#before i forget — really really not a fan of how childish she comes across compared to him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

decayandfanfics · 3 years

Text

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut later.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

__________________________________________________________

Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

An intelligent enemy rather than a stupid friend.

True to his word, Jin treats you like a friend. He makes his best to make you feel a little more comfortable, knowing that you are probably scared to death. So, he engages with you, tries to help you with the cleaning and laundry. So does Compress, ever a gentleman he makes himself useful by being chivalrous. Of course, this doesn’t make you forget your own precarious position, but at least you use it in your favor and suddenly you are delighted at the sight him washing dishes.

After three days of their invasion, you find yourself folding some clothes when he asks you.

“board games?”

“yes” Compress smiles at you “since Shigaraki and Spinner have appropriated your tv and laptop, I thought it would be fun to play something, don’t you agree?”

“well…I’m afraid I only got a chess board.”

“It’s fine, dear. Will you play with me? I’m a little rusty, but I’m sure it would be fun.”

You look for the board, stored in some dark dusty corner of one of your closets as Compress prepares the little kitchen table for your game.

Seven matches later, you sight already getting bored of your constant wining. To be honest, Compress isn’t that bad, but there is no point in comparing you two when you spend playing your first two years in college.

Toga and Twice had gathered around the table to cheer, without really understanding what was happening, and not long after that Dabi and Magne were watching too.

“That was pretty impressive, dear!”

“you aren’t bad either, but I was in the chess club in college a few years ago. I learned a lot in there.” You say moving your eyebrows in funny gesture.

Compress stands giving you a bow and before you begin to gather the pieces to store it again, Shigaraki sits in front of you, putting each black piece in its place.

“Tomura -kun is going to play! You think he can beat her?” Toga whispers to Compress, before Magne answers from behind “Shigaraki is very good at this kind of games, my bet is on him.”

Shigaraki gives you a defiant glare, and you gather again your own pieces. Once you are ready, his ungloved hand points your turn to open the game.

He seems sure of this, a cocky smirk twitching his dry lips up, so you decide you will play seriously this time.

You open by moving your queen’s pawn, and he follows your movement just as you expected. Your king’s knight moves to protect your pawn, and again he reflects. The moment your bishop moves, you have control of the board.

You smile and his smirk turns into a feral grin stretching across his face.

“Smart girl…” he states amused before moving, and then, the game is his. “but you better try harder.”

You wrinkle, the tip of your teeth showing briefly before such challenge.

“Then, better not to disappoint.” Your answer sounds as playful as his defiant statement.

Forty minutes into it and you are completely invested in the game.

The back and forth is tight. For every strategy, he just counteracts your wits with something better and more difficult than the last. At the same time, every time he thinks he already got you, you manage to scape his control and get ahead again.

Its…weirdly exciting, to say the least.

Shigaraki’s eyes burn through your own, trying to read your expression in an attempt to predict your next movement and for a brief second you think about their color and the way his mouth twist upward whenever he fails to trap you.

He’s every bit the strategist you would expect from a ruthless leather, and you wonder how the media managed to paint him to be so childish and immature before, when you see nothing but a skilled hunter.

You feel surprised. Having never really thought about his clever ways or how he just seems to organize the league like a perfectly calibrated weapon, but seeing him now, you can trace every time, every word and every motion that gave away his intricate thinking pattern.

Surely, he’s bat shit crazy with the hero drama and such, but surely that’s not intelligence exclusive.

Your hand travels to your chin, a finger gently taping over your lower lip as you think your next move in one of your classic hard thinking gestures.

With your eyes fixed in the game, you don’t see the dragging look he gives to your lips.

You blink concentrated in trying to disarm his attack, unaware of his brief thoughts. Unaware of the fluttering motion of the eyelashes that crown your clever eyes, fanning softly over the smooth skin of your cheeks.

Just a mere second of self-indulgence and an intrusive flashing idea creeps out of nowhere between his destructive thoughts like a whisper of something unfathomable to him.

She’s very pretty. He thinks as he absorbs every angle of your face, trying to imprint in his brain the way light reflects over your cheekbones and between your lashes.

You move you tower, and his attention draws back to the game, knowing he already won.

You watch it in slow motion, slapping yourself for not seeing it coming. His slender fingers taking his bishop, striking down your tower and compromising your king. That’s it, you lost, but the moment gets buried under the sudden butterflies in your belly when he arches his brow smugly and smiles softly as the “jaque-mate” leaves his lips, and in a brief defining second the thought takes form in your brain, gluing itself to your skull.

He’s quite handsome when he smiles like that.

Half feral, half childish, and every bit a smart ass.

Yeah. He looks handsome like this. Comfortable in his own skin…youthful.

Confident.

He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed in yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.

A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing your name the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.

A clever pretty girl.

“Again?” he offers quietly, lowering his gaze because something in him just cannot stand your sweet defiance in a way he never thought possible.

Out of nowhere, he feels…

Embarrassed?

What the fuck.

Of what? He doesn’t know, but he knows he feels his blood creeping neck up and warming his face and he hates you for it, yet he can’t help the need to keep playing with you, just to feel there is something in you that relates to him.

The rest of the league cheers, about it. Magne, Compress and Dabi (surprisingly) engage in the game making bets and pointing moves.

Two games after and he has won two to one (yet in his mind it feels more like a draw after hours of relentless back and forth) when you finally call it for the night before standing, ready to just go to bed.

You give them all the good nights, your eyes lingering on his briefly, like trying to convince yourself that something weird just transpired between the two, just to disappoint yourself when he denies you the pleasure of his attention, seemingly distracted with the little tower between his fingers.

You brush it off like maybe it's only your imagination, maybe that's his way to get competitive and you saw something out of sheer loneliness and stress. You even tell yourself a joke about Stockholm syndrome, completely unaware of how later that night a lanky shadow slither through your bedroom door and watches your sleeping form, just to confirm again that you were, in fact, very pretty.

Chapter 6

13 notes · View notes

atlas-of-a-human-soul · 5 years

Text

Love me, love me not ~ pt.4

04: When Grayson meets an old flame

Summary: Finally in Paris, Grayson tries to woo Y/N, but fate had different plans.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of sex

Word count: 2.2 k

Love me, love me not ~ Series Masterlist

Silence surrounded them like a stars in a freckled night sky. She had her headphones in, her lips pursed, her eyes focused on the small screen before her. She figured he’d understand her desire to speak to him is non-existent, all of it acting as a shield since the pair have barely exchanged more than a few words since the red carpet and those were only pleasantries.

Grayson knew she wasn’t really watching Finding Dory, reading her intentions well. However, he was itching to make amends and have her smile at him again…but what would he apologize for? Having a heart? Caring about her? Wanting to explore their connection? Wanting to genuinely date her?

Those weren’t reasons for him to step on his words and pride and give into her childish behavior of pushing people away. Sure, she might not be interested in a relationship with him and he wouldn’t push her, but a friendship wouldn’t kill her.

“Either talk to her or stop staring. People are whispering about the creep in 40C and the naive girl two seats away.” Ethan nudged Grayson to move to his seat, closer to Y/N. He wasn’t foolish, seeing that Y/N has probably had zero sleep as they have and planned to sleep on the flight so she’d wake up in the right timezone. That’s why it’s crucial Grayson gets to her before her eyes close, because Ethan refused to have his trip ruined by the awkward tension and sexual frustration the two brought.

“She’s got headphones! I can’t just pull them from her head.” Grayson whisper shouted, sending his brother a glare before glancing at a seemingly cartoon-immersed Y/N.

Annoyed, Ethan outstretched his arm across Grayson’s lap, tapping Y/N’s shoulder carelessly and fast enough not to let his brother stop him nor react negatively for Y/N had turned her head just as quickly as he hoped.

“Everything okay?” She hummed, looking at the twins who nearly pointed a finger at each other as if to blame one another, like children who had gotten into trouble.

“Grayson wants to talk to you!” Ethan pipes up, stopping his younger brother before he has a chance to mutter something stupid and lose this chance.

“Umm, okay.” She takes her headphones off entirely, shifting in her seat so she faces him.

“I just wanted to ask you if you’d go out on a walk with me?” Grayson spoke fast, his eyes clinging to hers as his hands trembled lightly at his sides. He can’t remember the last time a girl made him so nervous he’d shake like he does now.

“Pretty sure we’d die if we tried to get out now.” She teased, her playful tone making a comeback and it dropped the weight off his chest. He was terrified he gambled away his chance with her, but the devilish smirk on her pink lips had his heart fluttering.

“Perhaps in Paris, then?” Grayson cocked an eyebrow, slapping a smirk of his own on his face, unaware how it forced her heart on a wild chase where every beat felt like a drum-roll.

“Sure. But, I need some beauty sleep now Dolan. Let me be.” She lowered her seat, her pillow already fluffed and prepped, her eyes closing as she pushed the blanket over her body.

“Not likely. You can’t get prettier than you are now, trust me.” Grayson added, chuckling when she pulled up the divider between them, catching a glimpse of her rosy cheeks, knowing he had made her blush. It was a nearly impossible feat, but he conquered the temper tantrum she threw the last time they had an actual talk.

Falling asleep, the three woke up just as they were landing, rushing to the hotel in time. They had a whole day to themselves, while the next day was reserved for Luis Vuitton.

“Get dressed and meet me out here at six.” Grayson instructed, winking her way before he disappeared behind his hotel room door, leaving her a flustered mess of anxiety and heart vs brain wars.

She wished she could get them both on the same page and either give into the bubbling feeling inside her or just forget about him and move on. But no…her heart was adamant in winning this fight, while her brain pulled out the big stops – Henry and how she had trusted him in the past only to have that trust thrown back to her face and her life turned around so heartlessly.

How could she let herself go down the same road again?

She felt like a china-doll, glued together, but barely holding on. Grayson seemed like the type to shatter a person and not on purpose; never on purpose. He’d be so oblivious when she starts chipping away and that’s the scary part – he wouldn’t even know how her glue is failing and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He’d ruin her. That much she was certain of. But she wanted to try, dip her toes into the water and wait until it’s warm enough she feels safe to move forward into deeper parts.

“So, where are we going?” She smiled widely, her look casual yet appealing. Something she seems to nail every damn time as it never fails to make Grayson’s heart skip a beat.

“Just a little stroll.” He tilted his head to the right ever so slightly, his wing shaped earring moving along with him like a dazzling trinket she couldn’t stop herself from looking at.

He came closer, his big brown eyes so soft as his smile grew, startling her when she felt his warm fingertips brush her wrist.

“But you’re going to have to let me hold your hand. We’re supposed to be in love, remember?” He raised an eyebrow, sliding his fingers into the icy palm of hers, spreading her fingers himself before linking them together only to pulls her along – gently, but in a commanding way. This was his show to run and she found herself caught up in it.

Walking the streets at near sunset had painted them a beautiful orange shade she quite adored. The pink streaks across the sky were a delight as well, but none compared to his bright smile as he pointed at his favorite spots to visit when he’s in France, nor the comforting warmth of his hand in hers. She noticed some people taking photos, fans mostly, but some professional cameras as well, but she could care less. She was actually out and on a date with this beautiful man and her brain was quiet for the first time in a long time.

Y/N stopped, hearing the romantic music coming from the street, forcing Grayson to stop as well, looking down at her already formed blush.

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes are? Like, they’re the perfect blend of the earthly protection with just enough of green tones to make it seem like a forest ground – untouched beauty with so much more to find.” She truly found herself mesmerized and in the moment, her eyes on his as relentless as a storm he felt brewing within. But Grayson refused to question this moment of tenderness between them, rather embrace it – embrace her.

“Dance with me.” He wasn’t asking, rather demanding, his tone leaving no room for mistakes. She was clear on his intent, but couldn’t help the giggle escaping her nor the quick glance around them that showcased her nerves.

“We’re in the middle of the street.” She reasoned, finding him with a cocked eyebrow and an unapologetic smirk as he used the hand he still held to twirl her, knowing she’d lose her balance and fall into him after.

He reeled in the tiny gasp of surprise passing her lips as she spun into his chest, both her palms pressed against him as his hands came to rest on the small of her back, already moving rhythmically, nudging her to do the same.

Fighting a smile, her lips twitched as she raised her hands and closed them behind his neck, her arms a bit short to entirely wrap around him and he nearly cackled at the adorable little pout she made once she realized it. She may be small, but she’s fierce and he loved that about her. She’s not just a woman, not just a contract to him – she’s a force of nature and he wanted to be the one to reckon with it.

“You’re quite the partner.” She complimented, earning a small chuckle as he firmed his hands on her hips, lifting her up until her body pressed against him and her face was at face level.

“Let me kiss you.” He urged, licking his lips as a hungry lion who found a willing victim. “Just once. I feel like an addict who is dying for his next fix.” Grayson didn’t care about the fact he’s openly spilling his feelings out, nor about who might see or hear him. He just wanted her.

“How about we return to the hotel and I’ll give you a little more than just a peck?” She quirked an eyebrow, giving him a mysterious smile as her thigh pressed against his member, forcing him to stop breathing – just for a moment.

“Can you run or should I carry you back?” He laughed, already walking back, her feet still not firmly on the ground.

“I can run just fine. Let me down!” She insisted, but she didn’t expect him to grab her hands the moment he did so, running down the street like horny teenagers, bumping unsuspecting strangers.

Finally seeing the hotel, they’ve nearly made it inside when Grayson stopped.

“Ethan said you’d be out.” The girl’s voice had drawn Y/N’s attention, her breathless attempts to speak up failing as Grayson stared at the gorgeous woman in question.

“I’m all ready to go, baby. This coat is literally all I have on and I’m in a need of a big strong man who can take it off.” She purred, coming closer to him. It’s as if Y/N didn’t even exist. It’s as if he wasn’t still holding her hand. It’s as if this woman could care less about any of it, her lust for Grayson fully on display. Grayson who seemed too quiet, his hold on Y//N’s hand loosening as he gulped loud enough for Y/N to hear and she immediately stepped back, hurt written on her beautiful face as the fire of doom returned to her eyes.

“Yeah…baby. She seems awfully hot and bothered.” Y/N spat, ripping her hand out of his as she walked into the hotel – furious, but never more certain she should have went with her head instead of her heart. Who has ever gotten any good from trusting their heart?

“Y/N?” Grayson gasped, walking by the woman he clearly knew in order to get to his girl, aware the progress made is lost now.

“Please, let me explain.” He pleads, but her brain is back and it’s ready to rule her with an iron fist once more.

“No need. I’m certain you can get your dick wet with her tonight, because it sure as hell won’t be with me.” She nearly growled at him, especially when she saw the confused bimbo following him.

“You nearly had me fooled, Dolan. The whole romance charade was fun while it lasted, but I’m done. I’m just done being second string and I’m done having men dictate my life. So, here’s the hack: when you’re in there for the audition, just make sure you learn your lines and try to play the scene out in your head as if it’s a real interaction. Imagination is key.” She let out a deep, heavy, pained sigh as she raised her hand, tapping his chest lightly.

He wanted to stop her nonsense and kiss her. He wanted to open his dry mouth and tell her she’s all he cares about. Fuck the audition, he wanted her. He needed her and he didn’t even understand why or how she had become so much more to him in only a few weeks. A single night with her were worth more than hundreds with any other. She was the flame who lit his life on fire and while he was burning, he wanted to thank her for it and still ask her to stay a while longer.

Grayson nearly chuckled at the thought of calling her fire when she’s the coldest person he’s ever met. But she’s fire and ice – he fears the cold and craves the burn, both driving him insane, but he couldn’t stay away.

Yet he couldn’t move at all when the time came.

“Now you know my secret. Your audition is next month anyway. No need to pretend to care any longer.” She let her arm fall as the deafening ding of the elevator sounded, cutting Grayson off as he was left speechless, barely hearing anything but her somber goodbye. “Have a good night.” She forced a small smile before the door closed, leaving them both alone and with so many things left unsaid.

Tags: @xalayx @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @anything-dolan @peacedolantwins @maybgrayson @nowheredolan @graydolan12 @beautorigin @justordinaryjen @starrydolan @pitreshawn @grays-laugh

#grayson dolan #dolan twins #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan series #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan au #grayson dolan x y/n #grayson dolan x you #ethan dolan

117 notes · View notes

dammitadolfnomorecake · 5 years

Text

Caramel Skin Under A Purple Rain prt 4 full draft

Coming out of his heat, Lance slept through the following quintant and a half. While his husband slept, Keith changed their sheets and found up the few blankets that hadn't made it onto their bed. Unlike Lance, Keith still felt the lingering urges from the past week, jerking off more than once in the shower to calm himself back down. Cleaning through the bathroom, he was glad that no one had seen the mess they'd made. The counter doors, shower wall and bathroom door had taken the brunt of their passions... which left him blushing like mad. If anyone had seen them... he would have clawed their eyes out. That side of Lance belonged purely to him, and now that they'd been through their first heat together, he had a much better idea of how to care for his husband in the future. He didn't know how much Lance remembered of it, but if he'd had access to an IV line and vitamin injections instead of pills, he would have been able to keep on top of Lance's needs far better... maybe he could get some stewed fruit or puddings, something easily swallowed that wouldn't hurt lance's throat. They also needed to get a fan for their room. The outpost might have built in air vents, but that didn't help when Lance was freezing cold and had them buried under a mountain of blankets with Keith boiling his arse off.

Hearing a thud from their bedroom, it was followed by a weak calling of his name. Thinking Lance would sleep through his shower, Keith grabbed his towel and rushed into their bedroom. Laying on the floor, Lance was tangled up in their blankets, struggling weakly to untangle himself. The moment of worry at the sound of the "thud" passed in an instant. Lance looking adorable with his tussled bed head, and pouty lips. Sucking his lips in to avoid laughing at his husband, Keith stared down at him as Lance's pout only grew

"Help?"

"What happened?"

"I needed to pee... my legs didn't get the memo"

Lance's voice was husky from over use. Having given up on escaping the blankets, he played with the hem of the blankets as he broke his gaze

"Alright, babe. Let's get you up. How do you feel?"

"Hot... tired... sick... grateful"

Pulling Lance free from their blankets, he hiked his husband up to his chest. Lance wrapping an arm around his shoulders

"Grateful?"

Lance nodded with a sign

"That you were here... are here... it must have been bad for you"

Kissing Lance's hair, what he'd gone through was nothing when compared to what his husband had been through

"I'm fine. A little tired, and a bit drained, but I'm alright. How much do you remember?"

"Most of it... I knew you were there, talking to me"

Sitting Lance down on the bathroom counter, Keith went to leave so his love could have some privacy. Wrapping his arms around his chest, Keith was pulled back against Lance. He felt weirdly glowey at his husband's words... A stupid, ridiculous happy glow

"I know... my heat's nearly all gone, but can we...?"

Turning in his hold, Keith cupped Lance's face. His big blue eyes staring into his own

"Babe, are you sure? You don't feel feverish and you don't smell as sweet now"

"I can feel it in my veins still... I... sometimes feel it after... but I ignore it... because I'm usually so miserable. I want to have sex with you while I'm mostly me..."

"I thought you needed to pee?"

Lance blushed lightly, biting his lip before giving a half shake of his head and replying

"I didn't want to say I'm horny... I'm sorry... I don't want to force you..."

"You're not forcing me. I'm worried about you. You've slept for most of the last two quintants. You're dehydrated and haven't eaten"

"Forget I said anything... you've done... enough for me. I shouldn't be asking for anything more"

Lance's scent filled with rejection, his whole frame slumping down. Keith wasn't trying to reject him. He'd simply thought that Lance had been completely open about his heat and that when it ended, that was it. He didn't want Lance thinking that he needed to give him sex as some kind of reward for being there

"That's not it at all. I'm worried. It was intense on your body"

"Is that why? Are you disgusted? By me and this? I... I shouldn't have made you come home"

"No. Hey, no. You're my husband. You'll always be my husband. I love that you want me. If you want me, you have me, but we're taking it slow. Then you're going to take a bath with me, and have something to eat and drink"

"Sounds good... my throat really hurts"

"Sounds to me like I need to kiss it better?"

"Mmm... my neck hurts too..."

Guilt tugged at Keith's heart. He'd cleaned the back of Lance's neck up where he'd bit him, dressing the site with a waterproof bandage, but he'd left for the last few days because he didn't want to disturb Lance's rest

"That's my fault. I... bit you. On the first night when I came. I'm so sorry. I cleaned it up and I don't know why I bit you, but there was blood..."

Running his hands up from where they rested near the small of Keith's back, Lance brought them forward and up along his chest them further up to cup his face

"Keith... it's ok. I know how instincts get... I know if you hurt me, you feel it a million times deeper than anyone else... Now please, I want my husband"

"Promise you'll tell me if it hurts. We had a lot of sex"

"My body is ready... I'm already wet for you"

"You're a fucking minx"

Reaching up his left hand, Lance brushed his hair back from his face. Patting the spot down with a soft smile

"And you... You're the most amazing husband... I know I was out of it, but I heard you... I heard what you said... I love you, my mullet haired idiot"

Huffing Keith tried to hide how happy his accidental husband made him. Lance's love was so pure and all encompassing. It'd been lost on Allura, or rather Allura's loss. How she didn't fall completely head of heels for Lance he didn't know

"You're the idiot. All I've got is these two hands to protect you... but I can't protect you from this"

Moving, Lance took Keith's hands in his

"You have these two hands to protect everything that I hold dear. You use these two hands to come home to me, ok? We need to talk, but right now I need you to take this pain away"

Keith's bottom lip wobbled. The thought of leaving again hitting him like a Galra cruiser in the part of his brain filled with his abandonment issues and feelings of short comings

"I don't want to leave you... let me take you back to bed and do this properly"

"Such a romantic"

Bopping Lance's nose, Lance made to bite at his finger

"Only for you"

Laying Lance out on their bed, his husband was a masterpiece. His body littered with the various marks Keith had left across his skin over the last moment. Some had already healed and were gone, like where his fingernails had broken the soft skin over Lance's jutting hips, the smaller love nips had stayed. He'd lost weight again, even more over the movement. He'd have to spend the next movement fattening his husband up again.

As Keith bottomed out, Lance's back arched as he moaned in pleasure. His long legs wrapping around Keith's waist as his husband slowly drew back and thrust back in carefully, a jolt running through his body as his husband hit his sweet spot. After a movement of this, he should have been tired of sex. He was tired of sex. He was tired of everything in general, yet when Keith had come to rescue his dumb arse from the floor, the sight of his mostly naked lover had him growing wetter than when he'd woken from dreaming of his lover. Keith had been so good to him. Way too good to him. Far better than he believed he deserved. Having been able to finally put it all into words, he found himself unable to convey the magnitude of his gratefulness. The man between his legs truely loved him. Truely treasured him.

Riding him slowly, Keith's hands roamed across his body. Occasionally he'd stop to press a kiss to some part he'd deemed of his affections deserving, but for the most part Keith had a weird smiling sex face on that was adorable. It was so far gone from the shyness he'd held when losing his virginity. He'd grown confident. He loved to touch as much of Lance's body as he could. Keith's warm hands felt as if he was wiping away the memories of everyone else who'd touched his skin. No longer did he jump or flinch when Keith would whisper near his ear. No longer did Keith's scent of voice blend with theirs... He felt better for having shared his heat with Keith, despite the voices in the back of his head continually pointing out how much of a burden he was to his husband. He hadn't been wrong through. His heat had been the worst one he'd ever had. Normally he could make himself get off the floor to take care of himself in simple ways such as drinking water, yet with his husband there it was like some invisible wall had shattered and his body knew Keith would take care of his useless form.

Feeling Keith kissing him, Lance immediately responded by deepening the kiss as he rolled his hips. Out of everywhere, his hips felt it the most. He'd been surprised at the feeling of being stretched so wide as Keith slotted between his legs. He wasn't sure his arse would ever go back to normal. Keith had felt like... he was big. Even if his human looking dick only looked a little bigger than normal, it was deceptive as hell. That thing grew so big that felt like he'd been impaled in all the best ways. The thing deep in the back corners of his brain that controlled his heat loved it. The way Keith would swell and catch. That thing near the base of his dick that made it hard to pull out. The feeling of Keith filled him with his spunk... He wanted to feel all of it all over again. Whining into the kiss, he tried to sit up and on Keith's lap. Instead of getting the message, Keith stopped altogether drawing a frustrated whine from Lance's lips

"Babe?"

"I wanna sit in your lap"

"You don't need to..."

"I want to... want up"

Keith snorted at his childish exclamation, yet still pulled him up as he sat back. Whimpering as he let his weight fall, Keith seemed to be buried impossibly deeper within him, stroking up the embers of his heat into fierce fire in his gut. Placing both hands on Keith's shoulders, he forced him down, starting to riding him hard and fast, as he his mouth hung slightly open. Fuck. It felt good. Like Keith's dick was made to him every good bit inside of him. Plus the look of pure pleasure on Keith's face was worth it. He loved his husband. He loved the little pants and growls he gave, and the way he'd try to match Lance's rhythm knowing bottoming from the top would wear him out ridiculously fast. Bringing his left hand up, he gripped his erection, whining as he started to jerk himself off. He couldn't do any of this without Keith. Keith was the one that made this body tolerable

"Babe... babe, I'm going to come"

Nodding quickly, Lance wasn't going to last much longer. His body's only thoughts were on being bred by Keith which meant pleasing his husband by performing well. Even if Lance had vaguely figured out as much, his body and his mind still weren't communicating. He wanted to fuck because he was horny. That's what it came across as

"Gonna... come... fuck... fuck... Keith... ah... uh! Ah! Ah!

His toes curled as he came, stuttering out his moan as three hard pulses sent cum across Keith's stomach and chest. Half rising as he started to come, he dropped hard and bonelessly back down, Keith now deeply inside of him where warmth started to form. He wasn't entirely sure he could feel Keith coming or if it was psychosomatic from knowing he was. He liked to think he could. It made his belly feel warm and full in all different ways from eating, or being used like a com dumpster. It was a good kind of full that turned bad the moment Keith pulled out. That was when the panic and terror would set in. He was beyond grateful that Keith hadn't let him sleep messy. His skin had to be as clean as possible. Even if it was an irrational fear, he couldn't get the idea of being fucked in his sleep by someone he didn't want out his head. His mind couldn't put two and two together even in heat with Keith, in a locked room with no one else having entry. Waking up with cum across him equated to someone touched him without permission.

Licking his lips, he let himself be cuddled by Keith enjoying the steady thumping of his racing heart. His stubborn husband had such a kind soul beneath all the emo prickliness. He just wanted someone to see him for him, and to love him for it. And he did. Rubbing his cheek against Keith's chest, Keith laughed softly

"Enjoying yourself?"

"Mmm... just thinking about you"

He heard the skipped beat of Keith's heart. That tiny moment of panic that raised his husband's pulse a tad more

"Me?"

"Yeah. I love you... you make everything more bareable"

"You..."

"I had you worried for a moment, did I? I heard your heart skip a beat for me, babe"

"With the amount of worry you put me through, I'm surprised my heart hasn't stopped"

It was a joke. It was just a joke. He knew it was a joke... yet his frazzled emotions didn't know it was a joke. Tensing in Keith's hold, he squeezed his eyes closed tightly as he tried to fight from crying

"Babe? You ok?"

Sniffling, he was losing the fight. Tears dripping on to Keith's chest. His husband's voice was soft but firm

"Hey... what are you thinking?"

"I'm sorry... I want to be good... better. I don't want to make you worry"

"You are good and you are doing better"

"I know you were joking, so if I'm doing better, why am I crying?"

"Because you're exhausted from your heat"

"I'm so tired... this between us... it isn't over is it?"

Keith hugged him tightly, burying his face in Lance's hair

"Work sucks and I hate leaving, but even if it spelled the end of everything in existence, I could never give you up"

Allura had... she'd left him behind like this...

"I'm not Allura"

Quiznak. He hadn't meant to say that out loud

"I know..."

"But you're right we really need to sit down and work this out. Daehra said you're not sleeping properly and pushing yourself too much"

"Daehra has a big mouth"

"Lance"

The way Keith said his voice, it was like he was commanding him to explain without raising above a loving whisper

"I have to. If I stop I think too much... I don't have the pills anymore and it's... it's really hard getting out of bed knowing you're not here... days are longer here, remember... I have to wait longer for news that you're ok... and I don't want you quitting work. I don't want you thinking about me all the time because I should be better now! It was three movements... not my whole life"

"You were tortured. You were tortured and you don't know how long they actually held you because space around here is hinky. You're allowed to still be healing..."

Shaking his head, Lance nosed at Keith's chest. He'd already thought about that in the past, more than he wanted to admit. He'd never truly, one hundred percent know how long he was out and used for their pleasure. He didn't need Keith adding to his worry, and by default, worrying himself more

"I don't want to talk about it anymore..."

"Alright. We can talk later"

Good. His throat felt too raw as it was. Moaning hadn't helped... Dios... he'd been such a slut for his husband during his heat... Keith had to be a bigger pervert then he gave him credit for.

Waking on the fourth day after Lance's heat ended, Keith found their bed devoid of his husband's warmth. Lance was still weakened from his heat, and following the advice of his instincts he'd stayed with his husband in their room knowing that Lance didn't have the physical strength to protect himself. He certainly had the mental strength, stubbornly shuffling around their room and insisting that he could feed himself. Messaging Daehra to let her know that Lance's heat had passed, she'd enquires as to when they would be returning to the outside world. Keith wanted to give it until the end of the movement, Lance didn't appreciate being babied... his husband's sulking lasting a whopping 5 doboshes before he scooted back in their bed and let Keith hold him.

Climbing out their bed, the half-Galra could hear water running meaning Lance was in the shower. Letting himself into their bathroom, he found Lance curled up in the corner of the shower, apparently sleeping. Shaking his head, he killed the flow of now cool water and squatted down by Lance, not caring that his sweat pants were getting damp as he took Lance's face in his hands, cringing at the lump his fingers found just above the hairline on the left. Soooo not sleeping

"Lance, babe?"

Tapping Lance's face, sleepy blue eyes blinked at him

"Babe, what happened?"

"Seizure..."

Semi slurring but not quite Keith's heart fell at the Cuban's answer. He'd prayed that by some miracle they'd vanished off the face of existence. He'd also been incredibly grateful to the powers that be that Lance hadn't had one during his heat

"Did the seizure happen in the shower or in bed?"

"Brushing my teeth... think I hit my head... wet myself..."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Didn't pass out... 'nd was embarrassed"

Usually Lance's seizures had him out for vargas, like his panic attacks did

"Ok... I'm going to help you up now... and I'm going to take you to see Daehra. Just to make sure you're all ok"

"'m fine. You're fussing. This wall and I are besties"

"You're such a dork, you know that right"

"Mmm... I'm a dork with a wall as a best friend. Winning in life right now"

Hefting Lance up and over his shoulder before he could complain further, Keith carried him back to their bed. Sitting him on the edge, he pointed his finger at his husband

"Stay"

Raising an eyebrow, Lance yawned as he dropped backwards

"'m not Kosmo"

"No. Kosmo... well, I can't say he's better trained... but he usually stays in bed"

"He's a menace"

"He takes after your side of the family"

"Can't deny that..."

"Nope. Now, I'm going to dry you and we're going to go see Daehra"

"Fiiiine... wake me up when we get there"

Reaching down, Keith pulled Lance back up to sit up

"Whope! Nope. No sleeping just yet. Gotta get your head scanned first"

"Why? It's already fucking broken"

"Not broken, just a little muddled"

"I fucking suck"

"Ok that's it. No more talking. Just sitting"

Helping Lance to the med room, because his husband was a stubborn shit who wouldn't let him carry him, Daehra met them there. With more space than on the Telula, Daehra had more toys than Keith remembered, her face practically shone with pride as caught Keith looking around the space

"I'll be taking on my own staff soon. Coran made a lot of these supplies possible for us. Now, Lance, how did you manage to hit your head when Keith's been looking after you?"

Lying himself down on the examination table, Lance lazily waved a hand

"Seizure... I was brushing my teeth"

Grabbing her holopad, Daehra synched with the scanner above the examination table

"Do you know how long it lasted?"

"Few ticks... I didn't pass out..."

Keith interjected

"I found him sleeping in the corner of the shower. I don't know if he's out of it from hitting his head or the seizure"

Pouting, Lance closed his eyes

"Dobber... 'm fine, Dae just a bit sleepy"

"I'll be the judge of that. How was his heat"

"It was fine..."

"I was asking Keith, not you. Now lay there and behave yourself"

Snorting at Daehra bossing Lance around, Keith waited for the soft hum of the scanner to stop before taking his husband's hand in his

"It was different from what I expect, but now we've been through one together, I think I've got a better idea of what to do next time"

"I'd like to know more. If we can isolate the compounds that directly neutralised his heat..."

"No"

Lance didn't let Daehra finish her train of thought, despite the fact that Keith was interested in what she had to say. He didn't want to suppress his husband's urges, or make Lance feel ashamed of his body. But that didn't mean he didn't want Lance to not have the option if he chose

"Lance..."

"No drugs..."

"Babe, Daehra only wants to help"

"No drugs... no pills... I don't want... them"

"These are...

"Keith, no"

"Babe, I'm not trying to force you. I want you to be safe, well and happy. I want you to have the option of them in the future"

"I don't want any pills! I don't want anything in my system"

"You..."

Getting annoyed, Lance pulled his hand away

"You don't get it, Keith... it's like... you being stabbed when you love knives so much. Now imagine you're in a room surrounded by people holding your precious knives and they all want to stab you with them... it's safer to stay away..."

"I understand where you're coming from... I only want you to be healthy. I love you"

"I love you, even when I'm mad at you"

Humming, Daehra tapped on her holopad

"It's nice to see you're both as love sick as usual. Lance, it's all surface damage. Your skull is as thick as it's always been. Your vitamin levels are down across the board, and you're dehydrated and a tad malnourished. That's to be expected given you and Keith have been so busy. I'm going to start a saline drip line. No drugs, just a bit of water to hydrate your cells"

"No drugs"

Daehra nodded with a smile

"No drugs... Keith... should have a line too. He was really tired Dae"

Keith crossed his arms

"I'm fine, babe"

"Don't listen to him... I don't think he slept much either..."

Sure, he hadn't slept much but he'd eaten and made sure to keep his fluids up the best he could. Staring down at his husband, Lance opened his eyes to shoot him a pleading look. Quiznak. He couldn't say no to that

"Alright. Scooch over"

"You might have to do the "scooching", I'm sleepy"

"So demanding"

Manouvering Lance into his arms, Keith watched as Daehra prepared the IV bag for Lance. Taking a few ticks to doze off, Keith waited for Lance's breathing to even out

"I know he said no drugs, but have you got anything to help with his vitamin and mineral levels?"

"I was going to give him a herbal solution to help, but I think we both had the same idea about waiting until he fell asleep"

"I tried to get him to take his pills during his heat, but he ended up throwing them up and panicking. I was thinking next heat that an injection would be easier, I could give him those while he slept"

"It looks to me you both could use more sleep"

"He's pretty much slept nonstop since it ended. I think we were both feeling it towards the end there"

"It's good to see him resting. Do you know how much more time you have off?"

"At this moment, you're the only one I've contacted via comms. Have you heard anything?"

"Your mother checked in to make sure you arrived. Shiro also tried to call. The others were concerned when they couldn't reach Lance"

"Others?"

"From what I understand Pidge, Shay and Hunk. For your group call?"

"Oh..."

"I told him that you were both spending time together and unavailable at the moment. I want you to make sure he eats after this"

Nuzzling Lance's hair, his husband flinched in his sleep as Daehra inserted the cannula

"I have been. His throat's been pretty tender from it all, not that that stops him"

"And his more intimate areas?"

Keith had the decency to blush... he'd pretty much wrecked Lance's arse repeatedly as he drilled him on any surface that would take their weight

"A little bit of tearing, but he's been healing fairly well. I should probably get you to double check the wound on the back of his neck. I bit him pretty hard"

"If there was any kind of infection, the scanner would have picked it up. It didn't heal immediately?"

"No. Possibly because all his energy was going into his heat..."

"We'll take a little look at that when it wouldn't result in you having to let him go. He has missed you very much"

Smiling fondly at his lover, the feeling was very much mutual

"I miss him too. I feel like everything I feared is coming true with this outpost. We're both working so much. I thought I'd be able to use here as a base, but I'm so busy on Daibazaal or with missions that I'm not home as much as I want to be"

"As long as you know this is your home"

"Wherever he is, is home. How's things around here? Did you hire..."

Coming at him with a second saline bag, Keith wrinkled his nose as the cannula was inserted in his vein. Both he and Lance had relatively obvious veins in the crooks of their elbows. The ones on his hands were better... but hands always hurt a stupid amount in comparison

"... Did you hire a new cook? Or make a decision?"

"Shiro said he'd send someone out from the Atlas to help, but I've narrowed it down to two"

"You should hire both of them..."

"You haven't seen their credentials"

"I trust your judgement. If I never trusted you, I wouldn't have let you touch Lance"

"I seem to remember in the beginning you were quite against it"

"And I seemed to remember in the beginning your English was ridiculously formal. We've both changed"

Daehra giggled

"I think honestly Lance has changed the most. Not touching was the very basis of our professional relationship. He always supported us and our endeavours"

"He was always the glue that held Voltron together. Even when he couldn't see it himself... we all treated him like shit without realising... I wish I could go back and tell him how I actually felt, instead of feeding his silly rivalry game..."

"He's happy... most of the time. He still gets hung up on the negatives though... He's happy enough when he's busy, and not thinking about you"

"I hate not being here... I feel like I'm missing so much. We agreed on a decaphoeb, but it doesn't feel like it's working... Mum's got me training new recruits, and it's... frustrating. I can't take Lance to Daibazaal because it messes with his senses. I can't take him on missions because I don't want to put him in danger... Kolivan would have a heart attack if I even suggested it..."

"Have you talked to him? Told him that?"

"More than once..."

Silenced by Lance mumbling in his sleep, Keith hushed him as his husband softly whimpered "Klearo" and "no"

"I'll leave you two to rest. Please join us in the bar if Lance feels up to it"

"I think I'm going to take him to the kitchen. He'll start insisting on working again if he gets the chance"

"I wouldn't put it past him. Do you mind if I let Lucteal know how Lance is? He's been worried"

"Yeah. Let him know he's ok. Or he'll be ok. I'll have to start doing the call around. It's probably been movements already"

"It's been a little over one movement of our time. His heats last approximately one movements of your time"

"I keep forgetting your days are longer here..."

"His heat essentially lasted 4 of our days. Now, I expect you to make sure he takes it slowly. And I expect you to spend some quality time with him"

Keith nodded, he was in absolutely no rush to go anywhere

"Yeah. That's the plan"

When Lance woke they were still in the med room. Keith was being sappy as usual, kissing the spot where he'd just removed his cannula

"Dork"

Sprung in the act, Keith was adorable as he flushed

"You were supposed to be sleeping"

"Mmm... was. But my husband was being adorable and I don't want to miss that"

The throbbing, lingering headache that had plagued him since his heat ended had finally passed. When he'd collapsed in the bathroom, he'd thought it from that initially. Whatever Daehra had given him wasn't just simple saline

"How long?"

"She ran the bags on a slow drip so about 3 vargas. Your colour looks better. How do you feel?"

Humming, Lance took a moment to assess his body. He could feel his fingers and toes, which was a great start

"Everything's accounted for... my head feels better"

"That's good... up for some food?"

The part of that was "up" or at least part up wasn't up for food. Sex should have been the last thing he wanted now

"Yeah... food sounds good. I feel like I could still sleep for a phoeb"

"You can sleep as much as you like after you've led me to the kitchen"

Lance's heart fell a little at his husband's words. This was supposed to be Keith's home, yet his husband didn't even know his was around the outpost. Now that his heat had passed, Keith had no real reason to delay his return to Daibazaal... They'd both be going their seperate ways until Keith had time to see him again... Biting down his feelings, Lance forced himself to sit up, cautious as he slowly made to stand unaided. His legs still felt like they were barely in their sockets, and now that he was standing the fact he was semi-hard was painfully obvious thanks to the sweat pants he was wearing. No one ever warns you of the risks when you go commando in sweats

"Babe?"

Waving off Keith's concern, he didn't want to be touched. If Keith laid his hands on him, Lance was scared he might resort to physically begging him not to leave

"I'm fine. The kitchen isn't that far from here and I have a craving for something meaty"

Simonne and Marla were both in the kitchen when Lance led Keith into the space. Giving them a small wave, he ignored Keith in favour of raiding the cupboards and freezer for what he was looking for. Being in a commercial sized kitchen wasn't anything like cooking at home. There was a distinct lack of homely charm that he couldn't get used to. Plus, the big walk in freezer designed to lock when the hit the latch leaving him perpetually scared either himself or his staff would freeze to death... He'd kind of wanted the cook they'd had for a few movements to end up in their in order to cool his temper off. The man had big dreams so he'd given him a chance, but Lance soon regretted it after seeing him lose his temper at Tobias for returning a dish because it'd been essentially raw. Tobias didn't deserve that. Giving him a verbal and written warning, two quintants later the man had quit because someone else had a problem with their meal. In Lance's opinion the menu was too big. People came here to drink and sleep, eating was a far off thought and most people wanted something they could eat one handed while drinking. Cutting their menu down to 5 mains and changing seasonally made more sense.

Gathering up the ingredients, Lance placed them down on the long bench in the middle of the room. Not sure of what to do with himself, Keith was leaning against the bench with his head in his hands. Trying not to stare at his husband, because God it was cruel how ripped and perfect Keith was, Lance jumped when Keith interrupted the silence

"What are you making?"

"Burgers. I've already done the patties when we had a fresh load of mince. So it's nothing fancy"

Keith leaned further into his hands, scratching at the scar from his fight with Kuron in an unconscious manner

"Can I help? I came home to help... and I'm supposed to be taking care of you. It's in the job description"

Lance's took offence to Keith's joke. He was completely done with the voices in his head. He'd known Keith for years. He'd literally told Keith that he shouldn't be making decisions for himself when it came to himself because honestly his hatred still ran deep. Taking a moment, he hated that Keith wasn't pushing because he knew Lance was thinking

"You can rinse the lettuce and tomatoes. They both need to be sliced... I'll do the onions, beetroot and the buns. I know there's a jar of pickles around..."

Onions were the perfect excuse if his stupid mind decided he needed to cry again. He wanted to cook for Keith. He wanted it to be good for his husband. Plus, he wanted to prove to himself that he could handle something as simple as making lunch for them

"Alright. Oh. Daehra said she was going to let Lucteal know you're up and around again. I'll have to call mum. She tried to call us. Personally I think she's going to finally admit she's pregnant while we're both together"

Lance fumbled the bun he was removing from the bag

"She's what?"

"I only think she is... she hasn't confirmed it. I think that's why she's got me training the new recruits"

Lance rolled his eyes. He hated that Keith didn't seem to get it

"Babe, your mum's got you training the recruits because of those mad skills you've got. And because she trusts you. She needs someone she trusts to pass on the Blade technique-ee things you've all got going on over there"

""Technique-ee?" I don't think that's a word"

"I do. It's the best word for all your ninja stuff you do. That's great about Krolia, right?"

And not so great for them as a couple. Krolia would need Keith more and more as her pregnancy progressed. And depending on when she was due, Keith would probably need to stay on extra until she was back up on her feet again

"I mean... yeah. I think it is. I thought it was ok before I went home with you, but now I'm kind of really hoping she is... I want to spoil my sibling"

"Someone's got babies on the brain"

"No! No. Not like that! Not for a few more years... I mean... I'm just happy for her"

Keith's words stung a little, so without much in-depth thought on the matter Lance nodded, moving the conversation along

"Yeah, Krolia's going to have the cutest baby. I mean, I feel sorry for the kid having you as a big brother. You're pretty much perfect. That kid's going to have a lot to compete with"

"Pfft. You're the perfect one"

Giggling in the corner, Lance had forgotten the two maids were in the kitchen. It was lucky he hadn't opened his big mouth about his heat. Rolling the lettuce and two tomatoes over to Keith, his husband collected the items and moved towards the sink

"I kind of hope they look like Acxa. That'd be adorable"

"Or Krystaal. If they're a boy... Plus, just think about it. We could totally pull a lotor and send them off to age up and take control of the empire when I retire"

Resisting the urge to throw something at Keith, the knives in the block just off to the right were all pretty appealing. He knew Krystaal was cute... but he hadn't seen her. Besides Acxa had her moments. Mostly whenever she saw Veronica and blushed

"That totally worked out great for Lotor... So no. You can't send your sibling off to age up. Plus, they're really cute when they're babies and all chubby. Nadia used to cry for hours, which isn't that cute, but she'd settle for me. She'd spend hours sleeping on me if she could. Like you and Juana"

"That was a freak incident brought on by all the love in your household. Did Miriam teach you how to make burgers?"

"She did, then Hunk showed me a different way. I'm not saying mami can't make burgers, but a burger has to taste like a burger and not like sausage meat"

"Oooh. I'm telling mami"

"We both know you wouldn't. Here, wash this for me"

Throwing Keith the onion he'd picked out, his husband washed and threw it back like they been spent every day of their married life in the kitchen and were well seasoned pro's as Lance grabbed a knife from the block. Lance wasn't sure how many more days like this they'd get. Krolia needed Keith more than he did. His mental health didn't matter as much as her and his sibling. Keith would make an amazing big brother now that all his sharp edges had been carefully rounded off. No. What Lance needed was to pull himself out his flunk on his own. He needed something to make up for that missing high, that wasn't Keith's touches and kissed because they'd be walking out the door soon enough with his husband. Dios... he was being such a petty bitch. Keith hadn't even left yet. Slicing through the onion he forgot to leave the end on. Barely half a dozen ticks passed before his eyes were watering. Sniffling, he forced himself not to wipe at his eyes lest he wipe onion juices into them. Sometimes in life you needed to have a good cry on your own, and that's what his head was telling him he needed right now. Just to cry it out and reassess how he was now that his wretched heat had passed

"Dude, are you crying?"

Nodding

"I've been onioned. They're from Daehra's garden... which you haven't seen yet. I've got to show you while you're still here. She's even started working on cultivating desert and drought tolerant plants to take home. We went for a run out to collect cuttings. Half of them didn't strike but the ones that did look pretty cool"

Returning with the lettuce and tomatoes, Keith frowned at him

"You didn't tell me that"

"It was when we picked up that guy who was wanted on Erathus for unpaid parking fines... like two phoebs ago I want to say. You know, the one who threw Lucteal against a wall so he smacked him over the head with his staff... I swear I told you"

"You didn't"

Lance would bet his life on it that he did, purely because of how funny it was at the time. The man had no idea that Lucteal had caught on fast when it came to training with his staff. He was just lucky Lucteal hadn't undone the middle and drawn his blades

"Yep. I know I did. I bet if you checked your comms, you'll find a pic. Lucteal took the commission for the bounty. I mean, it's not he hasn't picked up GAC before, but Daehra and I were busy being proud parents and now I'm rambling... I'm sure I did. It was after the volcano, but before... I don't know what came next. I think we some rebels here after... nope. It's gone. You need a knife. You can use the one from your boot on my food"

Keith rolled his eyes at him, snarking

"I would have sterilised it first. I'm not some heathen"

"You probably wouldn't have remembered until half way through. You know what, let's make Daehra and Lucteal lunch too"

"I thought we were eating alone?"

"And I thought my husband would see the issues with smearing toe jam on our lunch"

"Technically it's dinner"

Raising the pitch of his voice, Lance was exceptionally mature with his response

"Mem em meme me... Technically it's dinner. Look at me, I'm Keith! I can actually keep track of the time. With my grizzled body and stylish mullet..."

"It's not a mullet!"

"It is if I say it is"

"It doesn't work that way"

"It does too!"

"Does not! It's a goddamn mullet!"

"It's grown out!"

"So you admit you went through puberty with a mullet!?"

"I admit nothing! Why are we yelling!?"

Lance simply shrugged

"Because I'm right and you're wrong"

"No. You're being a stubborn dick"

"Well this stubborn dick is making lunch for his mullet wearing husband. If that's not you, you can fend for yourself"

"Wha... huh? No"

"Then get to work"

Making extra for Daehra and Lucteal, lunch was nice. Simonne and Marla had left them to enjoy their meal together, so Keith had decided to be an adorable little shit. Wrapping his arms around him while he'd grilled both burger patties, Keith had peppered kisses to his neck line, not at all helping his with the problem in his pants, or his anxieties over the fact that Keith was leaving soon. When their meal was done, Lance grabbed both extra meals, having Keith hold the door for him as he headed out to the bar.

The wolf whistles from a few of his usual customers didn't go over well with Keith. Smiling through the assault of scents, he gave his "admirers" a nod before moving down to join Daehra near the register

"I made you lunch. How's business"

Sighing at him as he placed the plates down, Daehra finished up the purchase she was working on

"I thought I told Keith not to let you go back to work"

"You wound me. I made you lunch, and this is how you thank me"

"Keith should have been making lunch. You need rest"

He'd been resting. He'd done the sleeping thing. He'd done the med room thing. Now he wanted to play at doing the "normal" thing

"I'm fine. I feel heaps better. Take a break, Keith and I can take over here. Where's Lucteal at?"

"The training room"

Sounded about right

"Why don't you go get him and have lunch here?

"Because Keith looks positively murderous behind you"

"I don't look murderous. I simply don't want men wolf whistling at my husband"

Daehra laughed lightly

"Careful Keith, your possessive side is showing"

"Well... he's my husband... it took me long enough to finally catch him. I'm not about to let him go off with some random"

Keith sounded actually pissed about it all. Turning back to his husband, he drew him into a deep kiss before Keith could object. Looping his arms around his waist, and grabbing his arse to pull him close, the kiss left Lance a little weak in the knees as some of the patrons laughed, while others cheered at them

"See babe. Nothing to worry about. I talk about you enough that everyone here knows I'm yours. They were only trying to get a rise out of you"

"I don't wan..."

"Babe. Don't you talk about me?"

Misinterpreting Keith's silence to mean "yes", Lance smiled as he placed a small kiss on Keith's still slightly parted lips

"See. It's the same"

"Alright... I'm... still having a few issues over coming out of your heat with you. Right now everyone here feels like a threat"

"Probably because they are. Any number of people here right now could take us in a fight. And besides, every offer I've had I've turned down. You are the only one in the universe that has my express permission to touch me like you do. Now stop thinking too much"

"I'm doing a you. Getting stuck in my head instead of being here"

"You should enjoy being here. You won't be here much longer. Here, help me clean up the bar a bit. You can work on not scaring my customers away"

"I'd rather take you back to bed"

"You two are gross. Get your hands off each other and get to work. Lance, I looked at getting some more staff in. The details are on the holopad down there. Keith, you know how to a bus a table. Take this tray out there and do the rounds while I call Lucteal"

Ducking his head, Lance smiled a genuine smile at Daehra

"I love it when you get bossy..."

"We both know that's a lie. If I can't get you to rest, I can at least limit your activities"

"Yes, ma'am. Keith, you heard the lady. Time to work"

2 notes · View notes

pippa-frost · 5 years

Text

Seven, not Six - a TUA fanfic!

Hello! So, i’m new to the fandom and reaally needed to get this of my mind. I did so in the middle of studying so it was pretty rushed, and now i finally had the time to really work on it!

It was going to be a sort of list but it just kept growing longer and out of hand so i’m afraid it’ll be more than one chapter! Anyways, i hope you like it and tell me what you think!

I just loved this show so fucking much i can’t even. SECOND SEASON HERE WE COMEEEE!!!!!!!

---

Number One

---

So, they go back in time. It’s all a messy, long and hard process. There are tears, yelling, accusations and apologies, goals and regrets. But they get through it, together. Finally.

They talk, for once, place all the cards on the table, information is their only weapon, Five stresses.

So they learn about everything that happened to each of them, they learn about Diego and mom and Patch; about Allison and her little girl and her sin; about Five and his math and the destruction he got shot for, about Vanya and her pills and her music; about Klaus and Ben, about the drugs, the ghosts, the War, Them, the truth - by which point they get to Luther. They all have things to feel guilty about, things they regret, mistakes they wish they hadn’t made. But the truth, as Ben calls it, a dark look on his face, is worse than all that. Because the truth is that which Klaus almost gets to bury, but Ben won’t have it. So he tells them about the ghosts (cold, screams, misery, madness), the drugs (silence, peace, warmth, numb, numb, num-), the withdrawal (hot, pain, need, panic, want, want, want, need, need, nee-), and the death. Ben has punched Luther twice by the time Diego is ready to get a go at Number One.

But. They get through it. Kinda.

They hardly ever sleep alone, always one of them next to another. All seven of them more often than not. Because Five is paranoid and (quote) he’s the only one who stands a chance if people come for them; they don’t mention that they know he’s counting heads at all times, it’s not like they’re not guilty of doing the same. Luther would stay with Allison, but she won’t let go of Vanya, who isn’t Luther’s biggest fan. But she’s not the only one. While Diego might eventually forgive, he never forgets, and he’s not about to engage in either of those after learning that not only had Number One trapped Vanya by tricking her with a hug, but that he had choked Klaus and then left him for dead a few hours later. Actually dead. It’s all he can do not to cut his throat every few minutes.

Five isn’t one to snuggle so he stays close but never touching.

And even if this wasn’t the new arrangement, no one could separate Ben and Klaus if they tried. Klaus has no problem with Luther, and while Ben doesn’t share Diego’s aggressiveness, there’s something in the way he stares at him whenever he gets too close to Klaus.

And so they end up in Allison’s room, mattresses on the floor, bed sheets and blankets and pillows all around them, maybe not all close enough to touch, but together in one room all the same.

Reginald had not been amused, but with Five’s lead and Allison’s voice, the midnight surveillance had been taken care of.

They soon realize that it’s not enough, however, because Pogo can tell something’s up. By then, any remorse any of them could have felt is long gone, after days of training that their brains had somehow been able to downplay in tragedy. Their memories hadn’t been this bad, training hadn’t been this bad. But then again, they didn’t have the perspective they do now, didn’t have anything to compare their activities to fully comprehend how horrible it was.

They had never blamed Pogo for anything.

They do now.

Vanya doesn’t take her pills. They won’t go as far as to suddenly make Reginald stop being a bastard and get some sense all of the sudden, but they’re easy enough to hide and get rid of, much easier than making sure to train their sister into not showing her powers along with every emotion. But they make do, they can’t afford not to.

They keep training because they know they’ll need it, but not all of it follows Reginald’s plan. And little by little, they get time of their own. Both for training and just being together, this time with Vanya and with one another, the way they wish they had known was the normal sibling way. It’s little, maybe one or two hours a day, but it’s all they can afford, all they can risk.

They go on missions, they protect each other. Vanya starts learning first care with their mom, and is there every time they step back into the house after a mission.

Reginald doesn’t like it. He knows they’re stronger together and more than once he realizes what’s happening, just as Pogo does. Those are days they all panic, and find it hard to breathe afterwards. However, Mom is theirs. One of the first things they do is rumor Pogo into fixing Grace, they know the only one who could have brought her back last time was him, and they were right. So they make it so that she’s no longer trapped by Reginald’s goals in her creation, and that not Pogo nor Reginald can ever change it back.

They still suffer, it’s still all messed up. To call it abuse doesn’t begin to truly describe what they are forced to go through for a second time. But it’s not as hard to handle as a group. They still have to endure a lot of things. A lot of... experiments. But it’s better than last time, and they make sure to draw a line.

Klaus is not forced into mausoleums again even if that doesn’t erase the times he was locked in before. Five is not forced to continue jumping after passing out more than once. Ben is not forced to bathe in animals’ blood (so much). Diego is not forced to aim at their mom or their siblings, or animals (so much). Allison is no longer made to play with people’s minds until her throat is raw and thoughts a mess. Luther is no longer forced to work until he can’t even scream anymore and his muscles feel like tearing apart. There’re no more days without food.

They are still forced to do a lot of things. And a lot of nights are spent with tears of fear, frustration and anger, nightmares and flashbacks. They’re adults, they already escaped this hell once, they don’t have to put up with this. But they are also children, and the fear and so many other emotions that come with it are almost unbearable. And yet there’s nothing they can do and this is the best they’re gonna get.

They can’t mess up with the timeline.

They discuss about it a lot. How can they prevent the apocalypse and expect not to change the timeline too much?

Reginald is not too hard, the public never knew much about him, not really, so all they have to do is keep him from tormenting them too much. As long as the world knows he’s still there until the moment he takes his life.

It’s hard to get the point across to Diego and Ben, the latter being a surprise for them all.

Ben dying is not an option. And even still, it was never something they went out of their way to tell the world.

They’ll stay together until the time most of them left to live alone, only this time, they’ll leave together. Luther did stay, however, so they know they will have to do some missions even after leaving, but they try not to think about that.

Of all this, they are certain. Anything else, they’ll figure it out along the way.

Only, if it were easy, everyone would do it. There’s a reason why things happen the way they do, and the existence of the Commission is not the main one.

Five doesn’t leave, and PTSD and touch are things they become experts in; Ben doesn’t die, they all help him with his fear of Them, just as they help Klaus with the screams of death and war, being there before any drugs can get him. Vanya and Ben are the experts, both of them know and admit they are all messed up and know there are ways to work through it, Ben with his books, Vanya with her experience with therapy. And they work hard to get Allison and Luther to understand how abuse was every bit of a scar on their minds as it was for the rest of them, especially to Luther.

But knowing how the future plays out makes them all the more vulnerable to unexpected things, to unconsidered variables.

Later, tense with rage stronger than his hatred towards the Handler, Five is the first to admit they somehow managed to underestimate their bastard of a father, even having a whole timeline of experience over him.

They have plenty of close calls, plenty of scary moments, where they’d stay awake wondering if they saved one sibling just to lose another.

There’s Allison getting shot, Luther getting stabbed, and Five-

Well. Five doesn’t get to get hurt after Klaus acted as a shield.

Is in this last case that Reginald finally gets proof that powers are one more thing the children are hiding from him. He’s known for months, but can never truly grasp it, and he knows he must have only for it to be taken from him with a few childish words.

But he sees. He sees useless, weak Number Four. He sees his fists glow, might even see a few ghosts, but most importantly, he sees him die. And he sees him come back.

The kids by now know that there’s something about Klaus and death, something mysterious and similar and even familiar, a connection of sorts, one that scares them like little ever has, no matter how apparently okay Klaus is with the whole concept, how sure he is of its existence as an unconditional backup, as an absolute truth, how ready he is to take it for granted. They’re not about to put the veracity of this supposedly safety net to the test; and so they do all they can to avoid the matter all together.

That is their downfall.

Reginald has been taking notes all his life. The rumors don’t change that. In fact, they only make him more careful. So while he might not remember, he knows enough. And he knows that while the children might have a way to keep him off their backs, there’s a reason why they still keep up with most of the training, which means they are not as in control as they would like to be.

And everyone knows that to take control, you start with the weakest link, which so happens to be the subject of his interest. It’s perfect.

So when training time comes for Number Four, he takes him to an old, far away part of the mansion instead of the graves, without anyone knowing.

“Where are we?“ Klaus asks, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. He’s gotten better at dealing with ghosts, a few of them acting more like Ben used to do, silent companions, always there. Nothing compared to what Ben had been of course, but a hell of a lot better that the others. He was getting better at making them corporeal, especially with Ben’s input from his own experience, and he knows now that he can apparently move things with his mind, tho he hasn’t really been able to do it other than by accident.

“Did you know, Number Four” the man suddenly starts “that out of all of you, your powers are the least threatening? The weakest, truly“

Klaus did know that.

“Number One could crush my head with one single hand“ he says conversationally, his back to Klaus inside the big slightly dark room. Luther is still pretty much a Daddy’s boy, even if he can see now how wrong he’s been about everything, and it’s hard for him to accept the way they screw with Reginald’s mind, his hero complex unable to come to terms with all he’s known and believed in being turned upside down. So, no. Luther couldn’t do that.

“Number two” he continues “one flick of his hand and a knife would be deep between my eyes” he laughs. Klaus feels cold and scared, glancing every so often at the woman who he’s gotten used to seen in the corners. She doesn’t look back. Also, Klaus knows that’s exactly what Diego would love to do, but he isn’t sure if his brother would actually go through with it.

“Number three... Well, she could make me kill myself in lots of ways“

Allison would never do that. How could he even think that?!

“Number Five... he could kill me in my sleep and make it seem like an accident“

Well... yeah. That is true.

“And Number Six...“ he hums, turning around to look down on him and letting out a scoff “He’s a monster!“ and Klaus feels rage he hasn’t felt in a very long time, years of numbness and forced obliviousness as coping mechanisms leaving him unprepared for strong emotions for his already pretty mellow personality, and he has to fight everything he has not to let his fists turn blue. The fucker can’t know about his powers.

“He could kill us all in one night“ he says, pulling out his pocket watch and then giving Klaus a look that makes his limbs go rigid “So, you see, Number Four, it would be simple madness for me not to be prepared for such potential situations. You are all supposed to save the world, yes, and just as it’s my duty to prepare you for that, it is also my duty to do everything in my power so that you can’t do the exact opposite“

Klaus gulps, cold settling in the room. He doesn’t know where the asshole is getting with this, but it doesn’t sound good. It almost sounds like he knew about Vanya and the apocalypse and her powers, but that couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. Besides, it was exactly his fear of Vanya’s power what actually led to the end of the world

“I know you all have been playing with me” and Klaus stops breathing, his heartbeats loud inside his head, he dares a look to the side, were the closed (locked, the key on the man’s pocket) door blocks him from escape “And I have let it go because you have gotten better at both missions and training. However” he turns around again, opening the suitcase he had placed on the table behind him and starting to pull things out of it “My patience runs short, and your abilities run predictable. So imagine my surprise“ he sits on the chair behind the table, as if ready to give a lecture to a one-child class “when i saw you actually have been improving your abilities!“

Klaus feels his knees go weak, the woman is watching him curiously now, and he knows, he knows, so maybe it wouldn’t matter if he made her corporaal now? And begged her to help him? To go get Ben somehow, or Five, anyone!

How did he screw this up? How did he let Reginald see? How did he screw everything up again?! And he can only think of Five, of Diego, of Ben, where are they? Help! His mind screaming for him to run run run run!

“How did you do it, Number Four?” the man ignores his reaction “How did you die?”

And every sound banging inside his skull makes a sudden stop. He must have heard wrong. There’s no way he’s talking abo-

“How did you come back?” the man’s voice sentences like a jury of hell.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about“ he manages, just as his panic makes his fists glow and more dead people appear around him, still invisible to the man in front of him somehow. Reginald lifts and eyebrow.

“I saw you. I know what a fatal blow is. I saw the tapes as well. Number Five lowering your body down, the whole lot of you screaming like toddlers. I know you died. And I know your brothers know that too. I also know that they must have known about this beforehand, no? It’d make sense of the way they’ve all been behaving during missions. There’s a reason why you all tried to cover it up, which is all I need as proof of the veracity of the fact“

“I- I didn’t die! You’re crazy!“

“Oh, but you did, Number Four. And then you came back“

“That’s im-“

“It is impossible“ he nods, before lifting his shin “For your siblings at least“

And Klaus freezes. There are at least ten ghosts around the room now, all looking at the man before him, and yet, right now, not one of them scares him more than said man. There’s a whisper of a ringing noise between his ears, and maybe he’s imagining it just as he’s imagining his hot breath against the now cold, cold room. His hands are covered in blue fire, but it doesn’t burn at all, unlike the burning caused by the knot inside his throat. The ghost aren’t corporeal yet, and while he’s been trying his best not to show them so far, he’s now stuck, because letting Reginald see them seems like a better choice than keep this conversation going, especially with the look his father is giving him, a gaze colder than those of the dead, scarier than the sights of gore that always follow his step.

He glances at the door again before he can stop himself, his whole body trembling in terror.

“Ah, don’t waste your time, Number Four” the man scoffs, fumbling with the briefcase still “You won’t leave”

“Why is that” he asks after gulping, trying desperately to keep the fear out of his voice. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s an adult, he’s been tortured, he’s been a soldier, this isn’t as scary as he thinks it is. It can’t be.

“Hmm, so I see your newly developed powers didn’t come with higher thinking capabilities” he stands up, now a knife between his fingers, unimpressed expression firmly in place “I told you, I have ways to get rid of every single one of you, of keeping you in your place, of making sure you never get to play this silly game again. Maybe they won’t work on you, at least not until we make some tests, but they will definitely work on your siblings. Up until now I hadn’t had a reason to use them, but with all your little games recently, well. You’re getting dangerous, and I’m running out of patience. However, balance can always be achieved”

“You wouldn’t” he manages brokenly “You need us” and Five had said so himself, so it couldn’t not be true. The bastard is now a few steps before him, and laughs.

“Number Four. There’re dozens of you out there. I managed to get you seven once. I can get a few others again. And yes, you could try to stop me with your silly little game, but believe me when I say, there would only be six of you by the time you managed to do so” the man finishes, his tone unbothered, as if shrugging through his words.

And that’s it. The man moves around and Klaus is distantly aware of being pushed backwards to sit on a chair, his Father somewhere above him. Everything else is silent. Klaus, ironically, feels a kind of numbness surrounding him, so different from the kinds he’s used to, and yet so similar. There’s no longer ringing on his ears, panic’s whispers; instead, there’s silence, but not empty silence. The air feels heavy around him as if surrounded by an invisible fog, cotton around and inside his head, blocking thoughts and emotions alike.

Because it’s true, isn’t it? There’s absolutely nothing he can do. No option for him to choose, no actions for him to take. There’s nothing he can do to stop their dad. Who would stop him? Who could stop him? Who knows what things he has to get rid of them? It was easy enough for him to do as such to Vanya, what else couldn’t he do? His siblings, they’re all human, they’re all vulnerable. They can all be killed. They can all die. They already had in one timeline. Hell, they all had in several timelines.

There was absolutely nothing he could do. He could try to escape, but would he dare? Would he be able to run fast enough towards his siblings before any of them being killed somehow? They weren’t even close to their usual part of the mansion. He wouldn’t make it. He couldn’t make it. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything.

He’s frozen, barely there, hopelessness numbing everything, a void inside his chest, something broken, something inside his chest he had almost managed to forget, taking everything away. He’s trapped. They were supposed to be better this time around. And now because of him he might lose everything again. He can’t. He can’t leave. He can’t let him do that, not to any of them. They are all he has left. They are everythi-

He flinches and reality rushes to him.

Reginald has just made a cut on his wrist. His vision is blurry from silent tears he hadn’t felt falling, blood feels warm against his skin as it runs through his hand. His Father takes a few steps back to lean on the table, now full of equipment he hadn’t seen before.

He’s trapped again. He actually doesn’t feel the need for drugs right now, and what a funny thing that is. Somewhere in his mind, a little Klaus actually acknowledges that fact, but it’s almost drowned by the numbness stuffing everything like cotton, his mind, his eyes, his ears.

He’s trapped again, and for the first time that isn’t the problem. All the times before, it was all about how long he’d be locked for, how long he’d be forced to endure the screams and the agony and the hatred and the desperation of lives cut short. Getting out eventually had never been the issue.

Now? Now there’re ghosts looking at the scene with blank faces yet curious eyes, but he can’t hear them; there are broken souls around him, yet they don’t go near him; there’s a Monster just like before, yet now he isn’t the one throwing him to the wolves, instead the Monster is now the sole torturer.

He’s trapped again, and now he knows there’s no getting out at all.

8 notes · View notes

myaekingheart · 6 years

Note

All of them for the writing asks 😁😁😁

HOLY CRAP HONESTLY THANK YOU xD

Writer Asks

Was being a writer a dream of yours when you were little? Or did it spring up when your older? Or is it just a hobby? I’ve always been a writer, regardless of whether I necessarily knew it at the time. I’ve shuffled through some other career ideas– when I was little, I wanted to be a veterinarian, and then in middle school I liked the idea of modeling– but at the end of the day, writing is what I always came back to. I used to come up with elaborate storylines when I played with my Barbies and hog the computer on Microsoft Word making shitty stories that I’d print out and staple together and draw covers for. I don’t think I really considered it a viable career at the time, but now I know that writing is what I’m meant to with my life above all else and that if I lose every other opportunity that comes my way, I’ll be fine so long as I can still write.

Overall, would you say you are more driven by plot or characters in writing? (What makes you more excited about an idea?) I think, truthfully, a little of both. I love thinking of cool ideas and ways that my characters will fit into them. It’s exciting to think of their lives and the things that can happen to them that will make or break them. I love seeing my characters happy and getting what they want, but I also love when things don’t go their way and when something completely breaks them. The torture is fun to see. I am sadistic.

Give an overview/description of some of your past stories. (Only if you are willing, of course!) Oh god, okay, so I have a couple. There was this one story when I was a little kid that I came up with, I forget the name of it, but the basic premise was that there was this disease and you turned every color of the rainbow ROYGBIV style and then when you reached violet, you died. I had another one I was working on fifth grade called “The War of Sacawragi” that I cannot for the life of me remember what it was about, but I remember rambling about it to my friends one day at lunch and being all hyped about it. Maybe it had to do with a refugee woman fleeing a war-torn country with her baby, or to protect her unborn baby, or something like that? I never finished it, and I lost what I did write when my computer at the time broke, but I don’t know. I don’t think I totally care that it’s gone? Maybe one day I’ll revisit the idea, but for now I don’t really care.

INSPIRATION. What inspires you the most?Images, music, movies. Sometimes history and mythology. A plethora of things.

Do you have an idea for a story you don’t feel you can write at this current time? (Whether it be because life is busy right now, you need to do more research, etc.) I have a couple ideas for stuff I want to write, but I just don’t feel the motivation to quite yet. It’s tough, because I’m deep into writing From Upon the Golden Thrones (my Narnia fanfic) and focusing so much on the following sequels of that that I feel like I don’t want to start anything original until I finish that. Which sucks because I know original work is what’s going to bring home the bacon and shit but I just care so much about this goddamn fucking fanfiction that I cannot get it out of my head. Plus, I feel like I’m at a spot in my life right now where pouring more energy into writing fanfiction is acceptable because I’m in college rather than out in the working world depending on churning out original stories to earn a living. Once I graduate college, I’m terrified I won’t be finished with these Narnia stories and will have to give them up for the sake of focusing on my career, which makes me incredibly sad because as stupid as it may sound, I have never cared about any of the other stories I’ve written (original or otherwise) as much as I care about this fucking fanfic.

Favorite POV to write in? (As in First, Third, or maybe a specific character?)I really like third person omniscient. I used to write almost exclusively in first person but I felt like that was really restrictive to me. I like the way third person omniscient feels like playing God– you know exactly what everyone is doing, where they are, how they are feeling, but the characters don’t know shit and it’s kind of fun to fuck them up like that. It’s fun to know stuff they don’t. Plus, I really like paying attention to everyone’s take on a situation. I like delving into their internal monologues when something happens, good or bad, and how they interpret those situations. I like my readers to know what’s going on in my character’s heads and how they view the world compared to one another.

Favorite writers? Have they influenced you at all? Obviously CS Lewis is a fave. I just love the way he was able to interpolate scripture into fantasy. I’m not a wildly religious person but Narnia is the closest thing I’ve felt I’ve come to religion in my adult life, like Narnia makes me feel a particular way that nothing has ever made me feel before. I think that is also in part to my Irish heritage, and knowing much of Lewis’s inspiration for the landscapes of his book was inspired by his homeland. I actually wrote an entire essay about this for one of my classes last semester. I’ve never really been as big a fanatic of any other writers as I am with CS Lewis, much in the same way as I approach my music tastes-- I more often than not like particular songs rather than whole bands. Much like Nirvana and Beartooth is to my music taste, CS Lewis is the one artist whose work I am a wild fan of (even if the only other work of his that I’ve read outside of Narnia is Out of the Silent Planet).

If one cliche could be eradicated from writing, which one would you pick?The idea that everything has to be romance, and that every romance has to be a certain way. I like the stereotypical chick flicks as much as the next woman but I like complicated love that waxes and wanes. I like love that has a purpose, that at it’s core is hopeful but that rips your insides apart and makes you realize things about your life you never knew before. I like love that is based on more than just the superficial things. Situational love, childish love, war-torn love, all of that good shit. I prefer love that is real and raw and it hurts because it pays no mind to caution in the literary sense. I’m tired of the love we always see in YA lit where everything is meant to be poetic and flowery. Give me blood and sweat and tears. Give me something that’s real. That’s the kind of love I enjoy reading.

Favorite cliche or trope? I like the comedic stuff a lot, like funny misunderstandings. I wrote one into the last posted chapter on my fanfic that I was pretty disgustingly pleased with. I’m really bad at writing comedy but I try. I don’t know if this is necessarily a cliche or a trope, either, but I adore bildungsromans. I live for character development.

Do you have to force yourself to write, or is it something you want to do? Half and half. I feel like my will to write exists on a spectrum. On one end, there is the idealistic mix of motivation and inspiration where I sit down and the words just flow out of my fingertips and when I look back at these chapters, I typically have to do very little editing because I was so deep in the zone and so focused on what I wanted to write and I did that. On the opposite end is the numbness of feeling zero motivation and zero inspiration. It’s like sex-- I’m just not turned on and not thinking about sex whatsoever. And that’s fine. You don’t need to write 24/7. The worst is when I fall somewhere in the middle, which is where I am most often. I either have all the inspiration and no motivation or all the motivation and no inspiration. Most frequently it’s the former. I think about my current story constantly and yet more often than not, I never have the strength to open up the word document and actually work on it. This has been especially true this past month, when I went on a three day writing binge and wrote eight chapters only to find on day four that the file got corrupted and I lost all of my work.

Share a passage from one of your works and tell us why you liked it so much. Oh god, this is dangerous. One of my favorites is a scene in Chapter 12 of From Upon the Golden Thrones, but it’s too long to copy and paste here so instead I’m going to use a passage from Chapter 9 instead: As night swept across Narnia, the bad dreams took hold once again. Eilonwy’s breath hitched, tossing and turning as fearful visions paraded through her head. Peter snapped awake the moment he heard so much as a whimper, climbing onto the edge of her bed to try and soothe her awake. Her eyes fluttered open, brimming with tears, hands trembling wildly. “It’s okay, Ellie, everything’s alright. It was just a bad dream” he whispered, petting her hair. She shook her head and burst into tears. “It never ends…” she whined, burying her face beneath a mountain of pillows. “I want to go home!” “Ellie, shh, you are home” Peter replied but the huntress shook her head in great protest. “This isn’t home, this is hell!” she screamed. With a sudden jolt, she sat upright and began throwing pillows left and right. “Eilonwy, stop! Please!” Peter begged but she refused. She launched pillow after pillow into the wall, toward the window, knocking things off her vanity and even cracking it’s glass. She kept going until the entire room was drenched in a blizzard of feathers. It wasn’t until the window creaked open and a soft breeze blew through that Eilonwy finally began to calm down. Exhausted, she collapsed onto the mattress and wept softly, tears staining her cheeks. Peter swatted at the downy rain, climbing into her bed and wrapping his arms around her tightly. She sighed and fell into him, far too tired to fight him off, and deeply inhaled the sweet smell of his skin. “It’s alright now…everything’s alright” he whispered, gently rocking her back and forth like an infant. “It never ends…” she repeated softly, her hot breath grazing Peter’s collarbone. Not knowing what else to say, he sat there in silence continuing to rock her and hug her tight in hopes that perhaps he could glue all of her broken pieces back together. As she slowly drifted back to sleep, however, a quiet murmur caught his attention and sent his heart soaring. In the softest tone imaginable, she breathed a quiet “I love you…” And finally, Peter received the confirmation he had been searching for. She officially loved him back just like he knew she did. I love this scene so much because it’s finally this breakthrough with the relationship between these two characters. In the entire first installment, they’re getting to know one another and learning about each other and experiencing these scary, foreign feelings and they’ve come so far since then at this point, and Peter wants nothing more than for her to reciprocate his feelings for her, and this is the scene where he finally gets it and he’s over the moon. As for Eilonwy, she really struggles with the whole concept of attachment and affection and so this is a really pivotal scene for her, as well, and one that affects both of them heavily long after it’s happened, both for better and for worse.

What is the worst writing advice in your opinion? I’m not sure this is even really advice but the worst, in my opinion, is the pressure to write literary fiction rather than genre fiction. Stick literary fiction up your ass and smoke it. I don’t give a shit. I’ve noticed more than anything that in my college writing classes thus far, there’s this desperation to drill literary fiction into our heads, to convince us that it is the only fiction of quality and that genre fiction is trash. I completely disagree. Genre fiction is so much more liberating. Shit actually happens in genre fiction. Yeah, some of it is cheesy and commercialized but to say genre fiction, especially genre fiction of today, is worthless is to completely disregard the amazing, accessible commentary it’s providing to people of all ages, socioeconomic statuses, races, genders, etc. Genre fiction is giving us characters we can relate to, characters that we see ourselves in whether they’re transgender or of color or struggle with the same mental illnesses we do. It can give us both an escape from reality and a comfort within it by showing us that we are not alone and that we can fight our demons just like the characters in these books do. So I say fuck your literary fiction. Genre fiction has given me far more than literary ever has.

What is the best writing advice? The best writing advice I can think of is to write what you feel. I’m a firm believer in the idea that our best writing comes from our emotions. We kind of have to keep them reigned in to a certain degree, I think, in order to keep control over the language and the emotion but if your words aren’t fueled with some sort of feeling, then to me it’s like staring at a plain piece of cardboard. There’s no meat in the message.

Character names. How do you come up with them? It depends. Sometimes I see a name or even a word somewhere and a character shows up in my head. Sometimes I just pin random names to people. Sometimes I go onto those baby name websites and look up something meaningful that fits the character both in sound and in definition. And sometimes things just come together, like with my original character in my Narnia fanfiction. Her name is Eilonwy like the character in The Chronicles of Prydain. I’ve never actually read the books, but I like the long-forgotten Disney movie inspired by them. The name was just really interesting and pretty to me, and I really wanted to use it. At first, that was all it was: just a superficial reason. I was fourteen when I first came up with the initial idea for the story, so of course I didn’t have any deeper reasoning behind “It sounds pretty!” Now that I’m older and more thoughtful about my writing and shit, though, I’ve come to find that the name holds much deeper meaning to the story than I ever could’ve imagined which feels great. I love when things just randomly work out like that.

Do you tell friends/family about your writing, or do you keep it a secret?They know I write and some know what I write about but I don’t make too big a fuss about it. If I’m deep in a writing binge, I’ll post my pride on facebook like “I’ve written such-and-such word count so far!” or whatever. For the most part, though, I keep pretty quiet. I’ll share when I have to, like in writing workshops, but in regards to my fanfiction, the only person I really ramble to about it is my best friend. She’s heard all the spoilers and given me feedback on paragraphs I was either proud or unsure of. I’m really grateful for her feedback, and that she lets me fangirl over my own work when I need to!

What are some of your favorite words to use in writing? I don’t know if I have any favorite words. I have overused words, but I don’t know if I have any favorites.

Opinions on smut? Good if done right. I’ve tried my hand at my fair share of smut and when I look back at the stuff I tried to write for my last finished fanfiction, a Jack Frost x Violet Parr American Horror Story AU, I cannot help but cringe. I had the hot and heavy shit down pat but situational appropriateness was not entirely grasped. But then again, I was sixteen and a virgin when I wrote that so of course I didn’t have any realistic handle on it. Looking back, I’m just proud of myself for even writing something of that length because as problematic and cringey as it is to me now, that was the story that really confirmed I had the stamina to write novels. Up until that point, I had never written a full-fleshed, novel-length work. Now I’ve written two more and am working on a fourth. But anyways, about smut, my approach has shifted since then. Nowadays, my guidelines are to do it only when it’s appropriate to and to do it tastefully. Less is more. I care more about the emotion in it now than I do the physical act.

Is there anything you have found that you cannot, under any circumstance, write about?I’m not sure. I can’t think of anything right now off the top of my head, because refusing to write about something and finding difficulty in writing about something are two completely different things. There’s lots of things that are difficult for me to write whether it’s because they’re not my strong points (like humor) or because I feel inexperienced, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try to do as much research as I can to write them. If I care about a situation or idea enough, I will go that distance. I don’t know if there’s anything I would shy away from writing, including triggering material. I’ve already done stuff regarding rape. I write a lot about anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, even some PTSD. I don’t think there’s anything I’d shy away from writing.

Creative nonfiction. Have you dabbled with it? Do you like writing about your own life?I honestly love writing about my own life. That makes me sound really narcissistic but I mean, I’m telling the truth. There’s this one quote from a movie called Stuck in Love that I absolutely adore, it says “A writer is the sum of their experiences.” So much of my writing is inspired by my own experiences, and while I certainly don’t think you have to have experience in something to successfully write about it, having that extra layer of knowledge on a subject really adds realism and meaning to something. I can fake it, sure. I did that a lot in stories I wrote for my community college creative writing class. I wrote one story called Princess about a girl auditioning to be a face character at Disney World. I’ve never done that, though I’ve done a lot of research because I desperately want to. People thought I had actually experienced it. I wrote another about a young woman in the hospital for an eating disorder who desperately wanted a baby. While I’ve never been hospitalized for an eating disorder, I do struggle with one and my greatest fear is losing the ability to have a baby because of it so even though it wasn’t something I directly experienced, I channeled my fears and feelings into it. At the end of the day, I think so long as you’re passionate about something, you can successfully write about it and make it believable. But back to the question, one of the experiences I look to for inspiration most often is my love life and what I’ve been through with that. I’ve never been abused or cheated on or any of that bullshit, but I’ve had a very interesting history with my boyfriend that hinges on not only romance and compatibility like in all relationships but also in self esteem, grief, family, and the past. I’ve written quite a handful of short stories based around it, and some of the not-so-lovely feelings that have come from it. (Disclaimer: This is not to say my boyfriend and I are unhappy or in an unhealthy relationship. We just haven’t always had it easy and early on, I had a really tough time coming to terms with some things that I’m not going to go into detail with right now).

Allusions and references to other works. Thoughts? Do you like to use them?As a fanfiction writer, I feel like I’m obligated to say yes since that writing mainly takes place in other people’s works. At it’s foundation, though, I love allusion. I’m a big fan of fairytales and I have some interest in Greek mythology, as well, so I like taking inspiration from those and alluding to them in my stories. It’s easy to do in my Narnia fanfiction, especially, because it already alludes mythology and also religion which can tie into fairytales. Eilonwy, my OC, is a very heavy reference to the story of Snow White, as well as to Adam and Eve and Joan of Arc. I think it’s fun to tie certain things into shit like that, and I love when everything connects and makes sense.

What do you think characterizes your writing?My style and approach. I command the language a certain way where I try to sound cohesive and intelligent but also pump those big words with emotion and meaning. I don’t really know how else to describe it; my best writing comes when I’m in that zone and the words are just flowing out of me. I like trying to express abstract concepts in ways that feel tangible, too. I think tangibility is a big aspect, too. As an adjective here it probably doesn’t make much sense, but there’s something about my writing that I feel gives it this kind of tangible quality, almost. I like being able to feel the emotions and words in the air around me like oxygen. I also think the fact that I don’t like to shy away from anything helps to characterize my writing, too. I like to pull out all the stops. I don’t like censoring myself for the sake of comfort or digestibility. Maybe that makes my work kind of hard to get through but still. I feel like you have to have a stronger stomach for my work because I will not resist uncomfortable topics or scenes. Rape, gore, anxiety, whatever. I don’t shy away from any of it.

Do you control your characters, or do they control you? For the most part, I have pretty decent control over my characters but sometimes they like to go their own way and screw up the plan. Sometimes it’s for the best, but I’m the kind of person who likes to strictly stay to the path I’ve mapped out so more often than not it’s a nuisance. That resistance can be a real struggle, too, because sometimes where my characters take me flows nicely but it would mean reworking everything so I have to go back and try and channel that flow into the right direction.

Are there any misconceptions people have about your writing? I don’t really know. I try to be as clear as possible about what is happening and what I mean when I say certain things. If anything, they’d probably mistake me for a psychopath.

Best compliment someone has given you about your writing.I think the best compliments are honestly the ones where people are just straight-up fangirling. I love reading people’s reactions to my works, especially when they love it and want more of it and are screaming at their computer screens because of choices the characters have made. I had one person even send me a message telling me that they love my story so much, it’s all they can think about and gives them motivation to live (in a non-suicidal manner) and implored me to keep writing. That’s the kind of feedback that really motivates me to keep doing what I do.

Five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer? In five years, I hope to be a published author with at least a small repertoire of original work under my belt and out in the open. I know it might take longer than five years to get there but I’ve come so far already and I think if I have the passion and the will to do it, I can get there. The end goal is to just get my stories out there and accessible to the public in hopes that someone may find something in them that they relate to, that helps them feel less alone, or that they just enjoy reading. The day I find my name on a bookstore shelf is the day I will feel as if I’ve truly made it (which brings me to another point about my opinions on paper versus digital publishing but I think that’s a rant for another post-- I’ve already made this one long enough!)

#ugh honestly thank you so much for this hahaha #writing stuff #ask memes #answered asks #magnificent-north #ramblings

1 note · View note

mahou-furbies · 7 years

Text

On Cornelia and Caleb’s relationship

A few years ago I wrote this post on Cornelia and Caleb's relationship for a blog I was going to start (in Finnish). I ended up never publishing it and it looks like that blog will never take off, so here's a translated version.

Re-reading W.i.t.c.h. took a surprising turn when I noticed I was paying exceptionally much attention to Cornelia's romance. In some other situation I might find her love story boring and cliched, but it was so different to the other romances in the series that I ended up taking a closer look at it.

The romantic adventures of the other girls are typical teen crushes and therefore more or less relatable to the readers. Irma is hungry for romance but to her dismay only the local nerd is interested in her, and Taranee has trouble with her strict mother who disapproves of her ex-delinquent boyfriend. Meanwhile Will and Hay Lin find their own nice (and boring) boys-next-door. Compared to these middle school crushes Cornelia's classic romance with the fantasy world denizen Caleb stands out.

The cool and sensible Cornelia doesn't moon over boys like the other four girls. From time to time she may ponder that some dude she sees doesn't look all that shabby, but she would definitely not want to be caught fantasising over a crush. However, in reality she's a bigger romantic than the rest of the girls put together, because her reason for being single is the man she saw in a strangely realistic off screen dream. Cornelia is convinced that the dream prince is The One, and therefore isn't interested in anyone else.

While doing her magical girl thing in the fantasy world of Meridian Cornelia meets a resistance movement, whose leader Caleb turns out to be her dream prince. The other inhabitants of Meridian are various lizard people, but Caleb is of course of course a handsome man in a long flowy coat. He feels like he's been designed to be the dream dude for the readers, as he's a responsible and polite hero from another world who swears love to his sweetheart.

During the short first meeting they gaze into each other's eyes, hold hands and speak deep words about how they were fated to meet. The later meetings continue in a similar dramatic way; the couple has time to be together only for a moment before the plot forces them apart, so they are crammed full of feelings and grandiloquent praise for the power of love. Cornelia and Caleb saw each other a lot less than I had remembered. The relationship is a large part of Cornelia's character in the early part of the series, so I had thought that they had a bit more interaction, but when you really think about it their romance is mostly based on short intensive moments, and the time they spent together can probably be counted in minutes.

Cornelia and Caleb manage to meet only twice before the big turning point in their relationship, where at the end of the first story arc the bad guy turns Caleb into a flower. After losing her beloved, Cornelia is devastated and is left alone with her problems, since she can't talk about her magical adventures with her parents, and while her magical girl friends mean well, they can't properly sympathise with her sorrow and their attempts at helping end up being unintentionally (and also intentionally) tactless. Cornelia isolates herself in her room to take care of the Flower Caleb, and in the end manages to revive him with the power of magic and (of course) love. The reunion is about as passionate as possible for a children's comic.

However, it doesn't take long before Caleb is captured by the new villain and after being freed has to fight for his life in the healing ward. This of course causes more pain for Cornelia, but this time she makes it through with less drama. She also starts to doubt the power of her love when a memory spell makes her temporarily forget about Caleb's predicament. Caleb on the other hand gets strength from remembering his hometown.

When Caleb is back in full health the couple gets to sort out their relationship during the climax of the arc. Cornelia start to question how functional their romance is and brings up a topic which has been under the the reader's nose all the time but which nobody in the story has mentioned: when Cornelia and Caleb meet, Cornelia has always been in her more adult witch form. After seeing Cornelia's true form Caleb immediately starts to reconsider his thoughts about a shared future and starts to ask if Cornelia could be able to keep up with a soldier like him.

Cornelia is offended at Caleb's belittling words, and for a good reason if you ask me. Caleb has spent around a half of the time he's been present in the story as a completely helpless damsel in distress, while Cornelia is a part of the elite warrior team of the universe and has survived quite a many adventures over the twenty comic issues so far. But in the end Caleb makes it clear that the rift between them is too large and that the relationship is over.

Since I'm no fan of sappy romances, the cynical attitude the series has toward's Cornelia's love story interests me a lot. Just churning out dramatic love confessions to the darling chosen by fate isn't enough when there has been so little actual communication that you don't know even the most central parts of the other person's life. However, the series shows that the relationship wasn't entirely meaningless, when at the climax of the fight the villain's spell is broken by Cornelia's love for Caleb rather than the power of friendship. Which I find peculiar since for the most part the series leans heavily on the friendship between the girls while boyfriends come and go. Though Cornelia's romance had been a large part of the story so I find it should play a part in the arc finale somehow, and probably giving it some attention consoles the fans of the pairing at least a little.

I also find it fun how childish the romance of the noble and proper Cornelia is in the end compared to the more casual love adventures her friends go through. On the surface Cornelia's romance may seem more mature than the relationship drama of the other girls: Cornelia and Caleb talk about their feelings straightforwardly and without getting embarrassed, and thanks to Cornelia's witch form their body language seems more mature. But when you really think about it, Cornelia's instant romance with a dream prince resembles Disney's Sleeping Beauty or some other young girl's daydream about a secret fantasy boy.

While I find the idea for the relationship interesting, I think that the execution starts to worsen towards the end. Cornelia's worry about if Caleb is ready for big life chances for her comes out of nowhere even when there was plenty of time to build it up. Instead half a dozen magazines are spent on Cornelia just yearning for Caleb the same way as earlier every now and then. Caleb's sudden chance of mind is a bit easier to understand when he realises that his girlfriend is actually younger than he thought, but a complete 180 during just one panel and beating around the bush with excuses still make him come across quite a douche. Which is probably the intention: I find that the story clearly takes Cornelia's side rather than tries to tackle the issue in an impartial manner.

The backwash of the relationship is handled with varying quality. Considering how quick the break up was and how burning Cornelia's feelings had been to that point it feels insufficient that we only see her grieving for one page, after which she more or less accepts the situation. But on the other hand I wouldn't care to roll in the angst of a dumped teen for too long so maybe it's better to have too little of it rather than too much. And the scene where after returning to her home world Cornelia conjures a house for a hobo because she wants to do a good deed is beautiful in its simpleness, so I guess the surprisingly mature recovery has its good side as well.

After this Caleb disappears to the background and Cornelia's broken heart is only mentioned in passing but still often enough to remind that a powerful romance isn't forgotten immediately. But the ultimate getting over happens very hastily, when Cornelia and Caleb meet after some twenty issues and the "we noticed we can still be friends!" message is rushed through in a couple of narrator boxes.

A special issue that was published later reveals in the form of a dream how things would have turned out if the couple had stayed together and either Cornelia or Caleb had moved to the other's world. Both cases end in tragedy: despite trying really hard Cornelia can't take the separation from her friends and family, while the independent Caleb can't adapt to a life of hiding from authorities since he has no id card and other documents. I like seeing a story that actually takes the relationship somewhere in this manner, but it feels a little depressing when the failure of the relationship is shown like it was unavoidable fate. Though it's hard to tell how canon the extra stories should be counted (since most of them are activity books and summer diaries etc and the issues that contain actual comics are trivial filler), but it's not like a "what if" dream story like this would affect anything anyway.

On the whole it's difficult for me to deal with the multiple writers of a western comic since I'm very obsessed with canon and in the world of manga I'm used to having only one person in charge of the story whose word is the truth and everything else is secondary. W.i.t.c.h. having multiple writers isn't a problem in this regard since the story doesn't really contradict itself, but it'd still be interesting to know how much of Cornelia and Caleb's romance is from the writer who originally created the relationship and how much is invented by the other writers. Was the relationship doomed from the start? I've seen rumours on the internet about how Caleb appeared in the story when there were demands to make drastic changes to the story from upstairs. So maybe Caleb wasn't a part at all in the original creator's vision.

After the breakup W.i.t.c.h. has over a hundred issues and you can check the internet that both Cornelia and Caleb find a new love interest. For Cornelia it's a romance with an ordinary Earth boy. I'm almost interested enough to check if the fantasy romance left any marks on Cornelia, but due to the overall decrease in quality of the series I predict that the new relationship will tread more familiar teenage crush roads.

#w.i.t.c.h.#cornelia hale #my stuff #long post is long #why did I write such an essay on them I don't even like the pairing #ramble ramble

67 notes · View notes

segasister · 7 years

Video

youtube

Oh boy… this is gonna be a long one!

“All Bottled Up”: Yes, it makes Starlight suffer, but it also makes most of US suffer with her, you clearly being the exception because your hate boner for her is showing. I hate her too, but I hate Trixie more for basically not learning jack squat. Because apparently lack of motivation/character growth is better than any. Also, the only reason you put this episode on your best list boils down to, “It’s a Starlight Glimmer torture porn! That’s why I liked it!” Not exactly a sound “actual” reason for liking this episode.

“Celestial Advice”: To be honest, I found this episode rather meh as well. No comment on that.

“Fame and Misfortune”: For the last time! The pony with the glass of water cutie mark was not a shout-out to YOU! They have never even heard of you before your tantrum on how you desperately want to trademark the image of a glass of water, you narcissistic, hypocritical sociopath! Unless you work on the show itself, are a child of a staff member, or that one kid from the Make-A-Wish foundation, Hasbro won’t make an OC that’s essentially you! What’s it gonna take for you to see that? By the way, I love the episode for basically telling the Analysis community, “Hey! What you’re doing is pointless! Don’t forget who the core audience is.” I don’t see it as bitter; I see it as playful. And as for the, “We’re not flawless” I don’t see that as the show covering their ears and ignoring all criticism. Besides, that’s what you do.

“Honest Apple”: Opinions! You just LOVE those! ESPECIALLY those that are so different from yours you feel the need to remove them! Listen; the reason Rarity hired her to be a judge to begin with was because she needed someone to judge the competitor’s work based on practicality. Then again, Rarity could’ve listened to Applejack the first time around when she said that hiring her as a judge for this wasn’t a good idea. You are right about one thing: “You may be entitled to your opinions, but [they’re] a reflection on your expertise of the given subject. If you have no expertise, then your opinions are worthless.” In short, stop trying to shove your bad facts on mental health down everyone’s throats. “Opinions” are different when it comes to things that actually matter. Ponies don’t mean jack in the long run. Health, however, does.

“Daring Done”: Honestly hated this episode for the crowd alone: how easily swayed they are, how blind they must be to not notice a kidnapping in broad daylight, ugh. The lore on Sonnambula, however, was a plus, only because it builds up to the finale. Also, this could’ve been the ONE episode of any kids show I’ve seen about retirement that ends with the retiree STAYING retired, and having the kids at home learn that all things come to an end, but no. Other than that, this was the worst Daring Do.

“Rock-Solid Friendship”: Yep. This was bad. Take Pinkie Pie in, “A Friend in Deed” and make her ten times worse. Also, bad move on the show for basically saying, “Maud is to blame for Starlight’s Cutie Mark Vault”!

“A Flurry of Emotions”: I’ll give you this one! Flurry Heart IS adorable and IS the best part about this episode! Also, plus for giving Cadence and Shining Armor more character development! However, you decide to not talk about the episode and make that segment about that stupid public masturbation joke. It’s funny considering you publically hate-masturbate over Starlight and Josh, the latter of whom you’re TOTALLY not obsessing over because you secretly miss him and are TOTALLY not butthurt because he has found a new girlfriend and has moved on.

“Marks and Recreation”: I’ll also give you this one. This is what happens when you mix “The Cutie Map” with “Bloom and Gloom”, only Rumble’s conflict is that he wants a specific cutie mark and doesn’t know that what you’re talented in means jack squat when you grow up and the only jobs that are available are jobs in retail, none of which having to do with your actual talent.

“To Change a Changeling”: Of course you mock the, “both sides” rhetoric. While I agree that there are times where CLEARLY one side is at fault, this is an instance in which, yes, BOTH sides are at fault: Pharynx for wanting to focus more on having the Hive be militaristic, and Thorax (as well as the rest of the Hive) wanting to focus more on bettering their relations with other nations. Both are good, but both have their drawbacks, as we can clearly see here. Also, we get it: you hate InkRose to the point where you told your followers to harass her with R34 fanart of her because she’s not a Liberal. You turned me away from the left because of how childish you’ve been because of this, as well as your death threats towards any conservative out there.

“Fluttershy Leans In”: Okay, one more! I enjoyed this episode. Fluttershy puts her assertive lessons to good use, AND it’s in her area of expertise. Only problem: she was too vague. Then again, if she were specific in what she wanted, she would’ve come across another issue: finding someone she could collaborate with to bring her visions to life. This also would’ve made for a good episode, but what we got wasn’t too bad either.

“The Perfect Pair”: Romeo and Juliet set in the pony world. What did you expect? Yes, it gives us lore on the Apple parents, but that’s about it. Also, I wouldn’t compare them to Shining Armor and Princess Cadence. I wouldn’t compare them to anyone except Romeo and Juliet, only their relationship grows over the course of a few decades as opposed to a few days.

“Parental Glidence”: Why do I have to keep agreeing with you in terms of what we thought of certain episodes?! WE’RE SUPPOSED TO HATE EACH OTHER, DAMNIT! XD Anyway, we all have dealt with pushy parents who don’t know the meaning of the word, “privacy”. Rainbow Dash IS in right here, but she didn’t have to tell her parents off the way she did. She could’ve politely told them, “Hey, guys, I know you support me and all, but I need personal space.” If they still refused to back off, then she could’ve silently walked away. She didn’t need to blow up in their faces like she did or else it could’ve ended more horribly than it did here.

“A Health of Information”: Okay! ONE MORE YOU GET! That’s it! Anyway, this episode was definitely fun, had a great moral about overworking yourself to the point of exhaustion, had a great use of lore, and Fluttershy is once again best pony. And I’ll agree with you here in that this is the best episode starring Fluttershy in the entire show.

“A Royal Problem”: Eh. The comics did it better. Better use of the Dream Realm (Friends Forever starring Luna and Discord), better development of Celestia and Luna (throughout the series), heck, even a better evil version of Celestia (In the Reflections Arc)! This episode was disappointing. Starlight was the only good part of this episode.

“Shadow Play”: To summarize

Peet: I really hate when a show delivers fanservice! Me: Okay, can you say that without saying "fanservice"? Peet: I really hate when a show goes out of its way to make fans happy!

Yeah… Peet declares this episode the worst of Season Seven, and the worst finale to date… because it provides fan service and adds to the lore of the show (while retconning the lore of the comics). Ignoring that this was built up throughout the second half of the season (”Campfire Tales”, “Daring Done”, and “A Health of Information”), ignoring that the Pillars have a legitimate reason for “holding the idiot ball” (they were in Limbo for a millennia and are, thus, out of touch with the modern world view), ignoring that the Mane Six actually took part in resolving the conflict this time, as opposed to last season, and ignoring Starlight’s progression throughout the season. Wow… just wow.

13 notes · View notes

chromemuffin · 7 years

Photo

Shoukoku no Altair Liveblog (Chapter 10)

It’s Mah-kun again! I swear, these adorable chapter cover pages will be the death of me. Not only because they are cute, but because they tend to be quite bittersweet as well. Seeing tiny Mah-kun with that HUGE sword is so ridiculous but at the same time incredibly sad.

I also really appreciate the differences in his outfit then compared to now. This one is a lot more casual, less put-together. Iskander is small enough that he can wear a shorter glove instead of the long one that goes up to his elbow (I do so love how much research is put into this damn thing). But also, his pants and the cloth wrapped around the ankles is far messier than his current clothes, probably because he’s not wearing boots at this age but still, it contributes to his younger self’s image.

But omg Iskander looks like a duck at that angle.

Warning: this post got REALLY long whoops

Chapter 10: Chief of the Eyes and Ears

btw, going with whatever titles the fan translators decided on. I only have the first volume raws and the official translation only has volume 1 I think.

Ok, so proper introduction to the worship of the water spirit that was mentioned last chapter. The five elements thing is nothing unusual, neat how it has apparently spread across the continent though, making these representations quite diverse. We only see four here, though.

Alright, so back to Mahmut trying to use this pyramis charm thing.

lol I. Sort of like this weird expression.

Iskander are you okay. What is with those eyes are you looking up or something...? I do like those claws though, very sharp and deadly. Can you imagine those coming for your face at full speed?

Also, Mahmut here is just. Cute. And Turkish interior design (or at least this world’s Turkish interior design) continues to confuse me. What. Where is the floor. What is a couch/bed and what is not.

Oh, ok, at first I thought those eagles on the cliffs were people coming to attack the town or something. Phew.

Actually, it’s nighttime. They really can’t fly around at night (irl, for this manga narrative-wise unless you want to restrict Iskander to only being present during the day, this had to change).

Almost forgot to mention: pensive Mahmut here. His eye was also drawn very prettily here.

In exchange for the unrealistic part about eagles flying around at night, we get this neat bit of realism - Mahmut can’t call upon other eagles to help during the summer and autumn months. I like that restriction. It makes sense, rather than let him call up some birdy friends whenever and wherever possible.

His expression is a bit lopsided here, I guess it’s half fondness and half ‘it’s a pity’ sort of thing.

Look, I sympathize, I would totally be that person, too.

Unimpressed, ‘ugh’ Mahmut.

WELL, that was a sudden introduction, I guess they really trust that those pyramis charms won’t fall into the wrong hands and the people who use them are the intended holders...?

lol Mahmut. What’s with your face. Iskander is better, though. His expression is kind of, how you tell what Mahmut is thinking here. Though Mahmut looks sort of disgusted, unimpressed, there’s probably still shock in there.

I like the cup.

I wonder if it pained him to say that, as if he is Zaganos’s underling. Well, his rank is far lower now, but it’s not like he’s one of Zaganos’s men. Not sure what the fine details at work are, since I don’t have the raws.

lol this sounds like a game. just like a game.

This guy is very dramatic, though. Why did you not bother warning Mahmut what the other spy is like.

“Huh?” expression? He looks younger here again, haha.

I’m extremely curious about what sort of person Zaganos is, actually, but I’ve been told his story comes in drips and drabs across the whole series.

Mahmut’s face tends to look really cute in the manga. At certain points, he appears less adult than he does in the anime, which is quite hilarious seeing as I complained about the anime portraying him as childish before portraying him as a badass general/serious guy.

omg I love how even Iskander’s feathers are blowing in the last panel. Not sure how much force it would take to actually ruffle a bird’s feathers like that, come to think of it...the tend to lay flat, except maybe the fluffy chest feathers of some birds (I spent my childhood watching animal planet and the discovery channel ok).

U-UM. EXCUSE ME. MR. AWESOME. You really should get that cloak fixed, or maybe invest in a new one.

But UH. LOOK. HOW BIG. HIS BIRDY IS. (I was actually informed way back in the first chapter or so that falconers with female eagles would make an appearance, but holy this is a great entrance.)

I will be freaking about who this guy actually is a little further down, so I’ll talk about his birdy Katerina here.

Starting this series, I instantly liked Mahmut because he’s a falconer and that’s awesome. But I was 100% prepared for the series to forget about the sexual dimorphism between male and female birds of prey, it happens in most media. (females are almost always larger, and usually by a great deal, but in most media there is no size difference or the relationship is inverted)

I was glad Mahmut got Iskander, a male bird, because Mahmut is tiny (about 5′4″ officially I think). A smaller bird suits him better. Female golden eagles are 8-15 lbs and males are 6-10 lbs, it just makes sense that he doesn’t have 15 lbs of bird to tote around.

Imagine my surprise when I was told that someone does have a female golden eagle in the manga, and she is appropriately larger than Iskander.

I’m just. in love. with this manga.

Dramatic shading is A+ here.

I think there is another spelling of his name out there, but I forgot what it was.

But HEY YOU. So there were other people from Mahmut’s clan that survived, probably whoever wasn’t in the village at the time. Come to think of it, did the manga ever mention Mahmut was the last of his clan? I don’t think so. Everyone from his village was wiped out, but that doesn’t mean everyone in the clan is dead. aha, take that ‘last of your kind’ trope

(btw I like his rugged look)

This was sort of confusing, so I’ll leave the notes here.

Perhaps a mix of uncertainty and something else here. I wouldn’t say sad or anything, but it’s a bit troubled.

oh man. xD I wonder if he ever tasted it before, he was young when he left. I mean, he probably drinks at this age given the time period, but I guess nothing quite so strong.

PRINCESS. oh my god. I’m dying. was. was that actually 姫 in the raw or something else? (I can think of one alternative, but I’d love it if it actually was. princess.)

That is both endearing and hilarious at the same time. I was going to stop watching the anime but. maybe I need to pick it up again. I love everyone’s voice except Mahmut’s so.

I need this to be in the anime. So I can tell what that term really is.

ANYWAY, BACK ON TRACK. Aw, I like the expressions in these panels. It’s just. I love the bonding over your respective birds. And someone who can understand his attachment to Iskander.

Also, Mahmut’s slightly embarrassed face lol. Is that little blush from the alcohol or embarrassment.

And I like the clear size difference between the birds.

The feathers look so good.

Also, Iskander is quite tiny like his owner, I mean, look at what this birds look like irl next to a person:

HUGE.

I’m. Just going to end up screen capping the whole chapter, aren’t I.

Aw, this whole part is just.

Is Mahmut a fast learner? He was only five when everyone died, that doesn’t leave much time to learn.

I like how he is clearly a younger man in this panel from 12 years ago. More clean-shaven.

THIS MANGA NEEDS TO STOP TEARING OUT MY HEART.

I wonder how large their clan was, actually.

So, um, that’s why strong drinks don’t bother him. And I see the theatre continues to piss everyone off. How reliable.

Heey younger Zaganos. Still looks like your face is getting consumed by your hair, but he does actually look a bit younger, too. He’s quite young now, even, so. I forgot if his age was mentioned though.

I don’t really know this guy too well yet so it’s hard to tell, but man, that grief, rage, and helplessness. Perhaps that question “Why didn’t you save them!?” is directed at himself as much as it is to them.

The tone of this translation makes it hard to tell if he’s conflating the play with reality or if he’s just being snide (he’s being snide/contemptuous of course). But for a second there I was ???

This is heartbreaking, that’s what this is. And yeah, he does have survivor’s guilt.

Funnily enough, Zaganos’s physique here resembles Mahmut’s current one to me. He is a lot smaller/shorter 12 years ago (I just like how the adults actually age in this thing, ok. well, and Suleyman’s experience has aged him in a different way)

Oh, ok, he was 14. So he’s 26 now.

Must resist the urge to wonder what Zaganos’s story is because if I do it will be torture waiting for the pieces to unveil themselves.

But damn, and I thought his hair was eating his head before. I was wrong. He’s in 100% medusa mode now.

I was trying to steer clear of this train of thought, but Mahmut brings it up. The narrative (and Mahmut himself) are trying to compare him and Zaganos. They are/were similarly determined to do something for their country, but Zaganos actually knew how to do that, he was more pragmatic since he was young.

Which begs the question: what the heck happened in his past to make him that way? At this point, we don’t even know if he came from a wealthy background, if he had a normal life or a more tragic past like Mahmut, it’s all up in the air. And yet the narrative urges you to compare him to Mahmut when there is not much to go off of.

Which is, coincidentally, the same position Mahmut is in. He might know a little more about Zaganos than us readers, but it doesn’t matter. To him it feels like he’s going up against this huge force he cannot fathom until it hits him in the face, and we are similarly in the dark.

idk I like the way the narrative presents this, is all.

Gold.

“I take it you dislike Zaganos Pasha?”

“Of course not! ...a little...” His expression there is really scary, haha. I don’t even know what to make of it.

lol what’s with Iskander. Wait, is Iskander supposed to be “laughing” with Suleyman?

As if there wasn’t enough drama for one night.

Pwee is actually...a good way to describe how these birds sound. Go listen to the cry of a golden eagle. Poor things don’t exactly have the most majestic of cries.

I appreciate the very devilish face here.

LOOK. Look at how shocked Mahmut is. To be called something so familiar. (not sure what this would have been in the original...ugh I wanna know.)

OH WAIT. Is this lady the one who survived being attacked by the eagles and having a burning tent tossed on her?

I have way too many images in this post. But this is a looong chapter for some reason.

and these are very good, look how nice that shot from below is so you can see all the stars.

Katerina’s wingspan is MASSIVE (apparently it can reach a max of 7.5 feet so, like, it’s not like this is even an exaggeration)

This is actually a very nice bit of research. And true, as far as I know. I even found this fact from the San Diego Zoo/a research article on the species: “Red items excite golden eagles, as does the sight of blood; they will attack people wearing red.”

UH. THAT’S NOT GOOD. Also, kudos to the villain lady for actually doing research on the things she got attacked by last time.

Ok this post is getting way too long BUT know that I appreciate how the mangaka drew the blood splashed on him.

ONCE AGAIN. This is terrifying.

Extra terrifying because this is the end of the chapter. Mahmut, how will you get out of this now?? You’re about to become bird food.

← back・onward →

#shoukoku no altair #shokoku no altair #the very long altair liveblog #super long post #altair vol 2

5 notes · View notes

worldcakecakecake · 7 years

Text

Throwing Cellphones

Feliciano gets himself a sugar daddy

I once again apologize for not updating on Monday, but I hope this move to Friday updates will be good enough. Thank you so much for your patience and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Warning: This chapter has some nsfw

Chapter 7

The next morning and afternoon, Feliciano didn’t come downstairs at all. Ludwig had to leave his breakfast and lunch plates at the door, for no matter the many times he knocked, suggesting things they could do, Feliciano would always deny him with intense silence that sometimes made Ludwig question if he was even in there. He gave one last knock by the late afternoon, telling him that he should be getting ready for the gala, leaving the bags with the tailored clothes as he had done with his food.

By seven thirty, Ludwig was well prepared in one of his expensive suits, shinning watch and shoes. He was putting on his last drops of cologne, straightening well the coat he would use when he heard the door opening and closing upstairs, plus the adding of footsteps coming closer. He looked up to meet with Feliciano for the first time in the day, and he had to try to stop himself from ogling at the way he shone in this new suit. Cleaned, fitted to perfection, addressing him well with this powerful stride that did well to hide any continuing sorrow inside him. Ludwig couldn’t read any disturbance in his face, anger instead was seen, a piercing glare that compared to that of a vengeful prince. Ludwig actually gulped, but he still admitted that it made Feliciano shine the more handsome, the more alluring, the more tempting to quit this all, take him to Bora Bora and never be remembered of Beilschmidts, Yekaterina and the men and women of his company again.

Feliciano turned away from him, going to the very coat that Ludwig had prepared for him, making sure that it was ironed well, no dust, no hair, forgetting Ludwig, trying to ignore his obvious presence behind him.

“You look…amazing,” Ludwig still complimented, a heavy gaze that Feliciano could feel the admiration and desire from.

Feliciano tried hard not to flush under it, but it was hard. He was biting his lip, shutting his eyes, anything to not fall any redder from this man.

“Gra-grazie,” he still answered to him, turning well a golden bracelet he wore on his wrist…one Ludwig had gotten for him in Manarola. He still refused to look at him, and Ludwig could feel a sort of desperation, for all of this to be instantly over, to run from him and hope that it could make him forget instantly.

“Can we…can we go, please?” Feliciano asked, with his gaze set on the door hoping to get an escape from the tension the house seemed to hold.

“Ye-yes, but um…we have to pick up Yekaterina first.”

Feliciano was caught between groaning and being delighted to see her again.

If Yekaterina’s gaze from the day before made him feel like a kid, riding in the back of Ludwig’s car, with Ludwig and Yekaterina holding hands right before him, made him feel much worst, like some rotten kid they were babysitting and were taking out to some childish play date. At least they had a good conversation about some gossiping going on in their company that they had no problem with clearing to Feliciano. It was like hearing a dramatic soap opera and for a moment it could make him forget about the loving couple before him that wrecked his feelings more into turmoil.

Feliciano was impressed to see the large amount of people that met them when they entered the gallery, Yekaterina and Feliciano depending on Ludwig’s force and impending stature as a shield to lead them across the halls through the multitudes of people.

All the crowds met in one single room, and that was where Feliciano’s paintings were being exhibited for the first time. Champagne and little snacks were being handed and all the guests shared in it, each taking their turns in watching a different canvas, already conversing, pointing, delighted in the show before them.

A moment like this Feliciano always thought it would remain in his dreams, in his imagery. He had to raise his hands to his eyes to keep himself from crying. He instantly thought of his mother, and it only made his emotions worst. She would be so proud, one of the many with their eyes alight in interest and delight, with a beautiful dress that would put everyone here to shame. Oh god, he missed her, and it was seen clear by Yekaterina, who offered a comforting touch on his shoulders.

“Go on, enjoy from it, it’s all for you.” And he did.

Since Feliciano was a new artist out in the open, many did not recognize him. He had to mention his name and then the large crowds would surround him, congratulating him, giving him excessive compliments, questions about his techniques or any hidden symbols or theme in his paintings. He happily obliged, meeting all kinds of different groups that he even initiated in joyous conversation that soon enough everybody wanted to join in even if he wasn’t talking about the paintings. Ludwig was off in some other part of the room with Yekaterina talking to other co-workers he had invited. They were curious about Feliciano and how Ludwig had found him, the still ongoing excuse that Feliciano was an intern who would work for the Italian base in the future. He would say that he found out about his paintings and decided to submit it for him, which only heightened Ludwig’s acclaim as a sort of philanthropist that the company should feel proud of.

This was just the distraction to make Feliciano forget about Ludwig, to make him smile, for his eyes to sparkle and for his curls to bounce in its usual splendor. Sometimes his hidden anguish would alight again when he felt heavy eyes on him, always feeling it from Ludwig’s direction, who would turn his head to some conversation with another group, his arm having a hold around Yekaterina’s waist as a reminder of what he should be playing at the moment. Feliciano found himself wishing to be in that hold instead, in such an opportune moment as this to him, for both to feel proud in not only what was around them, but also in each other. He would shut his eyes, give a little shake and turn his direction back to whatever group he was participating in a chat.

“Feliciano.” He could easily tell Ludwig calling him even without looking. He turned to him, excusing himself from a group of organizers of the event, having just wished his thanks as well as having them ask questions and simply speak to the artist they just recently admitted.

“What is it?” Ludwig was alone, Yekaterina elsewhere talking to other guests. He was rather hesitant to pull Feliciano away, but he still followed, until they found themselves in another spot to meet a grinning albino.

“Feliciano, I wanted to introduce you to my brother, Gilbert Beilschmidt,” Ludwig pointed.

They both shook their hands excitedly, smiling to each other easily and without rigid order.

“It’s an honor, your paintings are incredible. I have to admit, I love your World War II ones, especially the one with the Prussian. My country barely gets the recognition it deserves now a days.”

“Gilbert is a history professor, with a special liking to Prussian military history. Once he found out that half of our family has Prussian lineage-”

“And I can trace it back to the Teutonic knights I’ll let you know!” Gilbert defended.

Feliciano chuckled, finding it very endearing. “I think that’s incredibly interesting. Fnding out about your ancestors is always wonderful! My grandfather once tried to prove that we’re actually from Romulus lineage,” Feliciano rolled his eyes, but smiled anyways, loving that little detail his grandfather always tried to enchant Lovino and him ever since they were kids, true or not.

“That’ll explain your style! Seriously, god-like.” He was honestly flattering him and Feliciano couldn’t help but laugh and flush. “But enough of this! There’s someone that really wants to meet you!” He whistled and he instantly caught the attention of a young girl, perhaps twelve or thirteen, and upon her green eyes meeting with the brunet, she dashed toward them, albeit shaking nervously, but her smile was grand and her eyes were so wide they could expand over their sockets. She seemed very familiar…like a younger look alike of-

“This is my daughter, Luzia. She’s a huge fan of your pages and she’s been begging me and Ludwig to meet you ever since she found out you were here in Munich.”

Ah yes, the little niece Ludwig always talked about, the one who even introduced him to his videos and Instagram. The honor should be in himself, the girl was absolutely adorable and he wasted no time with coming close and offering one of his kind smiles.

“Hello, it’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you and we really need to take a selfie together.”

The girl shrilled in happiness, losing all sense of words. “Feliciano Valenti! This is Feliciano Valenti!” She pointed out, not being able to withstand her little screams.

They all chuckled, finding it very endearing.

“Yes, yes, it is me. We have so much we need to talk about! Your uncle told me you’re always cooking my recipes. You have to show me pictures and I’ll be glad to give you some new ones myself.” It didn’t help to tame her jumping and little muffled shouts.

Not caring about how childish it looked, Feliciano joined her, both taking a hold of their hands, excited over this prospect.

Gilbert and Ludwig didn’t seem to mind, they smiled and felt a great amount of warmness.

“So the Feliciano Valenti is truly here?”

That voice, he recognized it, even without the occasional interference of their Face time talks. All it took was one single glance and there she was, her figure more spectacular in person.

“Elizabeta!” Feliciano shouted, both wasting no time in coming into their arms, embracing tightly, jumping just as Feliciano’s encounter with her daughter.

Ludwig, Gilbert and even Luzia were frozen to the spot, not expecting this kind of encounter, standing awkwardly as they tried to make sense out of it.

“Wha-what are-what are you doing here?” Feliciano managed intelligibly, although the static lived on in his still slight shaking and bouncing.

“Well I was invited by my brother in law-” she gazed over to Ludwig so Feliciano could identify “-and after I heard it was for a Feliciano Valenti, I just had to come and finally meet you.” She took his arms in welcome, still not getting over the moment.

“Um…you two know each other?” Gilbert asked wanting to be filled in, the curious gazes in Ludwig and Luzia holding the same question.

“I met Elizabeta many years ago online through a chat. We never had the chance to meet in person but it didn’t mean anything, she became a dear friend of mine still,” Feliciano explained, hoping they easily understood. “I knew you were married! But you never gave me any details, and why didn’t you tell me your daughter was a big fan of me? I could have done something for her a long time ago.” He seemed rather disappointed that she didn’t confide him in this.

“I didn’t want you thinking I was some old football mom you should feel uncomfortable about,”

“Never, never, never! Such a thing could not ruin your essence, besides, your husband is really cool and your daughter is adorable!”

Both Gilbert and Luzia smile grandiosely at the comments.

Falling into conversation easily, the rest were once again forgotten into the background, Elizabeta and Feliciano taking one of the many tables the gallery had prepared for dinner in one of their halls. They had champagne, amazing food and caught up with stories that seemed to be more clear in person, with the delightful additions of Luzia, who Feliciano did not mind at all having with them.

“So you really put a hidden birdie in it?” Luzia wondered, about one of his World War II paintings that she had loved, which Feliciano had no problem detailing his exact process in making it, the story he had in his mind and its little secrets.

“Yep, right in the upper corner, hidden well between the bushes.”

Luzia instantly ran off to the exhibition to find it, leaving both Elizabeta and Feliciano chuckling.

“So…now that she’s gone.” There was seriousness in her tone, power in the way she grabbed her champagne glass and drank, surely with new coming order that Feliciano knew he had to obey. “You finally got more information on my husband and daughter, now I think it’s fair that I take part in knowing something about you, someone close to you…close to me.” She put her glass down, gaze on Feliciano, begging an answer for a question that Feliciano didn’t need to hear it for him to know.

“It’s about my…Sugar Daddy right?” He still dared guessed, which earned another chuckle from Elizabeta.

“It took me a couple of minutes but I think I made a connection…it’s Ludwig isn’t it?”

If Feliciano dared lie, if he didn’t answer, Elizabeta could tell enough by his unmoving stillness, wandering eyes and fidgeting hands. The sin of his doing became more powerful at the moment, Elizabeta like a judging angel ready to inflict in his crime of sodomies, lust, pride and prostitution, especially with a soon to be married man.

Feliciano still managed to nod in confession, nervous to utter any other words, to look into her eyes. To his surprise she began to laugh, covering her mouth as to not attract unwanted eyes and ears on this heavily private conversation that could cause the ruining of pride to the powerful Beilschmidt.

“Ludwig? The Ludwig who could barely talk to anybody else outside his family? Stoic, rigid and menacing Ludwig? Ludwig ‘I have no interest in relationships’ Beilschmidt? The Ludwig everyone thinks doesn’t even know what an orgasm is? Ludwig who only decided to date Yekaterina because it was slightly forced upon him after not having any successful relationship with a woman in his life? That Ludwig?” She needed to make sure, Feliciano rather surprised to hear all those things, smiling and blushing because Ludwig proved to be none of that in their time together.

To think that he could break the shell of one of the most powerful men in Germany to see a kind, generous and even romantic soul that Feliciano adored being the sole person in the world to see it. He held some kind of comfort in knowing that not even Yekaterina would hold that privilege.

“Ye-yes,” he blushed and gave out a sweet smile, an enchantment in his eyes filled with all their memories together…which Elizabeta starred incredulously at.

“Wow…never though he had it in him, and to go out and do it this way though… are you sure it doesn’t have to do anything with money?” She just never would have imagined that Ludwig could cause this on someone, he never really showed he had that ability.

“You’ve seen my Instagram, he’s given me more than I could have wished. It has helped in flaring my emotions, but it was mostly because of appreciation and because he’s given me those things knowing what I want, what I need, what he knows will…make me happy.” There was a breaking in that last phrase, a saddening in his eyes that did not escape Elizabeta, gazing strongly hoping to find the meaning of it. “He’s also been very kind, watchful, caring and even trusting with me. He doesn’t look down at me just because were from different classes, he treats me like any other and…like a lover should.” He sigh disappointedly. “When he dedicates to something with that harsh stare, even when he enunciates, when he stands proud with the power I wish I had… when he calls me liebling, when he laughs and smiles with me… it makes me wish that he could be mine only…that I could be the one…” he was dreaming too much, an intent look on his finger, with a broken gaze.

“Wearing his own engagement ring?” Elizabeta guessed, Feliciano suddenly embarrassed at the way it was so obviously seen, hiding his hands over the disappointment of having none.

“Did he tell you about Yekaterina before?”

“I…just found out about it yesterday.”

Elizabeta could feel the breaking herself, taking another drink of champagne to calm her down, feeling a lot of sudden anger that she wanted to direct to Ludwig.

“Is he going to continue dating you?” She wondered.

“I told him I wanted to stop. You know what happened to my mamma, I can’t be in something like this. I don’t want to hurt Yekaterina and I don’t want Ludwig to suffer the consequences once his company finds out about us.”

“So he’s going to stop paying you as well?”

“No, he refused to, especially after he gave me a house. He said he’ll continue until I get a good stable job enough to pay for everything,”

“You’ll have the earnings of the house with whatever you earn from the gallery I assume. Now more people will be bound to have interest in commissioning, as well as other galleries will want collections from you,” Elizabeta wanted to hope.

“Yeah…perhaps…” It was all wonderful, it really was, and he was excited by the prospect, but his being still suffered the letting go he would have to give Ludwig, his new dreams with him only meant to be fantasies that he should be getting over.

“Do you…love him, Feliciano?” Elizabeta wondered, hoping she eased the topic well enough without causing much dread on him.

It didn’t work, he slumped, he rubbed his arms around him shyly, tighter as the seconds pass, as a way to stop any tears, to stop any thoughts that meant it true.

“At first it seemed so wonderful, and I was ready to welcome it, I wanted to tell him straight, and I dreamed that he would return those very feelings, but now…I don’t know, and I rather think that I don’t,” he admitted, looking away, hoping he could drink away these sorrows with all the alcohol around them, but he still needed to look presentable, the exhibition still continued on.

Elizabeta kept a solid gaze on him, hoping that maybe he would say something that said enough and went to the point of what he was feeling, but after the elongated silence, Feliciano’s stare to the table, he was not going to say anything else.

“I don’t think I should be encouraging this, but I’ve known you and Ludwig for a long time now, and Feli…I noticed the way he was staring at you this entire time.” She made him acknowledge, finally earning his head to rise. “You’re lucky nobody else saw that, anyone could have easily spread a rumor that would have had you both out in the open. You’re lucky that you have a good friend in me to trust to keep it hidden.” She wanted him to see, which he actually smiled to.

“You’ve only known him for a couple of months, he’s known Yekaterina for almost three years, and yet he has never looked at her that way. Never have I seen his eyes so distracted and distant for someone, almost couldn’t recognize him with so much lust…even love in his eyes,” she pointed out truthfully. “And you, you speak with truth, with desire in your tone. Your past two relationships were not as serious and devoted as this, and Feli, don’t lie to me, I know you still desire for him, I know you love him.” No matter how much it made him cringe to face it or how he kept denying it to himself.

“Could Yekaterina get hurt? I can’t guarantee that, but she can’t force him to love her when his heart is already devoted to someone else, no matter whatever feelings she might have. I know that what he’s doing is wrong, but Feliciano, I think that he has something purely alive in his soul for you that would not go away with a single halt from you, however long you’re going to be without each other now or his impending wedding and marriage. I’m sure that stopping whatever it was that you both had is hurting him just as it’s doing you. I don’t know what I can tell you to forget about him, and even if I did, it doubt it would work, and I don’t really know what you’re planning to do, how you want to resolve this or even if Ludwig might surprise you, but I see something new between the both of you and you should…enjoy from it, take action before you regret it, even with the situation. I remind you that he’s only fulfilling this marriage because it’s basically a job, he needs to keep his promise and his image for the company, so don’t feel so guilty about what you both feel for each other, what you have to keep secret, of what you both want no matter the obstacles…all right?”

The words made quite a calm in him, serenity in his unrest, but it wasn’t enough to make him decisive. His mind was still filled of doubts and worries, but Elizabeta’s words were enough to make a sort of anchor away from his tenseness, to settle back into the table with a kind smile, a quick thanks, before they continued talking about other things that brought them more smiles, with expecting chances to meet again.

Soon enough Luzia came back, Yekaterina joining in, their conversation frivolous things that Feliciano easily found himself belonging in. For a moment he could truly forget about Ludwig, and when he had to deal with the situation, Elizabeta’s words could work well and be a reminder.

The gala was coming to an end, waiters were already beginning with the cleaning and the directors would soon be closing the exhibition for the night. Ludwig and Gilbert had come to the table announcing that they should be leaving. Feliciano wished strong farewells to Elizabeta and Gilbert, sharing in that selfie he had promised with Luzia, also telling her that it surely wouldn’t be the last one, much to her excitement.

He was back at the car, seated in the rear, Ludwig and Yekaterina in a hold of their hands, silent, staring off to the buildings and streets around them that passed. They were surely tired, and feigning a loving conversation between themselves to only prove to Feliciano seemed worthless. At one point they even let go of their hands, feeling a sort of freedom.

Yekaterina was left at her apartment, sharing a kiss to the cheek with Ludwig, another one to Feliciano, even an embracing hug, knowing that he was to leave the next day. She was already following his Instagram and they had shared phone numbers, hoping to continue speaking and meet once again if Feliciano returned to Munich or if Yekaterina happened to find herself in Italy on a whim.

Feliciano took the front seat, watching along with Ludwig to make sure she went into her building safely. Once she did, Feliciano looked forward, sighing tiredly, resting slightly upon his side of the window. The car didn’t move yet though and he could feel Ludwig’s heavy stare, examination, want, just as it had been during the entire gala, only the more obvious, intimate when they were alone in the confinements of his car. This time, Feliciano returned it, lost in his blue, in his handsome features, in the calling his empty hand gave between them.

“What?” He had to interrupt, he had to continue to set this limit that was slowly starting to break.

Ludwig would have loved to return to that question so much, but he himself had to be respectful to what Feliciano decided, to Yekaterina, to his job.

“Just thought about taking a drive,” he suggested, preparing the car for his sudden wish of more to the road than just the heaviness and emptiness of his home when he couldn’t have Feliciano.

They took a scenic drive around the city, majorly in silence, but Feliciano couldn’t hold his delight to what he saw, his excitement to these new things. Eventually he found himself pointing to different buildings and statues, asking Ludwig and he gladly answered, delighted to have Feliciano speaking to him, with the joy that had made him…

The lights had a thing of shinning well along him, of everything blurring but him, a forbidden beauty that he had lost, that he couldn’t have, that couldn’t belong to him. He swore he had run pass a couple of red lights because he had been too distracted with the glow of his hair, eyes and especially his smile. Feliciano actually chuckled, noticing, blushing with enchantment, that ease slowly coming back, to chat, to trust, to let their eyes linger in surely the wanting that both could do nothing to hold any longer. Slowly, ever so slowly, Feliciano let his hand fall on Ludwig’s own, on his protective and strong one, belonging and sure.

After an hour of their drive, they returned to Ludwig’s own home, with both of Feliciano’s hand having been on Ludwig’s that had not been focused on the wheel. He only departed them when they had to come down, but when they headed inside, once the doors were closed, away in their world, with themselves, that same hold quickly returned. They went along in a peaceful swaying, of only their eyes, Feliciano’s arms slowly rising to meet around his neck, Ludwig’s coming down to hold at his waist. Their foreheads lay against each other, the temptation clear to come ever closer, but Feliciano still held himself from closing and Ludwig was only willing to do anything if Feliciano gave him the opening and permission.

Now Ludwig was caressing his back, swaying him into falling into this, making him moan slightly, the blue of his eyes becoming more deep, pushing him closer and closer.

No, he couldn’t fall into this, he wouldn’t succumb, he wouldn’t set fire to the wronging of this. Oh but the fire was so warm, so good, so alluring, so handsome, a sweetened spirit that Feliciano adored, that he wanted close again.

He wanted their nights, their hold, their love. He wanted to be loved, he wanted to be loved by Ludwig.

“Feliciano…” Ludwig called, a serene voice that was making him wobble, that was making him melt as he usually did.

“Ye-yes?” Feliciano found himself asking.

“Do-do do you mind if we, if we…” he suddenly grew red in nervousness, in worry of what asking this could settle, how Feliciano could react.

This could go in a horrible way or a beautiful, wonderful way.

“Uhu?” Feliciano asked again, fingers playing on the edge of his lips, soft under his touch. He wanted so badly to have those strong lips on his, on his body, Elizabeta’s words repeating: Enjoy from it, take action before you regret it.

“Ple-please, let me…let me make love to you again, if just this one last time, before you leave, before I have to forget you. I don’t want another lonely night between u-” he was caught by Feliciano’s defeated lips, crashing into his, in acceptance, in wanting, in heating, in closing, in hands being more confident in their thread through their bodies.

Ludwig knew well where to kiss him, where to hold him, his moans freer, swaying to whatever the taller wanted him to do. Feliciano gave in more to his body, jumping, letting his legs wrap around him tightly to keep a good hold that even impressed Ludwig. They moved to the counter of the kitchen, where they rutted, where their fingers touched every inch of their chests, their arms, the grabs of their prominent erections through their pants. They began taking off their jackets, shirts and ties carelessly over the room, their bare skin touching and crashing to create more heat, more loving caresses, dear, meaningful, with a gentility that was new, calm but just what Ludwig and Feliciano wanted to show.

With Feliciano once again wrapped around him, still continuing on their kisses, on their touches, blinded in themselves, Ludwig somehow managed to carry Feliciano up the stairs, to his room, where he laid him on the bed. He stood above him, distance for their eyes to meet, to look, for innocent caresses, for Feliciano to chuckle, for Ludwig to smile back, gentile kisses on his forehead and nose, for Feliciano and Ludwig to swim in what they then realized was love.

Io lo amo, Feliciano thought, and Ludwig, ich liebe ihn.

They should be disappointed, they should be embarrassed, they should be feeling harsh amounts of fault, they should even stop. There were so many wrongs, this couldn’t continue, no, no, no, no, no...

They fell into another kiss, they wrapped their arms strongly around each other, for now in simple kisses, on fingers threading through their hair, of only eyes meeting as they tried so hard to omit what they truly wanted to say.

At some point their pants were gone, their erections rubbing together, legs entangled with one another, until Feliciano held a secure hold around his waist, hands threading on his back, that slowly and seductively got him to thrust, to continue the kiss, of lips, of tongue, even after short amount of breaths.

So comfortable they were, the bliss so high, that Feliciano didn’t even feel the pain when Ludwig entered him, the action of his continuing thrusts inside him as loving as their kisses, as the softness of their hands, their gazes, their breaths close to each other taking even the tiniest scent. They indulged in it by laying soft breaths and kisses on their necks, on their shoulder blades, resting softly, reminding that it was happening, that they were there, that Ludwig could thrust into him, earn his delightful moans, his arch, his unbinding only to him. Ludwig was slow with his movements, too focused on the way Feliciano’s mouth moved, how his curls stuck to his face with sweat, the rest messed in his pillow.

This wasn’t hardened, it wasn’t reckless, it was controlled, it was calculating, loving, soft and attentive to all the little ways that he could still have Feliciano heightening in love and ecstasy. They turned, they moved, each taking their turn to stand above the other, in whatever direction their driving of love took them. Sometimes during the night they would only focus on kissing, others on necks, others on their backs and rears, others in Ludwig’s thrusts, hardening if Feliciano asked.

At some point Feliciano had decided to kneel, offering his backside to him, and Ludwig took it, harshly banging him to the continuing throws of the bed against the wall. It was the only time it became carnal, yet the hold Ludwig kept on his waist, on his exploring of his side, of his kisses against his back, remained it sweet, loving, a reminder of devotion and meaning that lasted throughout the whole night, through various releases and calls of their names.

< previous chapter next chapter >

#throwing cellphones #gerita #gerita fanfiction #gerita fic #gerita fanfic

48 notes · View notes