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rene-darling · 6 months

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MY- lovely tutor.

Wanderer who's recently enrolled in the Akademia due to nahidas request requires some assistance with his studies, sadly he doesn't have much money but you have the perfect solution for that.

...wanderer...

This is annoying, when Nahida enrolled him into the Akademia he didn't think the work would be this hard! Reports on top of reports on topics he hasn't even heard of!

So when you offer a helping hand he's a bit skeptical. What do you want? Why are you trying to help him?

He's not sure of your motives but he has seen and read your previous works so he is confident in your abilities as someone smart.

It starts with small, innocent little touches that get him riled up, he feels like a perv! He shouldn't be this turned on by you just leaning over from behind him and whispering an explanation of what he did wrong. He shouldn't be this riled up but just the soft touch of your hand on his waist whenever he gets upset at getting something wrong.

Your hands going up and down the side of his waist, his shirt would ride up ever so slightly as you would comfort him and reassure him that it's fine if he gets it wrong the first few times, in fact, it's normal. But he's not sure if he even heard half of that as he was too focused on your touch.

How you would look over his shoulder as he wrote something, his hands would tremble as he could feel your breath on his neck your hair would tickle the side of his ear as he would get distracted from doing his work and just focus on your breathing causing him to get his answers wrong.

He swore he felt his eyes roll back whenever he heard your slight groan in response to him getting an answer wrong, so he does just that. Getting the answers wrong again and again just to see your reaction, and when you finally get fed up and place a hand on his shoulder using the other to grab his chin and turn it towards you as you cursed at him for being a dumb whore and not knowing how to solve even the basics...

Oh, archons. He knows he should feel guilty, he knows he should stop messing with you, but when he sees that pissed-off look of yours staring daggers at him. Fuck. His thighs rub together on instinct, he can feel his panties getting stained wet. Fuck, this shouldn't turn him on..but he can't help it

When your eyes sharply look down at him he can feel a slight shudder run through him "oh what the fuck...you enjoyin this? Really? Hah- you some kind of perv wanderer??"

He shakes his head furiously denying your claim but with the way his thighs clam together the real answer is obvious. "you know, we still haven't discussed how you're gonna pay me back for these study sessions.." you would say as you eye him up and down, it seems you already have an idea for how he's gonna pay you back.

..."come on wanderer. It's easy you should know this by now." he does! He swears he does! But- it's too hard to answer while you've got him sitting on your lap all spread out as his juices leak down onto your clothed legs. It's embarrassing being the only one naked!

"ah-a-..ah hah- y/n- mhfm!!" tears leak down his flushed cheeks as I slap his ass in feigned annoyance. "y/n? That isn't the answer now is it, hm,?" he nods his head up and down but still doesn't speak. You can only sigh as your hand comes to a halt and he lets out a whine back arching as he turns his head to look at you.

Your hand still resting near where he wants it but not near enough as you trace small circles in his innermost thighs which cause him to shiver

Breathy sighs leave his trembling lips as he complains "Y-y/n...come on, what the hell.." he whines dragging out the last part, his brows furrow further as his mouth twists into a pout as you laugh, you jerk your legs causing him to rub against them "ah! Y/n! I-im- fuck. Stop" he whines, he doesn't like being teased "alright, alright.." you mumble into his ear from behind

"Only smart boys get to cum. But you haven't answered a single question wanderer," you said so sternly. Fuck that was hot. he swears he started leaking more down there. He closes his legs as he blushes harder "Ya- f-fuck I'll solve one right now..then ill prove to you I'm a smart boy..who deserves to cum.." he squeaked out the last part in shame unable to say it too loud, he was too embarrassed

He leans forward crawling off your lap with shaky legs, on all fours he tries crawling forward towards the table so he can solve a damn question and finally get fucked right.

Fuck. He feels his knees buck inwards as he topples over the table across the scattered books and papers. He bites his lip to the point of bruising it. Fuck, are you crazy?

He's sure if he looked back your face would have an amused expression on it as you had just plunged your fingers deep inside him causing him to cry out as he arched over the table as you lazily pumped your fingers he was about to say something in his broken little voice but you spoke up instead "what're you waiting for darlin? Come on, solve." ah- you were so cruel. He could feel the tears prick at his eyes some even escaping them and falling on the papers below

While biting his teeth he took a deep breath as he shakily lifted his legs a bit more straight leaning against the table for support as he shakily grabbed the pen "d-dont...ah! Won't m-move too much." he whispered quietly.

He's not sure why he thought you would listen. Well, right now he's too busy getting fucked to think anyways. Limbs spread out on the table as your fingers seemed to plunge more roughly and deeper each time. He dripped on the table all over the discarded papers some of which fell down onto the floor your name leaves his mouth like a Chant as you deny him release once more he whines, cries out to you looking back at you with rosy cheeks that are stained with tears

"please- please let me cum..fuck i-i need to cum please" his last words dragged out as he whined and cried pleading desperately for his dear sweet release. He let out a surprised gasp as you pulled him to your lap wrapping your arms around him as you lean into his ear "Darling, only smart boys get to cum." ah. He's gonna start crying more you're so mean...

He swears he hates you and that he's never gonna come back, but not even a week later he's crawling back begging for your touch.

He's a good boy so he's learned your rules by now, if he gets the answers right he gets to cum, but if not...then he's getting edged the entire night and perhaps if you're feeling generous you'll squeeze one measly release out of him

Sometimes you're feeling a bit evil and you'll make the questions harder or, you'll simply lie. When he gets the answers correct you simply lie telling him it's wrong and then fucking him stupid before he gets the chance to think that you're lying.

Oh, but he takes you so well! He might be bratty but he's your smart boy!!

He'll take whatever punishment you give him for being a dumb little boy and not getting the answers correct as long as you hold him afterwards

But as soon as he comes to his senses he'll book out of that room faster than his mother left him.

He's far too embarrassed to face you after all you've done.

He'll purposefully avoid you in class but you don't have to worry, because at the end of the day he always comes crawling back.

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tc-doherty · 2 months

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Hey! In your practical writing tips - post you said novels require lots of telling. I've noticed this too when I read, amazing books that tell a lot vs. showing but all advice gears to show and that's what I've been learning to do. Since I can't find anyone that teaches when to tell vs. show and how much tell vs. show is right and why telling is good etc. I was wondering if you could elaborate on this? Why some books that tell a lot are very engaging and others can't keep my attention? I'm so interested to see your thoughts! Thank you.

Like I said in that post, teaching people how to write isn't really my jam so this is less a teaching guide and more just my assorted thoughts on the subject based on my own opinions and the habits that I follow.

I guess what it boils down to is this. You can't really say that either showing or telling is more important in a novel, but the things that you show are perhaps more relevant.

For example, if you describe the morning routine of your character in great detail every single morning, readers are going to get bored. The story will grind to a halt. Yes you're showing us that, which most people would say is a good thing based on "show don't tell", but the information isn't relevant. If you're setting up a fantasy or sci-fi story it might be relevant once or even twice to show us how things work, but not every single time.

Similarly, if your character gets news telling them that someone they love has perished, you don't want to simply say that it made them sad. You want to show us their reaction. What do they do? What do they say? What physical sensations do they have? Are they lightheaded, do they feel out of breath, does their throat hurt because they're trying not to cry? That information is all relevant to the character, the scene, and the reader. If you simply say they're sad, then your story feels too shallow.

Many people might consider dialogue a kind of telling, but really it's both. What the characters say, how they say it, and also what they don't say can show us a lot about who they are as a person, which is relevant information to the audience even if they're simply explaining something that would be considered exposition. But what do your characters actually need to say or hear? And what can you relay to us through something happening in the background, for instance?

And what about the genre? I like to write road trip novels, which means I spend a lot of time showing the minutiae of the journey. That's relevant because the story is the journey that's being taken. But sometimes your characters just have to get from one place to another, and you don't need to get bogged down in it. You can just say that they took a bus or boat or horse or whatever.

Balancing it in any given story is the writing equivalent of "this meeting could have been email". What do you actually have to get together in a conference room to discuss (show the readers in detail) versus what can be summarized in a few sentences in an email? What will make you bored out of your mind if you see too much of it, versus what will leave you lost and confused without it?

And of course just because something is telling or summarized doesn't mean that the way that you write isn't important! Your writing should still be engaging even when you're telling. Pay attention to the words you use, the rhythm of your sentences, the variety of sentence lengths, things like that. If something is pleasant to read it will keep the reader's attention on the page. If the sentence rhythms or lengths are too similar, it becomes "monotone" and causes people's attention to wander.

Something I pay special attention to is that - unless the narrator is subjective or unreliable - I don't tell something about characters in the narration which is shown to be false. Nothing gets me riled up like supposedly objective narration which tells me a character is like so and I should feel like this about them, but then their dialogue and actions reveal that to be patently false and I feel some other way. Of course that is something that relies on the narrator being objective and having access to more information than we do. If it's a POV character who might just be unobservant, overly arrogant, biased, or kinda stupid, that's fine

When it comes to showing versus telling in regards to the background/description...well. I struggle a lot with description because I have almost complete aphantasia and can't visualize things easily. So I cheat! Anything that I describe in detail is something that my POV character is actually paying attention to. The level of detail varies from book to book based on what kind of person has the POV and what sorts of things they notice. And again, that's relevant to the audience because it's information which is relevant to the character. This is also really great way to start building up to any kind of romantic interest, because people do tend to pay a lot more attention to people they're interested in!

I feel like this has gotten really long, so if there's anything that you would like me to elaborate on more or I wasn't clear about, feel free to send another ask! I won't say I'm objectively right (usually lol) but I'm always happy to talk shop.

Hopefully some of it can be helpful to you or at least give you some things to start thinking about. And of course, it's always a good way to start by studying books that you read and seeing what you like and what you don't like and how it's been handled in both.

#writeblr #writing #writing advice #thanks for the ask #I hope I could help :3

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cononeillbreastingboobily · 7 months

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Thoughts and feelings about Izzy in s2ep4 and what it means to me as a fellow disabled person:

Yeah, so, that episode, huh?

You know, I already knew going into this new season that Izzy's storyline is going to hit me hard regardless of the exact little plot points it might have, but it's only now, several hours after I've watched eps 4&5 that I'm really starting to digest what his story means to me in it's current shape. This is... a bit long. I also mention a character from a different show - Isaac from Sex Education.

Izzy has always been a bit of a dick, right? That's the reason a lot of people hated him in the first season.

Well, now he is a bit of a dick and disabled. And let me tell you how fucking ecstatic I am about that.

You see, looking for disabled characters in media I consume has rarely been gratifying - if they are there at all, which already is rare, they have very little to do, and if they're even semi-important, they're almost always the epitomes of goodness. Nice, understanding, quiet, patient.

Barely there.

The first time I truly felt something change in this area was with the appearance of Isaac in Netflix's Sex Education. He's sarcastic, funny, talented, honest and mean.

The fandom of that show hated Isaac, let me tell you.

It was mostly because he took direct action to separate the main ship of the show that had many people obsessed. As you'd expect. People's ableism immediately jumped out. As you'd expect.

Because how dare he have his own motivations and wants, and to do what he thinks is right?

Barely there.

And now we have Izzy. Izzy, who also did what he thought was right, which in s1 of the show was trying to separate Ed and Stede. He wasn't trying to make himself too likeable at any point (well. when the crew almost mutinied on him in s1 he did do a last ditch effort but. you remember how well that went).

My point is that now we have someone who isn't particularly nice, and now he's dealing with a sudden loss of ability in his body, which is going to make him even worse. He's angry! Of course he is! He's hobbling around with half a leg gone, humiliated, exhausted, barely recovered from impromptu amputation, no anesthesia. And a suicide attempt! He's angry at himself, his body, at Ed, at Stede, at God if he still believes in one, and who knows who else.

He isn't suddenly going to become nicer to people just because. He doesn't need to be humbled.

(a little sidenote: I do not accept the reasoning that Izzy somehow deserved to lose his leg, that "oh what did he expect riling up Ed when he was heartbroken?" etc. He wasn't expecting to get shot in the fucking leg. Nobody fucking deserves that, and if you think that Ed shooting him in the leg and Izzy subsequently having to have it amputated was an "appropriate punishment" for "what he's done", you're just cruel and wrong. Now scram.)

But that's the point. Disabled people deserve help regardless of whether or not we are nice.

Thankfully (not from Izzy's point of view - his pride was definitely bruised in that moment) the crew saw him struggle, and acted in kind. Because Izzy is their dick. And now - also their unicorn.

And it means so much to me that we get the representation of disabled people who thrash around and rattle the bars of their societal cages, furious at the world that isn't welcoming to us, and receive love and care and an invitation to a loving community regardless.

We shouldn't have to be here just when ableds are ready to give. We aren't meek vessels for your good will. Izzy is such a painfully realistic (as far as the universe of the show permits, given it's unavoidable goofiness) portrayal of the anger of someone who's lost some of their body's past ability, and how one might deal with it.

And I really wanted to say something about that, because I'm afraid it might get lost in the discussion about the more popular and more easily digestible aspects of the show.

#ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #long post #disability #ableism #disability in media #tw suicide attempt #ofmd meta #ofmd s2 meta

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sweaterkittensahoy · 23 days

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this is soooooo insanely self indulgent but for fic prompts could u write something where bucky is so attracted to buck’s brain to the point where it’s literally a turn on but buck is used to people not caring (his shitty parents) so he doesn’t really get it

The biggest trick any unit has to learn is what to do with downtime. There's things to do in Boise, but it's important to not just let the boys loose every day and night they aren't training.

Lectures are semi-popular. Buck offers up a few on science. High-school level stuff explaining physics and chemistry. Things a lot of the boys already know a little about and want to know more.

Bucky slips into the back of the room for one of them, standing against the wall because there's no free space to sit. It makes him smile. Buck's whole face lights up when he figures out a good topic for a lecture, and Bucky's glad to see how many seem to like them.

Buck steps up to the lectern and grins at the boys. "Who wants to figure out the best order to lose all four engines and survive?" he asks.

"Can we figure it out the other way, too?" Hambone asks, which makes everyone laugh, even Buck.

"Sure," he says. "But I'll let anyone who doesn't want that knowledge cut out before we talk about it."

Bucky chuckles as Buck turns towards the chalkboard and someone sends a paper airplane through the air, hitting Buck in the back.

"Douglass, that's five demerits," Buck says.

There's a few moments of tussling around Douglass as his friends give him grief, but they all go quiet when Buck turns to face the room again and says, "Okay, let's talk gravity."

Bucky follows the lecture easily. He and Buck have had these conversations before, Buck breaking down the science when Bucky can't follow, making sure he can explain it back to him before he picks up again. It means he can relax and simply watch Buck.

Buck's got the room's attention, his deep voice carrying easily, and the loose-limbed way he moves keeping everyone's attention. He walks the boys through equations and illustrations, drawing a full layout of the fuel line hosing from memory to help the discussion about how gravity and mass and velocity all wrap together to affect which engine has the best chance of running the longest even if the fuel pressure drops.

Bucky shifts his hat, moving it from under his arm to hold in both hands in front of his belt to hide the fact that his dick is half-hard. Buck's face is bright and relaxed as he answers a question about the equation. Bucky watches the pilot who asked the question nod along as he makes sense of Buck's answer.

He's so goddamn smart, Buck is. It makes Bucky feel like his insides are sparking when it's on display like this. Buck knows so much and explains it all so well. He's so open with what he knows and never tires at questions or confusion. Watching him be happy to share makes Bucky want to cut the lecture short so he can kiss him silly, taste the chalk dust that's settled on him, and tell him how amazing he is.

The lecture ends, and the room empties out. Bucky stays put, nodding to a few of the boys who say hello. Buck stays up at the front of the room, looking at the chalkboard like he's appreciating his own work.

"Another sold out show," Bucky says once they're alone.

Buck turns and ducks his head. "I think I'm the only show on today."

"That's not true, and you know it," Bucky replies, pushing off the wall and walking slowly up the center aisle to Buck. "You had them eating out of your hand, like always."

"It's just about finding the right way to explain it," Buck says. "That's not hard."

Bucky stops close enough to Buck that their buttons brush together. "You are so goddamn smart it makes me crazy," he says. "You know all this stuff, and you can explain it, and you can figure out how to make it interesting for anyone."

Buck slips a hand over Bucky's hip and shifts so he can slip a leg between Bucky's. "Did I get you riled up again, Major?"

"You rile me up every fucking second," Bucky says, cupping the side of Buck's neck. "But, yeah, watching you work that big brain in front of a crowd really gets me going."

Buck huffs a laugh and brushes his mouth against Bucky's. Bucky tastes the chalk dust and bites his lip so he doesn't moan. "Only you," he says, and it's deeply affectionate.

"Come on," Bucky says, tilting his head to one side. "Let me suck you off while you rattle off geometry proofs."

Buck snorts and shoves at Bucky, but then he reels him right back in and kisses him properly, a slow, steady movement of their mouths matched with an easy glide of their tongues. "I may be the brains of the operation, but you're the romantic," he says.

Bucky laughs and rocks against Bucky's thigh, sighing when Bucky shifts so there's more pressure on his cock. "Come on," he says, "Let's go find a spot to fuck my brains out."

"Only yours?" Buck asks.

Bucky shivers at the challenge in Buck's tone. "I'll never manage, but I will wear myself out trying."

Buck grins at him and takes one step back, grabbing Bucky's hand and pulling him along. "An equal amount of pressure on both sides," he says. "That's physics."

"Uh-huh," Bucky replies. "Keep talking dirty."

#clegan #prompt #fic #buck is so smart it makes bucky so stupid #he's fine with that #masters of the air

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nyaagolor · 1 year

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Team Star Headcanons

This got dummy long so it's under the cut but I am rotating them all in my brain

Giacomo

Despite having the most stereotypical "delinquent" appearance of all the members, Giacomo is actually the closest thing to a model student that Team Star has. He's extremely organized, motivated, and actually pretty staunchly against breaking the rules unless he has to, so he's a straight A student and has never missed a class

However, he still has a little bit of apprehension about appearing to be like the uptight student council president he used to be, so he purposefully does things to make people think he's more of a slacker than he actually is. He turns in assignments after the deadline and shows up to class late so the teachers don't start getting expectations of him, but they quickly realize he's doing it on purpose when all assignments are turned in exactly 24 hours late and he shows up exactly 5 minutes after the bell with obvious consistency

He was student council president during much of the bullying of Team Star, and still beats himself up about not noticing it sooner or putting a stop to it until the consequences were right in front of him

He was and is the most uptight member of Team Star despite his seemingly relaxed demeanor. He's prone to over-planning, panicking when plans don't work out, and overall is pretty bad at improvising. He's far more high-strung than he lets on. Team Star has done a lot to mellow him out and give him the freedom to express himself, screw up without consequence, and just chill for a few. He's much happier now without the pressure

He loves bass-boosted, ear-splitting music and flashing DJ lights, but is also aware that many people have issues with those (including his buddy Atticus). Bc of that he always has a grunt check with any new members or would-be foes to make sure they don't have overstimulation or photosensitivity issues. Someone getting hurt during a rave would, in his words, "kill the vibe"

He's trying SO HARD to be lofi girl

Mela

She's naturally very cute: she has strawberry blond hair, wide blue eyes, freckles, a dainty stature, a high-pitched voice, and isn't very good at most school subjects. It makes her instantly endearing to basically everyone who meets her, but it also means many people find her annoying / frustrating off the bat and/or don't take her seriously, which really bothered her and lead to her very carefully curated Bad Girl appearance

Mela is very easily frustrated and has a hair trigger temper, which her bullies often used to antagonize her. They purposefully riled her up and caused her to lash out, so Mela gained a reputation as a troublemaker from the teachers. This caused her to fall further behind in school and exacerbated the previous issues

To get people to leave her alone, Mela created a very curated, if inauthentic, "bad girl" persona where she made herself look and act immediately aggressive and rude to everyone. If she didn't let anyone know anything about her, they couldn't find things to set her off anymore, and she'd avoid all the bullying. It did actually work, and people left her alone, but she ended up becoming so feared that she had no friends and no one wanted to be around her. She ended up hanging out with all the academy pokemon instead and developing a close bond with each of them.

Even after she comes back to the Academy she struggles the most out of all the students to fit back into things-- she comes across as a "problem child" which gives the teachers expectations that eventually become a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's only after a long, heated discussion with Clavell that they can start to work past her snippy exterior and get to the heart of the matter. When the teachers give her more patience and extra help, however, they grow to realize she actually does care about learning and is quite sweet

She loves making art. She is also not very good at making art. At the start, she's pretty defensive about it, but is shocked to find the students in art club are extremely welcoming and compliment her work, which makes her beyond happy and extremely motivated to keep trying. Those art club members end up becoming her first non-team-star friends in a long time, and she always brings them out to the courtyard so that her pokemon friends can pose and model for them to draw

She gets really really red when she's embarrassed. Her old, derogatory nickname was "the red-hot girl" because of her temper, but Team Star only ever uses it to joke about how she flushes now

Atticus

Low-hanging fruit here but this man has autism. He cannot read the mood of a room to save his life, and has been known to make extended, sometimes uncomfortable eye contact with whoever he happens to be talking to. He once infodumped to Giacomo about Phoenician Purple for three hours

His speech patterns are partially because of his extreme interest in history and partially because he finds older prose to be more precise in meaning than modern day slang. He is very clear about saying exactly what he means and being extremely specific, so he finds modern day slang with all its double meanings to be hard to follow and hard to articulate his thoughts with. Older prose has these same issues, but no one tell him that

He struggles to pay attention to things unless his hands are busy. Teachers often wondered if he was paying attention in class while sketching designs or sewing things, but it actually helps him focus better

His three greatest skills are his fashion design, his flexibility, and his skill as a nail artist. He can make you the most dazzling star of the school prom and then do a standing backflip when he's done

Atticus cares very little about social conventions or expectations. It worries people like Penny, who fears it makes him a target for bullying because he is so outwardly strange, but it's honestly fine by him. Despite receiving some pretty horrible treatment at the hands of his bullies in the past, he's bothered very little by it, and cares even less about what people think of him now. He has good friends all around him, so if people think he's weird that's on them; he's gonna keep doing what he wants whether or not it gives him a reputation

Atticus is easily the most mentally stable of anyone in the group. Nothing bothers this man whatsoever; he is thriving and in his lane. Despite this, however, he is never asked for advice because he only gives it in Shakespearean riddles

Ortega

He is an exceptional mechanic, and with the help of Atticus has actually made far more impressive vehicles than even the Starmobiles. His pride and joy is a pastel pink bedazzled motorcycle with a sidecar for his Dacsbund. He can't actually drive it because he's 12 and doesn't have a license, but still

All his mechanic tools are covered in rhinestones and his jumpsuit is pastel pink. He is also a straight, cis man, he just personally beat gender roles unconscious with his gold-encrusted staff. He would have kicked it too, but that would ruin his dress shoes and he's too classy for that

He's sassy and snarky, but it's not a defense mechanism like Mela or a consequence of social isolation like Penny, he's just kind of a brat. Team Star has done a lot to humble him and get him to understand the ~value of friendship~ but he was and still kind of is a spoiled little demon

In terms of raw intelligence, Ortega might be the smartest person in Team Star. He's skipped a few grades, excels at basically everything he sets his mind to, and couples it with pretty high emotional intelligence too. If anyone needs help with homework and is willing to swallow their pride enough to ask, he'll easily be able to help

Ortega has excellent dexterity, which makes him a fantastic piano player and quite good at working with very fine machinery. He also got really into baton twirling at one point because he thought it looked cool, so he can do lots of really neat tricks with his staff and pens and whatnot. He loves to bask in the attention that the grunts give him whenever he shows off (which is often. He LOVES showing off)

He has no patience for anything whatsoever. Eri has to hold him back like a rabid chihuahua every time they go somewhere because he is very used to being waited on constantly. Rich boy rehabilitation

Eri

Every one and their mother hcs this but [points at Carmen] Lesbians. Carmen and Eri are genuinely THE power couple; they’re both smart and gorgeous and well-liked by everyone. Carmen is still shocked Eri didn’t snap her like a toothpick bc it would have been deserved but Eri is just that nice. Stop bullies by kissing them so good they realize they like girls

Everyone else in team star stays up until ungodly hours for assorted reasons but Eri is up at like 5 so she can work out for two hours before class. She’s a little disappointed no one wants to join in her workouts but that’s ok! They need their rest. The benefit of Eri’s workouts is that she can carry a team star member on each arm like one of those muscle dudes on the beach, and she does, bc it’s cool

She’s a luchadora! She plays a heel named La Princesa in Paldean wrestling tournaments but it’s an open secret that she’s super sweet out of the ring and always treats her opponents to ice cream afterwards. Genuine treat to be suplexed by her. Despite being able to, she would NEVER hurt someone for real

Atticus had to tailor her outfits bc they didn’t fit. She’s like 6’, curvy, and built like a tractor trailer, so she cannot wear unisex shirts without ripping the damn sleeves off. She’s very kyaa about it. Very >o< about it

Cries during kid’s movies. And ASPCA commercials. And most things actually. The power of friendship does and has moved her to tears. She is mesmerized by the beauty of the world

She gives the best hugs

Penny

Another popular hc but (gestures vaguely at Penny's everything) transfemme. She has the dysphoria hoodie, the six cats, the cybercrime, the depression nest, whatever is going on with her hair, etc. She got sent to "study abroad" and went on HRT I will stand by this until the end of time. She washes down her progesterone with monster energy. Gamer girl. I bet she even plays Bloodborne

Has severe social anxiety / trauma that stemmed from the bullying and just got significantly worse over time. She orders all her groceries online and has them delivered, so she never has to leave her room and does most of her stuff remotely. If / when she does go outside, it's always at weird hours so she doesn't run into anyone. The mere prospect of going into the cafeteria around lunchtime is mortifying to her. wayyyyy too many people. Her anxiety is significantly worse in the academy, and she's able to function better outside of it

She has support systems for days. Aside from her new friends Nemona / Arven / the protag, she has Team Star, Clavell, an actual therapist, a xanax prescription, and six emotional support veevees. Team Star especially does a lot to help reintroduce her to classes and get over the worst of her anxiety so she can go back to school-- and it works! She becomes much more open, less stressed, and happier postgame as she and her friends help each other out

Penny's dad is super supportive but also super embarrassing about it. He is the ultimate trans rights guy but also wears neon rainbow shirts that say "ALLY" in big letters. Penny kept the worst of the bullying a secret from him because there is zero doubt in my mind he would just roll up to the bullies' houses and beat the crap out of them. He WILL throw hands with a 13 year old if they upset his little girl and he is not afraid to admit that. I'm hyping up this man so bad

Penny is an only child (or younger sibling if u hc Peony to be her dad) but has so, SO many cousins who are constantly doting on her. She is quick to try and retreat to her room during reunions and whatnot because she's easily overwhelmed by the attention, but it all gets better postgame. She ends up dragging Arven to her house for the holidays because he doesn't have a proper family and the cousins are completely enamored with him. He's polite, he's happy to help with the cooking, he has a cute dog... Penny's family is absolutely delighted she has such a good friend and Arven is more than happy to soak up all that familial attention. It's a good exchange

She is an insanely picky eater. Arven is taking this as a challenge, and is always trying to make new sandwiches that she likes. Seeing as Nemona and the protagonist would probably eat salami off the floor if given the opportunity, getting a good review from Penny in particular always boosts his ego. He's also made it his mission to sneak in new ingredients in the hopes of expanding her absolutely atrocious palette. It's not going well, but damn if he isn't trying

#pokemon sv #penny #giacomo #mela #atticus #ortega #eri #team star #headcanons

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intimidating-fettuccine · 7 months

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Could i get something for the puppeteer with an s/o who is a succubus? Not like THEY FEED OFF THE ACT OF SEX, but feed off sexual energy without having to, "do the sex"

There isn't really intercourse explicitly mentioned, but I am gonna tag this as semi-spicy as it is still technically discussing sexual content to an extent. Hope you enjoy~

The thing is, Pup doesn't mind having sex at all for the most part once the two of you get to that stage, although I will say, Pup does like to actually take things slow in a relationship, especially with his trust issues and insecurities. So, when the two of you first start dating, Pup is a bit nervous about whether you're going to need to have sex with him relatively fast or not because he does tell you right out of the gate that he does NOT want you feeding off of anyone else if you're going to be dating him, and of course, you're respectful of that, so that leads him to wonder if he needs to have full intercourse with you before he's ready.

However, when you explain that you don't need to actually have sex with him, and you can just feed off of his arousal in general, and that he can take as much time as he needs before the two of you start to fully have sex, that gets him feeling much more relaxed and secure. The closer the two of you get to each other, of course, the more you begin to feed off of him. Pup is someone who innately desires an intimate connection with someone, and that's something he begins getting with you faster than he thought he would. Pup, despite not wanting to immediately jump into sex, is someone who can get aroused by his partner quite easily, and that's something you use to your advantage in your relationship with him when it comes to feeding, and he has no complaints about it either, at least, until you end up getting him a little too sexually frustrated, so don't go getting him too riled up in the beginning.

With his high sex drive though, it only takes a little bit to get him going. Pin him down or let him pin you down, grind on each other, cuddle up, and have a nice, intimate makeout session. Just being close to you like that is enough to have him aroused, and it's enough to give you plenty to feed off of. Tease him, caress him, get him worked up, and have a nice delicious meal, he doesn't mind, as it gets him feeling gradually more comfortable with you, and it gets you a nice meal whenever you need one. Over time, Pup will definitely be fine with the two of you escalating into more physical types of intimacy and touching, but I think it takes him probably about a year or so depending on the partner to want to actually be comfortable having full intercourse. Outercourse, though, you can feel free to experiment with after a few months of you feeding off of him, and it's something he enjoys getting to experience with you, and it makes him feel very happy and appreciated and desired and wanted knowing that he's able to satisfy your hunger and desires. Just make sure you take care of him afterward and let him know you love him for more than just his sexual energy, and he'll be incredibly content with your arrangement.

#semi-spicy #creepypasta semi-spicy #puppeteer semi-spicy #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #puppeteer #puppeteer headcanons #puppeteer headcanon #puppeteer x reader

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inyourfantasyfanfics · 1 year

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heyy! hope you’re having an awesome day so far, heard that your requests are open so i’m just gonna jump straight into it 😂 ok, could i get some headcanons of any of the bucci gang members taking notice of how the fem! reader (their crush) likes a certain artist/group (no need to use a specific one), whether it’s because she has posters of them in her room, she occasionally hums their songs, or the boys took a glance at her phone one time and see her listening to their songs, and so they decide to listen to that artist/group, regardless of whether or not it fits their music taste, so they could have something to talk about with the reader (i just started imagining abbacchio with his resting bitch face and headphones on, and people thinking he’s listening to rock but nope, he’s listening to k-pop girl groups LMAO) tysm! 🥰

THIS IS SO CUTE YES YES YES OKAY!! I hope you enjoy!!! <3

Bucci gang x Reader

Noticing your music

Bruno

For someone so observant I think it would take him a moment to catch on to who your favorite band is, the smaller stuff like the posters CDs humming wouldn’t be lost in him he’d just not connect it till you are having a lovely afternoon lunch with him and chatting about music (I think he’s a smooth jazz, classical, and maybe even some reggae something with feeling as long as that feeling is sensual)

He takes about 50 mental notes after he connects the dots. This would be a great vantage point to get closer to you. So he asks more questions than you expect, not that you mind.

As soon as he’s alone he’s researching and listening to everything he can. It’s different, sure but he likes it. Plus it’s directly connected to you so he is already inclined to love it.

He casually hums a tune around you to get you to perk up and start a conversation with him and he will take the invitation to discuss and turn it into you two spending the day with each other.

Mista

Knows you like a certain artist but didn’t realize how much till he caught sight of a record for the band and off handedly bought it for your birthday. Figured it could be a safe bet. Once you got it he was more than happy that you got so excited and hugged him over it.

After that he made it more of a point to listen to them and other artists like them and truth be told he started to like them a lot more than he thought he would. He would casually slide in close to you on a large couch and mention that he heard a song claiming it as superior.

He’s looking for any reaction really. If you disagree he will enjoy fake arguing and seeing you get riled up or if you agree he will lovingly gaze at how you excitedly explain why you agree.

Congratulations you made this dude pay more attention to your likes not just music but anything because he got addicted to the sight of you so excited on your birthday he wants it to be constant.

Narancia

Has probably heard the band's music already and probably has a strong opinion on it, I’ll say he disliked it at first… till he heard you sing the god awful lyrics. He was so mesmerized by you to make fun of your music taste. If you liked them they can’t be that bad right?

So he starts listening to them again and then he starts relating lyrics to you. All of a sudden it’s his favorite band too. He will steal posters or little items of that band for you and present them like you were lucky he was in your life.

Soon enough when you're singing to the songs he’s making it a duet and will make you dance around with him. He is so happy that he decided to listen again because there really is nothing better than twirling you in the kitchen.

Abbacchio

Noted your music taste and favorite band before you even had a full conversation with him. He of course probably didn’t like it. It wasn’t the worst sure but wasn’t his cup of tea.

This man is down bad though. I think he’s the type to be pinning after someone silently so that person would never know but he sure as shit do. So he’s so down bad for this lady that he extends out of his comfort zone and listens to it anyway.

You and him would be at a table together by “coincidence” (he learned your schedule and keeps subtly inserting himself into it) and he would very discreetly direct a conversation to music and prompt you to talk. There’s nothing he loves more than to listen to you talk.

He’s the only one who won’t say he listens to the band that’s a secret he keeps. That little piece of you he enjoys in his solitude. He doesn’t feel too lonely then.

Giorno

Clocked it so fast! Bro probably knows your likes and dislikes after the first day of encountering you. He’s terrifyingly observant. And so quiet about it too. He speaks up when it matters though! He would watch you put on a song that you played 5 times in the last week. He knows that because he’s firmly planted himself in your daily routine. Kinda like abba but so much more. He’s not too subtle with showing up in your life.

He is the only one that doesn’t listen to it in private. Instead when he notices a song he will ask about it and the band then ask to listen to more with you. He prefers to do this activity right near you. Listening to music in silence then discussing as if it was a philosophical debate.

Afterwards that band is listened to by him when he’s separated from you. Since he planted his roots into your life that means your firmly stuck in his now and he doesn’t quite like straying from that now so listening to your music suggestions gives him some reprieve from agonizing silence.

#jjba x reader #jjba part 5 #vento auero x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #narancia x reader #mista x reader #abbacchio x reader #giorno x reader #bucci gang x reader #jojo headcanons #golden wind x reader

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captain-nohbo · 7 months

Text

More sampo hcs

I'm in pain so yall are getting hcs

Sampo isn't 100% on what his gender identity is and doesn't know if he cares to figure it out

Shout out to the person who said he goes with whatever is funny in the moment because it lives rent free in my brain

One of those people who's gender experience is "I am very content to say my experience is cis, but my feelings on it is more complicated than most people care to figure out"

Any pronouns, any terms mofo

One of those bisexuals that found out really young but autistic edition in the sense of it Genuinely never occurred to him that people are attracted to one gender till someone pointed it

Somewhere on the arospec, specifically in terms of intensity and the misalignment of wanting a relationship in comparison to how he is experiencing the emotions and has a hard time defining it. Usually is a fall fast type though

The being bisexual and gender things are usually things he borderline slams on the table when discussing if he wants to be in a relationship with someone

A lot more nervous about mentioning being polyam and tends to not mention it since he's fine with being mono if he was asked to be anyways

Hobby collector brand of adhd including but not limited to: stage make up, sewing, drawing, photography, lock picking, knot tying, underwater basket weaving, star gazing, and a few other ones with varing success

Does not know how to sit in a chair, more specifically borderline refuses to and will lean against any furniture instead of sitting because he's subconscious too alert that there is any point he might have to book it

Pretty good cook, but absolutely horrible baker. There is something about the exact measurements that get to him

Gepard joked once it was like he was making a bomb instead of a cake and Sampo just went "I KNOW HOW TO MAKE THOSE D:"

Has really good control over the wind element just chooses to keep that ace in his sleeve besides his daggers

Usually uses it while free running and he's by himself, just the pure enjoyment of physical moment and the speed of the sport and chosen solitude

His snow walking is also actually him just making little air pocket for him to walk on and some really precise weight distribution

The occasions Seele has tried to his Sampo, he uses it to dodge her and get he more riled up

One of the first people to realize Seele liked Bronya and has not let Seele live it down

"What do you want Koski?" "Oh, hello Sampo" "Hi Lady Bronya :), *turns* see someone has manners"

Multilingual from Masked Fools/internationally wanted criminal shenanigans. Dan Heng was the first to find out since he just was muttering to himself and Sampo commented on it

Does some translation work as one of his few legal business endeavors

#sampo koski #hsr #hsr sampo #hsr hcs #to clarify i tend to use he/him for sampo basically just for simplicity since i tend to talk about their relationship to natasha that i also #use multipronouns for so they take turns #i dont know how controversal it would be i feel very strongly about polyamorous sampo #its good soup for my bones #i dont even remember what hcs ive shared before im in too much pain :p #small caps tw #this is very not structured and i blame my headache #ill eventually snap and just write fan fiction for most of my small comic ideas and just convert them later #he gives me brain rot

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vampsquerade · 1 year

Text

this one’s a bit more of a special request, given to me by the lovely @justagenderfluidstuff :3 thank you so much for giving me some material to think on the entire time i’ve been, and still am, sick (sob sob); it’s finally time to roll out the call of duty content. we’re starting strong with some good ol’ ghost! also decided to give you more than just some hand holding right at the end bc i like fluff 👀

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ghost x Male!Reader: A Helping Hand

Trigger Warnings: intoxication via alcohol, hiding feelings, this is mostly just fluff, ALSO SPOILERS FOR THE MW2 (2022) FINAL CUTSCENE I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT THIS

Simon Riley, a man as intimidating as he was mysterious. You’d never had the chance of seeing his face, even when you were working alongside Task Force 141 against AQ and Shadow Company upon Shepherd’s betrayal. However, being in a different place at a different time, you couldn’t even if you wanted once John and Kyle told you they had seen his face. You were jealous, obviously, as you found yourself to be forming some feelings you didn’t know were possible to have when it came to some stoic man who’s seen the worst the world could offer.

Aside from that, it was…rather interesting when you were working with him, especially when the three of you were separated after Graves hijacked Alejandro’s base. Having to communicate with Simon directly once you realized you were separated way further than you would’ve thought made it all the more nerve wracking. You could remember each way he spoke to you, telling a few terrible jokes to seemingly ease the pain you were obviously feeling after having got shot in the leg and rolling down the side of the hill Alejandro’s base was even on.

Walking down the streets, right next to him, on a completely fine and normal night made these feelings you had for him even worse. Despite the moon being high in the sky, the city was up and alive still. The happy and semi-drunken banter of random people made you relieved a bit, as you and Task Force 141 were all on your way towards a bar somewhere in Chicago. “(Y/N).” Simon spoke suddenly. You swiftly turned your head to look at him, eyes making contact with his own. “Sorry, were you and the others saying anything?” you ask. Simon shook his head, continuing to stare into your eyes, “Just wanted to know how that leg of yours is doing.” he said. “Oh, uh…it’s still kinda healing but I’ll be fine.” you say. “Good. I like you alive and well; you’re more useful like that.”

You swiftly turned away from him upon hearing that, figuring your conversation with him was over; and mostly because of what he said. “I like you alive and well; you’re more useful like that.” echoed in your mind, making your heart flutter like you had never expected it to. “You alright there?” Simon whispered into your ear. He was fully aware of how intimidated, to him it seemed at least, you were. The man was as mysterious as he was with cheeky, monotonous teasing. “Just fine, lieutenant.” you say firmly. “Easy there—don’t get so riled up, boy.” Simon teased further by speaking in a lower octave. That flustered you further and you just scoffed, continuing to look away.

Simon chuckled as you all entered. You all took your seats at the counter together, doing some light small talk as you ordered some drinks and spent your time there silently as you thought more and more of how quickly the feelings you had toward the brit grow. You simply kept your eyes down on your glass, only keeping yourself tuned into the conversation enough to understand what was being said. Kate was discussing with the Price about some digging done on AQ’s allie’s and such, but it wasn’t until you heard the passing around of some small print where you finally realized this was something you had to pay attention to fully.

It was then passed to you and you flipped it over, only to see it was a picture of someone you didn’t really know or understand their significance. You then put it back onto the counter of the bar before sliding it to Simon, whose pinky finger just barely brushed against your own and once again sent your heart into a frenzy. Quickly calming yourself down, you all turn to look at the captain to see what was to be said next. “Who is he?” Kate asked. Price stays silent for a bit before completely turning his body in his stool to look her right in the eyes, as serious as he could ever get when it came to things as this,

“Makarov.”

You could feel the once peaceful atmosphere drift away upon hearing this news. This was definitely something way before you came along, however now you felt you’d be playing a role in this. “You in?” Simon asked. Heart racing upon realizing all eyes were on you, a simple nod was the only response given. “We’ll talk more on this later. For now, just drink.” Kate said. With that you all raised your glasses in a silent cheer before continuing the night of drinking.

And that night of drinking probably wasn’t a good idea seeing as how you were barely able to stand, let alone walk properly. But here you were, putting one foot in front of the other drunkenly as you all walked back to the safehouse nearby to get some well deserved rest. The previous bustling crowd found itself to be even more full of life, so much so that you were practically almost knocked over each time you stepped forward. Suddenly, without thinking or realizing, your hand had gripped onto someone else’s in your drunken stupor as a way to try and hold yourself up. And to whom did this hand belong to?

None other than fucking Simon “Ghost” Riley.

Neither of you realized it, as you just figured Simon was next to you for some sort of protection due to your intoxicated state of mind. Once you all manage to finally separate from the busy streets and into a more quiet one, you continue your way home. “How much longer until we get back?” you whine drunkenly. “Just a bit further, keep walking…” John trails off, as he had turned around to look at you and saw your hand intertwined with Simon’s. “You two realize you’re holding hands?”

Your eyes widen and you look down and see exactly what was pointed out. Your heart started pounding in your chest once more, thundering in your ears. “So we are. What of it?” Simon asked. “Nothin’…nothin’ at all…” John said teasingly. He gave you a wink before turning around and continuing to walk. Simon stepped forward a bit, however you stayed in place just staring at the both of your hands together. “You alright?” Simon asked. Remaining silent, you just continue staring at your hands.

Simon sighed and tightened his grip on your hand before bringing you closer towards him, letting go of your hand before linking his arm with yours before grabbing your hand again. “Left foot forward,” he commands. Doing as you’re told, you move your left foot forward. “Now the right one.” he commands once again. Complying, you then turn your head up to look at him. His eyes aren’t dead as they normally were, but they held a gentle light within them. Smiling softly, you look away from him and continue walking.

Eventually, all of you reach the safehouse and Simon leads you to the room you were sleeping in. “Easy now, I’m going to lead you to your bed.” he whispered softly, carefully walking towards the bed that was in the room. “Will you stay..?” you whisper softly. “Why do you want me to?” Simon asks. “I want to talk about something…” you say. “If it’s about the feelings you have for me, I already know,” he says coldly. A pit forms in your stomach and you sigh, “And…you don’t reciprocate them do you…” you say softly. “I do. I just don’t really know how to show it, so if you’re willing to help me understand how to show love to you, then I will be happy to learn…” Simon whispered in a teasingly low voice. “The mask…”

Simon gives you a quizzical look, “Show my face?” he whispers, inching closer to your own as he sits you down on the bed. “Yeah…please…” you plead softly. He slowly pulls away from you and begins to teasingly take his mask off. And once he does, you’re taken by surprise at how attractive he really was. “That better, sweetheart?” he whispers, leaning close to your face again. “Much better…” you whisper back, leaning forward.

The two of you are so close that your liquor scented breath ghosts against each other’s lips. “You want a kiss?” Simon asked. You simply nod, and Simon smirks at this. “Come on, use your words.” he teases. “I want a kiss, Simon…” you whisper. “Atta boy…” he says. And before you know it, Simon’s lips are connected to yours in a passionate and gentle kiss. You’re more than happy to be kissing him, bringing your hands up to gently wind your fingers into his hair. Simon brings his hand up to your face, cupping it gently.

He eventually pulls away and despite your disappointment, he gives you a playful wink. “Not when you’re drunk. Now kick your shoes off and lay on the bed.” he commands. “Okay…” you say, taking your shoes off and laying down on the bed. Simon gets rid of his boots before laying next to you, pulling the covers over the both of you. He pulled you closer, much to your surprise. “Thought you needed help learning how to love me..?” you ask. “Oh, so I should let go of you?” Simon asked. “No, please don’t…” you say. “Then don’t joke like that. Sleep.” he says gruffly. “Fine…” you whisper. You lay there for a bit, smiling as you think about the sudden domesticity coming from Simon before eventually falling asleep.

#cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty x reader #cod ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #task force 141

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foundtherightwords · 1 year

Text

Winter Light - Chapter 4

Pairing:Tom Grant (Make Up) x OFC

Summary: Vanessa, a young cancer patient, arrives at a remote holiday park in Cornwall to wait out the rest of her days, but after a chance meeting with a park employee named Tom who's nursing a broken heart, Vanessa realizes life may not be done with her yet.

Warnings: very light smut, angst, some fluff, swearing, serious illness (cancer), discussion of death/grief

A/N: My first attempt at writing smut, and man, it was like pulling teeth. And it's not even that smutty - more like implied smut, which is the only kind I can write. Guess I'd rather leave things to the imagination. So if you're looking for something more graphic/explicit, sorry!

Also, prawns aren't really cannibals, despite what Mike Wozniak may tell you.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Stay with You

Thus began their new routine.

Tom all but moved into Vanessa's caravan. He would leave for work in the morning and come back for tea or even lunch if there was not much to do that day, and they would spend the evening watching TV or reading, before he carried her to bed and made his bed on the sofa. Sometimes they fell asleep together on the sofa, and Vanessa would wake with her head on Tom's chest. She savored those moments as she lied there, listening to his breathing, feeling his heartbeat. But soon, too soon, he would always wake up and carry her to her bed, before returning to the sofa.

Tom found a wheelchair in one of the store rooms, and on the rare sunny days, they would pack a picnic and head to the beach, Tom pushing her in the chair, stopping just as the path merged with the sand. Then he would pick her up and carry her to their favorite spot under the foot of a dune, where the wind wasn't as strong. She savored those moments too, with his strong, capable arms around her, and the hollow between his neck and shoulder forming the perfect cradle for her head.

"It's supposed to snow soon," Tom said one day, as they sat looking at the churning gray sea. "Might even get a white Christmas."

"Really? Gosh, it's been ages since it snowed on Christmas." Vanessa looked around the desolate beach with its frozen sand and sad clumps of dead, brown grass. Yes, a cover of snow would make it a lot prettier. "Aren't you going home for Christmas though?" Tom shook his head. "But your mum and sister..."

"They'll understand. Besides..." Tom turned away, suddenly looking awkward. "I heard that Ruth's back home. Don't want to risk running into her."

He still thought about her then. Vanessa tried not to show how much that hurt her. But what he said next quickly wiped away that hurt: "And I want to stay with you."

Vanessa stamped down the excitement in her heart. She said with careful nonchalance, "I might not last till then."

"Don't," Tom said quietly.

His voice trembled a little, and that frightened Vanessa. Tom had always been very pragmatic and matter-of-fact when speaking about her death, but now here he was, not looking at her, his lips pressed together to stop them from quivering. No, she would not have that.

"Don't what?" she asked, ready for a fight.

"Don't say things like that."

"Like what? I'm going to die, aren't I? There's no use mincing words."

Tom flinched, but he kept his eyes on her. "Yes, but don't make fun of people when they say they're going to be sad."

"You sound just like them."

"Like who?"

"My family. Fuss, fuss, fuss. I'm sick of it."

"People grieve when someone they love die, you can't deny them that." Tom was getting riled up now. She had watched him long enough to see the tell-tale sign of his forehead scar turning red, his eyes sparking. "And you'll be dead by then, so why does it fucking matter what other people feel?"

Vanessa flinched at the anger in his voice. Tom noticed it.

"What? You can talk about dying but I can't?" he said. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she managed to say.

"You talk big, but face it, Vanessa, you're afraid. Afraid to die, and afraid to live too."

"That's rich, coming from you."

"Fucking right, I'm a pathetic coward who's hiding from his ex. At least I can admit that."

Suddenly Vanessa was angry. Angry at this boy for being right, for saying all the things she'd been thinking but had not the courage to admit to herself. Angry at herself for falling in love with him, for letting him getting under her skin. And angry at her illness, for taking everything away from her before she got to experience them.

"I don't have to listen to this." Leaning on her cane, she stood up and walked away, but she had only gotten a few steps when her treacherous legs buckled under her in a jolt of pain and she crumpled to the ground. Tom was beside her in a flash, his arms out to pick her up. "Leave me alone, I can do it myself," she snapped at him. She pushed her cane into the sand, trying to get to her feet, but the frozen sand slipped, and another spear of pain stabbed through her. She cried out. Somehow his arms were around her, and she clung to him, sobbing against his chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said those things," he murmured. "You're the bravest person I know." She felt the soothing of his voice rather than hearing the words, and her breathing calmed. She lifted her head to say something to him, she didn't know what, just as he bent his head down to her, and their lips met.

Tom bolted away as if he just had an electric shock, but Vanessa impulsively pulled him back to her. Time seemed to stop while they held on to each other, their faces so close Vanessa could see her shaky breaths ruffling his eyelashes. Those fluttering lashes were her undoing. She leaned forward and kissed him, just a quick peck, really, just to see how it felt, to get it out of her system. He froze for a second, stunned. Then he kissed her back. Slowly, softly at first, then she felt his tongue brush against her lips, so she parted them to let him in, and the kiss got hungrier as he cupped her face in his hands, pulling her close, and she realized he had been waiting for this moment too.

***

Vanessa didn't remember how they got back to the caravan. Tom must have carried her, because her legs no longer worked. But it wasn't because of the pain. There was no more pain. There was nothing else, except for the feel of his mouth on hers, his taste of the tea they had been drinking, and his smell of warm, clean clothes and a faint trace of the sea.

They stumbled through the door, pressed together in a tangle of coats and jumpers and arms and legs, struggling to get their clothes off but not wanting to stray too far from each other or for too long. "Hold on," Tom mumbled as he bent down to unlace his boots. He lost his balance and sent both of them crashing to the floor, giggling like two naughty kids. "Sorry," he laughed softly into her neck, then that laugh turned into a nuzzle, and that nuzzle turned into a kiss that ran all the way from her throat to her collarbone, sending shivers down her spine.

As Tom reached out to lift her shirt up, Vanessa seemed to wake up from the haze. She stopped his hand. "Can we get under the covers first?" she asked.

"You cold?"

That would be a good excuse. Vanessa almost said yes, but she wanted to be honest with Tom. "No. I just... I don't want you to..." She didn't want him to see her body, how the cancer had left her all skin and jutting bones.

"You want to stop?"

"No, it's not that. It's... I'm..." How could she explain? How would she bear it if he took her clothes off and reacted with disappointment, or even disgust? Her nervousness seemed to be contagious. Tom let go of her, took a step back.

"We don't have to do this," he said. "I'd understand. It's been over a year... and before that, I don't know..."

But realizing that he was nervous as well had helped her relax. "I don't mind that," she said, drawing closer until her head rested on his chest. The thought of being away from him at that moment was unbearable. "I'm not that experienced myself, you know. I do want to be with you. It's just..."

Tom saw the way she was holding on to the hem of her shirt, twisting it, and guessed her discomfort. "Here," he said, lifting her chin so she was looking at him. "Trust me." He pulled off his own shirt and trousers. "See, not exactly Mr. GQ myself," he said.

Vanessa stared at his body, taking everything in. He was fit, but not as sculpted as she'd expected. He just looked... soft. Yes, that was the right word. Soft and comforting and safe. She touched the tan lines that hadn't quite faded from around his biceps, and ran her hand slowly from the chain around his neck to his chest, to his soft belly, and finally to the faint line of hair disappearing into his boxers.

Tom drew a sharp breath, and that gave her the courage to push on. She slid his boxers down, resting her hand there for a moment before raising her arms so he could do the same for her, peeling off the layers one by one, until they stood facing each other with nothing but the electrified air between their skins.

Just as she had done with him, Tom reached out to stroke her neck, her shoulder, her breasts, her hips, his eyes following his lingering fingers as if he was marveling at her. His languorous touch stripped her of her inhibitions, her fears, her pains, and released the butterflies in her stomach into a cloud of tingling warmth that flooded her entire body. He pulled her in for another kiss. "There's nothing to be ashamed of," he whispered into her hair. "You're beautiful."

And then they were in bed, mapping each other's body with fingers and mouths, finding all the places where they fitted together like pieces of a puzzle. She tried to stay focused, to memorize everything, his face swimming above her, his eyes dark and liquid in the yellow glow of the floodlights shining in through the window, his chain tickling her. She wrapped herself around him, her legs on his waist, her arms across his back, feeling his muscles ripple and arch like the sea, her fingers wound into his hair, her face buried into his neck as she kissed his pulsing veins, holding on to him, taking him in with every fiber of her being, while the wet heat that bloomed between them built and crested until it engulfed them both.

She didn't let go of him even when the heat had subsided, inside and out. "Talk to me, please," she murmured, cradling his head. "I don't want to go to sleep yet."

"What d'you wanna talk about?" Tom mumbled, his breath warm on her chest.

"I don't know. Anything."

"OK, do you know that prawns are cannibals?"

Vanessa laughed. "That's not true!"

"It is. They eat their babies. Surprised you didn't know that, bug girl."

"Prawns aren't bugs."

"They're sea bugs. Same thing."

Vanessa ran her fingers through his hair, still slightly damp with sweat, and tugged at the rogue curl that always dangled over his forehead whenever he got excited. "Say something else."

Tom propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at her. "Are you happy now?" he asked.

She gazed at him. She was happy. She was happy in a way she hadn't dreamed possible just a few hours ago, let alone when she first arrived at this desolate bit of Cornwall. She was so happy it frightened her. But she only said, "Yes. Are you?"

"Yes." He leaned down to kiss her, and their conversation continued without words.

Later, Tom fell asleep curved on her, his arm around her waist. Vanessa turned to look at him, committing to her memory and her heart every little detail, the way his lips parted slightly in sleep, the way he always had one arm tucked under the pillow, the dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Remembering, because it would be all that she had.

When she was sure he was sound asleep, she got out of bed, as quietly as she could. She packed her suitcase with a few essentials - she wouldn't need much. She put Seamus Heaney's "Death of a Naturalist" on the kitchen table, with a note folded into "Lovers on Aran". It was a short note. There was so much she wanted to say, but she was afraid if she took the time to write it all down, Tom might wake up.

Chapter 5 (last chapter)

#tom grant #tom make up #tom grant fic #tom grant x ofc #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #tom grant smut #joseph quinn smut

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affront2god-affectionate · 9 months

Text

My dear Kit

A Bat Coven LLC production

Warnings: not really, there is swearing, discussions of mortality, mentions of people having sex. Otherwise it's quite gen.

My installment into the Paradiso-verse by @alwaysyourshenry and @the-bats-who-simp, it's my prequel fic for their "The Priest You Want" fic. (they're multiplying, oh no)

The whole text is just letters between David and Kit Marlowe in the spring of 1593.

****

"My dear Kit.

You’re being ridiculous. Can I be honest with you? I’d like to be very honest with you, since you were nothing but brutally honest with me in the past. You’re being Ridiculous, I emphasise.

First of all, let’s begin with the less recent one: I’ve seen, with mine own two eyes, you leaving IN THE MIDDLE OF A RITUAL in quite a rude manner, breaking the circle, just because the result was not to your immediate satisfaction. Dr. Dee was of a better opinion of you, I had to apologize on your behalf. My opinion about you as a person hasn’t changed, I’ve always thought of you as too dramatic for your own good, that doesn’t prevent me from being your friend. My opinion of you as a witch, however, has indeed suffered. Whilst I’m still holding you in high regard for your POTENTIAL, for your capabilities and insights, it seems to me you are a LAZY FUCK, my friend. Lazy, lazy, lazy. As a cat that ran into a fish shop and ate so much he can’t move.

Which brings me to the point that is causing this letter to appear on your doorstep later today. What are those sexcapades you’re conducting? Not your regular ones, mind you, I’m talking about Eleanor and James. You can distract yourself with anything you want for however long you need, I know your priorities are with your writing, and keeping your mind distracted helps you not getting stuck. I respect that. But you’re keeping them distracted too! Last full moon you had them for three nights in a row, probably for days too; I had to perform all three of our jobs myself, creating substitutions for them out of some rocks and twigs, like a peasant, (which I am). Why is this? Jamie’s energy is off the charts, kudos to you for that, but I’m not sure Nora can perform anything really, barely standing up straight, poor lass. I would’ve had envy, but I’m mostly concerned.

I’m happy for your happiness, all of you, but don’t impose your disorderly attitude onto others. Some of us has to work, you know.

And what is it that I’m hearing about you wanting to leave the workings entirely? With all my love and affection, sincerely, fuck you. You are very frustrating, my dear friend. Please explain yourself even if you’re not planning on improving the above situation.

Your very annoyed, David."

****

"My darling David!

Your annoyance is highly amusing for me, I don’t know what are you so excited about. Both Jamie and Nora are grown-ups and can make up their own mind. If you cannot understand someone being in love, don’t complain about sour grapes and let people be happy. That being said, I’m sorry I got you so riled up, and I am terribly sorry you cannot stop working even for a couple of days. A nice drinking binge would do you plenty of good, hear my advice, otherwise you’re starting to sound like a priest, and not a fun one like our dearest James. Sorry we missed your mass, padre. Full moon happens every month and is not going anywhere, and human bodies only live for for so long. Those are the priorities, not the words themselves or my whimsical muse.

You’re also always welcome to join our “sexcapades” any day you want. I promise you that you won’t be walking straight either. My door is always open, et cetera.

As for me leaving… Please understand that this is very difficult to me. I am calling and calling, again and again, and I don’t feel like I’m being heard even, let alone gratified with an answer. I am watching our good Doctor conducting his summonings while I myself am unable to see those who he’s talking to. I am making bloody sacrifices and hearing only silence. This is very easy for you, in your tower of privilege, to orate about The Work and commitment and allegiance, but you are so, so loved. You never knew the disapproval of the “other side”, you don’t know what it feels like to not be worthy of Devil’s attention. I was hoping that at least my play would speak of my worth, would be beneficial somehow in gaining an audience, but all I got was one dream and oh so short resolution on a piece of paper. It was approved. How nice. When I am gonna be approved? What do I have to do? Do you even know how utterly terrifying the silence is? Have you ever heard it?

Don’t give me your lectures and wise words when everything you do is made of gold and burning like a thousand suns. I don’t even want to be you, you may be surprised about it, but I’d rather be myself. I don’t want to be Jamie or Nora either. Can I just walk my own way, will you bestow that gift upon me? I’m sorry if I’m harsh, but you really are getting quite insufferable, darling. Go touch some grass maybe, hug a tree. For a witch in close connection to Mother Nature you seem so utterly disconnected. People have lives. Not everything is a ritual or serves a higher purpose. Do you know the joy of being purpose-less and care-free? You should try it.

The lack of response is what making me want to leave and live my silly human life to the best of my ability. Does that explanation satisfy your highest standards?

Your very disillusioned, Christopher."

****

"My dear Kit.

Your letter has annoyed me even more by breaking my heart, whatever has left of it, but it also helped me to gain some insight on the matters that were eluding my attention before. I thank you for that.

I still, however, think that you would gain a lot of favor just by simply working. That is all that ever counts, truly. I saddens me that you just seem to be not liking the process so much and only seeing it as the means to an end. Which is fair, not everyone is in love with the magick itself. I really thought you were, though. Well, that’s just unfortunate.

Have you tried to ask Jamie about it, though? You’ve barely mentioned him in your letter, but he is powerful beyond your wildest imagination, and very naturally so. While Dr. Dee takes a scientific approach, which I admire, he lacks the conductive properties our good pastor has. Jamie does have a direct line to the places you wish to reach. Have you tried asking him? Or could it be that your sensual obsession with him is in fact an attempt at communicating, which you’re avoiding to tell me?

I wish I could help, but the only advice I ever have for anyone is simply “work more”, and it’s not very helpful for you in this situation. I’m sorry. I wish I could.

Please join the circle this friday, if possible. You are missed.

With best regards, your friend David.

I hate you."

****

"David, I really wish you would open the door just once so I won’t have to spend precious paper and the time of my life writing to you all the things that could have been just simply said out loud. Your habit of never opening to anyone knocking is really getting at my nerves. I know you hate talking and you know I hate writing more than necessary, seems that this predicament is unsolvable between us. One day I’ll begin either breaking your windows or scream my messages to you from the outside, for the whole street to hear.

Nevertheless.

David, you inept fuck.

While I do love you and hold you dear to my heart, you are completely unable to see anything further than your own dick. Do you really think it never once occured to me to ask father James to connect me with his contacts? Do you really think I would complain so pathetically, squirming as worm, if my goals were within my reach? I will relay to you what had happened, even though I would wish for you to guess. And you shall be able to guess, rightfully so, in one take. “It is very dangerous,” – he said. “You do not know what you wish for,” - he said. “Don’t open the doors you don’t know how to close,” - he said. Do you seriously suggest I push the protector FROM demons to connect me WITH demons? Because I tried, Lord knows I tried, and despite all his power his alignment won’t let him help me. I don’t know how do you tolerate that man. He is worse than you when it comes to his work. Maybe that’s what you have in common, Lord help me.

I’m not joining your silly circle of pundits, I’m done. I wish you would join our circle, instead. You could at least provide us with some frankincense fumes while we’re doing the deed. You’re good at being a substitute priest while Jamie is busy otherwise. That is one thing I gotta hand to you. And I know for a fact that Jamie misses you, even though he is too proud to admit it. Your refusal to participate is ridiculous. Am I so repulsive to you? Ah, who cares really. I am almost done with this kind of magick too.

I am going away soon. One might even said I plan on dying within a month. I’m sorry if I’m not leaving you the forwarding address: I want this getaway to solve the problem of your immortality and me getting older. That is the thing I wanted to tell you in person earlier today, if only you’d opened your damned door. I am vain, and the though of getting older while my lovers are forever young pains me. And I won’t be joining your coven, for the reasons I hope you might understand, for I don’t wish to explain them to you. So there’s that.

Please give me a good funeral. The particular arrangements are left with you-know-who you-know-where.

Very tired of your bullshit, but still with affection, Christopher."

****

"Oh, Kit.

You are severely overreacting and I am very tired of dealing with your hysterics, so I feel like your departure will be for the best. Please know that I will miss you and will grieve you as if you were truly dead. You are one of the very best friends I’ve ever had yet, if only you were not so unbearable.

If you truly made up your mind about remaining mortal, I won’t stop you. I also won’t be stopping you from enjoying your love for as long as you’re planning. I don’t think you need me there, not really, but for the sake of parting on good terms I will hold a candle and burn some incense near your bed, I owe you at least that. You’re not repulsive, you’re just very tiresome and I see you more like a brother, and you know this perfectly well. I find it amusing how your self-deprecating humour rather shows how utterly in love with yourself you are, that even slightest disagreement puts you into the spiral, Void forbid someone don’t comply with your wishes. You are but a baby. I could not possibly handle an eternity by your side. I still wish you would join us. But the decision is made, so be it.

If there ever will be a day when you would wish me to bury you for real, I will do this. I will hold your hand and guide to the other side. If there ever will be a day you decide not to leave the mortal plain after all, I will provide you with a suitable stone to bind your spirit. That way we can keep getting tired of each other for centuries more until you decide to go finally. There are ways of dealing with mortality one way or another, find me if you ever decide on something.

I am not going to solve your problems any further, since it seems to me that you yourself have no intention of solving them. You love your problems. You love your drama. Have fun with it.

Cheers, mate.

With best regards, David."

****

"My darling David.

You hurt me with you words. I am offended and upset. If you saw my eyes behind your window yesterday, it was me standing in the rain to reproach you for being so harsh.

Jokes aside, I never actually asked you to solve any of my problems. That is your weakness, you always try to solve everyone around you, but ever once did I see you solving yourself, darling. Sincerely, shut the fuck up and please take a good care of yourself, and leave my bleeding to me. My troubles do not need solving, they are my bread and butter, they are what makes me great. I thrive on the heartbreak. My latest heartbreak is over the Devil himself, for I am indeed very ambitious. But at the end of the day it is just something to make my days more interesting.

If ever get bored of being mortal, I’ll find you. Don’t hold your breath though, because I find you just as insufferable as you find me; I hate you, you little righteous Hell-obsessed freak. Leave me be, Jamie and Nora need you much more than I do. Take a good care of them too, though; otherwise I will come to haunt you.

I’ve set the date for my departure, so if you still want to join us I suggest you hurry up, your time is running out. The moon is gonna be full again soon. Let our last dance to be a magnificent one.

Very benevolent today, your very mortal Christopher."

#bat coven llc

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rise-my-angel · 3 months

Note

Hope you're doing alright. Nobody deserves to be harassed. You have every right to make commentary and criticisms of media you enjoy. Take your time if you want a break from writing. All us readers will understand and wait patiently for you to recover from whatever you're going through. You're clearly a compassionate and talented writer and we are not worthy!

There was just a very sudden and very persistent onslaught of anons in my inbox, most of which I never even answered, which got increasingly mean. Calling me dumb, stupid, delusional and how I stopped answering because I realized I was wrong and am too cowardly to admit it, when in reality I was getting increasingly upset.

I don't think they realized that getting very angry, insulting and aggressive towards someone making analysis posts about a fictional media can be so toxic, when the thing they are doing is telling me I am dumb and stupid for thinking someone was raped, when to me, it reminded me of some of my own rape experiences. It got really overwhelming, and eventually I deleted everything and ended up crying at my desk. I really don't think they understood how such mean aggression about the subject of rape would make someone feel, when all it did was suddenly make me feel like I was wrong for ever seeing something I went through in a character I love.

So I had to take the next few days off, but to you and everyone else who left a very kind message it means more to me then you could know. I don't like platforming debates and that was why, some people can get very aggressive to an upsetting degree and it ended up really getting to me, but I feel much better now after a few days away.

I started doubting if I had any right to even write my story because I suddenly couldn't tell if I really was delusional like they were telling me. But I love this story and I don't want to disappoint any of you kind people, so I'm taking the weekend off of writing to reset and come Monday I'll have a much better fresh focus to continue.

I know people can be passionate about characters they love, but I do not see the value of going into someone else's inbox uninvited and sending them angry hate or insults. Especially when the thing they are doing is telling me I'm stupid for "pretending" a character was raped when it reminded me of my own past assaults and I was analyzing that based off of my own interpretations of a story.

But I love this series, the books, show and my dumb little fic and all of you lovely people who are sweet enough to interact with me on here, so I'll just have to focus on not engaging in their attempts to rile me up anymore.

I like discussion on this blog, I don't want to start platforming toxic debates. You guys deserve a more friendly environment from me then that.

#i really appreciate the messages though #they really helped when all I wanted to do was delete my story #because I felt as if I was too dumb to have the right to post it anymore #if your arguments to someone is that they are dumb for thinking a character was raped and the result is you make that person cry #maybe that is not the kind of behavior that should be platformed on my blog #we like to talk and have fun here

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samsspambox · 2 years

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hi hellooooo, what do you think would it take for each of the nxx boys to curse out someone else in the nxx? how quickly will it take for them to get pissed, who'd they most likely curse out first, what words do they use, how do the others react, the whole shebang ykyk. e.g. not just dammit or crap, actual swear words (f-word, b-word, etc.) also sorry if this is a bit too vulgar idk, have a nice day!!!

heyo nonnie! you def came to the right person bc i have a fucking bigass sailor's mouth, not that i've ever used it to cuss out someone (in their presence at least lmaoo) but i do know my way around the cuss words skndfksn. actually, i use fuck daily, are we sure its considered a 'bad word' LMAOOO

the nxx and their anger: will they cuss each other out? (+ habits)

1.3k words

Marius:

i'd like to think he's incredibly slow to anger. actually, most of them are incredibly hard to anger, but marius would be the zen one. he's grown up with two-faced people his entire life, if he were to get mad at every little wrong turn he'd get sick. so he's really slow to anger in general. it's also a public image thing. he can't get mad or else the media would eat that shit right up.

the thing about marius is that he's loyal tho, so for someone to rile him up properly you'd have to start insulting his family and/or his brother. in lost gold, when his 'uncle' lowkey betrayed him, he wasn't really mad? he was surprised and sad, but not mad. while in the one argument he gets with artem, he starts to get heated bc artem implies giann is not what he seems.

marius doesn't really get mad, but he does hold onto resentment. he does treat artem colder compared to, say, vyn. i think the only one of the nxx that could get marius to break is artem. honestly vyn could as well, but there's no point. unless vyn tells him he's too attached to giann, then they have a problem.

as to what words he'd use, im not... sure? i think his anger would be burning hot with indignation. i guess some of the worlds he would use would be: son of a bitch, motherfucker, cunt, prick, asshole, fucker. he'd also get hella creative with his cusses. like, he'd call someone an 'asswipe' or things like that.

he'd lay heavy on insults and bring up dirty laundry tho. living in his world taught him to hold on to pieces of information that may benefit him later (re: resentful). he'd be the first to switch from insults to fists if he's the one who's incredibly mad. a slow build-up to an explosive climax.

Artem:

he's a lawyer, so i don't think he has the instinctual habit of trying to cuss someone out. he's the poster child for 'use your words'. his anger is definitely more explosive than the others. quick to burn, quick to dim. he's more likely to yell out his arguments should he be mad instead of cussing someone out. he's more likely to pinch the bridge of his nose, breath in, and move on.

that's not to say he doesn't curse. like luke, he has a filter, but that filter is relegated to his own home. he'll yell fuck when he gets hurt at home while only hissing in pain out in public. he'll say shit when he drops something. (he also seems like the type of person who apologizes to inanimate objects after bumping into them). artem would favor trying to solve things with discussions.

in terms of getting mad at the nxx, i think the most likely candidates to get him mad are vyn and marius. like marius, artem is incredibly loyal to the people around him. the second marius mentions neil, artem starts to get defensive. however, artem doesn't let that argument last long and it fizzles out after he (mildly) insults marius, saying he has no time to argue with him. again, he uses his argumentative prowess to get out of a situation before it starts getting too out of hand. vyn and artem would argue, but wouldn't reach the stage of cussing each other out either. artem would want to bail before that point, but would still hold his own against the conversation driving dr. richter.

the breaking point for artem cursing out the nxx would be someone putting mc/rosa in danger, and even then it would be mild. he'd call them 'idiots' but that's not even a good cuss word. you'd have better luck hearing him say 'motherfucker' after accidentally cutting himself with a knife while chopping onions.

Vyn:

oh i genuinely think he cusses on the regular, but it's under his breath/mumbled and in his home language: svartish. he doesn't cuss at all, mostly bc he can't grasp how. like, i have this hc that vyn is still learning the bells and whistles of stellan, so he just... cant use slag or cuss words correctly. that's why he sounds so prim and proper. but he picked up cursing when his father mentioned that people like that sounded dumb. stick it to the man, vyn.

he's also really quick to anger, but he doesn't let it control him. his anger would feel more like a bright flame and then smothered to burn under the surface. cold, calculating anger with an initial red hot spark.

he's another one i think that values a verbal smackdown compared to just throwing out cuss words willy-nilly. he likes to be in control of the situation, only engaging in an argument only if he knows that he will emerge victorious. you could throw him some curveballs and start revealing things about him, but that wouldn't warrant such an explosive response that is cussing someone else. he uses cuss words a lot more colloquially, even if people don't understand him.

in order to get him to cuss, in my opinion, it would have to be a life or death situation, and even then it would be super small like 'not my partner you bitch' or something similar.

within the nxx, i don't think he'd let it get to the point of anger with them, mostly indignation and a couple of scoffs, in his head he's calling them: 'bastards, idiots, assholes,' in svartish along with other svartish curses.

Luke:

he's also one that uses curses like he's sprinkling pepper on a dish, but he knows how to filter himself. but! he's one that will actively go out of his way to cuss out someone. his anger is controlled, but he has somewhere it can go: his agent raven mode. when he gets mad, he gets quiet and starts shaking with rage. if it weren't for his training in the nsb, he'd be the type to start crying when he gets incredibly mad. instead, he goes quiet and lets that rage fuel agent raven.

if it weren't for the rating tears of themis has on the app store, i'm like 89% sure that this man would have called people he was beating up 'bastards, fuckers, sons of bitches and assholes.'

in order to beat up someone in the nxx tho, it'd be super hard. mostly because he's so far removed from their problems. he has no link to giann and neil, and idk what his directive is considering the government sent him (IM LOOKING AT YOU ASSHAT). so.. unless they directly insult mc/rosa, i don't think he'd get mad at them? besides, if you've got luke mad, it's already a little too late. he's coming for your head one way or another. honestly he's one that would rather use his fist rather than cuss someone out.

if i had to pick, though, he'd get incredibly mad at vyn, marius, and artem in that order. vyn is a controlling type, a puppeteer of sorts and luke kinda is too. they'd clash heads in terms of principle, but i don't think he'd get mad at vyn unless he started opening him up like a jawbreaker and exposing his layers. in that instance he would walk away and tell him to 'drop it, asshole' or he'd genuine punch vyn to shut up. cuz vyn would get going on a tirade and he knows what buttons to press. marius would be irritating and put up his mask, which im 77% luke can see through on the first time he meets him. i can't see him getting mad at artem for nxx reasons, but i can see him getting mad if it has something to do with mc.

luke curses as a warning. his fists follow shortly after.

Reactions:

i think everyone in the nxx would have the gut reaction to stop whatever was happening in terms of verbal lashing (except vyn. if vyn is a bystander he will let it play out unless the argument has any inclination of going physical). he already did with marius and artem, who's to say luke's wont be different?

the rest of the nxx would at least try to defuse the situation, bring attention to the subject itself, or literally tell them to stop.

and well, yeah. there you have it nonnie! my take on if they cuss each other out or not. honestly the only tension they have with each other is being in love with mc, which is why i don't really see them cussing at each other. (aside from the giann vs neil factions). honestly, once giann and neil get found and the tension ends they'll be a well-oiled machine.

thank you for the ask nonnie! this was really fun to think about! :D

#talks from the spambox #nonnie asks #anon asks #sam answers #tears of themis hc #tears of themis #tears of themis headcanons #artem wing #luke pearce #marius von hagen #vyn richter #xia yan #zuo ran #lu jinghe #mo yi #listen i don't even cuss people out and i cuss like the biggest bitch out there lmaoo #i do enjoy some verbal smackdowns tho #thank you nonnie this was exactly what i needed #now to go back to studying nsdkljkbdfkj

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alesyira · 1 year

Text

ShinDeku Day 24: kiss

First Post | Prev | Next (<- another mature posting)

an: i think i used this prompt in every single scene lol

“Anyways, he’s not out there by himself. The hero he’s been assigned to partner with is-" Hitoshi’s voice trails off as his hands slow, then stop entirely.

Izuku swipes to the next video, shifting a little. He wants the gentle petting to resume. "The hero is...?" Izuku prompts as a large ginger furball dives headfirst into a snowdrift.

"Just-" Hitoshi stalls, and Izuku stops swiping his videos to peek back at him from the corner of his eye. "...Usually a pretty capable guy. They've worked together before." He shrugs and looks away from Izuku's concerned expression to peer down at Izuku's phone and the cat videos still playing on the screen. "He'll be alright."

Izuku stares. For a moment, he thought Hitoshi might name the hero Shouto’s working with. He furrows his brows with mild confusion, turning back to watch a cat trying to pry open a drawer, only to freeze when it realizes it's been caught red-handed.

Hitoshi thinks the hero is pretty capable, which means he knows who it is.

Why doesn't he just name them?

Izuku knows a ton of stats about most active heroes, and a name drop would do plenty to assuage his concerns.

His thoughts flick back to previous missions Shouto has worked that ended up with some kind of major media coverage. It's a mission in broad daylight, likely to be seen by crowds of cheering onlookers. There shouldn’t need to be any secrecy around hero involvement. They’d openly discussed where he'd be going and what he’d be doing in the days before he—

“Hey,” Hitoshi murmurs, interrupting his thoughts with a gentle squeeze. “I can hear you worrying.”

Izuku chews on his lip and swipes to the next video. “But I’m not saying anything?” A black cat silently judges a kitten clumsily pouncing on its flicking tail.

Hitoshi chuckles, and Izuku shivers as his breath tickles the fine hairs of his neck. "But you are, in tiny whispering mutters. I can barely understand what you're saying, but it's there."

Izuku feels his cheeks darken. Muttering? Damn.

"And anyways, none of these videos are making you smile." Hitoshi slowly, purposely, drags his hands up Izuku's torso. "You're chewing on your lip hard enough that it's starting to make me jealous."

The hoodie lifts higher, and the brush of blanket against Izuku's bare skin makes his eyes flutter closed. The implications of what Hitoshi could do next...

"Every muscle I can feel is way too tense for someone who's trying to relax." His hands slide back down, squeezing gently into his thighs as a gentle kiss is pressed to his neck. "If you aren’t worrying, then I might need to take you to the hospital to have these really weird symptoms checked out.” Hitoshi’s hands resume their gentle movements, warm and firm against his skin.

Izuku swallows, trying to get his thundering heart to calm.

That was a terrible, terrible, tease.

Hitoshi wants him to relax? Riling him up like that didn't help a whole lot, and it only briefly distracted him from his thoughts.

He shifts a little, hoping Hitoshi's hands wander a little from their very innocent paths.

He wants more distraction. He can't stop thinking and worrying about not knowing.

He should be used to not knowing what's going on. He digs up everything he can ahead of time, compiles a report, and sends it off. He may never find out what happens after that, but he's very good at what he does, and almost always has confidence that things will be alright as long as his information is used appropriately.

But he has a personal stake, now.

There's so much he could do to help. Maybe he should bring it up when Shouto gets back? He can ask about the analysts they have working at their agency. They shouldn't be garbage at their job if they're working for a higher-profile hero like Shouto, but Izuku might feel better once he knows that he's in good hands.

Hitoshi brushes his nose along Izuku's neck and he tilts his head to the side, swiping absently to the next video. An adorable kitten chases after a shadow on a wall. Izuku hopes that whoever is prepping their jobs isn't shit at their jobs, leading the heroes in their care into chasing after shadows, too.

Hitoshi presses his lips against Izuku's shoulder, a lingering kiss with an accompanying lick. He winds his arms tight around Izuku's middle, burying his face in his neck with a deep sigh.

Izuku stops scrolling. Something feels wrong.

He swallows back a fresh wave of anxiety. “Did something happen that hasn’t come up on the news feeds?”

Hitoshi shakes his head. “Nothing has changed.” But the inflection in his voice when he answers that question gives Izuku the clear impression that something has changed.

He sets his phone aside and settles his hands over Hitoshi's. It feels like there's something he wants to say, but he's taking his time to find the right words.

"This may be something you don't want to hear, but-" Hitoshi swallows and taps his fingers against the skin of Izuku's waist. It's a nice distraction from the vague sense of alarm that's creeping up on him. "I just wanted to let you know now so you have time to process-"

Izuku cuts him off and turns in his arms with a sharp spike of worry. "Is Shouto okay?"

Hitoshi blinks at him. "Oh- yes? He should be fine. This isn't about him. I just didn't want him to come back and mention something offhand and catch you by surprise."

What could he possibly mention that would-

Hitoshi grimaces a little. "It's about who he's working with this week."

It's Izuku's turn to blink.

"It's someone you know, personally," he hedges, rubbing at the back of his neck as he glances away. "I mean, if you don't want to talk about it, it's fine. I just wanted you to have time to think about it ahead of time in case it comes up, and I don't know what you think about, um. Him. I don't know what I don't know, and I don't know how to- uh- be supportive. Because I support you, and I want you to know that if you need some time alon-"

Izuku cuts off his rambling attempts to make him feel better with a kiss.

Hitoshi tugs him a little closer with a soft hum, both content to press and gently glide, their thoughts briefly in sync as they part lips and brush tongues to taste. Hitoshi sighs against his mouth when they pause for breath.

Izuku watches his pale purple lashes flutter as Hitoshi refocuses on his face. His amethyst eyes sparkle in the late afternoon light, and with his pupils so dilated, the silvery brightness within is completely captivating.

He could stare for days.

Hitoshi tilts his head and asks, "You don't want to-"

Izuku catches his lips again and twists a little further to straddle his lap.

He does not want to talk. About him. At all.

Hitoshi rips his mouth away with a gasp, rolling his head back a little out of Izuku's immediate reach. "But- you can't-"

Izuku dips his head to nip at Hitoshi's neck, licking a line along his bare shoulder to sink his teeth into the meat of his shoulder.

Hitoshi groans and shifts beneath him with a shudder, swallowing heavily before he tries to finish his sentence, "-aah, can’t use physical distractions to-"

"Wanna bet?" Izuku mutters against his skin. He skips straight to the best part and stuffs his hand down the front of Hitoshi's pants.

He gasps and arches into the bold touch. "Fuck, okay never mind, I'm wrong."

First Post | Prev | Next (<- another mature posting)

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #mha #mha fanfiction #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shindeku #shinzuku #the cute guy next door AU #shindeku month 2023 #shindeku month

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mortemoppetere · 11 months

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TIMING: recent PARTIES: @ironheartedfae & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: ren drops by axis to walk perro and drop off an apology letter for emilio to find later, but emilio comes home early and catches her. conversations are had. CONTENT WARNINGS: alcoholism, discussions of child abuse

Two days. Sitting, festering in the pool of anger that never seemed to have a bottom. Endless. It came from somewhere didn’t it? Ren never understood it, as familiar as it was. She knew what to do with anger, or rather what she was supposed to do. “Point it where it can do the most damage, котёночек.” Darya would say, in times like that she almost seemed maternal. Giving advice in the only way she knew how. When she’d offer a gentler hand and a quieter voice. Calming the inferno inside Ren’s chest. Taming the monster so it could be taught.

It was this softer image, the glimpses of light that had Ren reeling. If it was only harsh for no reason, only the abrasive file that whittled away at the fae’s nature… maybe she could understand better. Understand Emilio’s anger despite how he had never met Darya. Never seen how kind she could be, how strong she was, how well she treated the other kids, the whole family… Maybe if he just saw that he’d–

There was everything Ren knew, and what Emilio had begun to preach. Fully at odds with each other, in a way that riled her up more than just about anything else. Defensively, she ruminated on what could possibly have made Emilio’s childhood so much better than hers. On why he thought it was okay for him to be a tool and nothing else, and not for her. He was not a warden, that left only two other options. But only one that would produce as much dust as the man always seemed to be coated in. (Unless there were some exceptionally soot covered werewolves out there, who knew?)

Would Emilio’s mother have had the kindness and nobility to take in a vampire and raise it as one of her own? Would she have let it stay with the family properly, or would she have locked it away too? For its own safety as much as everyone else's. Ren didn’t know her. Didn’t know anything about her other than she probably shared the same last name as Emilio, and she somehow gave him purpose, made him a tool to be used. And made him think that was not a good thing for someone else to be.

But sitting and being angry at something was a hell of a lot harder than trying to do something about it. At first Ren just hunted. Sought out fae creatures that were harming others. Objective evil. Something she didn’t have to think about. The magical tether that weaves between every fae made it easy. Made it far too simple to get in close, to angle the knives just right. When she thought she had a handle on her thoughts she went on to larger targets. To something that could talk– But she never really got to the killing part. Emilio’s voice kept creeping in. The way he’d been so soft, so kind. The comforting hand on her shoulder, the warm spot on his couch. Ren had never slept in the same house as someone before. Never had a companion like Perro to curl up next to her on the couch.

The nevers got a little louder every hour, every day. Ren found herself missing the old apartment in a way that only confused and irritated her more. She shouldn’t have shouted. Shouldn’t have yelled at him for not understanding her upbringing. She knew that much. The bitter pit in her stomach had more to say, more she couldn’t fully parse through. He was not a cruel man. He was not useless. He wasn’t the monster. Maybe he deserved something better than leaving his last message on read. Maybe he deserved a proper amount of appreciation for all he’d done. But it wasn’t like she could just say that. The words wouldn’t fully form in her head, and even if they did they might not make it out of her mouth without her getting upset again. Without her lashing out and making things worse.

So Ren waited. Watched. When she did not want to be found, it was next to impossible to do. She kept vigil nearby, she’d already learned the man’s routines. Perro, she supposed, was the thing she missed the most. The sweet dog had to be the reason she was here. Sitting outside waiting for the slayer to leave long enough to walk the pup and leave a note. Something that summed up what she could get through. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

—

He’d never been particularly good at coping. Even before the massacre, even before he’d become the sort of man who wasn’t particularly good at anything, Emilio had struggled to find the right way to deal with the feelings that often felt too big to fit in his chest and the thoughts that often crept into his mind without his permission. He found distractions, mostly, other places to put those feelings. When Victor died, he’d taken all the grief and all the love he’d had for his brother and transferred it over to Rhett, who showed up not long after. When he realized he wanted to leave Mexico with his daughter in tow, he’d thrown himself into the plan of it and refused to dissect the feelings it stirred up. When Etla fell and everyone he loved fell with it, he became a creature focused solely on vengeance so that he didn’t have to think about all the things he wasn’t anymore.

There were strings that tied them all together, of course, similar smaller things that lurked beneath the big ones. Alcohol had always been the main one.

Drinking to cope was something he’d started at a young age, when his uncle took him to the local hunter bar after Victor’s death and pushed a glass with an amber liquid into his hand. It had tasted foul and bitter, but it numbed him in a way he couldn’t deny. He’d gone back to it often even then, but it had taken on a new life since the massacre. He was drunk more often than he was sober these days, and he preferred it that way. A drunk man’s pain always hurt less than a sober man’s, he thought.

It was no surprise, then, that his argument with Ren drove him right back into the liquor cabinet. He couldn’t explain what it was about that particular fight that hollowed out his chest — he barely understood it himself. All he knew was that there was a kid, and he liked her. There was a kid, and she reminded him of people he’d loved and people he’d lost, made him think of people who died because he’d failed to keep them safe. There was a kid, and she’d been mistreated and hurt to the point that she thought she deserved it, somehow.

There was a kid, and she was asking him to kill her one day.

That was what he was focused on. Not the rest of it. Not the way her Darya sounded so much like his own mother that it made his mouth dry, not the way the things he’d said were unforgivable when they’d happened to her had been done to him, too. There was a difference, Emilio thought, in taking a child that didn’t belong to you and raising them up like cattle because you didn’t like the way they were born and raising your own child to fulfill a purpose that had been assigned to them since long before they came into existence. One was horrid. The other was noble. He might not have wanted to raise his daughter in the way his mother had raised him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand why she’d done it. That didn’t mean he thought her cruel for it. He was alive because of how his mother had raised him, and Ren was asking people to kill her because of the way hers had raised her. That was the difference. And that mattered. That had to matter.

So the fight stung. Ren’s words, her outright refusal to believe that she was worth caring for, it ached in a way Emilio couldn’t wrap his head around. He’d poured alcohol into that gaping hole in his chest, and it ached still. So he’d poured more and more and more, until all the bottles in his cabinet were emptied and he was pulling his shoes on with an angry grumble. If Nora were here, he’d have sent her to the store with his wallet to buy a few more bottles, but he couldn’t justify asking her to come in to ‘work’ on days when he was doing more drinking than he was investigating. So there was nothing left to do but go himself.

He stumbled to the ground floor, leg aching more than it usually did thanks to a few hours too many in an uncomfortable drunken position in the kitchen floor and started down the street, a strange feeling crawling up the back of his neck. He didn’t make it far before coming to the realization that his wallet was still on the kitchen floor, and he kicked the concrete in frustration before turning around. Already, he was beginning to sober up more than he’d like to. A slayer’s metabolism was only good to have until it wasn’t. Most things were like that.

He made the trek back up the elevator, not even pretending to consider the stairs the way he normally might. Then down to the end of the hall, to his apartment which —

Wasn’t empty. Emilio tensed at the sensation of another presence in his space, his hand gripping a knife carefully. Had someone found him, then? Some vampire whose friends he’d killed, or another person negatively affected by one of his investigations? Maybe it was Rivera, going back on his claim that he was somehow ‘better’ than Emilio for his refusal to kill and accepting the fact that the slayer posed a danger to his farm just by living, or someone from Zane’s clan who’d caught on to Emilio’s snooping and was here to put it to an end. His heart was stuttering in his chest, afraid to die even when it was the only thing he’d been after for years now. Hearts were funny like that. They never seemed to agree with the rest of you.

But then, he caught sight of her. The shock of red hair, the slight form hunched over Perro, who stood with his lone front paw resting on her knee. Emilio relaxed, slipping the knife back into his pocket and giving his heart a moment to slow again. “Figured this would be the last place you’d want to be,” he commented, walking by her to get to the kitchen. His bad leg, somehow aching even more now that the brief shock of adrenaline had overtaken and then left him in the span of a minute, was practically dragged behind him as he moved onto the tile, looking down at his wallet in the floor. Christ. Could he even bend over to pick the damn thing up, or was he too useless to manage even that now? He pressed his tongue against his teeth and let out a frustrated puff of air. “Did you wait until I was gone to come here?”

—

She should have heard him coming, but she didn't. Should have felt the vibrations of the elevator, the uneven steps that only ever belonged to the private investigator. The very same who brushed past her and into the kitchen. Ren was frozen to the spot. Mortified at her lack of awareness. Acidic spit pooled in the back of her mouth, giving even the air a bitter flavor as she tried her best not to move. As if it would help. As if him speaking to her wasn't enough to solidify that he'd already noticed. It was the illogical kind of fear and embarrassment, the kind that seems to pull at your mind from behind. Dragging you by your ears as if the weight of the words it spun around your heart had physical mass.

The voices in her head replayed every word. Painting them in an awful shout. One she hadn't even actually heard from Emilio in person. One he may not have even used if the argument was face to face. Didn't matter much what his intention might have been, Ren believed she needed to be yelled at. The boiling rage in her chest knew she was yelling. So as far as she was concerned, it was a screaming match through the screen.

'Figured this would be the last place you’d want to be' it was. It was. Right? Why would she want to be here? Other than visiting the dog. That… that was the only part that made sense. "Just– I am here to give back stupid jacket." Torn off, thrown on the couch. Leaving her in a too-large, too-thin button down she'd found at an abandoned camp site. "Dog still has needs" No. No no no. This wasn't right. Ren squeezed her fists so tight her palms began to protest. Heat bubbled up, reddening her ears and dusting her cheeks. It wasn't a lie, not really, so why was her stomach still churning as if it was? Why did she feel so sick, and why did it just make it even harder to speak. To say what was on her mind.

Ren stood abruptly, pointedly ignoring the second question, and fully not noticing the crumpled paper falling from the pocket of the jacket she had thrown. Without a goodbye or an explanation she began to leave. Stopping only when Perro followed her to the door. Clearly expecting her to still take him for a walk. Her heart was beating so fast and so loud it was almost hard to hear the soft whine come out of the dog. Harder to hear the man in the kitchen struggle to do a basic task. Something she should have offered to help with. Instead she tried to mouth a silent 'no.' to the pup as her hands failed to grasp the door handle.

—

She was still angry. Hell, maybe he was, too. It was hard to assign a name to the feeling in his chest most days, the burning fire that wasn’t quite rage but wasn’t quite grief, either. It had lived within him for so long now that he’d stopped trying to understand it, stopped attempting to describe it to anyone but himself. No one had ever understood it, anyway. Not Rhett, not Vida, not Javi, not any of the people he tried to use to warm his bed on nights where it felt too vast and too empty to exist within even when he wasn’t planning on sleeping. It was what it was, and what it was was shit but what else did he have? What else could he do?

“Told you I don’t want the jacket. I gave it to you because I wanted to get rid of it.” It wasn’t true, but it was also the only way he knew how to get her to accept anything at all. She’d been raised to think she only ever deserved scraps, to think she was blessed to get even that. The fire in his chest burned a little hotter, his hatred for the woman who’d brought Ren up like this growing all the more despite the fact that he’d never met her. He hoped he never did. He didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from doing something Ren would certainly hate him for if he ever came face to face with the woman responsible for making her this terrified, angry, mess of a kid.

Emilio looked to Perro, who’d plopped down to stare up at Ren as she straightened. His head tilted to one side, then the other. The hunter couldn’t help but wonder if the dog could smell it, the tension in the air. Did he know, somehow? Or was it impossible to differentiate this new rage from the one that had lived in Emilio’s chest since the night he’d brought the mutt home? “Dog’s needs aren’t your problem anymore if you’re not taking what I’m giving you. That was the deal, right? You take care of him, I give you food and a jacket. You don’t want the jacket. You won’t take the food. You don’t have to walk the dog.” It ached a little, saying it, but he didn’t want her thinking she still owed him anything.

She stood and headed towards the door, and even if he saw it coming it still stung. Something fell from her pocket, and he limped over to scoop it up, wincing at the movement. “Dropped this,” he said, holding it out to her. If she wanted to leave, he wouldn’t stop her. God knew she’d had enough choices taken from her already; Emilio wouldn’t be the one to add more to that list, even if it meant she’d choose never to see him again.

—

Ren opened her mouth to spit some other vile thing she didn't really mean out at Emilio, but her voice stuttered. He was holding it, the rough draft of an apology she had written. Well, it was more like draft fifteen, because of course it was. She never did anything right on the first pass. Not when it involved words and feelings. Even good old number fifteen was not nearly good enough. All fragmented sentences and half thought out ideas. Footnotes still in Russian, waiting to be translated, handwriting barely legible. Worse, there were still drawings on it. Doodles. Scribblings. Art was a childish, foolish, terrible endeavor that should have stayed private. Ren never understood why anyone would look twice at the messes she drew. A few folks had expressed interest but it wasn't something that really clicked in her mind. Few things did, at least right away.

Nostrils flared along with the staggered rise and fall of Ren’s chest. She was still enough that Perro had decided her feet were a good bed. Curling around them and all but forbidding her to run the way she wanted to. Maybe it wouldn’t be obvious to just anyone, but Emilio was a detective and a damn good one at that. The way the girl’s eyes darted between the crumpled ball, to the man’s eyes, and back, it was clear. The letter was for him. But she wasn’t quite ready to release it. She didn’t know what to do. All resolve faltered, managing to twist up behind her ribs into an ever increasing heart rate. Sooner or later she’d start putting hummingbirds to shame.

—

She stood frozen, like someone had nailed her feet to the floor even before Perro climbed on top of them and settled down to rest. Emilio knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t kick the dog off his resting spot in order to run, but she wasn’t reaching out for the paper, either. She was staring at it, eyes darting between it and him as if…

Oh. She’d brought this here to leave it for him, hadn’t she? Some letter for him to find in her absence. Something tugged at his chest, a memory he tried not to think about. He’d toyed with it, when he was planning his departure from Mexico, packing his things and Flora’s little by little in a subtle enough manner that no one would notice they were disappearing. The idea of leaving a note behind for Juliana to find, an apology for her to pass along to his mother and his siblings, a message for her to deliver to Rhett… He’d deemed it too risky in the end, known he’d loved her too much not to let something slip and she’d known him too well not to catch it. If he’d gotten his chance, he would have left the people who’d loved him with nothing at all, not a word or a sign.

But Ren was better than he was. Kinder, despite having had no kindness shown to her to offer an example. Guilt clawed at his chest at the way she was looking at him, eyes wide and desperate. Carefully, he took a step closer to her and held the paper out, close enough that she could grab it if she wanted to. “I won’t look at this,” he said carefully, “unless you want me to.” No matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much his anger and curiosity and grief was begging him to. It was still Ren’s choice. It needed to be Ren’s choice. If she was ever going to trust him again after he’d snapped at her, if he was ever going to get to a position where he could really help her, he had to earn that.

—

No. She should have just said no. Grabbed the paper and shuffled the puppy off of her feet, fled out the door and never let herself be seen again. Ren wanted to run. Felt the whole of her torso go cold as blood rushed to her legs, to her ears where they pulsed out a beat that almost gave a soundtrack to this horrible horrible scene. She should have, she wanted to, but she did not.

Instead, the young nymph reached out a shaking hand and closed the paper back in his. Quickly retreating, but giving him an answer all the same. He could, if he wanted to. She wasn’t going to stop him. She was mortified by it, still sinking and shrinking into that bug under a microscope feeling once more. Ren wouldn’t look him in the eye. Only at Perro. Only at the couch. At the many, many, many places she’d found hidden knives and put them back. At the cracks in the walls, the peeling paint. At the empty bottles of whiskey, and cigarette butts that dotted the ground. Anywhere but at him. Because she knew he was looking at her. Because she knew he was seeing her too.

“Emilio Cortez

I am not good with this. I am not good with feelings. I am not good at much at all. But I should not have yelled. I should not have called you names and insulted you. You have been nothing but kind to me. You say you are not good man but time and time again you keep treating me like something that is worthy of saving. I know you do not care for her, but Darya would say “you are what you do.” And I think you are good.

Better than you allow yourself to believe.

I cannot agree with you about my upbringing. I cannot understand how it is different from your own, I do not know how it is bad of her to protect me as a youngling, to train me in the ways she would have trained her own. It was not as bad as it sounds, and maybe if you just understood this– She did not call me monster, not directly. But she taught me of all the horrid things the fae have done, and will continue to do. So I see myself for what I could be. I know I am nothing good. I see the problems I could cause if I let my guard down...

When people thanked me it felt good and this scares me deeply. I was terrified and I lashed out at you instead of listening. I do not want to hurt people, but I now understand… I hurt you. I should not have asked this of you.”

It wasn’t signed. It wasn’t ever meant to be. Who knows how much of it would have made it to the final draft, if ever Ren got there. If ever Ren felt it was sufficient to convey her apologies, and the depth of the sorrow it brought her to make him upset. This was all new territory. But she felt she had to do something, and speaking wasn’t going to be a real option. So she waited. She no longer waited for a strike, that wasn’t something Emilio would do. He wasn’t trying to punish her for her own good. He wasn’t trying to beat any bad behavior out of her. He was kind, and warm, and trying his very best to make a person out of her.

—

She closed his hand around the page in a way that meant she was granting him permission. In spite of his curiosity, he still hesitated for a moment. Long enough to give her a chance to change her mind, long enough for her to snatch the page back if she wanted to, long enough for her to leave if that was what she chose. He gave her time to make a decision and, when she didn’t move, he figured that was a decision in and of itself. Slowly, he pulled his arm back and uncrumpled the paper. Slowly, he lifted it up to read.

It took him a while. English wasn’t a language Emilio was entirely comfortable in, and it would surprise no one that literacy in any language wasn’t something his mother had found very important. If he wanted to really take something in, he had to read it slow. And he wanted to take this in, all of it. He read every word, heart pounding in ways he didn’t understand at Ren’s scribbled out confession that she didn’t understand how her childhood differed from his. He pretended he couldn’t read it where she’d scratched it out, pretended he didn’t know what it said. He wasn’t sure who he was trying to fool in the privacy of his own mind, wasn’t sure who he was afraid of, but the fear clung anyway.

He moved on, down to the next part, chest aching. If you told a child that what they were was wrong all their life, you had to know what it would do to them. There was no excuse, Emilio thought, no explanation. There was nothing Ren could say or write that would make him view Darya as anything less than the monster she was, but there was likely nothing he could say to make Ren accept it.

Shifting the page, he looked up at the margins, where the less organized thoughts lay. Doodles of Perro napping with questions about his eyes and the frequency of his snoozes, notes about other dogs and knives and Metzli. (He hadn’t realized Ren knew them; there was a foreign kind of comfort with that, a relief that shouldn’t have been there. His friendship with Metzli confused him, more than anything else. He was never sure if it was a sign he was getting better or another tally to add on the list of reasons why he should hate himself.) There were drawings of him, too, and that was strange to see. He’d never seen himself sketched out on paper before, hardly ever even looked at himself in the mirror. His throat felt tight. Was that really what he looked like through her eyes? It seemed too kind. Like he was a person instead of a thing, a man instead of a weapon. He thought maybe he ought to be ashamed of that, too.

He didn’t know how long he spent looking at it before he finally lowered the page, glancing up at her. She still wasn’t looking at him; he thought she probably wouldn’t for a while, if she could help it. “Can I keep this?” It was a quiet request, and perhaps one he thought he already knew the answer to. Emilio rarely got to keep anything. Not gifts he was given that couldn’t be used to hurt anyone, not the baby girl he’d cradled in his arms while her mother slept, not the woman who’d loved him until she maybe-hadn’t. Why would this be different? Why would Ren? She’d made it clear already that she was ready to die the second she started to act even a fraction more like what she was. Maybe letting her go now would save him some grief down the road.

But, of course, it wasn’t something Emilio knew how to do. He’d loved Juliana, who was a martyr in the making long before her death. He’d loved Flora, who was marked for death the moment she was born just as all hunters were. He’d loved Jaime and Rosa and Edgar and Victor and Rhett, loved Lucio and his mother, loved a whole town full of people who love had not saved. His mother had been right about him, he knew; he was too soft, too weak, too useless. If he were better at this, maybe they’d all still be here. If he were better at this, maybe he wouldn’t be. Ren’s note warmed his chest, but that didn’t make it true. He still wasn’t a good man. He knew that. The good ones had died in Mexico.

“I like the drawings,” he offered. “Really like the ones of Perro. Es bueno. You’re good at it.”

—

Ren had never experienced open heart surgery, but this had to be a close second to it. She just stood there. He just read it. Silently taking his time pouring over the words, looking at the drawings. All the while she was stuck rooted in position, feeling rather like lightning in a bottle. Standing still was agony. Moving away was unacceptable. So she crouched. Busied herself with Perro and his floppy ears, his bushy brows that fully covered his eyes whenever he was snuggled up tight like this. He didn’t seem to mind the alternative to a walk. The pup just yawned, stretched and rolled over until his back was against her ankles and his tummy was in scratching position.

What to expect? Her mind raced with possibilities, but never once settled on Emilio wanting to keep it. Of course he could keep it. He’d already seen it, it wasn’t like she was going to try and hide it after. It didn’t make sense. And maybe that showed on her face, puzzled and twisted up tight as her fingers carded through the dog’s fur. “Keep it.” She repeated, not daring to let her voice above a whisper. Lest she start screaming again. Ren didn’t want that. Didn’t want to make another problem where her first was just beginning to mend. If that’s what this was. If he wanted to keep it… That had to mean he’d keep the apology as well. On a more metaphorical level.

As concerned as she made herself with the state of Perro’s tangled locks, she had completely missed how tears that had begun to prickle at her eyes had overflown their reserves. Silently trickling down her cheeks and dropping to the floor with a gentle ptth. Ren didn’t feel like crying. She certainly didn’t want to. But the tears came all the same. “Pictures… come into my head sometimes. Have to get them out.” Bueno. Good. For that. For drawing. Of all things. Why did this admittance make her want to sob?

Why did it make her want to be held?

A pit began to form in her stomach, lending more than a little evidence to what Emilio had said. About how maybe the way Darya had raised her had done more damage than good. But that was only because Ren wasn’t a normal child. She was never going to be. Ren had been raised at arm’s length because of what she was, because Darya couldn’t afford to offer her anything else. She had been kind, and she had been cruel. She had been noble, and evil. The ends might have justified the means in her mind, but the inbetweens had a way of crushing down on the nymph at every turn. Making her second guess everything that wasn’t a direct, clear, and unshakable fact.

—

She said he could keep it, and Emilio was shocked even if he didn’t show it. He folded the page carefully, pulled out the wallet he’d retrieved from the kitchen floor and tucked the paper in between the folds. There wasn’t much else in there to accompany it, really. A few worn photographs of people long gone, pictures of moments he’d stolen that no one had known he’d kept. Rhett with something tangled in his hair, looking wild-eyed at the camera in a way that said he knew the man holding it was responsible. Juliana on their wedding day, her simple white dress standing stark against her skin as she rolled her eyes at the lens. Flora holding out a worm towards the camera with Jaime draped over her shoulders flashing a gap-toothed grin. And now, Ren’s handwritten note and drawings. It felt like it belonged there, with the ghosts. Somehow, that thought ached more than the rest of it. How long until she was among them?

(Was it selfish to hope that, just this once, he’d get to go first?)

He couldn’t relate to it, her need to draw. The things in Emilio’s head were rarely worth putting to paper, and doing so wouldn’t do much to get rid of them. Sketching Flora’s corpse where he’d found it in the living room floor wouldn’t evict the image from its permanent spot behind his eyes. Drawing his mother’s face from memory wouldn’t dispel the memory of how it had looked every time she’d caught sight of him, of how disappointment became a tangible thing when it was reflected in her eyes, of all the ways she’d tried to fix what was wrong with him and all the ways those repairs had failed. There were some things you couldn’t fix. Emilio was one of them. Emilio had always been one of them.

But Ren wasn’t. Ren was a kid, still. Lost and alone, but not by necessity. Maybe Darya didn’t want her to know that there was a world beyond the one she’d forcibly shoved her into, but Darya wasn’t here. Emilio was. And maybe — Maybe he could do something decent. Maybe he could do something to make up for the other people who weren’t here. For those pictures in his wallet that would never exist off the page again.

“I like them,” he said again, because it was all he knew how to do. He wasn’t good at encouragement. How could he be? He’d never been shown much of an example. “If you ever wanted to show me more, you know, I’d like to see them. Maybe keep a couple more, if you’d let me.” He looked down at Perro, still curled on top of the kid’s feet. “Between you and me, he’s cuter in your drawings than he is in pictures. Can never get him to sit still enough. Always a little blurry. Shit camera’s probably got something to do with it.” He didn’t know if talking helped. It helped him, sometimes. When his head went to places he’d rather it stay away from, when his mind did things he didn’t understand, it helped to hear someone else’s voice. Like an anchor. He wasn’t sure he was much of a lifeline, but maybe he still beat out silence.

Slowly tucking his wallet back into his pocket, he turned back towards the door. “I was about to run to the store. You can walk the dog, if you want. You can stay after, if you want. Or you can go, if you want. But it’s up to you, okay? You wanna stick around, I’ll make some food. You wanna go, you can go. But take the jacket with you if you do. I don’t like it on my couch. It, ah…” He waved a hand, unsure what phrase he was looking for or how to find it. “It doesn’t go with the room.”

—

The girl huddled in the closed doorway (only allowing herself to stay focused on the dog and nothing else) was quiet for some time. Processing, as it were. Ren had never been particularly great at digesting new information that didn’t seem to jive with what was already jammed into her brain. She didn’t know what to do with the compliments, didn’t know how to hold on to them. Instinct bid her to deflect again, to deny that the art was anything more than the effects of a troubled mind. To push back against the tidal force of kind that Emilio kept sending her way. It meant something, she knew it, that he could see something different in her. She just wasn’t sure what it was. If she believed he had a good mind and was a good detective, then she had to believe his judgment call when it came to her too. Right?

She could keep that idea in her mind, turn it this way and that, but it never seemed to fit. Not quite right. Not with everything else still swirling around in there. Crowding out the space with ideas that had not originally been her own, but had metastasized into something physical. A wall blocking Ren from seeing real good in anything that belonged to the fae. Which she always would. Through no fault of Emilio’s at all, he’d never really be able to break that one down. But he could sit there and talk with her. He could offer kind words, home cooked food, a dog to walk, a jacket to wear. Offer her a choice.

If you want.

Over and over he said it. Three simple words. If. You. Want. Most days Ren didn’t feel like a person, at best an insect, at worst an animated tool meant only to destroy anything that was similar to itself. Personhood was heavy. It might as well have been an Atlas carrying the world level task for the young nymph. It wasn’t something she could really exist with, not yet, but she could try.

Emilio moved closer, and Ren slowly stood. Still quite a bit shorter, barely coming up over his shoulder even on her tippy toes. Her eyes never seemed to leave the dog, even now. Still, her hand tentatively found its way to his. Giving a tight squeeze of appreciation, affirmation. A slow nod alongside to confirm. Words failed to come out, or maybe she just kept them in this time. Making sure she didn’t mess any of this up. Again.

#ironheartedfae #ren: time to apawlogize #wickedswriting #alcoholism tw #child abuse tw #s1 writing #season 1

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