelines beside the three judges.

“Now the rules are simple the first to cum loses the winner gets a million dollars”

“It is kind of weird knowing the finale is just the two of us having sex until someone finishes but hey who am I to judge. I am one of the people doing it”

You both went to the bed, there were cameras everywhere including inside you, that was a fun appointment. Even though it was a tiny little silicone camera on a fine cord, they were able to move the camera around by a remote so it was always in the correct position you would admit it was nerve-racking to have it inside you. V looked at you sitting on the bed with a nervous grin and you both hugged whispering under your breath.

“Are you as nervous as I am?” You whispered

“Yeah, I didn’t expect I would be having sex on late-night television”

“Yeah I agree”

“Do you think that after this, we could watch a movie or get something to eat?”

“I would love too” you breathed

Everything began and you were underneath V and he was working hard and a timer went off every ten minutes to switch positions so that you each got different stimulation and such.

You almost lost it while he fucked you from behind, you were clenching around him tightly trying to make him finish. He was grunting and growling.

Your mind was spinning and you whispered to yourself don’t come hoping you could convince yourself to hang in a little longer.

You switched positions sinking onto him and straddling his waist his hands held your hips and he bucked up into you.

“Let’s give our two contestants their first hints,” Pdogg grinned, the two hosts taking envelopes.

“V has an impregnation kink” Adora read the card aloud

“Oh yeah, daddy? you want to fill me up, you placed his hands on your lower abdomen and pressed back on him so he could feel himself through your stomach. “You want me all nice and full, huh?”

He groaned loudly and you clenched around him biting your lip. “Baby has a sound kink her preference is deep voices but she enjoys moans growls and pants. She has sensitive ears.”

V sat up putting his mouth to your ear and began, talking to you making obscene sounds in your ears and he flipped you over after hearing the belly and grabbed your hips thrusting hard.

His speed was dangerous for both of you, “Come on” he growled and you felt everything crash over you, your body practically convulsing from the power that had built up.

He came after you and it was warm. The footage from inside of you was very explicit watching him finish inside of you. You laughed, slapping his arm, you fought dirty.

“I gave up on trying to hold back if I didn’t give one hundred percent neither of us would finish. I had to get dangerously close in order to push her over the edge” He pumped his hands in the air.

“But I did it!” He cheered. “I won!”

“And there you have it V is the winner of the sexiest game of the year Temptation.” Adora cheered.

“Think you have what it takes to go online to our page to see behind the scenes footage as well as applications for next years big game”

“V, tell us what you are planning to do with one million dollars”

“First of all I am going to split it with Baby, and maybe take her on a date”

If you enjoyed this story don’t forget to Like | Share so others can enjoy it too. PLease see my [Masterlist] for more of my work.

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Strings”

Happy Saturday, RWBY friends! I am, quite obviously, going to dive into the recap in just a moment, but first I wanted to take a short detour to discuss the elephant in the tumblr room. Namely, Supernatural.

For those of you out of the loop, the tl;dr is that a fifteen year, beloved show ended with a truly horrendous finale. Specifically, the finale rejected everything that the show had been building towards: the logical conclusion to character arcs, the theme that “family don’t end in blood,” the potential for a queer romantic relationship… I could go on. The point I want to make is that the fandom had every reason to believe we’d be getting these things. This isn’t a case of fans upset that the finale didn’t go the way they wanted as an individual viewer, but rather that the finale didn’t go the way the show clearly and explicitly said it would. It’s not an exaggeration to say that in many respects, viewers were straight up lied to.

(I recommend reading the reviews.)

What does this all have to do with RWBY? Well, I can’t help but think that history is repeating itself. Certainly there are some notable similarities between the two series. Both have long, meandering plotlines with no clear end in sight (though I hope RWBY doesn’t reach the 15 Volume mark…). Both began with a small, core cast, but quickly expanded—generating the expectation that these now equally important characters will be given their due. Both have moved from the small conflict of fighting everyday monsters to a god-based mythology. Both have a popular queer relationship dangled in front of the viewers, featuring scenes where they’re “obviously” in love… but will it ever be confirmed? Both have a fanbase that says loudly and confidently that the writers know what they’re doing. Just wait! It’s all been planned! We’ll be rewarded for our patience and soon all the naysayers will be proven wrong.

Thing is, the Supernatural fandom wasn’t rewarded. Right up until a week ago those fans—myself included—had faith that the writers knew what they were doing because they can’t really be that out of touch with their own story...right? It’s not possible. Yet they were, it was, and now that I’ve gotten solid proof of precisely how far a show can go to reject its own logic, themes, and premise, that just makes me more wary of RWBY’s mistakes. Before I had a solid faith that things couldn’t possibly get that bad, that no matter how much RWBY might be messing up in the short term, it will undoubtedly pull it together overall, because what show wouldn’t? Especially a show with such promise and, at times, wonderful storytelling. Well, Supernatural didn’t manage it and frankly I’m not sure what to do with that information.

Seriously. I don’t have any grand conclusion here. It’s not my intention to suggest that anyone should stop watching RWBY, or to claim that it will absolutely fail because Supernatural did. Obviously, we don’t know what will happen until we get to see it in the show. I only want to acknowledge these parallels and the similar journey I see both fanbases on. I can’t help but wonder if, a couple years from now, RWBY fans will be making incredibly optimistic posts about how it’s all coming together, just have some faith, everyone who says that the group won’t get a satisfying ending, or Blake and Yang won’t be confirmed are just mean trolls… only to wake up that Saturday morning and get another metaphorical slap in the face.

It’s something to think about.

But here I’ve spent a page talking about the wrong show. Let’s get into the episode!

We open on a black screen with lots of ambiguous noises. At first I thought this was Oscar struggling in the Hound’s grip or something, but then I remembered that RWBY likes to insert an episode between cliffhangers. I watched Ironwood (presumably) shoot a guy and he only came back this week (though that question still isn’t answered. At this point I kind of wonder if it will be). Oscar was kidnapped last week, which means we won’t get to see him until next week. Or… two weeks from now? RT skips the week of Thanksgiving, don’t they? Sounds familiar doesn’t it? Something horrible happens to Oscar and we need to wait two weeks to find out how it’s resolved.

Watch him escape the Hound off screen and return to the group with a new outfit 😂

So it’s not Oscar we hear, but Ruby, the last one coming out of the tube. Weiss is in the process of pulling Nora’s ear for that stunt… with a frankly strange looking hand. What’s up with RWBY animating weird hands lately? I’m pretty sure that’s not how anatomy works.

Anyway, Nora counters that this was a “Once in a lifetime experience,” but they were all going to go through the tubes regardless. Weiss isn’t pissed that you sent her through, she’s pissed that you did it unexpectedly when she was alone, heading into enemy territory. But of course, there’s no one in the room to hinder them, so the mistake is meaningless.

We’re setting the tone again though. For the first half of this episode everything is sunshine and giddy adventure, which doesn’t fit the situation at all. It also creates emotional whiplash when I’m suddenly supposed to be super worried about things later on. This sort of about-face works once in a blue moon, as an emotional punch, like we see in Mulan:

But RWBY does it every other episode, which makes the overall tone of the series confusing instead. Half the time RWBY feels like two different stories—the cartoony tale of girls going on fun adventures, and the traumatic tale of a fantasy war—that have been badly spliced together.

“Alight, Robo-Girl, which way?” May asks and Penny demonstrates why she’s the best for sneaking into a facility. She’s able to map out the whole place, including seeing where everyone is so they can avoid detection. Kudos to RT for going this route. I was worried that they would have Ruby and the others straight up attacking Atlas grunts, knocking them out/potentially even killing them because who cares, right? They’re the bad guys! So I’m glad they’re working to get in and out undetected. Granted, we see in some places that they’re clearly willing to fight the soldiers if it comes to that—they’re reaching for their weapons when Penny opens the final door, expecting the room to be full of people. They were going to attack—but at least they’re trying to lessen that conflict as much as possible. That’s the sort of choice I expect to see from heroes and I’m glad we got it here.

After scouting the area Penny corrects May: “And my name is Penny,” to which Ruby gives a satisfied “Heh.” I’ve got no problem with Penny rejecting nicknames, even potentially well-meaning ones, because she’s always struggled with her status as a real girl and her name is her own. She gets to decide what others call her. I do, however, have a problem with making the presumed trans character the one who is corrected. Granted yes, we haven’t gotten confirmation in the show that May is trans, but RT doesn’t get to cash in on that rep without likewise suffering the consequences for how the character is treated. You’re telling me that a trans woman is going to roll her eyes when someone asks her to use a specific name? Please give May flaws, yes, she’s a person, but out of all the millions of flaws across the human spectrum, this is the one we’re shown?

Not to mention Ruby’s continued attitude. It’s like, ‘Yeah, May. Stop being a horrible person who draws attention to the fact that Penny is a robot. I never did that.’ Except when Ruby first met her she didn’t know Penny was a robot. Just like she didn’t know Blake was a faunus—something we’re reminded of this episode. We might assume Ruby wouldn’t have ever made any missteps at the beginning of these relationships, but the fact remains that she got to know both girls before their minority status was ever revealed. Ruby loved them before she ever had to grapple with their differences.

Put in her place, May then demonstrates that she can make lots of people invisible, not just herself. That’s handy. She creates an invisibility bubble that reminds me of Harry’s invisibility cloak. In the sense that others might not be able to see you, but they can still hear and touch you, which makes sneaking around still pretty challenging.

No sooner have I thought that then two guards get into the elevator with them. The group keeps quiet as the duo discusses how no one can get close to Salem’s storm without “getting shocked right out of the air.” Interesting. And frankly one hell of a roadblock if the Hound escapes into the clouds. Oscar may be gone for a while if he doesn’t escape on his own... The woman also comments about how creepy it is that all the grimm are just hanging out, waiting. It’s “worse than if they’d attacked.”

No it’s not! RT, stop trying to implement the idea that Salem withholding her forces is some epically cool choice. She should have decimated everyone by now and the fact that she hasn’t just shows how transparent the problem is: you’ve created a villain that’s too powerful and now you don’t know what to do with her.

As the group sneaks out of the elevator Nora grins and presses all the buttons, which is, as expected, a dumb move. They’re supposed to be sneaking into this base. If they’re caught they’re going to be thrown in jail at best, killed at worst, but Nora wants to risk that for a practical joke? Again and again we see this insistence on incorporating comedy where it’s not only unnecessary, but actively interferes with other aspects of the scene.

Reaching a terminal, Penny inserts her finger and gains access via Pietro’s credentials. She’s really demonstrating this episode why she’s… pretty terrifying? I mean, Penny is an incredibly powerful fighter with a computer’s view of the world, access to everything in the most powerful Kingdom alongside its information, and she now has Maiden powers to boot. Which, I should add, it took her one fight to master (because remember, the heroes are now always as strong as they need to be to win…). Now that Watts is planning to hack her, I expect her to be an incredibly formidable enemy, just given the amount she could potentially do. I think Penny herself is too kind to exploit all that potential and as we’ll see via Pietro briefly taking control, she doesn’t always have the knowledge to use the tools at her disposal. But in the hands of someone like Watts? He’ll turn Penny into the ultimate weapon.

Access granted, they learn that they have to go “Right through central command!” Of course, Penny makes it sound like a fun game and the spy-movie music/cartoon lecture doesn’t help. Again, tone. It’s adorable! It just doesn’t fit sneaking into a military base with your lives on the line while Salem waits outside. That was a RWBY Chibi moment.

Penny explains—twice—that Ruby can use her semblance to fly them all through central command and it’s treated like a revelation. At first, I was pretty confused because Ruby has been dong this for ages? She carried Weiss in “Argus Limited” and Nora during the Geist fight. But upon close inspection, what Penny seems to have “figured out” is that Ruby can carry multiple people at once because the “mass doesn’t matter.” Okay. Not a contradiction then, though I think RT could have made it a little more clear that Ruby was shocked at the idea of carrying multiple people, not carrying someone at all.

What I do take issue with though is Ruby mastering this skill instantaneously. I mean, why is Ruby being forced to try this on the fly (pun not intended)—Penny has known the layout of the building since they made this plan. She knew they had to get past central control and that it would be packed with people. She’s obviously thought about Ruby’s semblance a great deal—and why is she succeeding? Give me a Volume 7 where Ruby actually trains in this technique, set up via Harriet’s comment early on about her semblance, and then she’s victorious here when it finally matters. Or give me Ruby assuming she can pull off this incredibly difficult skill only to fall out of her semblance halfway through, a roomful of Atlas personnel staring at them. Then what?

Not this.

This is a character who does everything perfectly on the first try without ever having to fail. Ruby is boring like this.

Crisis averted, we transfer to Ironwood who is… working with Watts.

What else is there to say? I’ve already laid out all the reasons why this is stupid and makes no sense. Others keep coming onto my posts to explain to me how Ironwood’s awful deeds up until now fully show his decent into villainy, conveniently ignoring the numerous limitations he was under and his choice to do what he thought was best for the world using inaccurate information. Ironwood was always a divisive character and many are happy to ignore the years’ worth of deconstruction done—a man who looks like the Evil Military General but actually isn’t—because they never liked him to begin with. Not liking him is fine, no one has to like any character, but I’m honestly shocked by the number of viewers who refuse to acknowledge how bad the writing is, even if it means defending a character they hate a teensy tiny bit (#SupernaturalVibes). As a friend put it, Ironwood now feels like a caricature of his former self, a Pure Evil Ironwood who appeared out of nowhere and is now here to stay. He shoots kids. He shoots unarmed civilians. He teams up with Salem’s men and tries to hack Penny. These are undeniably horrible acts, they’ve just been given to a character who never would have done them until RT randomly flipped the Evil switch.

The “RWBY” tag, alongside all the fluff moments of this episode, is now filled with posts encouraging Marrow to turn, yelling at the Ace Ops for being “bootlickers,” and capslock screaming at anyone who dared to speak up for Ironwood. It still sucks to have bad writing twisted into an attack on the fans and it’s going to continue to suck until at least the rest of Volume 8. I’d like to again remind everyone that Qrow teamed up with Tyrian a few episodes, yet because he’s again in Ruby’s graces, that was twisted into a ‘not that bad’ situation. The issue isn’t really that Ironwood is teaming up with one of Salem’s subordinates, but that he’s doing it to go against RWBYJNOR… the second a character teams up with Salem to get what Ruby wants (to not have her team in jail) then that’s totally fine… but that’s a wrinkle a lot of people are happy to ignore.

So yeah, Ironwood is an idiot now too. Like Qrow also was last Volume. He really thinks Watts isn’t going to betray him somehow? Although, I do wonder if the chance to ruin Pietro’s creation outweighs his loyalty to Salem, but the point is that Ironwood can’t be sure of that either. At least he’s smart enough to keep Watts under continuous guard. He puts his hand on Watts’ shoulders and goes, “I’d hate for us to have to try motivating you. Again.”

So he tortures people too now? Like I said, caricature. This was Ironwood and we were given no clear idea of where he disappeared to.

RIP a great character.

Watts notices though that Pietro has apparently accessed a secure area and alerts Ironwood to it. I laugh that the information is just ¡EMERGENCY! In large, red letters. Ironwood immediately makes an announcement for everyone to be on guard. It’s a level 3 lockdown — that won’t impede the group leaving via airship! — and they’re to use “lethal force” if necessary. Weiss is disgusted.

As much as I disagree with making Ironwood into a shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy — he’s definitely wrong to be doing this — I also find myself rolling my eyes at reactions like that. Yes, Weiss. You attacked four operatives until they were knocked unconscious. Prevented an entire city from escaping Salem’s wrath, endangering them all. Now you’re breaking into the most classified room in the Kingdom to steal an equally qualified project and use it for your own means. There’s no reason why Ironwood would level his might against you. Is death still an extreme response? Yes. Should Weiss be acting like Ironwood is crazy for responding to them in an extreme manner? No. Her remark makes it sound like Ironwood is attacking her poor, innocent, defenseless team… not the team that’s been lying to him, betraying him, attacking him, and stealing from him. Not the team carrying deadly weapons into a facility to take what they want at any cost.

With their presence known, May wants to go grab an airship. That’s the series now.

Meanwhile, Penny insists that they can still complete their mission and we see Nora come up with some sort of plan.

Except, what plan was this?? What did she say to the group? ‘Hey, let’s wait around until some guy conveniently walks by with a full cup of coffee. Then we can trip him and the mug will fly alllll the way across this gap to land on a terminal, startling at least two workers. Except this guy will be hated by the whole room because he’s always messing things up—his coffee mug has been changed from #1 Dad to #1 Dud—so that this little mishap will create a ruckus that gets everyone involved, giving us the opportunity to slip by them all.’

Seriously, what? This kind of “plan” only works with someone like Clover, where we know he has a good luck semblance and thus all these unlikely pieces fall into place. I could absolutely buy Clover smiling smugly, working under the knowledge that he just has to wait around a few minutes and something will come along that works entirely in his favor. But Nora? How did she know any of this would happen? Obviously she couldn’t have, so what exactly was their intention if this coffee carrying, hated guy didn’t show up? RWBY, your contrived plots are showing.

I do, however, love the grimm Jaws poster. Jaws is an absolute favorite of mine, so seeing a reference to it in RWBY? A funny one at that? It almost makes up for how bad this episode is lol.

Because frankly I’m bored. The group sneaks around, criticizes May and Ironwood, briefly confuses me about Ruby’s semblance knowledge, and gets through tons of Atlas personnel in the stupidest way possible. I have to watch this guy running out of the room with coffee on his pants screaming, “WHHHYYY???” and he doesn’t notice the five girls standing right next to him. It’s silly. It’s boring. Luckily for RWBY, things are about to pick up in the second half.

After Ruby gets them upstairs and the final room is also conveniently devoid of people, Pietro takes control of Penny—including yellow possession eyes like Oscar has with Ozpin—and he...gets Amity started. That’s it. After a whole volume of ‘It’s not finished yet’ and ‘We barely have the resources’ and ‘Robyn stole what we were using to do idek what with’ he presses buttons for a while and they’re in. How good for them!

I do love that Penny calls Pietro “Dad” though. I’m here for the android-father relationship.

While Pietro works we turn to Blake, Weiss, and Nora. Blake tries to convince the audience that Ruby and Yang had an actual fight with, “I’ve never seen Yang and Ruby fight like this.” Yeah, because no one in this group has ever said the sliiiiightest thing against Ruby, so you all read the tinniest disagreement as a “fight” to be worried about. I mean, doesn’t RT have friends to draw inspiration from? They’ve never disagreed about Huge and Complex Questions before? Never gotten pissed and then shrugged it off the next time you want to text? RWBY’s idea of a diverse friend group feels like many other writers’ idea of a sibling relationship: anyone with an actual sibling goes, “What is this?” Speaking of, Weiss explains that sisters often have “very different ideas about what’s right” as if, again, people don’t have different ideas? Just in general? Why is this suddenly a sister thing? She’s clearly thinking about Winter, but doesn’t actually bring it up, so all we’re left with is the same situation we had last Volume. Weiss thinks she’s right, Winter is wrong, and they’re just going down their separate roads because there’s definitely no reason to re-examine any choices here. It’s all static.

Until Winter betrays Ironwood, of course.

Nora tries to reassure Blake that the group will be fine (ha) even though they’ve split, the irony being that we, the audience, know they just got wrecked by the Hound. Jaune is a great leader though, Oscar has grown so much, Yang could defend them all in a fight, and Ren… well, she can’t think of anything to say about Ren. I hate the Nora is acting like Ren has drawn away from her for no reason, after she chose to kiss him—without consent—rather than listening to what was bothering him, then proceeded to pretend that this mystery problem never existed. What does she expect? I do, however, like the general acknowledgement that she doesn’t know who she is without Ren. Who is Nora? Someone who is “strong and hit[s] stuff?”

See, this feels like RT writing self-consciously because Nora doesn’t have much of a personality. Oh, on a surface level she’s bursting with it, but past the bubbly exterior? That single layer? We can add maybe one thing to this “Likes Ren, is strong, hits stuff” list: she’s funny. That’s it. Anything else we might add like “she’s loyal” or “she’s kind” is just a generic characteristic of this entire team. They’re all meant to be crazy talented good guys and even the “is strong” aspect is suspect when others frequently pull off attacks as showy as Nora’s hammer hits. So who is she? What are Nora’s dreams? What are her hobbies? Her fears? Her history? We’ve seen a single flashback of her on the streets and one scene back at Beacon where she listens to music and reads a magazine. Seven years worth of material and that’s it. There’s a reason why the go-to, non-combat action for Nora in fics is “makes pancakes.” We know so little about her still.

So I was excited for a brief, shining moment. Yes! Explore who Nora is outside of being strong and hitting stuff! … and then her big action this episode is, as she says, being strong and hitting something. Don’t get me wrong, outside of that setup it’s pretty epic. I like Nora going to those lengths to save Penny and I absolutely love the repercussions of the choice: a broken aura, passing out, and badass lightning scars all over her arms and neck (especially when women often aren’t allowed to accumulate scars in visual media). That’s pretty damn awesome. It’s just that it comes on the heels of the story insisting that Nora is more than this, that we’ll learn something new about her… and we haven’t. This is indeed cool, but we already knew that Nora was willing to crazy lengths by hitting things really hard. That’s already her established norm.

At least this moment has some really nice characterization alongside the stupidity. The conversation between Ruby and Penny is just plain stupid. Penny wants to stay to help with the evacuations, but Pietro says she should come with him in Amity. Why? As Ruby says, because then she’ll be up in the sky and Salem won’t be able to access the relic.

That’s what Ironwood wanted to do! We could have had this conflict episodes ago with you all working with him! I really can’t with this cast. Also, the rest of this is still confusing. I thought pretty much everyone was in the slums by now, so what evacuation are they talking about? Do they plan to evacuate everyone in Mantle out of the kingdom somehow… like Ironwood wanted to do with Atlas? And why are they acting like Amity is evacuating some people too? I thought they were just using it as a communication device? To add insult to injury, Ruby then contradicts herself a minute later when she tells Harriet that Ironwood can’t have the relic because “Salem will find her way to the relic no matter where you go.” Ruby, if Salem can access the relic high in the sky she can also access Penny in the sky. If you believe that literally nowhere is safe then why are you sending Penny away under the claim that she—and via her the Relic—will be safer? If you want Penny in Amity to lessen the chance of Salem getting the Relic, why can’t Penny be in Atlas while simultaneously (hopefully) getting a whole slew of people to safety?

I’m continually confused by this “plan” of theirs. Their claims just flip-flop according to what (supposedly) contrasts them with Ironwood. Even though that’s not actually the case.

Penny is me, sad while watching this train wreck of a scene.

So yeah, the Ace Ops are here. I’ve wondered since the trailer why Weiss looked smug while everyone else was startled. Turns out it’s because of her line, “So, your first time losing to us wasn’t enough?” I can’t express how much I dislike all the girls’ personalities now. I want to shake some compassion and humility into them. Plus, they never should have won that fight in the first place. Marrow yells, “We were holding back!” but coming from the team’s weakest member it reads as defensive. Like we’re supposed to go, ‘Lol yeah right, Marrow. Just admit you got your ass kicked,’ even tough the Ace Ops should have wiped the floor with them, holding back or not. That’s my biggest takeaway from this fight: it’s the reverse of what we should have gotten. The Ace Ops should have beaten Team RWBY with ease and struggled greatly against an android Maiden, not falling before a bunch of teens and succeeding against Penny if not for Nora’s timely breakthrough. Your half-trained cast of growing heroes should not come across as more powerful than an intelligently designed weapon now wielding magic.

Before the fight starts we get a whole lot of lines that are, frankly, frustrating. Vine tells Penny, “I thought you were supposed to protect the people, not hurt them” which is true enough. Penny is taking action that is putting a lot of people in danger, regardless of the fact that Ruby is at the helm. Problem is, the Ace Ops then blame her for Winter’s injuries and “stealing” the power? That’s not the issue here. The issue is Penny’s blind loyalty to Ruby, but by having the Ace Ops back a stance that is clearly inaccurate—Penny didn’t cause Winter’s injuries, Cinder did; Penny didn’t steal the powers, she was encouraged to take them—it makes them come across as Very Evil people who will twist things to make poor Penny look like the villain. Even if this is a case of Ace Ops having bad intel (which seems unlikely. Wouldn’t Winter have told them what happened?) RT has avoided letting the Ace Ops take a justified stance here because that would make them look too sympathetic… even though they do have multiple justified stances to take. Like, ‘Hey, stop keeping half a kingdom here where Salem can easily kill them all’ or, ‘Hey, why did you spend months betraying Ironwood and then turn on us instead of trying to find a compromise?’ Even, ‘Why did your uncle help kill our leader?’ There’s plenty that the Ace Ops should be rightfully pissed about, so choosing Penny and Winter out of everything feels like RT is firmly backing them into Ironwood’s corner: you’re just bad now and bad people blame innocent girls, rather than acknowledging the actual wrongs done against them.

So we have Ruby contradicting herself and the Ace Ops backing warped ideas that make them look worse than they actually are. Adding to the stupidity is the fact that Elm mentions that Winter is in “critical condition” and Weiss… doesn’t care. Harriet then tells Ruby that she’s “throwing [her] in jail right next to your uncle, runt” and... Ruby doesn’t care. Qrow is missing and Ruby just found out he’s been captured by Ironwood, yet there’s no reaction whatsoever. This show continues to go hard on the ‘screw adults’ mentality, huh? Ozpin needs to keep quiet and is horrible for coming back. Ironwood is now a cartoon villain. Winter made the wrong choice so no one cares about her anymore, not even her sister. The Ace Ops remain enemies despite trying to talk things out. Qrow? Barely know him. Who’s he? This is a Ruby loves Penny episode. There isn’t enough emotional nuance for her to care about him too.

The sad thing is I adore Nuts&Dolts. In a different context these moments would be a goldmine for me.

If anything, this episode feels worse than the majority of last week’s because there are good things here that have been thrown into a bad setup. I can’t get excited for the group’s battles when I see who they’re attacking. It’s hard to squee over Ruby hugging Penny when she doesn’t react to Qrow. Watching Nora go all Thor feels like it only has half its potential when it’s coming out of a very messing, ‘I’m more than just being strong and hitting things… which is why I’ll continue being strong and hitting things.’ RWBY has excellent moments set into a terrible story.

The fight, at least, is exciting. The Ace Ops goad Penny into stepping away so they can trap the rest of Ruby’s team—smart—and she’s forced to hold her own while Weiss tries to break through with her knight, then Nora overloads the system. To be frank, I’m not great at analyzing combat. Not unless I’m looking for something specific like whether a win is justified. I’ve already mentioned above the broad issue of the Ace Ops very nearly beating the most powerful fighter next to Salem herself, yet failing so spectacularly against Team RWBY. Outside of that context though? I really enjoyed this. Lots of tight action, creative attacks, teamwork, some emotional pauses throughout… it feels like a pretty solid battle. Put it on Youtube as a clip, outside of the rest of the story’s messiness, and you’ve got yourself a fantastic watch.

We can’t stay in the combat forever though. During all this Weiss calls the Ace Ops “cowards” for making it four vs. one. You know, RWBY should really just do away with dialogue and make the show purely action because the cast frequently sounds so stupid when they speak. Like her comment about Ironwood’s lockdown… really Weiss? ‘Yes, we might be wanted criminals who betrayed this group in the worst possible way, but how dare they not do the honorable thing and have three of their teammates sit out while trying to capture us? Even though the girl they’re trying to capture has magic. I mean, the nerve of them!’

Weiss, at this point I’m not sure how to explain to you that the people you’ve made into your enemies do not owe you a fair fight.

Another detail: we get to see Ruby fall off the edge of the walkway and this time she remembers she can fly! A definite improvement from Volume 6.

Finally: by the time Penny’s eyes go full Maiden in Elm’s grip, I think we’ve seen everything from our trailer. Episode 4 will truly be a mystery.

Ironwood has, of course, been watching the fight this whole time. When it looks like the Ace Ops will lose against the team he means to send in reinforcements, but Watts says he has “a message for your operatives.” Instead of capturing Penny they steal one of her swords instead, ending with a shot on Marrow looking conflicted.

Because remember, there’s no actual moral grayness in this story. The protagonists are right and everyone else is wrong. It’s (supposedly) black and white. Which means that if the Ace Ops have any hope of surviving this Volume and being seen as anything other than evil bootlickers, they have to join with Ruby. Marrow seems primed to do that.

Am I surprised? No. Disappointed? Always lol.

May has the airship ready to go and they fly off… despite the shields. And the lockdown. Consistency? Who’s she? Nora is said to be “in bad shape” and after another hug Penny leaves to hide in Amity, even though Ruby thinks that hiding is a useless, cowardly choice. Just not when she and her allies choose to do it.

We end the episode with Watts receiving Penny’s sword and making the statement, “If you can’t beat them… then make them join you.” I have to say, his cheesy villainy is something I continue to enjoy, even if it’s heavy handed at times. Watts is just fun. I do have to say though: if Penny is hacked, what does that say about her agency? We double-downed on the ‘real girl’ narrative by giving her the Maiden powers, but she’s simultaneously synthetic enough that a single piece of her can remove all autonomy? It once again feels like RT isn’t sure what point they’re trying to make, they’re just chucking a lot of themes at the wall and seeing what sticks. Still, we’ll have to let it all play out before making any judgements.

And that’s it for this week. It seems like this is a slightly shorter recap than normal, though that may be because I struggle with discussing pure action sequences, which made up a decent chunk of this episode. I’ll no doubt return to the Ace Ops vs. Penny fight when I’m not on a self-imposed, one day deadline for posting. The only thing left is to update the Bingo Card, but I don’t think we made any headway this week. So... good job, RWBY?

I’m still going to hold off on the civilian’s square until Salem’s army actually attacks, as well as the two day timeline square.

No Winter this episode

Watts is teaming up with Ironwood which is… so much worse than him teaming up with Jacques again. Does a square get an X if the canon is even worse than what you assumed it would be??

Maria was mentioned this episode. Jury’s out on whether she’ll actually do anything.

Atlas is still standing, we knew Penny was heading towards a hack so it’s not much of a cliffhanger, no Qrow, no Ozpin, no Neo or Cinder.

It certainly looks like we can check off “The team gets Amity up and running,” but let’s just see if there are any problems next episode. If the problem is only ‘We would have launched it if not for Salem’s attack’ or something, I’m checking it off. The point is it would have worked.

I’m also leaning towards “More obvious Blake/Yang implications without confirming a relationship” given Blake’s heart-to-heart with Nora… but let’s see if the Volume does anything more egregious.

All in all (and perhaps despite what I’ve written above), I don’t think it’s fair to totally drag this episode. As said, this feels like a strong episode in a bad story, something that I would have LOVED if a) Salem weren’t here and b) the ‘ethical dilemma’ wasn’t boiled down to a ‘Team Ruby is good’ and ‘Ironwood and everyone associated with him is evil’ situation. It’s an episode whose tone and character action belong in a different version of RWBY. If you gave us this fun episode in an earlier Volume against a Pure Evil antagonist? It would have been great.

Ah well. It is what it is. Expect more emotional whiplash when we come back and everyone learns that Oscar has been kidnapped by Salem’s talking pooch 🙃

See you then! 💜

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby strings #mymetas #rwby recaps #apologies if this Recap is messier than normal #I have a zoom meeting in five minutes lol #gotta go fast!

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tiffdawg · 4 years

Text

Curriculum Vitae: Prologue

Gif: @javier-pena

curriculum Vitae: noun cur·ric·u·la vi·tae Latin. the course of one's life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 1.8k

Rated: M - rating will go up | Warnings: Period-typical sexism, angst, mild language.

Story Summary: After leaving Colombia and retiring from the DEA, Javier Peña steps into a new role as a university professor. A woman with multiple degrees and more books than you can count, you meet Javier as you similarly struggle with the future of your career. Despite your odds, the two of you find something you need in each other during uncertain times.

A/N: So, the idea of Professor Peña has been on my mind lately (is this because I, myself, am pursing a career in academia? who’s to say ) and this multi-chapter, semi-slowburn, enemies/idiots-colleagues-friends-lovers story is the result. Just in case, I wanted to be clear that this story won’t be about a student-teacher dynamic – I went in a totally different direction. This will be a playful, sexy romance full of dreamy images of our favorite DEA agent turned university professor set against the backdrop of Los Angeles of the 1990s. I also want to note that UCLA is about to take some hits in this story, specifically the sociology department, but it’s just for the plot. I’m a UC alumna myself so mad respect any bruins out there! Anyway, I’ve already fallen in love with this story and I’m so excited to share it with you!

Read on AO3

CV Masterlist | My Masterlist

... . ...

Prologue

Checking your reflection in a nearby window, you straightened your blouse and mentally prepared yourself to knock on the imposing door in front of you. Your top was sticking to you in all the wrong places, probably from your nerves as much as the dry heat of August in Los Angeles and you really wished the university would be a bit more forthcoming with the air conditioning. The chair of the sociology department usually opted to pass along information via a memo, phone call, or through the office’s shared secretary, the latter being his preferred method. You knew it wasn’t good when he called you personally to ask for a meeting.

Steeling yourself, you rapped your knuckles against the old wooden door and listened for the brusque enter from your boss.

“Good morning, Dr. Campbell,” you announced politely, “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Ah, yes! Please come in.” He gestured to the overstuffed leather chair across from his wide mahogany desk and you sat yourself on the edge of the seat, crossing your legs at your ankles. His spacious office was lined with rows upon rows of well-read books and shelves stocked with awards and accolades. He was an intimidating man on a good day, but this was torture. You watched attentively as he cleared his throat and shuffled a few loose papers around on his desk before finally looking up at you through the thin wire glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, seemingly intent on drawing out the awkward interaction for as long as possible. “I’m afraid I have some rather sour news for you, miss.”

Gritting your teeth, you ignored his gaffe; whether the man never remembered your proper title or just refused to acknowledge it, you’d never know, although you had your suspicions. At that precise moment, it was the rest of his statement that unnerved you.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Concerning what, exactly?” you prompted, hoping he would take the bait and get this over with already. He was a man known for being a bit long-winded.

“Well, your tenure,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “Or lack thereof, pardon my candor.”

… . …

You needed to get off that godforsaken campus.

Hastily unlocking the door to your office, letting it fling open without much concern for the wall behind it, you stomped in with a little less decorum than you usually maintained at work. You threw open your bottom desk drawer and dug out your crossbody purse and large tote, tossing both carelessly onto your desk, and then proceeded to shove a few of the books and notepads strewn about your cramped workspace into your bag. You would work on your lectures for the upcoming quarter at home over the weekend, too upset to stay at the university for a second longer than you absolutely had to.

As you made your exit, the framed degrees you’d proudly hung on your wall caught your eye. You could’ve sworn they were glaring at you, taunting you.

“Useless. All three of you.”

… . …

“You are an exemplary lecturer, instructor, and researcher, and the university is fortunate to have you among our prestigious faculty,” Dr. Campbell droned on, clearly trying to soften the blow.

“However?”

“The department cannot offer you a tenured position at this time.” He rested his forearms on his desk, his bony fingers forming a pointed steeple.

You drew in a deep breath of air and dug your nails into the soft flesh of your palm, sure to leave ugly crescent moons. “I’m not sure I understand, sir,” you ground out. “This is my sixth year as an assistant professor. I was offered this professorship with the understanding that it was a tenure-track position and last year when I was overlooked for tenure, I was well-assured that this year would be different.”

The man across from you sighed again, clearly not enjoying the fact that he had to deal with an angry woman. “I am aware of the situation, lest you forget I was the one who offered you this position in the first place.”

“Then can I ask what’s changed?”

“In all honesty, the matter is out of my hands,” he placated. “This directive is coming from the dean’s office. Beyond our department, the school of social sciences is offering fewer positions this year and diverting funds elsewhere, hopefully, if I may be so bold to suggest, to services beneficial to our rapidly increasing student population.”

It took every ounce of willpower you had not to roll your eyes at his explanation. “And are competent, contented professors not beneficial to our students?”

“Well, the sociology department is being gifted a rather impressive visiting lecturer for the year.”

… . …

“Beneficial to our students?” Beverly scoffed into her end of the receiver. If there was anyone in the world you could count on to be even angrier for you than yourself, it was her. Not only was she your best friend in Los Angeles – actually, at this point, probably the world – but she worked in student services and understood university politics even better than you did. “God, I can’t believe that pretentious asshole had the gall to say that to you.”

“You’re telling me,” you mumbled, precariously cradling the phone to your ear with a shoulder as you set the timer on your microwave oven.

“And I’m still shocked that they’re doing this to you again,” she continued, “The department promised you tenure. Literally, promised. I remember you telling me word for word what was said at that meeting last fall.”

“Oh, don’t worry so do I.” You sniffed at a second container of leftovers, making a face when you decided the crispy tofu and Chinese broccoli hadn’t survived a few days in the fridge nearly as well as the veggie curry. “I think I etched that conversation into my brain because some part of me knew this was going to happen.” You resealed the container and moved to throw it away, only making it halfway across your kitchen before the phone cord pulled taut and nearly drugged you backwards. “Shit, hold on.”

You picked up the receiver just as your microwave beeped and you were fairly certain Beverly was laughing at you. She’d been on enough calls where you actually did overextend yourself and drop the phone to know exactly what had happened.

“So, what are you going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Sulk, probably.”

“Nah, that doesn’t sound like you,” she challenged. “I’ve worked at that university for nearly a decade and to this day you’re one of the most determined, hard-working, dedicated professors I’ve ever met.”

“Bev-”

“No! Scratch that. One of the most determined, hard-working, dedicated people I’ve ever met anywhere in my entire life.”

You chuckled as you stirred the remnants of your red curry and jasmine rice. “What would I ever do without you?”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” she scolded, “But that’s alright because I’m going to tell you what you’re going to do.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” you quipped.

“I’m going to ignore the sarcasm, this time, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You knew not to argue when she was using her mom voice on you.

“Now, listen carefully. You’re going to throw yourself into your work, as you are so prone to doing, and make this your best year yet. I’m talking professor-of-the-decade worthy.”

“I don’t think that’s a real thing,” you said with a laugh.

“You know what I mean! And I’m not finished so stop interrupting me.” She paused to make sure you were done being cheeky. “You’re going to make this your best goddamn year of teaching, research, mentorship, and whatever else it is you do, and if they don’t offer you tenure at the end of it, you’re going to remember your worth and then go where that’ll be appreciated. UCLA be damned.”

You were quiet for a long moment as you considered your words. They pulled at something hidden inside of you and were simultaneously encouraging and deeply uncomfortable. “I can’t just-”

“You can. You’re free to do whatever you need to do for yourself, and you should. There’s nothing tying you here. No family, no kids, no tenure-track, that’s for sure.” You swallowed around a lump forming in your throat and ran a hand over your face. “You still there, sweetie?”

“Yeah,” you said, switching the receiver to your other ear. “Yeah, and you’re right. I know you’re right.”

“Of course I am.” You could practically see the grin on her face. “If they don’t have the money to make you an associate professor, at the very least, then you should go somewhere that will.”

“That’s the best part. I’m pretty sure they do. The department is bringing in a new visiting lecturer so you can’t tell me they don’t have some discretionary funds.”

“Really? Who?”

You moaned. “One of the guys who brought down Pablo Escobar. It’s a fucking publicity stunt.”

“Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.” There was a crash on the other end of the line followed by an ear-piercing shriek. “I’m really sorry babe, but I gotta go. Henry’s going to be home soon and I’m making dinner and the baby’s crying and I think the other two are trying to kill each other. Again.”

“Oh, no. Go take care of your family. I’m sorry I called – I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“No, I’m so glad you did. I was worried when you didn’t show up at our usual spot for lunch today. Anyway, I’m sure this will all work out in the end somehow. I’ll see you Monday.”

You hung up the landline, silencing the dial tone. You scanned your empty apartment, your eyes dancing between the random stacks of books, your cluttered dual-purpose kitchen table/worktop, and your makeshift bedroom partially partitioned from the rest of the studio. You exhaled and skewered a few rapidly cooling vegetables onto your fork as you thought over Beverly’s words. Your whole life fit inside these four walls. There wasn’t anything tying you down besides your hope that your hard work would finally be rewarded. While that should’ve been reassuring, it just tore at your already broken heart.

This couldn’t be all there was for you.

Something had to change.

A spunky bark pulled you from your spiraling thoughts. “Is it dinner time for you too, Sunny?”

A second bark and a wagging tail confirmed your suspicion.

Well, at least you weren’t entirely on your own.

... . ...

Thanks for reading! 💕

... . ...

Tag List: @leo-moon @readsalot73

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #narcos #my fic #my writing #fic: curriculum vitae

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