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honeytama · 4 years

Text

St. Patrick

Spinner (Shuichi Iguchi) X Fem!Reader

A/N: ‘St. Patrick’ by PVRIS goes really well with this fic, enjoy!

Commission for @dittomckiddo

Summary: It’s a miracle that you had been saved from an oncoming car. Plus, it also led to you meeting the guy of your dreams, one you’d never expect. After offering your services as a masseuse to him in return, you both end up growing close and come to realize the purpose in each other’s lives.

Warnings: Smut (18+), cussing, reader has a vibration quirk, meet cute, strangers to lovers, first time, tending wounds, praise kink, body worship, oral (giving/recieving), double penetration

Word Count: 7.5k

The cement of the sidewalk crunched under your work shoes on your way to the luxury spa in the middle of the city. The sun is just about to come over the horizon to break in the morning. Even though it was early, many people in your area usually came to open their stores and restaurants. Every morning you’d pass by the familiar donut shop owner who turns on their Open sign to start their day. Lugging your bag over your shoulder, which contains your spa uniform and toiletries, you walk block after block while half asleep.

You’ve always been in love with your job having the quirk that you do. It has made your life rewarding to be able to help people through your birth given trait. However, walking alone before sunrise to prepare the spa for clients every morning can feel redundant.

You walk along the same trail, the same path… make a right there, make a left here, and cross this street. Nothing ever changes, you think as you step out off the curb— Honk!

“Ah!”

“Ain’t watching the road, asshole?” the man holding you yells at the trunk of the speeding car escaping down the street.

You push yourself back into his chest into a hug with your arms thrown around his neck. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you. You saved me,” you squeal. “I can’t believe I wasn’t watching.”

Pulling away, you notice the flustered look in his expression as he looks around the rest of the block for something or someone. He mumbles something about “the morning” before trying to walk away.

“Uhm, wait! I feel like I need to repay you somehow.” The zipper of your bag is swiftly opened and you rummage through your belongings while he turns back to you.

He tries to stop you by placing a hand on yours but quickly pulls it away. “No, no, I don’t need your money—,” You pull out a small white slip of card stock from the bag and hold it out for him to take. “What’s this?”

“My business card! My name's Y/N, I’m a masseuse at the spa down there,” you point near the end of the street at the glass doors to your store. “I’d like to give you a free massage in return for helping me out.”

“You want me to call you?”

“Yeah, we can set up a session.”

“Fine.” He slides the card into his back pocket. “Just, don’t get hit by any cars on the rest of the way there. I gotta go.” He pulls his hood further down his face and shoves his fists into the front of his jeans.

“I won’t! Bye!” You watch as he quickly makes his way to a nearby alley.

—

The most gorgeous girl flung herself into my arms… and in front of everyone. I can’t believe I didn’t ask her name myself or give her my number. But, I had to get out of there. Damnit.

He reads off the business card you’d handed to him while laying in bed the same night you had met, F/N L/N, Professional Masseuse for the City Spa. Phone number and email...

Fuck it. It's a free session, she was nice to me, and my body hurts like hell.

You lay watching a movie and mindlessly scrolling through your phone near midnight. Tapping through your different social accounts, your phone vibrates and your screen darkens. The Caller ID ‘Unknown’ is written in white lettering across the top.

You tap on the answer button quickly, silently hoping it would be a call from the interesting man you gave your card to earlier that day.

Bringing your phone up to your ear, you wait for a moment in silence before speaking up yourself. “Uhm, hello?”

“Uh, hi, hey.” A deep, gruff voice comes to your ear. ”It's the guy you gave your business card to earlier today. Sorry, I was kinda nervous to call.” He explains. “Call me Shuichi, by the way.”

“Hey! It’s no problem, Shuichi. How has your night been?”

“Uhm, good?” He questions. “I just wanted to call to let you know I’d like to take you up on your free massage thing? It might be an inconvenience, though, uh I can't really— I mean, I don't really like going out. That’s why I left you so quickly this morning.”

“Oh! Well, it’s fine. I understand. The whole point of my job is to make people feel comfortable, so how about we do the session at your place? I can bring my massage table and everything else!”

Fuck. “No! No, uh, I mean. I have roommates and, uh, I don't know how they would feel about me bringing in a stranger.” Yeah, that's it.

“Hm, well I wouldn't mind you coming over to my place then? If you're fine with that?”

“Yeah! Good, that sounds good. Uhm, do I need to bring anything?” Her place?

“Nope! Just bring yourself on over. How does tomorrow evening sound? I can send you the exact time and place through text.”

“That sounds good then. I'll see you, uh, Y/N.”

“Great! Goodnight, Shuichi. Uhm, thank you… again.”

“That was nothing but, uh, you're welcome. Have a good one.”

The soft crackling ambiance of his location and voice cut out as he hangs up. You sigh before pulling the covers over yourself and getting really to rest up for tomorrow’s venture.

—

You had set up the massage table in the living room that morning. Right now, it’s about fifteen minutes until your new ‘client’ Shuichi would arrive at your door. You scurry around your apartment preparing warm face towels and pulling his robe out of the drier. You’d spent your time creating the right amount of mood lighting in the space you have using lavender-scented candles. You dressed in a clean pair of the usual massage uniform you wear for work. It’s a white top that wraps with a tie in the front and a pair of comfortable white linen pants.

Your stomach turned over on itself several times waiting for him to arrive. You want to make his session as amazing as possible, even though it's for free. He had saved your life.

You roll up the warm towels on the decorative side table in your living space and fold the plush robe to place on the sink in the bathroom. You check your phone seeing you have five minutes until he could show up at your place.

The second you pocket your phone in your pants, you hear three knocks at your front door. “He’s early.” Ok, relax. “Coming!”

You rush to the door from the bathroom and brush down the front of your shirt before opening the door with a smile.

Shuichi stands there with his elbow against the door frame with his head covered with a hoodie. When he notices you standing there, his arm falls from the door nearly knocking him out of balance.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey! Come on in,” you wave him inside to lead him to the small foyer. “You can take off your shoes here.”

“No problem.” He stumbles trying to take off his sneakers and you just watch him in awe. “Uh, wow, you have a great place.” He throws the gray hood off of his hair and light pink, voluminous locks fall to his shoulders. You didn’t get a good look at him the other morning, and now you can already tell this will be a long night.

He catches you staring at him and averts his eyes to admire the living room and its furnishings.

“Well, thanks! I, uh, spent the day setting everything up. The massage table is over there in the corner, and then I have some warm towels and candles set up just for the occasion.”

“Smells good.” His snout twitches a bit as he tries to catch the scent. Again, he catches your eyes looking at him as if you’ve never seen someone like him before. He clears his throat, “Uhm, where do I—?”

“Oh yeah, I left a robe in the bathroom for you to change into. Then you can come back in here and lay on the massage table face down. Just pull the sheet over your back, to uh, cover up. I'll be waiting in my bedroom until you call me back in here. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he rubs the back of his neck and follows you towards the bathroom past the kitchen.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” You point finger guns at him before walking quickly into the back hallway toward your bedroom.

Pacing around the room, your mind splits to tens of questions and thoughts about the man you’ve brought into your home. How did you not notice how attractive he is? He’s sure different from anyone you’ve met before, but you’re so intrigued? And he’s in your apartment. Getting completely undressed in the room beside you. Being a professional, you’d never thought about having a relationship with a client. But, he’s not a client, right?

You feel slightly embarrassed about your reaction to seeing his full face. You hope he wasn’t offended by the way your eyes trailed along his features.

You hear him walk out of the bathroom in the slippers you had provided him and wait patiently for his call out to you.

“Uh, Y/N, I’m ready!”

You breathe out and leave the bedroom to meet him. Coming out from behind the corner, you see him lying on his stomach with a white sheet laying gracefully on his backside.

You stop at the side table to grab your bottle of massage oil and a moistened towelette you throw over your shoulder. “I was planning to focus mostly on your back, but it looks like you work out a lot, huh?” You smile down at him.

“Oh, yeah, whatever you think is best,” he shimmies his full body making himself more comfortable.

“Of course, I’ll lead through all I'm doing. Please let me know if anything I do makes you feel uncomfortable, alright?”

“Sure, yeah,”

You can’t help but gaze at the deep divots that cause muscles in his back as you warm an amount of oil between your palms. You cock your head slightly at the long and short scars that are sprinkled down the length of his exposed back. The green tint is slightly lighter than the rest of the forest shade of his scales.

“Getting started, now,” you place one hand on either side of his back and massage in small circles. You usually don’t try to talk too much during your professional sessions at the spa, but maybe talking with him will calm your nerves. “So, I see you work out a lot? Is it a part of your job? Or a hobby?”

“Uhm, yeah, I guess you could say that. I practice sword-wielding and, uhm, self-defense?”

“Ohh, that sounds really cool. You’ve definitely got a nice physique.”

“Nah, that's just what everyone looks like in my line of work.”

You hum as his denial of your compliment. He has a body he should be proud of; he needs to care for it a lot better than he has, especially under such stressful work conditions.

You bring your hands to his lower back and decide to finally use your quirk. Energy pushes down your arms to the expands of your palms and fingertips. Your hands start to vibrate at a low speed as you run them back and forth away from your stomach on his back.

“Is that your hands? Doing that?”

“Yeah, it’s my quirk, it got me into the line of work at the spa,” you explain.

“Feels... good,” it almost sounds like he doesn’t know if he should be feeling good.

“I have to say I’ve never met anyone like you before, Shuichi, your scales are so damn cool. You have an awesome quirk.”

He huffs at your comment. “No need to butter me up.“ Silence floats around the room while he thinks about the unfamiliar kindness you’ve shown to him. “I guess… I’ve learned not to think about myself in that way.”

“How come?” You keep your hands moving along the muscles in his back. The energy from your quirk continues to work at the tights knots underneath his shoulder blades.

“I just want to be seen for all of me, exactly as I am. I don’t admit it to many people but, I sometimes don’t like just being known as the guy who looks like a lizard. I do so much more— I wanna be so much more, than that.”

“Well, I see you. And, I’ve only known you for a day. I'm already intrigued by who you are as a person,” you reassure him softly. “Even if no one else respects you, know that I do.”

“That’s… that’s really nice of you,” he says with breaks in his voice.

“If I pried too much, I—,” you start.

“No...Sorry, I’m just not used to respect. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” you smile.

You spend the rest of his session massaging him in silence after that.

After you finish, he’s directed back to the restroom to get changed while you wait for him in the foyer of your apartment.

You shuffle around near the front door with butterflies in your stomach. It didn’t occur to you that you’d end up feeling such strong things by the end of the night. But, now, you’re pacing in some slippers while trying to find the right words to ask him out.

“I think I should get going,” Shuichi says, startling you.

“Oh, yeah, of course! I hope you enjoyed the massage.”

“I did,” his toothy smile warms you up.

You watch him retrieve his sneakers and sit on the arm of your sofa to put them on. Now’s the time.

You clear your throat. “I was wondering… Would you like to go out sometime?”

He shoots his head up, “A date?”

“Mhm,” you nod while wringing your hands nervously.

“I— Yes. I’d like that, Y/N.” A blush sweeps across his snout and cheeks. Your heart squeezes seeing this for the first time.

“Cool!”

“Cool,” he repeats. He points to the door. “Well, I gotta get home before my roommates suspect somethin’.”

“Oh, yeah!” You open the fort for him to go. Your meeting ends with a nice wave goodbye before he disappears again.

—

Over the past two months, Shuichi and yourself got to know each other through long phone calls, picnics in empty parks, and movie nights in the living room of your apartment.

One week ago, you spent an hour building the most comfortable pillow fort with him before watching his favorite action movie. Shuichi came to your door with your favorite take-out meals, a portable projector, and a pack of fairy lights in hand. You had given him the biggest hug after praising him for remembering you had dreamt of setting up this sort of date before. However, you had the gut feeling to ask where he had gotten those things. The urge to question him about it was stamped out by the immensity of your excitement to share the night with him.

You used all the blankets and sheets you had in the house to create a canopy over the couch and a couple of bar stools. The projector sat on a tower of books and faced one white wall of your living space. The ground was covered by your bed comforter and pillows were propped comfortably against the bottom of the couch.

That was the first time he had the courage to pull you into his chest as you cuddled on the floor. The remnants of your meals were scattered at your feet as you both enjoyed the film. He had watched you caress his chest with your fingertips.

By the third quarter of the movie, you both were all over each other; exploring one another’s bodies for the first time felt like nothing you had ever experienced. You had your first kiss early on, but you could tell he was nervous to get even rougher with you. After you made out and felt each other up for another hour, Shuichi left your apartment in the late of the night with a kiss to your cheek.

Even sitting alone in your apartment tonight, you had regretted not convincing him to stay with you. You sit on your couch watching your favorite show eating a bowl of pasta. You had checked your phone several times today waiting for a call, or even a text, from Shuichi. Your mind wandered to the worst thoughts all day. Was he just using you for your quirk? The massages? To keep you around until you put out for him? Though you know in your heart that something is there between you two.

You stare mindlessly at the television until your phone starts buzzing to your side. You’re pulled from your thoughts and you grab your phone expecting his name to be on your screen. You sign, realizing instead that it’s a message from the city you reside in. You tap to play the automated voice message:

“Citizens, by our information, we are currently aware of the presence of the League of Villains in your residential area. Please, stay inside and stay safe. There are currently heroes handling the situation.”

“What?” You grab the TV remote and turn the channel to the news. The luminescent screen shows streets burning in blue flame and people run for cover. You watch as heroes search the roofs and alleys for the League’s members; the commotion maybe only ten blocks from where you live. Nothing like this has ever happened this close to you before.

A hard knock at your front door pulls your attention away from the distressed news anchor. Even with this situation, you hope that it’s Shuichi coming to check on you, to see if you’re alright.

You rush to get up and open the door. And to your luck, he’s there leaning against the door frame in the same manner as the first time he came over. But. he falls into your chest the second he realizes you’ve let him in. With his chest against yours and his arms thrown around your waist, you can feel exactly how labored his breathing is.

“Shuichi, oh my god, are you ok?” You rub his back comfortingly.

“Y/N, I—I’m so sorry,” he groans against your neck.

“Look at me,” you pull away to pick up his chin from your shoulder. Facing him head-on now, you see the raw gashes on his forehead and bicep. “Holy shit, did you get caught in all that?” You point to the chaos demonstrated on the TV.

He walks over to the remote sitting on the armrest of the sofa and clicks the TV off. “I’ve got to explain something to, Y/N.

—

“You’re part of all of that… the League of Villains,” you repeat him. “And they call you Spinner? When were you going to tell me?

“I—I tried convincing them not to come to this area,” he laments. He sits in front of you hunched over your knee, distracting himself with the material of your pajama pants as you tend to his wounds. “Ah,” he hisses as you dab his forehead with a rag dampened with hydrogen peroxide. “I understand if you’re mad at me, Y/N. If you never want to see me again—,” he huffs.

“I understand why you didn’t tell me right away,’ you whisper. “From now on, can we promise to tell each other everything, no keeping secrets?”

“From now on?” He looks up to face you. “You want to keep this going?”

“I really like you, Shuichi, I don’t want to let go of you after this,” you kiss his cheek to reassure him.

A deep blush rushes to his cheeks. “I—I really like you, too. I’ve liked you since you said you liked my scales,” he laughs. “So, yeah, no more secrets, I promise you, Y/N.”

“Good,” you smile and take his hand to help him up. “I’m gonna run a bath for you.”

He watches your hips sway as you walk to the bathroom to set up the tub.

—

With the bath filled with a layer of fluffy, lavender bubbles blanketing the surface, you call Shuichi in from the living room.

He peaks into the bathroom before smiling at your kind gesture. “Are you gonna stay in here, while I—uh, ya know?” He stammers while pulling at the edge of his shirt.

“I was thinking I could give you a massage to help you relax. If that’s ok?” You watch as he pulls his top over his head in one fluid motion. His arm muscles ripple with the smooth movement. He drops it to the floor and then combs out his lilac hair with his fingers.

“Yeah, I’d like that. Uhm, could you maybe—?” He cocks his head to the side while rubbing the nape of his neck.

You giggle at his modesty before spinning around toward the wall. You hear him drop his pants and disrobe from his arm wrappings and eye masks. The costume he came to you with today was much more sinister than the cozy ones he usually wore.

The water splashes a bit as Shuichi gets into the tub. He settles himself to the side of it for you to get access to his shoulders. His mind silently thanks you for adding the bubbles prematurely.

You turn and he’s leaned back against the glossy, white porcelain of the tub. You run your fingers along the skin of his shoulders and he shutters as the surprise of your touch. You set both of your hands flat on his swelled shoulders and activate your quirk. He immediately lets out a breathy, relaxed noise. You move your hands back and forth and delve deep into the muscles of his arms and neck in a circular motion.

“Mmm,” Shuichi lets a pleased groan go out of his throat. He lets his head rest against your chest and takes note of the beat of your heart against his scalp. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Of course,” you say softly. Leaning down, you give him a gentle kiss to the side of his neck. You move your kisses to his jaw and cheek next. You watch as the water moves from under your lashes. Under the water, he rubs the tops of his thighs with his palms.

He clears his throat before stammering out, “Do you wanna, maybe, get in?”

You perk up at his offer. “You sure?”

“Yeah, c’mon in,” he confirms.

You deactivate your vibrating hands and stand up completely to take off your shirt and bottoms quickly. All of your shredded clothes form a puddle on the tile floor of the bathroom. You hook your thumbs to pull off your underwear and let them fall to the floor. It’s not cold in the bathroom at all, but you can feel your limbs shake slightly as you walk towards the edge of the bathtub. Goosebumps coat your bicep and neck as you carefully step into the water while grabbing the edge in order not to slip. Lowering yourself into the water, Shuichi faces away from your exposed body. A blush paints over his cheeks and snout. You sit across from one another, but he’s still so close.

“Hey,” you smile while flowing your arms through the water trying to get used to the temperature.

“Hey,” he responds. Shuichi holds out a hand out for you to take. “C’mere.”

You take his hand and he leads you to sit in front of him against his chest. You settle yourself between his thighs and clench your own legs to your chest.

“Can I tell you something?” His tone feels as warm as the water pooling up the middle of your chest. The soft fragrance of the bath relaxes you the most you've ever been in a long time; you melt into the cushion of Shuichi’s chest.

“Mhmm,” you hum while letting your eyes fall closed.

“I—uhm,” he stammers before taking a deep breath that you could feel against your neck. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me,” he says with a smile. “I didn’t have anyone to protect… to look forward to seeing before you came into my life. I’d be happy if just being here to save you from incoming cars,” he chuckles.

“I said it wouldn’t happen again!” you laugh and throw your hand back to press into his shoulder.

“Mhm,” he smirks, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

“I’m glad to have met you too, handsome,” you turn and smile up at him. “You’re so sweet to me.” You lift yourself just enough to place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Stop,” he shakes his head.

“But, you look so good,” you sing.

“I look good?” he laughs. “You’re the girl of my dreams.” You feel both of his arms wrap around your midsection and his thumbs massage small circles underneath your chest. He leans into your ear to kiss the crest of it before whispering, “I’m sorry to have worried you, baby”

“Are you going to make it up to me?” you softly say.

Shuichi’s eyes widen as you turn your body in full to face him. If he wasn't already involuntarily sporting a hard-on with your body pressed up against him, he definitely is now. He catches a glimpse of your glossed nipples and watches as water cascades down the valley made between your breasts.

“Fuck,” he places his hands on your hips to guide you to straddle his lap. “Look at you.”

You rest your hands on his firm shoulders before leaning into his exposed neck.

He holds his breath and holds onto your body tightly, his nails starting to dig into your flesh anticipating your soft lips against his scales. His neck is tickled by your tongue giving hesitant kitten licks to the side of his neck. Shuichi feels himself melt into your body further yearning for your lips to close over his muscle.

You both moan as your lips begin to suckle on the prominent segment of his neck stuck out for you to ravage upon. The scales that coat his entire body create overlapped edges that you can feel as you drag your tongue along in small circular motions. You pull at him with the suction of your lips and then give soft kisses to the darken spots you leave along the way. “Just kiss me already,” Shuichi concedes. He takes your chin between two fingers and brings them to his lips. He holds back for a second to admire the clouded, sultry eyes looking at him from under lashes before pushing through the wall of tension to kiss you greedily.

You feel Shuichi’s hand on your hip start to guide you deeper into his lap, but the sudden movement makes you pull away. The shallow sweep of his strong thighs against your aroused center makes you yelp against his mouth. Eager for more, you lift yourself slightly before starting to grind against his thighs his time of your volition. The bathwater moves around both of you in shallow waves. They splash against your back in a similar tempo to your motions.

“Mmm,” he groans against your lips. His hands leave your body before returning in front of your chest in front of him. “Can I?”

You nod and put both of your hands on the side of the tub to the sides of his head. You feel his fingers for the first time on your tits and only a second passes until you're completely comfortable. He explores your skin and nipples as you both kiss passionately; with his eyes shut, he searches for your nubs to roll in between his padded fingertips.

“Y/N,” he pulls away breathless.

“Mhm?” You continue to softly grind on his thighs and he starts to speak.

“I’ve never done this before,” he stammers. You quirk an eyebrow at him with a sly smirk plastered on your lips. “Y/N, not like that.” Shuichi shakes his head with a laugh. “I want to ask you… Would you—will you be my girlfriend?”

You can't help but stop in your tracks to give him the tightest hug possible. “Yes, of course!”

He blushes at your immediate response. His hands caress your back and slowly run down the length of it towards your thigh and ass cheek. “Your skin is so soft,” he squeezes the flesh between his fingers and palm.

“Spinner,” you let his secret alias slip from your lips as a moan while massaging the section between your rear and thigh.

“Shit.” It feels so good to finally let his hidden life be free, but how was he to know you would use his identity against him in this way? He feels himself pulsate underneath the surface of the bathwater.

While pulling away from his embrace, the hardened tips of his cocks brush against your lower abdomen. You hear his throat catch at the minuscule touch. “You—your, uhm—.”

“Yeah…,” he sighs, covering his face with his palm. “I know it’s weird. You don't have to—.”

“It’s not weird!” You reassure him while pulling his hand away from his face and towards your chest. “I actually,” you run your opposite hand up the top of his ridged thigh. “I think it’s really hot.”

He gulps once he feels your thumb run over the smoothed tip of one of his cocks. “Seriously?”

Looking in his eyes, you bite your lip and nod. “I want you,” you whisper while leaning into his chest until your tits press against his skin.

A guttural groan rumbles in his chest before he grabs your wandering hand lightly to stop you from going further. “C’mon,” he offers in a low voice. His scaled hand rubs the globe of your ass and then squeezes. “Let’s go to your bedroom.”

He helps you up from your sitting position in the tub to standing. The lavender foam sticks to his thighs and abdomen as he steps out onto the bathmat. Your breath catches at your first sight of his perfectly sculpted ass. The speed of your heartbeat quickens as you watch him saunter over to the counter for two fresh towels.

Once he turns around, Shuichi can’t help but permit himself to catch glances at your exposed breasts. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he smirks while handing you the towel. You feel the heat of a blush come to your cheeks while you wrap the towel around yourself. He offers you a strong hand to help you out of the tub. “Careful.”

Unwrapping yourself, you dry your limbs quickly while hoping to get back to being pressed against his strong body again soon. Once dry, you both throw your towels into the hamper.

“Alright, c’mon!” Your waist is pulled into his side and you feel your body being lifted in one fell swoop.

“Ah!”

Shuichi holds you against his chest with an arm hooked underneath your thighs and an arm holding your back. You swoon at his ability to carry you bridal style without breaking a sweat.

Once in your dimly lit bedroom, you're set down to stand on the carpet. Shuichi spins you around and walks against you until you both reach the end of your bed. Your lips lock together and you pull him by the neck to meet you on top of the soft duvet.

He settles himself between your spread legs and kisses you in fervor. You feel one of his hands roam back to your tits and he uses the heel of his hand to knead into you. Another hand grips the curve of your hip and his thumb rubs the skin above the bone there.

“Shuichi,” you moan against his cheek. “Feels good.”

“So… gorgeous…,” he peppers kisses along your collarbone and chest. “I want you so badly, Y/N.” He lets himself slide down your body while giving kisses to every piece of skin available to him. He ends up on his stomach with his head between your thighs. You rest your hands in his hair and watch as his lilac locks get wrapped in your fingers. “You okay with this, Y/N,” he mumbles against the muscle of your inner thigh.

“Mhm, please,” you whine. “You look so good with your face between my thighs.”

He groans at the sight of your already wet cunt spread in front of him. He quickly realizes it might be okay to be rougher with you; taking your physical arousal as a signal that you’re actually into him. You feel a nip at your thigh and it only makes you want him closer to your core even more.

Shuichi lets his tongue lull out of his mouth before licking a thick stripe against your thigh. The feeling sends a shiver down your spine and your pussy clenches in anticipation. “Who would have thought you’d be such a tease— ?” All of a sudden, his tongue explores your soaked folds and then latches onto your puffy clit. “Oh my, God,” you whine.

He groans at your sweet taste on his tongue. The vibrations of this sound travel straight to your sensitive nerve endings. You pull his hand to come back to one of your breasts as he continues his precise movements. You move two of his fingers to pinch your nipple and he obliges by rolling the peaked nub.

“Your tongue feels so good,” you whimper as you begin to grind on his tongue while tugging hard on his hair in your hand. “Shuichi?”

“Mmm?” He hums with his tongue pressed against your clit.

“Have you— ever used both?” you stammer. Your toes curl as you try to focus on his response.

His crimson eyes widen at you from between your legs. “Both?” he mumbles. “I haven’t.”

“I—I want to take all of you,” you feel heat rush to your chest as you admit to him the fantasy you've had since finding out what he’s been packing.

He hums deeply against your clit again before using a finger to pull one of your folds to the side. “I need to prep you real good for me then, baby,” he says proudly.

You nod and brace yourself for him to prod at your tight hole. Since dating you, he started to trim his claws down in fear of accidentally scratching you, and now that fact is even more important in this situation.

The suddenness of one of his thick, ribbed fingers enters your cunt easily with the amount of arousal built up. You gasp at the abrupt fullness of his long digit inside of you. The roof of your cunt is massaged by him slightly hooking his finger and pumping slowly.

“I’m gonna add another, you’re taking this too easy,” he says gruffly before nipping your inner thigh.

Shuichi pulls out and enters back in swiftly with an extra finger and continues to pump your pussy in a more quick pace. The soft padding of his fingertips hit the ridged, spongy section of your cunt repeatedly and it's like nothing you've felt before. You can’t help but bring your other hand down to help get you closer to your release.

He watched you bring two fingers to your hooded clit and turn on your quirk. The vibrating digits sound like a buzz in his ear, but how could he mind when you’re lewdly pleasuring yourself right in front of him. “Holy fuck, yes,” he retracts his tongue back into his mouth to allow you to handle your sensitive nub while his pumps into you vigorously. “Touch yourself for me, beautiful.”

That feels amazing,” you stammer. “Please, right there,” you whine. You rotate your pulsating finger in small circles.

“So fucking hot,” he says roughly. “Keep going, baby,” he attempts to encourage you towards your first orgasm of the night.

“Spinner, I can feel it,” you grind on his thrusting fingers. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Shit, baby, cum for me,” he adds another finger effortlessly. “Cum all over my fingers.” The tips of his fingers move together as one to knead the squishy flesh of your cavern.

“Mhmm,” you moan loudly as you feel the build of your climax being reached within you. All of a sudden, you feel it coming. You bite your lip as your legs start to shake; you fight through the intense feeling to pursue rubbing yourself to maximum pleasure. “I’m coming, fuck!”

“There you go!” He watches as your chest rises and falls quickly. The muscles of your cunt clench hard on his fingers. “Such sweet sounds.”

“How many—How many fingers was that, babe?” You breathe out with the air you have left.

He holds up four, glistening digits and pulls them apart to watch your arousal drip onto his palm. “That was super sexy, babygirl.” You watch him take his soaked hand to his cocks and stroke himself languidly. “Could I do down on you?”

“Yes—yeah, sure,” he says enthusiastically. You help him switch to the position you were in on the bed. He lays back against your pillows stacked against the headboard. He relaxes his brawny arms behind his head and spreads his legs slightly for you to settle yourself between.

You sit back on your calves and admire the ripples of his muscular form all laid out for you. The tips of your fingers trace the divots formed by his prominent abs; you drag your fingers tantalizingly down the lines that make a V to his phallus.

You observe him from underneath your lashes as you lean over his leaking cocks. Holding his heavy package as one in your small hand, you pump them in tandem.

“Is this ok, handsome?”

He’s focused so intently on your motions that all he does is a nod in response.

Two clear beads of precum perch on the outside of his cockslits. As your first move, you lick the beads away from his tips and let your tongue move in a circle over the two heads slowly.

“Oooh.”

You smile at his content before widening the O shape of your lips to take his cocks into your ready mouth. Letting saliva drool from your lips, you use your hands to coat his cock while moving your wrist in a twisting motion. You wrap your lips around his combined cockhead and drag your tongue along the sensitive slits.

“Fuck, you’re lips feel so good around my cock,” he whines. His muscles flex involuntarily as you suck hard on his cocks. The stimulation of his nerve endings send mini shocks to all places of his body in response to your movements. To pleasure what you can’t take between your lips, your hands pump him in upward, winding actions. You decide to turn on your quirk in turn for not being able to take his package completely into your mouth. Your tongue buzzes against his heads and your hands jitter while stroking him in full. The intense stimulation makes him create large amounts of precum; it drips and oozes from your lips down his shaft.

You hum against his hot muscles pleasingly, the taste of his sweet precum mixes with your saliva and coats the expanse of your mouth. You watch him as his eyes widen at the lewd use of your quirk, but he thanks the heavens that you could do this at all for him.

“Baby,” he says lowly. “I don’t want to cum just yet, I’m getting too close— too fast,” he groans.

A soft pop of your lips comes when you pull off of him. Proceeding to stroke him in one hand, you lift yourself to place a hand on his firm chest. Leaning down to meet his gaze, you whisper, “Do you want to cum in me?”

His eyes widen at your offer the second the words fall from your lips. “Yes, yeah, baby.”

You giggle and kiss the tip of his snout before straddling his waist

“I promise to make you feel so good, Y/N,” he groans against your neck. “I’m so turned on by your body, you have no fucking clue.” He holds your legs to his waist and rolls with you until your flat on your back against the mattress. You wrap your arms around his neck and let him spread your legs to the side. “Are you ready, Y/N?”

“Mhm, please,” you whine. “Fuck me, Spinner,”

“You got it, baby,” he holds his two, large pricks together in one hand. You hold the creases underneath your things and pull them as close to your chest as possible. He presses a hand into one of your thighs as he hovers over you. He rubs his cockheads over your clit and slit to collect the residual arousal before pressing softly into your tiny entrance. You both moan at the first touch.

“How are you— still so tight?” He questions. “Mmf,” he groans, attempting to push himself further.

“Oh, I’m a virgin,” you explain. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Wha—what?” He exclaims. “I thought you said we weren’t keeping secrets?”

“I thought it was obvious,” you laugh while playing with your breasts innocently.

“And, you wanted to take both of me? First try?” He brushes his hair from his face.

“Yes, Shuichi, I want you as you are,” you say sweetly. “I wanted to at least try.”

“I can’t even believe you wanted to spend your first time with me,” he admits.

“Of course,” you hold his cheek in your palm. “I actually have some lube in the drawer. We can use it,” you smile sweetly up at him.

“Ok, baby,” he kisses your nose and crawls to the night table before returning with a clear bottle. “I said I’d make this amazing for you, but now I promise it.”

You nod and hold his biceps in your hands as he settles by your thighs again. Repeating his process, he rubs the lube from his cock onto your slit and presses down onto your thighs so they go to your chest. He presses into your cunt all too easily this time.

“Oh my, God,” you moan together.

“You ok?” He asks.

You nod and Spinner pushes his hips deeper into yours. His cocks stretch your pussy slowly as he slides all the way in. “Feels—so good,” you squeak out. Your boyfriend starts his thrusts once he feels the back wall of your core.

“Damn,” his hot breathe hits your face. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he moans.

You bite your lip as tears form in the corner of your eyes from pleasure. His hips rock slowly, but the girth and length of him are able to hit every perfect spot inside of you. “Please, go faster, Spinner,” you plead.

“God, you look so gorgeous under me,” he praises.

“You look so good,” you compliment. “I love your cocks, Spinner, please.” He smirks before grabbing your hips with his strong hands and pistoning into you at a more quick pace. Your breasts bounce as you’re pulled into him continuously. “Fuck, thank you, baby, thank you-,” you whine.

“Take my throbbing dicks, baby, good fucking job,” he encourages. “Your cunt is amazing. Clenching so nicely for me,” he says roughly.

“For you, baby,” you say as a moan. You hold your breasts in your hands and roll your nipples with vibrating fingers.

“Are you gonna cum on my cocks? Just for me?” He groans.

“Yes, yes, yes, please,” you plead loudly. “I wanna cum all over your dicks!”

“Then do it, babygirl,” he foments. “I wanna feel you clench on me all over again. You’ve got it in you, huh?”

Your eyes widen as you realize his words have triggered something inside of you. Electricity rushes to your center and you can’t hold back. “Fuck, I’m— coming!” Ecstasy encases your entire body as your eyes roll back into your head. You try to push your arm down between you both to use your hand as a vibrator for your clit and the base of his cock as he continues to trust into you with fervor.

“Ugh, fuck, me— too,” he grunts. His thrusts come to a slow before he releases his load into the back of your cunt. Ropes of gooey cum spurt into your cavern and coat your walls completely.

Shuichi rolls onto his back beside you and lets an arm fall over his eyes. Your heart beats loud enough for you to hear as you both lay together in silence for a moment.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Yeah,” your voice is small and your throat feels dry. “Spinner?”

“Hey, don't pull that on me again,” he laughs. He gets up from the bed to go retrieve his clothes from the bathroom.

You giggle at him and crawl to the end of the bed to meet him before he leaves the room. “I was wondering, would you like to spend the night?”

“What?”

“Honestly, we don’t know the current situation out in the city right now, and I’m kind of nervous to let you go. I want to be able to protect you, too.”

“I’d love to stay here with you,” he smiles. “Wanna protect me from my own crimes, huh?”

“Just come back to bed, please,” you whine.

“Ain't gonna get in without my pants, baby,” he taunts. “Unless you want your second time, now?”

“Shuichi,” you cover your face with the sheets. “Can you at least bring me my underwear too?” You plead. He nods and walks out of the room. You lay there alone in the dimly lit room for a minute. All you can do is smile to yourself at how lucky you feel.

Shuichi comes back and the mattress bounces as he hops into bed with you. You put on your undergarments quickly and then snuggle up close to your boyfriend.

“Goodnight, Spinner,” you say into his chest.

You earn a quick kiss to the forehead. “Goodnight, baby.”

Tag List: @knifeewifee @lilli-chae @thedreadthreadanomaly @ivymemnoch @beauty-in-ferality @cannibalchan @bnhabookclub @bakatenshii @gallickingun @hawks-senseis @royal-after-dark @wakaoujisenhime @shinsotired @lovelusional

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha spinner #mha spinner #honeytama commission #spinner x reader #shuichi iguchi x reader #spinner #shuichi iguchi #spinner smut #shuichi iguchi smut #lov #league of villians x reader #league of villians #writing

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the-currian · 3 years

Text

I confessed to my crush (Omi x Reader)

‘Today is the day. Focus!’ you give yourself a pep talk, lightly smacking your cheeks.

Christmas break was just around the corner, and you just had to confess your feelings before then.

The object of your affections, Omi Fushimi, was generally a well-liked guy in campus. His manners were impeccable – he was a true gentleman. Despite being multi-talented, he was extremely humble. Paired with his passion and hardworking demeanor, he was popular among students and professors alike. And to top it all off, he was ruggedly handsome.

At first you hadn’t given him too much thought. You’d never met him personally, after all, since you had different majors and you didn’t run in the same social circles. Sure, you’ve heard of him, but you didn’t really know him.

That changed this semester, however, when you somehow ended up in the same elective as him. Public speaking wasn’t something you were particularly interested in, but you figured it would be useful. When you first walked into your classroom you finally had the pleasure of getting to know Omi, your friendship cemented shortly after being paired for a project. Countless all-nighters and sharing stress over assignments would do that to a couple of acquaintances. Despite how close you got, you still never seemed to hang out for purposes outside of schoolwork. College life was just like that, you supposed. And now with the semester finishing up and everyone engrossed with their plans for the break, who knows what would become of your seemingly conditional relationship with Omi?

So you just had to do it now before you lost your chance.

One of Omi’s talents was cooking and baking – he often shared treats with you and your classmates, so you had the idea of sharing something of your own with him. You weren’t planning anything too grandiose. Admittedly, you weren’t the best at making food, but you figured that if there was one way to convey your affection for Omi, some homemade food would be the way to go. For all the times that he’s shared his food with others, not once have you seen someone give him food in return.

With that as your motivation, you stayed up all night making the perfect box of chocolates to complement your confession. You painstakingly infused different flavors into the chocolates and made various fillings to come up with a decent variety of sweets. Once completely cooled, you carefully arranged them in a box, taking care to not deform the chocolates as you packed them. You put the top on, making sure it’s snug, then continue on to the task of selecting a gift wrap.

‘What’s Omi’s favorite color, anyway?’ you ponder.

After sifting through your available supply, your hand hovers over two choices – a rose gold wrapping and a more Christmas-themed green and red wrapping.

‘Is it too obvious if I choose the rose gold…?’

As you are about to grab it, your mind suddenly wanders again as you consider the other wrapping paper.

‘But if the confession goes wrong I could always say that it’s a Christmas gift.’

A mental battle ensues as you contemplate the pros and cons of using a romantic pink for your wrapping paper versus a Christmas-themed one.

Several minutes later you’ve produced a box of chocolates wrapped in rose gold wrapping paper, tied intricately with a red bow. Before you can start to second guess yourself you place it in your school bag before turning on your phone’s screen to check the time. With bleary eyes, you squint at the numbers, attempting to do some quick mental math.

‘Alright, so after I clean this up and get ready for bed I’ll have… 2 hours of sleep before I need to wake up for classes?’

You soak in a moment of silence, the dread of sleep deprivation creeping in on you before you heave a sigh and get started on cleaning up.

Flash forward to your current task of finding Omi. In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have left this to the last day before Christmas break – you didn’t even have electives today.

Does Omi even have classes today?

You weren’t familiar with his schedule, and it wasn’t like you could go around asking people if they’ve seen him. That was bound to start rumors.

As if Santa himself answered your prayers, you can faintly hear Omi’s voice from across the courtyard. Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone – he was with two underclassmen you frequently see him with in passing. They appear to be teasing him about something.

‘To hell with it.’ You decide as you stride towards them.

Omi notices your approach and raises a hand in greeting while his friends quiet down. Throwing your pride to the sky, without any greeting or preamble, you take the box of chocolates out from your bag and raise it to the tall guy in offering.

“I really like you, Omi, and I’d love to go out on a date with you this Christmas!”

Omi’s face turns blank as if he can’t register your words. To make things worse, his friends burst into chuckles. You can feel a blush burning on your cheeks and tears well up in your eyes in embarrassment. The tears in your eyes threaten to fall when Omi appears to get over himself but instead lightly chuckles along with them.

“Look, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to be an asshole about it.” You say viciously, threatening effect probably lost by the way your voice cracks. “I thought you were a nice guy.”

Omi’s eyes immediately widen and he shakes his head vigorously. His friends start sputtering apologies, and Omi talks over them.

“Whoa whoa, no, you’re misunderstanding me.” He desperately calls out as you’re about to turn and leave. He quickly digs through his backpack and takes out a box similar to yours, your name written on it in Omi’s familiar penmanship.

You warily take it from him then open it up.

‘Chocolates?!’

You can’t help but gape at the wide array of chocolate sweets that fill the box. They look way better than your shoddy attempts.

“Looks like we had the same idea.” Omi says with a big grin, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I was going to ask you out on a Christmas date, but looks like you beat me to it.”

You carefully put the box in your bag and let it rest on the ground then promptly tackle Omi in a surge of emotion. He readily scoops you up into a bear hug and spins you around. When he sets you down, you remain in his embrace.

“So… is that a yes?”

He grins even wider in response and squeezes you tightly.

“Definitely.”

#a3!#a3 #omi fushimi #a3! scenarios #omi x reader #a3 omi #a3game #director make us queue

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hitsuackerman · 4 years

Text

What in the World? (Akaashi Keiji x Reader) pt.10

a/n: so this was supposedly a one-shot but i realized it was too long so it eventually led to an ongoing full on fic xD thank you all so much for spending the time to read this! :) have a bit of action in this chapter :’) this a long chapter so...

Akaashi’s lineup: @alluring-akaashi @oikawalmart-hq @extrasugafree @bbykiyoomi @apricotjihyo @awings @simpformiya @sayakaaaaaa @colorseeingchick @something-that-idk (i have no idea why i can’t tag some of you :( huhu )

links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 11

“Shall we?” Offering his arm, you gladly accepted it. This time, he couldn’t help the small content smile on his face when you fully held on to him. When the both of you were out of the gym, Bokuto had already turned around the corner leaving you two alone. “So, let me get this straight. You’re not from here, you have powers, and I somehow give you energy?”

“More or less.” Your other hand began to play with his fingers. “But it never goes past 35%.”

“How does it feel? To be stuck at that level? Is it frustrating for you?” He caught your fingers and intertwined them in his.

“Ooh~ You’re a curious one.” By now your knees were weak from being able to hold his hand. “At first, I was scared. Having to assess the situation is always tricky. When I realized that no one here has a quirk, I guess it was safe to assume that nothing could go wrong. It doesn’t necessarily suck. Being here for almost 3 months now, I actually like having not to rely on my quirk.”

“Do you ever think about what’s happening in your, uhh, dimension?”

“I do, every now and then.” For a second, you debated on telling him about being able to feel Todoroki’s warmth on your hands. “But, compared to my dimension, your world is a paradise.”

“What was UA, then?”

“It was the top school in Japan for producing great heroes.”

“Heroes?”

“Yeah.” God it felt so good to talk about home. Leaning your head on his arm, you continued. “I wanted to become a hero. Took the exam, passed, and got placed on the hero course. It sounds weird, I know, but it's pretty common there.”

“Your world sounds like a manga.” He stopped walking and faced you. Seeing you in a new light made him feel as if that tug he kept feeling had its purpose.

The moment he met you, Akaashi couldn’t help but want to get to know you more. When you took up the offer to be manager, it was the perfect opportunity. During the first day, he had managed to show off a bit by saving you from that particular chance ball. He could still remember the way you kept his eyes on him for longer periods of time.

He did feel that something was off. The bike-firecracker incident never made sense to him. Now that you told him, things just made sense now. But, with the knowledge that you liked him back, would it be unethical or selfish that he wished you would prefer to stay here?

“It’s not selfish, Akaashi.” His eyes widened. “No, I don’t read minds. It was just obvious because I’ve been thinking about the same thing too.”

The sounds of chattering and the aroma of the barbeque was much nearer now. Letting go of his arm, you made him enter the area first and trailed behind him. Walking back to your spot, you were met with empty plates and immediately assumed that Bokuto ate both your shares. Not minding it too much, Akaashi and you went with the team and ate there.

Hours had passed and the sun was now setting. Each team was now saying farewell to the others. Watching them board the bus, all of you were now waving the Karasuno crows goodbye. The next time you would see them would be in a few months. Not long after, the Fukurodani team was now lining up to enter the bus.

Taking the same seat, you stuffed your bag beneath you and wondered who would take the vacant seat. Bokuto had now entered the bus and he beamed when he saw the vacancy, before he could even sit…

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi spoke with a deadly unemotional tone. “Washio-san has something he wants to tell you.”

Tossing his bag to the seat beside you, Akaashi had to smirk at the face his friend gave him. Pouty face and deflated hair when Washio denied the allegations about him. Crossing his arms to his chest, Bokuto had to nod and cheer for his friend. This would have to be the first time for him to actually see such a range of emotion from him. Though, if he were to be honest, Bokuto was going to give the seat to Akaashi.

“You don’t feel sorry for Washio-san?” You teased your seatmate.

“Bokuto-san falls asleep every time we head back to school.” Especially when he sits beside their # 2 player. “I can switch seats with him if you want.”

Holding his shirt, you looked down and avoided eye contact. Your palms glowed a bit and he covered the glow with his hands, bringing them to his thighs. Brushing his thumb on your skin, you relaxed and huffed at his little prank.

The scenery was now changing as the travel back home began. Feeling drowsy, Akaashi offered his shoulder with red cheeks. Not long after, your breathing slowed down and evened. He stared at your sleeping form and rested his head on yours. The rest of the team were now sleeping so a little PDA was safe.

Noticing how your palms would occasionally glow faintly, he made sure to cover them before allowing himself the privilege to fall asleep.

Around 30 minutes before the bus would reach the school, Akaashi woke up. With your head nuzzling his neck and your palms faintly glowing, he was sure he could have a stroke with the amount of blood rushing through his cheeks. Glancing at the view, it wouldn’t be long before the bus would arrive.

Slowly checking if the others were still sleeping, he took a look at your palms. There were a million questions running through his brain. How old were you when you found out about your quirk? What was life like with having quirks? When you stated you went to a school that nurtured heroes, does that mean the diversity of quirks were so wide and varied? Was this ‘Shoto’ one of your friends from your side of the dimension?

With the sun now low in the orange and red sky, he covered your hands once more. Just in time for you to stir and wake up. Stretching a bit, he saw how the glow began to disappear.

“Sleep well?”

“You make a great pillow.” It was true though.

“The coach will be gathering us for a short meeting later.” He explained. “Do you want to have dinner?”

“In the same cafe?” Not bothering to fight the smile, you felt your palms heating up. Taking them away from his, you hid them underneath your thighs. Your face and the tips of your ears red. “Sorry. That happens when I can’t control my feelings.”

“Yes. In the same cafe.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of you being flustered and your quirk showing it.

Moments later, all of you were now seated on the gym floors. The small announcement the coach gave was nothing too important. He merely stated that the incoming practices will be a little longer and a bit more straining for the players. Everyone nodded and took note of the days with no practices. Next thing you knew, you were now saying goodbye to the others and walking down the streets with Akaashi.

“Can I hold your hand?” He needed to make sure you were on the same page. There was no answer. You simply held his hand and laced your fingers with his. Seeing you giddy always made him happy.

“I bet you have a lot of questions. Go ahead and ask.”

“What’s your world like?”

“Just like this except we had bad guys almost everywhere. One of the worst one’s sounds like Tsukki, by the way.”

“Oh. That’s why.” He did not expect you to cling on to him when you met the tall middle blocker of Karasuno. The way your tightness and slight trembling of your shoulders made him wonder if you had any kind of trauma. He was wrong, but not really. “Have you fought big time bad guys?”

“Once… No twice. No wait, three times!” There were just too many instances by now. “The worst would have to be the one where we tried to save a little girl from her guardian. I didn’t fight the big boss but I did fight one of his henchmen. It was troublesome and I got badly injured.”

Opening the doors to the cafe, the two of you ordered your respective dishes and sat in the same booth. This time, you sat beside each other. Akaashi’s hand still laced with yours.

“Why did you want to be a hero?”

“That’s what everybody, or at least a big majority, wanted to be.” He noticed how your stare became distant. “My quirk is pretty high up there and my parents were proud. Everyone told me and even I began to think that things would be a walk in the park.”

“What’s your quirk at 100%?” He just had to ask.

“Well…” You never used your quirk at 100%. “I’ve never used it to that percentage. I usually use it until 80%. But, the thing with me is that if my quirk is below 40%, I can only do basic things. If it’s changing properties, then I can do plants. If it’s at 80% then you can expect to see me breaking huge chunks of cement or lifting boulders 50 times my weight. It’s draining but we train everyday.”

“That’s a lot of information to swallow.” He admitted. The laugh you gave him was reassuring enough. “Why did you tell me?”

“I never intended on telling you today. I envisioned myself saving a cat or safely pushing an old lady away from danger.” Facepalming, you cringed at how you exposed yourself. Akaashi understood that his little flaunting act was the main cause why you two were now holding hands in a small booth waiting for your food.

“So, Ushiwaka being your ex?”

You laughed. A loud one.

“I have never met that person in my life!” Shaking your head with amusement, you explained how you had to search his nearly empty social media accounts. Or the shock you experienced when you found out about him.

“You hold no memories here? Not even random childhood memories from your mom?”

“The only memories I have are from my dimension. It’s creepy looking at pictures of your younger self and having zero recollection. I got used to seeing it though. Every now and then I get tidbits of information as to who I was here. But it just stops at the present.”

“You’re very brave.” He couldn’t imagine the mental stress you were going through. “You really are meant to be a hero.”

“Frankly speaking, being a hero might sound cool and all but it…” Without realizing, you squeezed his hand. Chewing on your lower lip, you let out a shaky exhale. “It’s petrifying. Having villains infiltrate your school activities, defending the weak, and having to face the uncertainty of making it out alive takes a toll on you.”

“I’m sorry. I touched a sensitive topic.”

“Is it sad to say that’s not even a sensitive topic?” You leaned onto his shoulder. “I’ve fought with my life on the line twice. The other one got me staying in the hospital for 2 weeks.”

“Well,” He raised your head, index and thumb softly holding your chin. His gunmetal eyes met your (e/c). “I may not have powers or a quirk, but I will try my best to become a hero to you.”

“Akaashi…”

Your eyes began to cloud and lower lip to quiver. Hearing such simple words may sound cheesy to regular people in his dimension, but as someone who came from an environment where you were trained to put others first, it was enough to let you blink a waterfall of tears. Each mental strain you had undergone, from the USJ Attack, the LoV infiltrating your training camp, and even having to help Fatgum and Kiri with the eight precepts manifested.

Letting go of your hand, he pulled you into his arms. It made him think what exactly did you go through to make you react to those words. He meant them with all his being, of course, but the impact left him speechless. Maybe life in hero centered mangas weren’t as great as he thought.

Right on time, when you calmed down, the food arrived.

When the both of you were now standing outside your houses, you took your phone and checked the time. Avoiding eye contact, you scratched your nape.

“It’s still relatively early,” You were being bold and that amazed you. “Do you wanna drop by my house and chill? BUT NOT IN THAT WAY, OKAY! Just like, you know, get to know each other more or some shit.”

Taking the lead, Akaashi dragged your red face all the way to your door. Opening the entryway for you, you stepped in with your mother yelling from the kitchen. Announcing that Akaashi was here and that the two of you would stay in your room, you heard some teasing. Going up the stairs, your o-mother yelled your name.

“(y/n)!”

“Mom?”

“...Use protection!”

“WHAT THE HECK?! MOM!”

You half expected she would add more salt to the burn but that was least expected. Leading the red faced Akaashi to your room, he was surprised to see it very empty and barely any mementos. You weren’t kidding when you said you had no memories until the day you arrived here. Telling him to put his bag on your bed, he complied and soon helped in getting some pillows from the storage room. Seconds later, both of you were now sitting on the floor.

“What was your childhood like, Akaashi?”

“Normal for my dimension’s standards.” He reached for your hands and admired how you activated the yellow glow. “Aside from volleyball, I also liked reading. No particular genre, anything that catches my eye.”

“Do you plan to go pro?”

“Not quite.” He truthfully answered. “Volleyball is my life but I would like to take up literature one day.”

“What made you choose Fukurodani?”

“I was sent a recommendation letter. I had the option to choose between 2 schools but I chose this one.”

“Why choose this school?”

“I saw Bokuto-san playing and I was just so mesmerized at how much he loved the sport. I had no idea just how much of a handful he was but I don’t mind. Bokuto-san is who he is.” His eyes followed the small glowing orbs you had formed again. With the privacy surrounding you two, the orbs were much brighter and bigger. “What was your childhood like?”

“A rollercoaster ride.” Focusing a bit on your quirk, you morphed the orbs into one. Slowly the balls began to mold into an owl. Akaashi’s eyes sparkled at the sight before him. “When my quirk fully manifested, my parents boasted me around. It caught the attention of some big pro hero. Next thing I knew, my parents signed some papers and I was meeting up with his kid.”

“I don’t quite understand, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” The owl landed on Akaashi’s head and a few feathers of light began to float in front of him. “In my world, we have this thing called quirk-marriages. It’s exactly like an arranged marriage except it involves the person’s quirk.”

“Y-you’re engaged?” The look of horror in his eyes was clear.

“Was.” You saw his shoulders relax. “The guy I was supposed to marry was Todoroki Shoto, not that the name even matters here, and the engagement got called off two years ago. Both of us were glad his dad had an epiphany. He was sweet and all but I never saw him in that way.”

“What was his quirk?”

“Todoroki was a special one. He was the result of a quirk marriage. He has two.” Akaashi’s eyebrows jumped at the thought of having two kinds of quirks. One was enough but two? “We teased him ‘half and half’ since his quirk is fire and ice.”

“Wow. He balances himself.”

“He really does~ Even his hair is balanced. Half white and half red.”

“Huh, this world really is bland compared to yours.”

“On the contrary, it’s not.”

“I highly doubt that, (l/n). Everyday is like an unknown chapter waiting to present itself. The prospect of living or dying high, but I’m pretty sure all of you find it to be worth the hassle.”

“There’s that but there’s also you.” It was your turn to see him with his eyes wide open. It felt so fluffy to see the prettiest setter staring at your palms and trying his best to control the blood rushing on his cheeks. “I know you’ve only met me for less than 3 months, but I can say that you’ve given me comfort in ways you can’t fathom.”

Feeling his chest swelling, he pulled you back into his arms. His soft hair tickling your cheek as you relaxed into his arms. Your warmth was comforting as he buried himself in your hair.

“Do you wanna see me use it on that plant?” You offered. Voice a little muffled from inhaling his godly scent. “You’ve been touching me a lot so I might have a bit more juice-- gods that sounds wrong but you get the point.”

“If you insist.”

Slowly unwrapping his arms, you pouted at the sensation of wanting to just stay still and hug him back. Caressing your cheek, Akaashi smiled a bit. Taking in sharp breath, you could feel your heart rate rising again. Screw it. There was no way you were going to ruin the moment.

Stretching your hand, your palm glowed the brightest it's ever been since you arrived in this dimension. Following the tugging sensation, you began to manipulate the air around the houseplant. Akaashi did a double take when he realized what you were doing. Watching the area around the plant distort, it only took a second before the small pot was now floating above your palm.

Placing the little pot in between you two, your mind was blank and you were not sure what to change it into. You could go bold and flashy by changing it completely into a new plant or just turn it back into a desert rose.

“What flowers do you like looking at, Akaashi?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Do you like roses?”

“I don’t see a reason not to.”

Nodding your head, you were now using both your hands. The Hoya plant now began to hover along with the soil. With each curl of your finger, the plant began to morph into something else. The floating orbs were nowhere to be seen. In the blink of an eye, Akaashi let out a small ‘oh’ once a single stem of a rose now replaced the bushy succulent from before.

The rose was not fully opened yet. Placing everything back into the pot, you were now using just one hand. Pointing your finger at the closed bud, you traced imaginary circles with your index and the man in front of you watched it bloom in front of his eyes.

“W-why aren’t there any floating lights?” He had to wonder.

“I like to be flashy sometimes~” You smirked. “I can make them but for small magical stuff like these, it’s all up to me if I want them or skip ‘em.”

“You just changed the entire composition of the succulent.” His finger touching the soft petal. “Are you tired?”

“Just a bit. My body gets used to it pretty quickly. This used to be a desert rose but I changed it into the Hoya plant last week. So by now, it’s not too tiring.”

“Your quirk is amazing.” Akaashi praised you. His hand found your cheek again. Leaning to his touch, you concluded that he was even more addictive than you thought. In small and delicate movements, his thumb brushed your pink tainted cheeks. “You must’ve been very strong.”

“I tend to hold back when I use my quirk.” You looked down. “My quirk isn’t that strong because of that.”

“Why hold back something so beautiful?”

“It can be destructive just like all the other quirks.” Patting your lap, the owl you made rested on the spot you touched. “If I’m in a neutral or content state, its glow is yellow or what I want it to be. But once my negative emotions come out, it tends to turn into either red or black.”

“How was it when you first came here?”

“It was yellow. Faint but yellow.” Shifting the colors of the owl, Akaashi took note of how faint the glow was when you first arrived. The glow was barely there from what he could tell. When it shifted to red, the soft edges were now replaced with torn and jagged lines. The cuteness of the owl faded away into a more feral and hungry looking bird. Snapping your finger, the creature disappeared. “You’re not weirded out?”

“I am.” Akaashi stared blindly into space. “It’s a lot to digest. A part of me thinks this is all a dream but I know it’s not.”

“It is information overload.” For a moment, you wanted to crawl into his lap and nuzzle on to his neck. Instead, you scratched your cheek and returned the plant to its original spot. “If I were to be honest, I’m not sure if telling you was the right thing to do. I would rather have you be ignorant than to be mixed into the chaos of my world.”

“You wanted to be a hero, right?” Noticing how you were chewing your inner cheek, he had to wonder. What other secrets were you keeping? “Then there’s no reason for me not to trust you. You may not be from here but you're a main protagonist in my personal world.”

“God. Even in times like this you’re so beautiful.” You uttered under your breath.

Stretching his arms out, you saw his smile once more. Giving a nod, he gestures for you to come closer and sit on his lap. With a fast beating heart, he adjusted his position to make you more comfortable. Once the both of you were good, he tucked a loose strand of hair. His mesmerizing eyes solely focused on you.

“Let’s be each other's hero, (l/n)?”

“You know,” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Heroes aren’t supposed to leave debts.”

“I believe I don’t owe anybody.” Once again his large hand caressed your cheek. His thumb lightly brushing your lower lip. Pulling you in inch by inch, his eyes landed on your lips and back to your eyes. “Are you always this alluring?”

“Eh. Depends on whose lap I’m sitting on.”

Closing the gap together, your lips met his soft one’s. This was nothing compared to your first kiss. The way his lips molded with yours made each butterfly in your belly to flutter. Feeling him snaking his arms around your waist, you gladly pulled him in closer and hugged him tighter. By now, you were sure that Akaashi could feel your rapidly beating heart.

Feeling his tongue running along your lower lip, you happily gave him entrance. It was a rather sloppy and messy kiss from this point on. Shifting your position, you now straddled him and tangled your fingers through his hair.

As of the moment, the only thing in both your minds was the feeling of your lips and tongue dancing with each other. If this was a dream, then you would be too scared to wake up. In all the days of being in this dimension, it was only now you felt that you were truly safe and belonged.

Being human, the both of you broke the kiss at the same time. Panting and catching both your breaths.

Noticing your room was a bit brighter than before, the both of you stared at the small firefly like orbs that danced around the both of you. Hiding your face on his shoulder, Akaashi chuckled and wrapped his arms around you once more.

- - - - -

a/n: hope ya’ll like that smol kissing scene XD and yes Akaashi is still accepting in his lineup! :)

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi #akaashi keiji #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu akaashi

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bbq-hawks-wings · 4 years

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Revisiting Hawk’s MBTI type

At least a year ago someone asked me what MBTI personality type I think Hawks canonically seems to have. I think I gave it my best effort at the time, but now with what I’m more solidly convicted of what particular actions he took meant and more instances to observe him I wanted to go back and look at it again.

At the time I thought his personality type was ISFP, but I wanted to double-check my work as some of my preconceptions of the time may have muddled my analysis so I wanted to go through each letter and see if I changed my mind or not and why. The old analysis contains manga spoilers if you want to go back and read it, but this one doesn’t really have any, at least not explicit ones. Just be aware that these are made with insights to his character not yet shown in the anime and even paint a very different picture than what season 4 and OJ2 paint of his character so far.

Extroverted [E] or Introverted [I]? - Same: Introverted

Back when, I came to this conclusion mainly because I didn’t have a lot of information in regards to his personal life to go off of at all but knew for certain the fact that he sought opportunity to be alone and unbothered - even if just infrequently. While the distinguishing factor between being an introvert vs an extrovert is whether or not social interaction gives you energy or expends it (and most people think it’s an either/or when it’s really more of a spectrum in which humans need a combination of both to remain emotionally and mentally healthy) many people are “ambiverts” who are split fairly evenly down the middle.

Now, we have concrete evidence he doesn’t have many, if any, deeply personal relationships. While he isn’t closed off to new friendships and does seem to enjoy the company of others, I don’t have any reason to believe he doesn’t still seek opportunities for solitude where others do not monopolize his thought life. He still strikes me as leaning into introvert on the either/or scale.

Observant [S] or Intuitive [N]? - Changed: Intuitive

Now that we have multiple examples of him thinking ahead, plotting, planning, keeping his options open, and reacting on the fly we can tell he clearly possesses the ability to take a single situation or limited information and imagine a plethora of outcomes and plan for several at a time. All options have to be open at all times. At the very least this is habit, even if he’s not naturally inclined to think this way - so with how conditioned he is to operate in this way it still counts towards his personality type, though it could change over time depending on how deeply ingrained into him it actually is.

I often struggle with telling these two categories apart as either one has the potential to be vastly creative, analytical, and all around strategic and clever; but the reason I ultimately landed on Intuitive because it’s described as the “bigger picture” approach of the two, and he’s been described by a few different characters as someone “able to see the big picture” and even ties into his iconic line of, “If it means letting everyone be at ease, I’ll gladly get my hands dirty.”

Thinking [T] or Feeling [F]? - Same: Feeling

While Hawks is more than capable of acting “rationally” or rationalizing away his feelings in situations where he’s asked to do something that makes him uncomfortable, his knee-jerk reaction is nearly always an emotional one. His motivations have a deep emotional undercurrent. He’s been shown to be a highly empathetic person. He relates to others on an emotional level, not a logical one, and so on. He connects to others as people with human experiences, fears, dreams, and values. By and far he’s a firmly cemented Feeling type.

Judging [J] or Prospective [P]? - Changed: Judging

This one was a little tricky to parse out as it's the other set of categories I struggle with telling apart, and while I might be inclined to say he might prefer the freedom to take a prospective approach to his life (just going with the flow, looking at your options and acting as you feel lead, etc.), a judging approach is once again habitual for him and often necessary for survival. He plots and plans; but he always has to be flexible. New information or developments mean the current plan he’s on has to be adapted to reach the same intended results. Particularly, he’s at least stuck playing by others’ rules and getting the outcomes they want and operating in a way where he can call upon others quickly and get them up to speed. He still prefers to work solo, however, as fewer involved parties means fewer variables and theoretically less stress and mental strain being expended to account for the added uncertainty and even perceived weaknesses that would only complicate the situation at hand when he'd rather stay focused.

New final type: INFJ -T!

The Advocate personality type is very rare, making up less than one percent of the population, but they nonetheless leave their mark on the world. Advocates have an inborn sense of idealism and morality, but what sets them apart is that they are not idle dreamers. These individuals are capable of taking concrete steps to realize their goals and make a lasting positive impact.

People with this personality type tend to see helping others as their purpose in life. Advocates can often be found engaging in rescue efforts and doing charity work. However, their real passion is to get to the heart of the issue so that people need not be rescued at all. (via 16personalities.com)

Now, doesn’t THAT look familiar! Looking through my old analysis vs this new one I think this is more true to his character which makes the updated analysis worth it.

#takami keigo #keigo takami #bnha hawks #hawks bnha #mha hawks #hawks mha #hawks #let's talk hawks

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lindorthedragonslayer · 4 years

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Aerith/Cloud’s Resolution Scene ✨

Normally, I like just reading other people’s thoughts on things, but since this scene, and Aerith herself are so tragically underappreciated, I decided to contribute to the conversation myself. :)

Warning: “there will be monsters.” (I.e. there will obviously be spoilers for FFVII Remake, but also the original game - based on my vague childhood memories of it, anyhow - Advent Children, and defs some Clerith bias shining through, so if that ain’t your cup of tea, please scroll away~)

This scene was one of my absolute FAVOURITES in the remake because - on top of it being both visually, and musically stunning, as well as amazingly well-acted - I felt like it showcased Aerith, and Cloud’s characters, and their dynamic SO incredibly well.

⁑ On Aerith ⁑

First, there’s Aerith. At the start of the scene, Aerith is her usual spirited self. When Cloud asks if she’s okay, she immediately reassures him, telling him that being back at Shinra was like “going back to [her] childhood home,” that it wasn’t "that bad,” even though that was far from the truth. Similarly when Cloud informs her that her “mom’s really worried, too,” Aerith, true to form, latches onto the chance to further lighten up the mood by teasing him about the unsaid sentiment that he was also worried about her (although this unexpectedly backfires on her).

Time, and again, it is implied that Remake!Aerith knows details that she shouldn’t, and the outcome of events that haven’t transpired yet (maybe the Whispers showed her glimpses of the future like they did with Cloud, and co.?). So, I believe that it is her awareness of her tragic fate paired with her own grief over suddenly losing her mom, Zack - and now Elmyra, and her home, too - that prompts her to deliver her hauntingly beautiful speech about cherishing the present moment, to express her heartfelt gratitude to Cloud for all the happiness he’d given her, and to say her iconic “you can’t fall in love with me” line. She knows perfectly well how devastating it is to suddenly lose someone precious to you, so she tries to find a way to both prepare Cloud for that seeming inevitability, and also prevent him from getting too attached to her, and experiencing the same profound sense of loss she has because of her.

I think it’s so sad, yet beautiful how Aerith’s loneliness is at the very heart of so many of her words, and actions. Aerith is so spirited, and lively, so full of life, because, to her, the girl who suffered so many great, and sudden losses, each, and every moment is “so precious, and fleeting.” Because of her early childhood, she learned to find, and appreciate the little joys in life, and the good in the people around her - even, and especially when neither were immediately apparent. This sad, pure girl, who is so touched by people simply seeking her out to be with her, works so hard to ensure, and protect the happiness, and lives of those precious to her, even if it comes at the cost of her own.

⁑ On Cloud ⁑

Then, there’s Cloud. In this scene, Cloud refuses to go along with Aerith’s charade: he calls her out on her “childhood home” lie; ignoring her teasing tone, he sincerely admits to being worried about her; and, he listens attentively to what she does honestly say, encouraging her to continue speaking, even when she’s uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

For the very first time in the story, the seemingly aloof Cloud actually takes a firm stance on something, and even fights for it. When Aerith tells him “not to fall in love with [her],” that his feelings for her “[aren’t] real,” Cloud responds with, “Don’t I get a say in all this?” With this curt response, Cloud actually asserts himself for a change. Cloud, the boy who, up until now, never really bothered to correct anyone’s (often misguided) impressions of him, who repeatedly chose to drop matters, and distance himself instead. Who later has an identity crisis, and doubts whether, or not “Cloud Strife,” and all his thoughts, feelings, and memories are truly real, and his, and not something Sephiroth simply created. Right here, and now, for the very first time, Cloud interjects, gets annoyed, and stands up for himself when someone tries to decide how he feels, and keep him away.

And then, Cloud, the boy who coped with social rejection all this time by setting himself apart, reacts to Aerith’s attempt to push him away by taking a page from Aerith’s own book: he holds his ground, and further inserts himself into her life. “I’m coming for you.” This quiet, but firm resolution of his marks the beginning of Cloud’s journey to becoming the hero, and person he always wanted to be, I think. Previously, Cloud simply, and begrudgingly went with the flow: while he helped Avalanche, Jessie, T*fa, and Aerith (because “he’s a merc,” and, a good guy at heart), he never offered his own input on matters, and always yielded to their decisions, even if he wasn’t too keen on it himself. However, taking Aerith back from Shinra was so immensely important to him; it was a cause he decided to fight for all on his own, regardless, and in spite of everyone’s (Aerith, Elmyra, T*fa, Barret’s) contrary stances on the matter, and a cause that he gradually started calling all of the shots for. By the end of the mission, and game, the others actually look to Cloud for direction on what to do next, cementing his role as the leader of their ragtag group.

⁑ On Cloud & Aerith/Clerith ⁑

Now what I’ve always loved about Aerith, and Cloud’s relationship with each other is that - whether you see it romantically, or platonically - their connection is based on an easy friendship that brought both of them so much happiness, comfort, courage, and strength. Their bond with each other wasn’t built on any epic, world-shattering event that brought them together, but rather on a thousand quiet, little moments that they chose to share together.

For Aerith, who was weighed down by so much sorrow, and unwanted responsibility, Cloud was someone who gave her so much to smile, and fight for. With Cloud, she was able to just let loose, and really live: being with him allowed her to be her true cheeky, mischievous, and energetic self without any restraints; to adventure in, and be part of the outside world she longed for without fear. At the same time, Cloud inspired her to be a little more open, and vulnerable, as well as to face her Cetra heritage head on in order to save the Planet that he, and all her loved ones live on - two huge shifts for her as someone accustomed to hiding behind a smile, and turning away from trouble.

Likewise, for Cloud, Aerith was someone who both accepted him for exactly who he was, while also inspiring him to be better. When presented with Cloud’s cold, and distant SOLDIER facade, Aerith wasn’t deterred in the slightest; in fact, she became even more determined to stick by his side, and get him to open up to her. Through her relentless teasing, silly antics, and steadfast friendliness, Aerith quickly broke down many of the walls Cloud built around himself, encouraging him to just be himself without any pretenses. After meeting Aerith, Cloud was inspired to do so many things he previously scoffed at, like taking a break, and being more actively involved with others. In Aerith’s company, Cloud was happy, and showed that he did actually care in his own awkward, clumsy way. However, Aerith didn’t “fix” Cloud with her love, nor did she make herself the centre of his universe: she simply stubbornly stayed by his side, which encouraged him to really appreciate, and rely on the people around him, work through his issues himself, and even save the Planet.

All in all, I believe that Aerith, and Cloud’s resolution scene perfectly captured every aspect of their relationship together. As usual, they’re initially shown directly across from each other, gazes locked, but choosing to close the distance between them. It’s a quiet moment where nothing particularly major, or dramatic happens - even the music is quiet, and gets quieter still at its climax. Yet, there’s so much love evident in every little moment, and gesture they make: they inspire honesty in each other, give each other the motivation to face another day, and once again make their desire to be together for just a little bit longer so heartbreakingly obvious. Furthermore, Cloud’s later claims about being someone who cherishes everything, and being okay because he isn’t alone anymore are so reminiscent, I think, of Aerith’s monologue here, proving that he really did take her words to heart.

Despite the game’s purposeful ambiguity in the romance department (lest they make multiple version of the same scene, or have Cloud come off as a player), it is still clear that, as friends, or lovers (this part is up to personal interpretation, and preferences), Cloud, and Aerith’s bond with one another is one that brought them so much happiness, and strength, making it one of the most precious ones they have. In a game that heavily highlights contrasts, Cloud, and Aerith are an example of how opposite personalities can complement each other so well, making it all the more beautiful, and tragic. That’s what I believe, anyway.

#final fantasy vii #aerith gainsborough #cloud strife #clerith #ffviir spoilers #games #text #blahblahblah #THIS IS SO NERDY OF ME TO WRITE A LITERAL ESSAY ON THEM #BUT I WAS INITIALLY REALLY EXCITED TO HEAR PEOPLE FANGIRL ABOUT AERITH + CLERITH #SINCE WHEN I WAS SMOL I DIDN'T GET TO EXPERIENCE THAT #AND IMAGINE MY DISAPPOINTMENT TO FIND THAT THERE'S SO LITTLE APPRECIATION FOR EITHER #TT^TT #I JUST LOVE THEM BOTH SO MUCH #AND THEY DESERVE EVERY HAPPINESS #AND EVEN THOUGH EVERYONE'S ENTITLED TO THEIR OWN OPINIONS #PEOPLE NEED TO LOVE THEM TOO #anyhow thank you for listening to my ted talk LMAO #if anyone actually reads all of this i'll be SUPER DUPER impressed

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milknette · 4 years

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day 17 - masquerade

you’ll wind up like the wreck you hide, behind that mask you use.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

"IT'S a masquerade, but it's unique because this time the masks aren't over your eyes, but they're over your mouth."

Nadja Chamack is visibly thrown, but maintains her calm attitude as she adjusts the face mask on her lips. "Well, that certainly is something… new," she finally decides to respond. "What made you decide on such a theme for the Mayor's— your father's annual Presidential Ball?"

Chloé shrugs, rolling her eyes. "Well, obviously I wanted a normal event, but that's impossible because of this stupid virus," she says, annoyingly clicking her tongue. "So I suggested that we do this instead."

"Alright then," Nadja remarks, before taking out a remote that controlled the large screen behind them. "Now, we have here some questions from Parisians who want to know more about the impending ball."

"Whatever," she only scoffs, before turning her head to face the screen.

[USER 1]: I don't understand why you don't just hold a regular event. Quarantine is lifted already, we don't need to be cautious anymore.

"Ha!" She snorts, shaking her head. "Are you insane? Just because quarantine's over doesn't mean we can just pretend nothing happened."

[USER 2]: But there's a vaccine and cure already available, right? Just have everyone take it, it's not that hard.

"Not everyone can, though," Chloé snaps at the screen. "Daddy's working hard to make it available for the public, but there are still people out there who can't access it. Try thinking about someone other than yourself for a change?"

[USER 3]: You're not even properly informed. Masks aren't good for anyone, they just make the virus worse—

Nadja shuts the screen closed, evidently aware of how irritated her special guest is becoming.

"Chloé, now…"

One can almost see the cartoonish tick that appears on her forehead. "Is this really what most of you believe? No wonder daddy's tired all the time, it's because some of you are so foolish as to think…"

"Chloé, we have another guest who—"

"No more guests," she seethes, whipping her head to the screen:

Only to come face-to-face with her personal idol.

(And Chat Noir, but… eh.)

"We got your invite, Chloé, and we'd love to go. It's a good advocacy that you're working toward, and we appreciate it!"

Ladybug smiles at the camera, with Chat enthusiastically doing a thumbs up in the background.

"See you then! Bug out!"

"I've never seen you be so nice to Chloé," Chat Noir starts, as they carefully sit on the ledge. He wears a black face mask with a single green paw in the middle— a gift Ladybug had made him after learning how to make ones that actually protected against the virus.

(Chat's only too happy that she had given him a gift at all.)

Ladybug shrugs. "I meant what I said," she says easily. "At least she's taking this pandemic seriously. And I like what their event stands for."

"Why don't they just cancel it, though?"

"Apparently they can't," she sighs. "The ball is necessary for Mayor Bourgeois' to maintain good relations with other leaders. But they're pulling out all the stops— having everyone tested, ensuring they've taken vaccines, social distancing… Chloé really doesn't want anyone to think they're just making light of the virus."

"Didn't expect that from her, huh?"

"I still think she's entitled, but at least I know I can count on her when it's important."

As the sun starts to go down, Ladybug decides to stand up and lazily stretch her arms. "Anyway, I have to go kitty. I'll see you this weekend? The Wear-A-Maskerade, don't forget!"

"I'm looking furward to it!"

He decides to show up as Adrien Agreste first.

(Ladybug told him she'd show up later on in the evening, so he figures he has some time before Chat Noir was needed.)

Chloé almost clings to him when he enters, before immediately stopping herself a few feet away. Instead, she bows to him. "Thanks for coming, Adrien."

(She's become a lot nicer since she started hanging out with Kagami— he figures that her strict moral code of goodness has started rubbing off on his childhood friend.

The need for social distancing helped, too.)

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he only responds, looking in wonder at his surroundings.

Everyone's wearing a face mask, but it's all from designer brands and labels. (In fact, he spots quite a few Agreste masks being sported by the attendees.)

Adrien can clearly identify who's who, but ultimately decides that anonymity wasn't the purpose of the masquerade— not of this one, at the very least.

Subconsciously, he lightly tugs on his own face mask, a white one with gold-colored embellishments, the undeniable Agreste label placed at the very center.

(He only feels much too relieved that his father had consulted with medical professionals on ensuring the masks were at their most effective; and not simply used for their aesthetic or luxury designs.

— though, make no mistake, the prices for these masks still cost an insane amount. "It's only right," his father tells him.

"Capitalist," Adrien only thinks back.)

He spends the next few hours speaking and socializing with the guests; especially in order to cement relationships and friendships with those who'd help his father's company.

It's tiring work, but he finds comfort that everyone is as careful as he is; maintaining distance as they speak, avoiding direct contact, and never, not even for a moment, taking their masks off.

The cycle of exhaustion ends as soon as Ladybug enters the room— a bright red-and-black spotted mask covering her mouth.

Everyone immediately stops what they're doing, and almost begin to crowd her.

It's only Chloé's sharp and strict voice, "Anyone who violates the social distancing rule will be promptly kicked out of the event", that prevents them from moving any further.

Ladybug's relieved smile— though not directed at him, makes his spirit soar and his heart beat.

Adrien figures now is as good a time as any to transform into Chat Noir.

Excusing himself from a conversation, Adrien quickly runs off to the nearest empty bathroom and locks the door. He quickly changes face masks— he prefers Ladybug's, of course— and transforms.

In a few minute, Chat Noir comes bursting through the entrance, altogether too-loudly announcing that "his lady's purrince has arrived."

The ball is fun, for the most part.

Except that Chloé keeps looking for Adrien and Ladybug keeps looking for Chat Noir so he finds himself more often in the bathroom transforming than much of anything else.

"You're going to have to retire one of you soon, Adrien," Plagg sighs exhaustedly, after being detransformed the nth time that night. "I don't know how long I can keep doing this. Or how long you can keep it up."

"What do you mean?" Adrien asks, breathing heavily as he leans over one of the sinks. "I'm fine!"

"No," his kwami starts slowly. "You're—"

An old man suddenly enters the bathroom, and Adrien almost panics. "Ahahahaha!" He laughs maniacally, before looking in the mirror. "You are really one funny guy, Adrien."

He turns briefly to the newcomer, then smiles somewhat insanely. "Just talking to my old pal over here," Adrien says, patting the mirror. "Talking to myself… you know, like I always do."

The elderly man just stares blankly at him then nods slowly, before backing away. Adrien heaves a sigh of relief as he disappears— failing to notice the amused wink that the stranger throws toward his kwami.

As soon as he's gone, Plagg makes it a point to ensure the door is locked.

"See, you even forgot to lock it this time!" He complains. "If not for Master— my mastery of being a great kwami, then you would've been found out!

"That doesn't even make sense," Adrien argues. "And it's just an elderly man, I doubt he knows anything."

(Well, Plagg begs to differ.)

"But okay, this is the last time," he finally relents. "I'll stop Chat Noir, because Chloé expects me to stay until the end. I'm sure Ladybug will understand, okay?"

He picks up his mask from the sink, and puts it on.

Then— "Plagg, claws out!"

Adrien fails to notice his kwami's panicked expression as he gets sucked inside the ring.

Chat Noir finds Ladybug out in the hallway, other empty aside from the two of them. She's busily typing away at her miraculous, barely even noticing as he steps outside the bathroom.

"Milady, what are you doing alone on such a mewtiful night?"

She rolls her eyes, barely letting her eyes rip away from the screen. "I'm not really one for parties," Ladybug replies easily. "I'll probably leave soon, too. What about you—"

As soon as she looks up to stare at him, the words die on her mouth.

Instead she stares at him— almost too intently, her eyes burning holes into his face.

(Is this really happening? Is Ladybug… checking him out? Has she fallen for him the same way he's loved her for months—)

"I know that the glamour of the ball is tempting, but I'd never thought you'd stoop so low…"

Huh.

"... as to literally steal something, I mean, what is that supposed to be? You being a cat burglar or something? That's not even all that clever…"

"Hey, wait…"

"... We're supposed to be superheroes, Chat, I never thought you'd do something so…"

"Milady…"

"... and a mask, of all things?! I thought you were taking this pandemic seriously— and parading around in someone else's mask is extremely irresponsible of you to…"

"Ladybug."

"... what?"

"What are you talking about?"

He stares at her, evidently confused, before her expression flattens and looks almost angry.

"I'm not dumb, Chat; everyone knows that's Adrien Agreste's mask— it's originally designed by his father, and there's literally no other copy of it in this world. So you definitely stole it from him…"

"But I didn't steal anything!"

Ladybug speaks first. "Then how would you explain wearing it around your neck?!"

"Maybe think about other possibilities before assuming that I stole it?!" Chat Noir argues, shaking his head. "I thought you'd know me well enough to know that I'm not a thief, Ladybug— in fact, I would never need to steal anything! I have enough money to last me a—

Oh, wait.

Oops.

"... what do you mean?"

"Haha, I was just kidding, I'm actually dirt poor and stole this mask! You should probably also look around for Adrien, he's passed out somewhere… in an alleyway… uh, YEAH, so…"

"If you didn't take that mask, then there's only one possibility…"

"No, no, don't connect the dots— leave the dots unconnected! Yeah, social distance those dots! There's a virus going around, you know, so you shouldn't—"

"Adrien?!"

#auyeah2020 #mlauyeahaugust2020 #auyeahaugust #auyeah august #ladybug #chat noir #ladynoir #ml #miraculous ladybug #milk writes #ml fic #ml fanfic #borderline crack! fic #im just angry ppl arent taking the pandemic seriously lmaokskd #anw remember to wear your masks when going out thanks!<333 #(also pls only go outside when its NECESSARY)#this has been ur random psa good night!

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ablogcalledrevenge · 4 years

Text

Potential (A General Hux x Reader Insert Multi-Chapter Fic, Rated T)

Chapter Three

The evening had started so promising and lovely. It was a simple gala to raise funds for the Order and a chance for you to meet the Council and higher Admirals. While General Hux did take direct orders from Supreme Leader Snoke, most decisions that concerned the First Order had to get approved by the Council. There were many nights where you listened to your husband rant about their incompetence and lack of foresight. Anything involving finances or major operations needed their say-so, and they did not grant it often. They were old members of the Imperial Army, kept fat by ancestral money and tarnishing reputations. You needed to figure out which ones to keep and which ones were expendable. When you took over you’d probably get rid of the Council entirely but for now they had power over the General and you needed to show respect.

Your husband had kept an arm around your waist almost the whole evening and you felt as though you were floating through the night. You were singing his praises, extolling triumph and virtue upon him and the First Order. Every nod in agreement was a credit in the coffers and point in your favor. Then it all went wrong.

You had stepped away to use the refresher and then gotten waylaid by some Colonel’s wife. While you found the lot of them vapid, you understood their usefulness in influencing their husband’s opinions, and so you spent a good few minutes exchanging pleasantries and gossip. They were loose with their tongues after some wine and you quickly learned how loyal some of the more affluent members were and to whom they were loyal. A good number viewed Snoke with indifference and merely cared about gaining control of the Galaxy again. They would follow General Hux before Snoke if the ideas were good enough and the rewards were large enough. These bloated old men just wanted the glory of the Empire restored and the status quo kept. You wouldn’t be doing that, but why burst their bubble so soon.

Excusing yourself, you searched the large hall for the flash of red that was your husband and found him talking with a handsome older gentleman. His eyes caught yours and your heart skipped a beat against your will. Under the glowing lights of the banquet hall, his cheeks flushed from the good food and drink, your husband looked resplendent. He was so full of vitality and power, oh your heart suddenly ached to be close to him. He would be magnificent when you gave him the helm of the galaxy.

“Ah, there you are my dear.” He said, grabbing your hand and rubbing your knuckles before pulling you to him and placing his hand back on your waist. The touch, even through your dress, was scorching. Touch with him always seemed to be one step forward, two steps back. He would kiss your hand or forehead every night before you retired but he never pushed further. Sometimes you would sit together in the evening after his shift, knees touching but if you even tried to get closer he would pull away. You couldn’t figure out why. If he wasn’t attracted to women, you wouldn’t have been offended. But if he wasn’t attracted to you, you’d rather know sooner than later. The rejection was starting to sting and you desperately craved some kind of intimacy.

“Forgive me for leaving you. I got a bit distracted by Colonel Paru’s wife. She just came back from Naboo and had so much to tell me.” You say bashfully, looking at the other man. He smiled but it did not reach his eyes. You turn towards your husband in a subtle move of solidarity.

“Not at all (Y/N), I was just speaking with Allegiant General Pryde.” Hux replies, pushing against your back towards your guest. Extending your hand gracefully, you allow Pryde to take it in a strong grip. His stare was very cold and dismissive.

“How nice to meet you Allegiant General. How are you enjoying the party?” You ask pleasantly, pulling your hand back with a strained smile. While you enjoyed socializing and subtly employing your influence, you were tired. Everyone around you felt like a statue, so stiff and impersonal. It reminded you too much of your mother’s parties, where everyone was trying to vye for meager power and hid behind invisible masks.

“It’s quite the glittering assemblage Lady Hux, made all the more beautiful by your inclusion. I was just telling your husband how lucky he was to have you as a wife. Not all of us are content to remain bachelors. How he can focus on his missions with such a becoming woman on his arm is admirable.” He said with a rueful chuckle that seemed fake and incendiary. You blush and look towards your General in exaggerated adoration but his face has gone tight. A few more people come over to join your conversation, clearly wanting to get in good with Pryde.

“Yes I suppose if one is forced to be wed, (Y/N) is an acceptable partner. Do not envy me, General Pryde, married life comes with it’s own struggles. The First Order and the Supreme Leader’s vision must always come first and I assure you, they do.” His hand drops from your waist and your smile follows it.

“In the next cycle I plan to pitch a great new weapon to the Supreme Leader that will cement the First Order’s place in the galaxy and take out the pitiful Resistance in one fell swoop. No one, certainly not an insipid girl obsessed with dresses and galas, can keep me from my purpose. My marriage is only proof that the galaxy needs the First Order, the crumbling Imperial kingdoms returned to their rightful place through the Supreme Leader’s brilliance. They could not do so without our strength and power. We have been extending our reach throughout the galaxy and soon we will be unstoppable.” He says, his eyes seeing far beyond the crowd that surrounds you, his fists tightening in their gloves. He has the look of fervor that comes over him when he makes a speech in front of the Stormtroopers. Pryde’s insinuation has insulted him and in response he is insulting you.

“Come now General, are you really that derisive of your wife? I managed to catch her speech on Ando and I found it very eloquent and inspiring. The First Order needs more than weapons to bring the people to it’s might.” A Major pipes up, though his comment does little to improve your mood.

Hux scoffs and stands in parade rest, a tell you’ve noticed him doing when he feels unprepared and uneasy. It gives him comfort to stand so tall and still and you clench your fists to stop yourself from pushing him over.

“My wife is skilled in many things, that is true. While we do have more systems under our banner because of her tour, I am sure they would have succumbed to our power regardless. Wars are won with strategies, not lunch meetings.” His accent has started to sound ridiculously crisp and pompous and you long to pull his hair and make him groan like a wounded animal.

The other men are agreeing with him, asking about this weapon that is news to you, commenting on how ridiculous their wives are with their clothes and petty squabbles. The noise rises to a static sound, everything becoming muffled as though you are underwater. Your vision tunnels on your husband’s face, severe and uncaring. He turns to you and gives you a look of such contempt and distaste, your gasp of hurt is clearly audible.

“I’m going home now, please excuse me.” You say quietly but full of venom, before turning on your heel and breaking away from the group. Laughter follows your departure and you tighten your lips in order to stop yourself from crying. You knew the General could be harsh, but never imagined it would be towards you. And to insult your intelligence and your partnership, to bring up a brand new idea out of nowhere, to hurt you so badly in front of your peers, cut deeper than any physical wound.

Pushing through throngs of people, you don’t excuse yourself or explain. Your happiness at the beginning of the evening is waning. Your beautiful pink gown, with it’s large skirt and train is a hindrance to you, slowing your escape. You’re so focused on getting past a large group of women in similarly large dresses, that you don’t see Lord Ren until he grabs your arm to stop you.

His mask offers you nothing though his grip is tight but not painful. You push your hand against his and try to pull away. He is an unyielding mountain in your path.

“Lady Hux, you-” He starts to say, the robotic voice sounding almost soft. But you’re close to crying and you will not embarrass yourself any further. Lacking any fear that you would normally have in this scenario, you manage to break free of his hold.

“Don’t talk to me. I refuse to suffer any more indignities tonight. Surely your reproach can wait.” You bark out before quickly running out the door. You do not see the way his eyes follow your retreat or the glare he levels at your husband.

You leave the party in silence and you return to your rooms in silence. He has not chosen to follow you and the dismissal is one more barb against you. If he thinks you’re going to forget about this by the time he gets back, he is sorely mistaken. Glancing around the room, your eyes catch all of his possessions, meager as they are, and you long to destroy them. But you won’t, you have consideration for people.

You rip off your tiara and sit down on the couch in a huff of silk instead. You’ll wait for him, pacing around your quarters and your temper getting higher and higher. How dare he humiliate you like that, in front of all those important people? And what of this new weapon? Did he have plans outside of the ones you made together? Why didn’t he tell you? Why didn’t he trust you?

An hour of this circular thought passes before the door opens again and he enters. You were sure you looked a mess, hair falling out of it’s style and face lined from worry. He doesn’t spare you a glance before taking off his gloves and setting them on the small table by the door like he always does. You hate him so deeply in that moment, the color of his hair fills your vision and you wonder if he can hear the warning bells pealing.

Your husband doesn’t say much, quite surprising considering how much he was talking earlier, and goes over to the liquor cabinet. He pours a drink for himself and does not offer you something, how typical. Though you wouldn’t take a drink even if he did; your head already feels hazy.

The memories of tonight start to swirl and bubble in your brain as you watch him take off his outerwear and settle at his desk. He’s not going to acknowledge you or your anger and that only fuels your fire. You push off the couch and up to his desk, sweeping an arm across the surface and knocking everything to the ground. His chair screeches against the floor as he stands abruptly.

“How dare you! That’s my work, you can’t just do that. You could break it.” He shouts, pointing a finger in your face. You relish his irritation, happy for some kind of reaction.

“How dare I? You can’t just ignore me after what you did. You don’t get to act like I’m some silly girl with hurt feelings! You blindsided me in front of all the Admirals and governors and made me look like an idiot. We’re supposed to be a team and you treated me like a stupid subordinate.” You shout, backing away from him and running to the bedroom. The door stays open because your fight isn’t over yet.

“You told Pryde about some new weapon you have, about your plans. What new weapon? I thought we agreed we were going to focus on taking as much ground as possible. We decided that gaining land and territories was more important than some large show of violent power. Are you drunk? You almost gave away our true ideas to the men we’re trying to get rid of!” You say through the open door, struggling to take off your dress. He makes a move as if to join you and help but you hold a hand up to stop him. Somehow you manage and glare at him in your slip, the chill of your quarters only adding to the loneliness that surrounds you. He scoffs again, the sound jarring.

“You’re just cross because I didn’t include you in my plan. Not everything in my life needs to concern you and clearly you don’t have the acumen to understand it.” Hux replies, focusing more on the items you pushed off his desk than you. It’s a small thing but the fact that he won’t even look at you as you yell is what snaps something inside of you. Running out of the bedroom, you slap him hard across the face. He lets out a gasp of shock and you kick a leg out to knock him to the ground. Flat on his back, you get on top of him settling your weight on his stomach.

“Listen to me, you pompous foolish child! You would have nothing without me. I made you! You would have no plan without me! You came to me begging for credits and I gave you purpose. I don’t need you, any high ranking official would’ve worked, but I chose you. Snoke would find you lacking and kill you soon enough. You need me! I won’t let you diminish me and toss me aside.” You sneer, your hands coming up to grab at his neck. You don’t squeeze but the small pressure you place is a reminder. He pushes against you, clearly not impressed with your behavior. He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“You want to rule the galaxy and get rid of Snoke, then you better start showing me some respect. I am not a stupid girl and you should be defending me in front of the Council! Pryde is your competition and a block in our path and you want to cozy up to him? Have some conviction in your goals!” You demand before he flips your positions, his body hovering above you. His hands push your wrists up above your head and against the hard floor as his legs bracket yours. Apparently it’s his turn to speak.

“How dare you strike me! I could kill you with barely any energy expended. Your ideas only work with me and you know it. You needed someone with power and an audience with Snoke to get what you want. You need me! I have every right to look at you and your weaknesses with contempt because they’re obvious. You say I have potential and yet you refuse to let me plot my own future. I was doing just fine before you came along and I will do just fine after you’re gone.” He yells back, spittle dropping onto your face as you squirm. His face is turning red with rage. You aren’t afraid per se, but you do feel uncertain. You’ve never seen him so incensed and certainly not at you.

It dawns on you then why he’s so incensed and why he’s fighting back with you like this. If he truly felt this way, he would’ve gotten rid of you long ago. This whole evening has shaken him and a smile forms as you laugh in his face.

“You are so transparent! You’ve realized you’re replaceable and you’re scared. You can’t hide from me General. You know that there’s nothing special about you and that I could become Empress with anyone else. Perhaps I should drop you and move on to someone like Pryde. He has true ambition. Or maybe I should leave you for Kylo Ren and back someone with actual power instead of a boy playing at General and begging for approval from Daddy. At least one of them might actually fuck me and make all this worth it.” His eyes widen and he rears back, his grip loosening. You use his surprise against him and grip his face with your nails. You hope he bleeds from the sharp points. No one speaks for a moment, the air around you is hot and tense.

It is eerily silent as his hand slides up to your neck. It does not push or squeeze, it just sits there in warning. A flash of fear enters you and the spark of triumph in his eyes makes you positive he’s seen it. You feel like he can see right through you in that moment, can see through to your very soul and pick up your deepest insecurities.

“Is that what this is about? Is that why you’re so upset?” He coos, his voice dark and low. He’s mocking you and your heart hammers inside your chest. His cheek is still pink where you slapped him and he pulls your hand away, the white indentations from your nails fading.

“You just need someone to fuck you and put you in your place huh? Someone to remind you that you’re important? My dear you could have just asked, I would’ve fucked you in a heartbeat if I knew it would keep you behaved.” He murmurs, his face very close to yours. You swallow down your disgust and mortification.

“I don’t want you to fuck me to keep me quiet. I want you to respect me and my ideas. I want you to acknowledge what I’m doing for you. I want us to be a united pair! I want you to fuck me because you care about me!” You plead, the fight in you draining in the face of his ridicule.

“I don’t know where this is coming from,” You continue, “we were working so well before and now, now you’re being very cruel. I didn’t think you would ever be like this. We’re supposed to work together.” You sigh, your body drooping and, to your horror, tears start to fall.

With tears clouding your vision, you don’t see the breaking of his cold facade or the guilt in his eyes. He pulls away and since his body was the only thing holding you up, you collapse onto the floor again, crying. The emotional whiplash of the evening has caught up with you.

All you wanted was to be important, to make change in the galaxy. You just wanted someone to listen and care about you. You thought that General Hux could give you that but clearly not. He was just going to use you like everyone else. You were nothing more than a bargaining chip for your parents, a pretty broodmare for some politician or soldier. But Hux, you were going to give him everything and all you wanted in return was someone to give you some control and freedom over your own life.

“(Y/N)... I…” He stammers out and you realize that you just said that all out loud. But what’s more degradation? What’s more pain? You keep your face down, speaking your anguish at the floor instead of the person causing it like the scared little girl you are.

“You already know my plan, you don’t need me. You can throw me out of the airlock and leave me to my fate. I can’t stand this anymore. You’ve ignored me for weeks and now you insult me and almost ruin anything. I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.” You choke out.

Then, a change. Hux lifts you from the floor and holds you against his chest. You stop crying in surprise and look up at him hesitantly as he brings you to the bedroom. Setting you down gently on the bed, he pulls off his boots and sits down next to you. He hands you a tissue and you wipe at your face. The man in front of you is a stranger and you come to grips with how little you know about him.

Your husband looks very young right now, and you remember his age. He’s done so much in such a short amount of time, his inexperience is showing. You’re both children playing at being adults, playing at being Gods.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly in the darkness of your bedroom. You look at him from the corner of your eye. “Before you came over, General Pryde was speaking to me and he was undermining my latest choices. I was very angry and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have. You’re right, we should be a team. Everything that you said was right. I do need you and I should be more considerate of you.” The words sound difficult for him to say but he’ll receive no comfort from you.

“I am replaceable.” The word echoes around the room and the horrible truth of it is written across his face. It’s hard to come to terms with your own lack of importance, but it was a lesson he had to learn. Or at least, as he was doing now, admit out loud. To be truly great, you would have to bring him up from nothing and he had to let you.

“So much is riding on this,” He continues, his fingers digging into his palms, “I don’t want to fail before we even begin. We could be discovered for our treason and killed. I’ve been a disappointment all my life, I would never want to make you feel that way. I want to succeed and I think seeing you this evening, charming everyone and looking so beautiful, it made me realize how little I actually do. Ever since Starkiller, I’ve felt so adrift. Snoke is giving me nothing and I’m following the barest traces of the Resistance in order to have something to oversee. I feel useless in the face of your ambitions.” He closes his eyes and swallows. His drink is back in the sitting room.

Knowing his habits, you carefully open his hands to stop him from hurting himself more. You lean over and kiss each palm and each fingertip, still unsure of what you want in this moment. He pulls his hands away and stretches out to lie fully on the bed. It is the first time you’ve ever seen him do it. Hux has not joined you in the bedroom the whole time you’ve been on the Finalizer and the dark circles under his eyes lead you to believe he may have been sleeping on the couch.

You shuffle down as well, lying next to him in the grey light the stars give you. You yawn, feeling the exhaustion from the whole evening come over you. You clear your throat, wiping at your face again.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel useless or stupid. I want so badly for this to work that I guess I took over without thinking of your needs and position. I’m doing this for you but that doesn’t mean I get to make all the decisions.” You whisper, turning your head to look at him. His eyes are still closed and he takes in a breath through his nose.

He finally turns to face you, regarding you nervously. The normal verdant green of his eyes has turned into a darker shade, but they are still so expressive and beautiful to you. Even in your anger and sadness, he is breathtaking to you.

“Why me? Why am I so special? Why put all your energy into making me Emperor? This plan will uproot everything and change the power systems of the galaxy. Why bother?” He questions, sounding very scared and exposed. You scoot closer to him, your noses almost touching. One of your hands comes to caress at his cheek, the same one you hit only minutes before. He does not flinch and you sigh in relief.

“Because you are special. I was wrong to say otherwise. You hurt me and I wanted to hurt you back. You are so smart and capable and you’ve worked so hard to make the First Order great. You deserve to be in charge, to rule it all. You have so much potential and I wanted to help you towards greatness. I wanted to help you in the naive hope that you’d take me along.” You admit, brushing back some of his hair. It had come out of it’s gelled style sometime around the end of the party and you like it better this way.

“No, you were right. You are right about everything. I’m sorry I hurt you, the things I said were cruel and they were meant to hurt you. I knew what I was doing. I’m only special because you believe me to be,” He says, his voice breaking with emotion, “Everyone knows how worthless I really am. My father saw it and my instructors saw it, Snoke and the Council see-”

You kiss him then, unable and unwilling to restrain yourself. His lips are dry and soft under your own and he freezes next to you. You’re about to pull away, convinced you’ve made a huge error and everything really would be ruined, when his arms come around you and pull you flush against his body.

Your kiss becomes one of passion and yearning, making up for lost time. You have to reassure him that you care and he has to continue to apologize. You surge against him, trying to make every inch of your body touch his. You kiss and kiss again, biting and sucking at each other’s lips, pulling away to breathe only when you have to.

He mumbles out apologies between kisses, his hands traveling up and down your back. You shush him with kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his jaw. A moan breaks the silence and you realize it’s coming from you. The sound spurs him on and he lowers his head to kiss your neck.

“Yes, oh yes my darling, please. Leave a mark.” You gasp, your other hand coming up to tangle in his hair. But he doesn’t do anything in response except pull away. Breathing heavily, you look at him in confusion.

“Say it again… please.” He whispers, his eyes darting to your lips. There is a brief moment where your brain tries to catch up and then it clicks. You lean forward and kiss him softly.

“Darling, darling. My sweet darling. You’re so good, you’re so smart, I just adore you darling.” You whisper against his skin. The bite against your neck is it’s own reward. Any pain he bestows, he instantly soothes with his lips and tongue. It’s a very good apology so far.

“Let me show you how much you mean to me.” He whispers, the glow from the viewport illuminating you both. You nod, words bubbling up in your throat. You throw a hand over your mouth to stop them from escaping. You’re not ready yet and neither is he. But one day soon, you’ll say them. You’ll sear them into his skin and melt them against his lips. You’ll breathe them into his lungs and hear them repeated back to you. Not now, but someday you will.

Time passes strangely on a starship. With nothing but the cold, vastness of space at every viewport, a person has to rely on chronometers and artificial sunlight to remind them of the change. Time on a ship both rushes ahead and slows to a crawl and if you’re not careful, you can lose track of it all.

So perhaps it was only minutes that you and General Hux lay together on the bed, tucked beneath the blankets and enveloped within each other. Or maybe it was hours, officers from the late night shift saying good night and good morning to the ones replacing them.

Or it could have been days. Days wrapped up in each other, sighing and moaning as you chased your release. Days passing as you learned the dips and peaks of each other’s bodies and tasted skin and sweat and more. Days full of changes to your relationship, to your desires, to your feelings. Days that seemed to never end, and yet, were over in a blink.

When you finally finish, lying quietly next to each other and marveling at the ages old pastime that you have discovered, your husband turns to face you. Mirroring his pose, your bodies become commas giving you space to breathe.

“If you ever strike me again, I’ll cut your hand off.” He says, matter of fact. The words sink in as you gaze at his profile, admiring the rare look of peace.

“If you ever humiliate me again, I’ll frame you for treason and take the throne myself.” You counter, equally matter of fact. Another moment of silence before you both burst into laughter. A patrolling pair of Stormtroopers stop outside your door in confusion before rightfully deciding it’s none of their business and moving on.

Adjusting the pillow behind his head, your darling- because that is what he is now, that is how much he means to you- reaches for a matte silver case on the nightstand. Lighting a cigarra, he sucks in deeply as the tip glows red, before blowing out a stream of cloudy, blue smoke. His other arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you close. The feeling of his skin against yours, even after your tumble in the sheets, is a revelation.

Stealing the cigarra from his hands, you take a drag before placing it back in his mouth, swollen red from your earlier lovemaking.

“So, what’s next my dear?” He asks. A fog settles around your heads as he lazily smokes in the afterglow. You curl and uncurl your fingers in a soothing pattern over the paleness of his chest. Despite your violent fight and emotional reconciling, you feel more confident than ever before.

“We kill the Council.”

Chapter Four coming soon...

Tagging: @babbushka, @livy1391, @girl-next-door-writes, @renaissance-mama, @peqchynero, @the-temple-pythoness, @cupofmoonlighttea, @sincerely-cronch, @brujademente, @potato-ren, @ah-callie, @rosirinoa, @niniita-ah

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

#my writing #general hux #general hux x reader #general hux imagines #star wars fanfiction #reader insert fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #fanfiction #not beta'd #potential #i hope you guys like it!#remember the rating has changed #i swear if i find a spelling mistake later i'm going to jump out a window

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goblinconceivable · 4 years

Text

Still puffs of wind

Part 2 of me looking at Hooked Queen in season 7. Relatively happy with where I got so far, so a little course correct, mopping up and going a bit fanon/shippy eyes. Also I made a huge error, I admit my embarrassment to the world and it makes me less embarrassed.

Still referring to Wish!Hook as Rogers.

I screwed up badly by being careless and imposing my own reading, and I hate when I do that. In the family-reunites scene after Gothel is defeated, Alice is staring at Rogers, and he’s looking at her. She CAN’T run and hug him, end the enforced distance contrasts with all the inter-hugging that happens through the rest of the scene. More importantly for my purposes, Robin is looking at him too, for the entirety of that shot. She turns and comforts Alice in the next, but we’re still looking at a tentative continuation of a family unit comprised of Alice/Robin/Rogers we started when Robin asked for his blessing and happy hugging immediately commenced, and just formalized when the three joined hands.

More damaging to my case is that Tiana totally went to speak to Rogers, and I believe was holding his hand for a moment. It’s very background, which is why I missed it the first (um, few) times until I looked for it. It’s validation that the extended family unit in the Enchanted Forest was a real thing, and that means: inclusionary. It’s a payoff for the few Rogers/Tiana moments we got under the curse, because curse-relationships are weirdly close to the uncursed-relationships, so we can assume they really are friends. It also supports an unrequited crush interpretation*, because Rogers approaches Tiana, which isn’t so much his MO. See later point.

Net result: in this scene his inclusion outweighs exclusion.

I do still think it’s notable that Henry and Regina and Ella and Lucy end up ignoring him. Scene-wise, it makes sense. It’s a blocking disaster to have anyone running over there, and core nuclear family runs to each other first. Yes they could have had Rogers still standing, but I think it WAS a stronger choice to have him physically removed, to remind us that he’s not alright, and that his curse isn’t just separating him from his daughter but from everyone.

Hyper-focused on finding his daughter, he is barely capable of forming relationships with anyone else. And we get to see this emotional distancing manifested! On a gurney, he literally cannot approach anyone, he observes from afar.

This contrasts heavily with Regina, who’d the most huggy of all. She’s with Henry, she greets Robin, and then the scene finishes with Regina/Lucy. We’re left with three couples in relationships, plus Regina/Lucy. Rogers and Rumple remain odd ducks, only Rumple’s on a quest and has left. So they’ve tidily avoided setting Regina and Rogers together. Which... was a major theme. Keeping them apart. Was it a creator’s choice in order to avoid shipping? Did they not think they could write them in scenes and maintain a platonic friendship? Did they just not think it was important to show?

In a show about family, and a Regina who’s heart is open wide enough to mentor a random girl she meets (Drizella), why avoid giving her an interesting relationship with the reboot of a character that a) can play against the relationship she had with the original, b) who has a history with her That We’ve Seen and c) she’s known for 10 years and has massive screen time and development so it’s not like “Tiana’s a secondary character we can limit her interactions because of that.”

It’s that enforced disinterest that provides the negative space for speculation and fanon. But it’s frustrating. I don’t know what to do with it. I’m left wondering if a huge sense of the Rogers!exclusion isn’t just down to Regina. Who plot-wise was scattered but was the heart of the season. What would be different if she’d checked in on him, how he was getting on with Tilly? If he’d continued meeting Henry in the bar and she had to balance playing along with them while running a bigger picture?

(I sort of forgot about Lucy. Does she even HAVE a scene with Rogers? Lucy is, like Henry in the first 6 seasons, the glue of the family. She is open love. She and Tiana are tight in cursed-world. But Rogers is practically an uncle, he’s known her since she was born. And nada.)

Which feeds in to a/the reading that his failure to join the table with Charming et al is his own sense of exclusion rather than anything else. Charming extending his hand isn’t an outreach on behalf of the family, it’s standard fare for the family, and Rogers hasn’t considered it an option. Having been rebuffed by Regina and Henry probably didn’t help though. But looking at that again narratively: it wasn’t personal on Henry’s part, in fact he knows Rogers well enough to know he needs to defy him, and respects him enough to believe that he COULD have stopped him.

And now, our technically non-canon scene hinting at the crown. Which is inclusionary, which means progress. The open hand remains open on the part of the family, and Rogers has accepted. Our Alice/Robin/Rogers unit is tight, and his friendship with Henry remains quite strong. I mean, Henry literally stops his mad rush to confirm with Rogers that he got the thing. It’s important that Rogers knows, just so that he knows. Satisfying his investment in the process, and cementing him as one of the ones who are not just aware of the event, but are at the heart of creating this moment -for Regina-.

Which, to sidetrack, is both beautiful and weird. It was an election, did Regina even know she was running? All indication was that everything happened behind the scenes and all the Realms just sort of quietly agreed they wanted her and then, SURPRISE! What would have happened if she didn’t want the gig? Being part of a council is quite different than “Hi you get to run it all now.” I mean, she dropped being mayor to live in a forest

I guess the only thing left is to finally land squarely on Rogers/Regina. Which... still doesn’t fall out of canon for me, even including the crown moment. It does add flavouring for Rogers to be invested not just in the event everyone is pulling together for, but for Regina personally. Ie, there’s something special about that crown, some special connection to Regina? Which she doesn’t mention and isn’t mentioned, so it’s very obscure for the uber!fan or the whole quest for it makes no sense and that’s why the scene was cut?

But his interest in Regina for her sake is new. Generally we saw her reaching out to him - when he was watching Henry/Ella/Baby!Lucy, when he was attacked by his heart when seeing Alice for the first time, when she told him to reach out to Tilly. With his curse broken, now he can accept and give love more generally, so at the very least we get an extension and deeping of whatever baseline we ascribe to their previous reationship.

And while I’m all about plationic male/female relationships, the best way for the writers to do that is to have GIVEN them a platonic relationship. In the relative void we have open-ended potential, where happily neither has been pining for the other, because that’s just sad. But where Regina’s efforts and support can be reciprocated and love birthed from that. Which is where I’m at, and probably where I end, for meta, the rest is fanfiction ~!

*The possible/probable crush Rogers had on Tiana doesn’t bother me because it counts as a safe space. She was firmly placed with someone else in canon, and it’s natural to gravitate to someone gentle and friendly, especially when you’re socially inept. So really what it says about him is he does want to reach out and part of him does want a more intimate relationship, but he wouldn’t with Regina because she’s intimidating. Complete matriarch. You can’t crush on her, you lowkey love her and don’t notice until it could be a thing.

#OUaT #Hooked Queen #meta #captain hook #regina mills

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chiserendipity · 4 years

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Why 2020 has Changed Me Forever - and Why I'm Grateful for That

*Warning, this deals with emotional and physical abuse, trauma and just is really long. Please do not reblog or repost this post.*

I'm just gonna say it. 2020 as a year has been terrible on a global scale with the pandemic, and the oppression of many people across the world. However, 2020 has allowed us to both reflect personally and on the world around us and demand change. I think that makes 2020 a great year for growth and shouldn't be merely dismissed because we couldn't go to concerts, have large parties, or the hot girl summer we hoped for. Real change is happening before our eyes, a movement for equal rights and to end the the endless cycle of oppression and suffering for not only the black community, but minority groups whether that be race, ethnicity, sexuality, gender, religion, those with mental or physical disability, the poor, and so many more. Yes the world is seemingly in shambles. But guess what? We have nothing but time to try and fix it now. To demand better. Both for our communities and ourselves.

Personally, I feel 2020 really pushed pause on my life and asked me "what are doing?" "why are you doing this to yourself?" and "what do you want from life?" I began looking at what I had become and I was disgusted with myself and how I decided to try and cope with past trauma. Before corona, I found myself in a very dark place mentally with seemingly no way out. I would have panic attacks repeatedly and just cry myself to sleep many nights (despite not getting very much). My endometriosis was continually getting worse with every flare up (probably from all my stress). I had no direction and very little motivation to continue.

Then, the virus hit. Once I was sent home and online classes began, I had time to stop and catch my breath. To look around at my life and really ask what I was doing wrong. As young people we tend to give ourselves a pass for poor behavior and bad decisions, or even encourage it. I realized I was falling victim to my own anger, bitterness, anxiety, and depression that had haunted me for years and it was finally rearing its ugly head. I had been suffering from depression and anxiety for years but that spring semester while still on campus was different. My moods began to swing from a hyperactive anxious state to a haunting and chilling depression that made me want to stay in my room and hide. I didn't really get much sleep in either state. But, now back home all alone and with nowhere to go. No class to dive head first into. No parties to dance the night away. No kickbacks to chill at. Just me and my monstrous thoughts. At first my overwhelming thoughts were suffocating. I would question "what is wrong with me? Why can't I get my moods under control? Why must every facet of my being so overwhelmingly broken?" Then as classes began to finish, and with the help of antidepressants, I finally started to feel a shift. I started unpacking my compartmentalized trauma I had shoved away for years in a desperate attempt to leave it the past. People always say the past is the past, but the past will never not be apart of your journey. Without properly dealing with the past, it'll always show up again in your present reeking havoc in your day to day life.

With meditation, therapy, medication, and a lot of self reflection through videos about helping your inner child, I realized I didn't know me. My life had always in some way shape or form been controlled by others. I was assigned the role "golden child" by a narcissistic father who demanded I perform that role perfectly. Even as a child, I was taught to ignore my pain and sadness and push through, because my feelings didn't matter. I was fed, lived in a nice house and had nice clothes and whatever I asked for. That was enough to prove my father’s love for me; in his eyes. I lived merely to please. As I aged this mentality seeped into my romantic life as well. My feelings always came last so I began to simply just turn them off until I became an emotionless shell. Acting as a robot, I went to school and grinded myself to the bone in all my AP and IB classes. Joined all the community based clubs and took leadership roles. At 16 I even got started working 20+ hour weeks. Meanwhile, I had to surgeries courtesy of endometriosis. The first was a emergency surgery due to a ruptured ovarian cyst and the second to dislodge my right ovary from my abdominal wall since the endometrial lining cemented the two together.

I remember complaining about cramps and my father punched me saying, "Toughen up”. My father said things like that all the time and didn't want to discuss my chronic illness or mental health. When I was 16 I admitted to having suicidal thoughts and a previous attempt a few years back and he responded that was "white girl bullshit". Another time,my father cussed me out in a pizza shop for wanting a margarita pizza calling me a stupid bitch in front of everyone in the restaurant. He constantly mocked my choice for my major and university, saying that majoring in marine science was idiotic and I'd do better in political science and studying at Vanderbilt. Pain wasn't allowed. Feelings wasn't allowed. Choice wasn't allowed. Only thing that was allowed was to do the work expected. To be "perfect".

Finally I was beginning to understand that after being told my entire life that I was nothing more than robot with marching orders, the lack of orders now that I had cut my father out of my life was causing me to feel that I had no purpose at all. I had never known freedom, and it was was now suffocating me. Now knowing this, I was able to start retraining by brain and discover who I wanted to be. My feelings were valid. I wasn't just my report card or my ACT score or my medals and academic awards. My body while it doesn't function like it should, it is still worthy of love and respect. I wasn't insane for my moods fluctuating and I just needed help to get where I needed mentally to function. And that's okay. I had to start being me and living for me, not for the approval of others. Savannah the person, not the robot, matters. I matter.

This was when I had a spiritual awakening of my soul and ego, truly deep diving on how to heal from my past. I spent hours watching videos and discovering how to dismantle the false self I had created to appease those around me and stop acting as a emotional crutch for others whilst ignoring my own emotions. I began to recognize the trauma bonds I formed with exes and current friends. I choose to associate with those who encouraged these negative social responses and bad coping mechanisms. I was merely re-entering patterns that begun in my childhood.

From our earliest years, the ego is formed. Our deepest need is to gain love + approval from our parents + caregivers. The ego, in an attempt to protect creates a concept of self identity in alignment with what we believe will give us this love.We begin to say "I am smart" or "I am strong" or "I am bad at x." We internalize the beliefs of our parents about who we are + who other people are + how the world is. All of this ego identity unconscious. Because we are not taught about our egos, we are unaware they exist. So we operate as if we ARE the ego. This brings us a ton of our own suffering + shame. It makes us feel "stuck" + unable to escape our learned patterns. That's what ego does: keeps us repeating the past. Ego work is the process of questioning the ego stories that are just thoughts + not "reality." Becoming conscious to this allows us to access CHOICE in how we respond.

- @the.holistic.psychologist

Now aware of my ego and really getting to the heart of why I'm bad at sharing my feelings and why in past relationships I was described as "distant" and "inattentive" but also “good listener but won’t open up”. Today, I can honestly say I'm no longer in that dark place I was before. I'm beginning to relearn the things I loved and truly appreciate them. I'm being the true goofy, silly, marine scientist I always wanted to be. I have friends who do care about me and I've tried to open up more emotionally. Of course I have a long way to go and constant improvement is necessary. 2020 allowed me to return to myself, not the burnt out, bitter and depressed woman I had become. I'm happy 2020 happened and for the first time in years, I'm excited for what the future brings.

#self reflection #2020 #my 2020 #short narrative #black writer #female writer #writeblr #black writers #black female writers #new writer #new writing #tw suicide #tw abuse #tw depression

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calleo-bricriu · 4 years

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What I want to see is what over 100 years old Calleo and his cards have to say about Voldemort.

The hell do I need cards for that for? I could just tell you outright but, then, I’m sure you’d be back at me going on about how that’s no fun at all.

In the distant past, they’d described him as a bullheaded, reactionary wank cloth who’s prone to having violent tantrums when he doesn’t get his way–I’m condensing that down rather a lot but that was the gist of it; perfectly charming sort until he gets the idea that you think he’s roughly as interesting as watching paint dry.

But, hey, people change and maybe when he’s ready to try again he’ll have improved somewhat.

Which, in his case, would more than likely manifest as just becoming more wildly unpredictable with his meltdowns and moods but, you’ve asked my cards, not me, so here we go.

I wonder if he still does that thing where he tries to go as long as humanly possible without blinking because he could do it indefinitely with a little transfiguration and charms work.

Where was I?

Ah! The cards.

(( Larger resolution image is here. ))

Hermit’s pretty self explanatory; he’s been isolated, and should you find him and ask him he’d likely tell you that it was on purpose and/or for the purposes of enlightenment, introspection and contemplation–hopefully around why he didn’t account for basic defensive Blood Magic but, most likely not that. I know I don’t like to dwell on it when I miss something basic, I like to forget I did that and move on while also keeping it tucked away in the back of my head so I don’t do it again.

I’m going to go ahead and ignore that, all around, when the Empress shows up it she often signifies a pregnancy and considering Voldemort, unless he gets incredibly creative with trying to get himself back into a body (or just possesses the first thing he can manage that’s human) is not likely the sort to be able to get pregnant, which leaves the third option of someone else…letting him…do that to them.

It can also mean that he’ll just make an effort to be a little more creative and inspirational to anyone stupid enough to show up for a second round and with his recruitment efforts but if I had to have the mental image of somebody not only fucking Voldemort but letting him knock the up so the rest of you–and I say the rest of you because I don’t know specifically which one of you asked for this reading so you all get to suffer.

And I don’t think it’s that second one as the Ace of Cups revolves around beginning again which, fair, if you’re half-resurrecting yourself–but it primarily focuses around fertility and pregnancy. Someone is going to let that man knock them up.

Ew.

Getting away from that horrifying set of mental images, the Eight of Wands indicates he’s going to be about as good at being patient and planning things out (complete with contingencies or alternate plans in case the main one fails) as he was the first time around which is to say, not at all. However, since the Ministry is staffed largely by what I can only assume are tranquilised bonobos in suits, nobody here is going to care. Or notice. I’ll notice, I’ve already noticed, but I have enough benzos from Muggle doctors that I legitimately do not care.Or, if they do notice, they’re going to pretend they haven’t so all the progress speed, action, momentum, all that nonsense, is only going to seem speedy to the people who haven’t been paying attention.

The rest of us will have seen it slowly coming since roughly 1982.

He’s got abandonment issues head to toe based on the Eight and Five of cups, which is a large part of what makes him dangerous as, instead of focusing on the cups that haven’t been knocked all over the place and using those to rebuild, all he’s likely to focus on will seem, on the surface, to be a political revolution but that’ll just be a thin and fragile veneer covering the fact that he’s a desperately lonely, fundamentally unhappy, nearly always frightened basket case and that manifests (as it often does) in violent outbursts and an undercurrent of wanting to make everyone else suffer the way he feels he was made to suffer.

That’s not even all that uncommon, you can see it to a much lesser degree anywhere in Knockturn if you stay there long enough or visit often enough.

Queen of Swords is likely to turn out to be his most dedicated defender, coming from a point of power obsession and pity, though if she’s got any brains she won’t ever mention she pities him as it might get her killed, and wants nothing more than to shield and protect him, keeping him from harm; also indicates that she’s married–well, it mentions it in the inverse as a divorce, which would make sense if she’s one of those sorts that were pushed into a family alliance sort of marriage that she never particularly cared to be a part of to begin with.

And, at some point, he may be able to shake off all that flailing about to somehow manage to convince the general public that he’s not that bad, and he’ll do so through gratuitous shows of generosity, charity, investing in community (the community he envisions, at any rate; some of you will have to be his diversionary scapegoats, after all), and while everyone is distracted by someone who’s likely to be able to walk into the Ministry and buy them off with false gratitude, making them feel valued, paying them well, displaying what comes off as fairness unless you scratch the surface, he’ll get to work doing what he wanted to do in the first place.

And what does he want to do in the first place? Get himself into a position where he’s well liked, respected, viewed in a positive light, as a good leader, as someone who is successful, committed, has clear goals, and will lead the Ministry to greater things. This is someone who wants to be loved without having to leave himself vulnerable in the process.

For awhile, he’ll get it, and it’ll seem solid.

It won’t last, however, not for long, because that Eight of Swords is going to leave him feeling trapped, restricted, and lashing out at anyone or anything who he even suspects of holding dissenting views through harsh punishments, executions, imprisonments, persecution, “trials” in front of the Wizengamot that were rigged from the start, and at that point he’ll be at two distinct paths he can take.

I do love the Two of Wands for letting things go in different directions.

First potential path: If he goes that route, he’ll be able to leverage what little political and social capital he’ll have left after that mess I just described and, with a little creativity, should be able to pull it all back together in a way that cements his socio-political views as the new, accepted norm and any rebellion against it won’t be able to gain the following it’d need to challenge him for decades to come.

Second potential path: Nine of Swords circles back to the Eight of Swords, only more intense. Terror, not just fear, seeing enemies everywhere, being the subject of gossip, the narrative of which he will not be able to control as it will be a moving and largely invisible target that is perfectly willing to martyr itself if it means his downfall. As a result, he’ll fall further and further into paranoia, nightmares, despair, and stress, leaving him with an inability to cope with the reality of the situation which will only circle back to him lashing out at anything that comes within range, regardless of who or what it is, and when he hits his breaking point he isn’t likely to survive it.

The card between those two paths, as I was curious as to which route the deck thought he’d take, is a reversed Star.

Hopelessness, despair, the inability to take responsibility for one’s actions being what led them to where they are, lack or loss of trust in those around him and in himself, feeling as though everyone, even his closest followers, are plotting against him.

Considering that, I suspect he’ll go the second route to hang out with the sword filled guy in an egg costume.

Let’s see if one overarching card will give some closure here, shall we?

Regret, refusing help from those who legitimately want to give it (back up a bit and re-read the bits that mention paranoia) because, as surprising as it may seem, there are people who genuinely do care for him–in their own, strange way–disillusionment, becoming even more self-absorbed and depressed, focusing on the fantasy in which he’s–apologies, but I’m going to jump back to how two of my former Archivists often described him–seen as something greater in terms of charisma, success, skill, and political success than Grindelwald.

I watched that mess rise to power and fall from it spectacularly, and my memory has more than enough clarity to state with certainty that the only things I’ve seen that Voldemort is better than Grindelwald at are:

1) Keeping himself out of prison.

2) Being ballsy enough to apply for that Defence Against the Dark Arts position looking the way he did when he got that interview. He had to have known what he looked like, unless he doesn’t cast a reflection anymore and nobody told him how off he looked. Just to note, it’s not that I think he’d have been unqualified for the position so much as he may have come off as only wanting it to use as a recruiting platform which is–one of those things you really need to hide until you’ve got tenure, or at least a signed contract.

3) Being repeatedly thwarted by children yet still having followers willing to both overlook it, stand there with a straight face while he probably blames his wand for it (because they all do, you find any Wizard over 60 that has a spell fail and the first thing you get is some variation of, “I swear this has never happened before! It must be the wand acting up!”), and continue to follow him despite the fact that all they’d really have to do is walk away and start telling people what he’s really like and it’d kill any chances of recruiting anything with any skill or ability to follow through.

4) Talking to snakes, allegedly. Not entirely sure how useful that skill would be but I suppose snakes probably have some interesting things to say now and again.

At any rate, Four of Cups almost guarantees he’s going the Nine of Swords route so it’ll get a bit hairy for awhile but whatever grip he gets on anything is going to be tenuous at best and even holding onto it with both hands his reach is likely going to exceed his grasp.

I never like to see raw talent wasted like that, and he does possess a great deal of raw talent as well as the intelligence to have made it, with right people around him, into something spectacular; it’s just been–misapplied and left in the hands of people who never did have his interests at heart, and it’s easy to take advantage of a kid like that. See it all the time in Knockturn.

Pity, really.

#v: ftbawtft #probably around #1994 #voldemort #(Old Calleo has Negative Fucks to Give about round three with a dark lord)#hp rp #tarot #divination

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qdtquietdownthere · 5 years

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Day 11- A day of reflecting in an art gallery and painting, glueing and giggling in the sun.

Day 11

The waking up process, if it can be called a process, is the trickiest part of the residency actually. Waking up in your own bed, in Tottenham, seeing your flatmates, talking about the day ahead. It is a different world. I have to go from that, to the tube, then be in Pimlico. To this new, yet familiar place of comfort. What is the most exhausting is this point of change and transition- waking up in the life you are used to then diving into a day of fresh, exiting, uncertainty. No one really understands whats going on, and no one really wants to listen to me describing every detail of my day. I do not think this is something I would enjoy to do either. It’s lonesome in this sense. A temporary community which no one else is experiencing. That is so special though. I feel useful, like my existence and participation means something.

I am very aware it is ending. Second last day. I am so comfortable now.

I walk around the area following a gentle map. I have walked these streets before. The Thames, the Bridge, the view of brutal Battersea, the tiny parks and the contrasts. There are so many contrasting textures, architecture and people. An area of extreme wealth, and then a definite lack of it. I feel uncomfortable with it at points. In my favourite park which sits just behind Tate Britain I watch a very wealthy man spend half an hour with a puppy trainer and his pedigree puppy. He tells me they have traveled from Devon. There is a visible contrast when you look for it. You can maybe hear it more than you can see it. I hear coffee orders which are 3 minutes long, decaf, soy, skinny milk. At the community centre in Churchill Gardens a cup of tea will always be milk and one sugar. I wonder where I sit in this pool of people, I wonder where other people see me belonging.

CCA is based next to Tate Britain and I try to go in to see the degree show but I am told it ended last week. There aren't many students around, ever. The whole time I have been in Pimlico I haven't noticed anyone who jumped out to me as looking like a student (whatever that means). I guess they have all gone home for summer. Over the past week I have seen a few Chinese students, as I guess flying home at such a high price isn't necessarily an option for international students. I wonder about the loneliness of living in this city when your purpose of being here is to purely be a student. I did my undergraduate at Leeds and it was the loneliest time for me. Sometimes I would walk to town, to the big Boots and back, just to get out, see people and feel like I was a part of what everyone else was doing. I worked all through university but I didn't really hang out with work friends, and with a class size of 10, well, there wasn't much social life going on. I wish I had gone out more, joined societies. Even if they didn't interest me, I should have pushed myself. I was nineteen and maybe I was shy, but I think what kept me being lonely was a reluctancy to say I was lonely to anyone apart from my family and friends who all lived back home in Edinburgh. I think about the mother I met during the babies library session at Victoria Library and how she was frustrated there were no classes on for her thirteen year old son. Kids don't want to look uncool, and I think this can continue for some people into university. There is a pool of opportunity in this pool of young people who are desperate to engage in a world, but scared and uncertain how to. No one whats to stand out from the self conscious crowd of teenagers and there is opportunity in making activities which both work with, and eradicate this.

I walk across the courtyard from CCA and find a different art show; “Observer: John Latham and the Distant Perspective”. Latham’s body of work explores derelict land outside of Edinburgh and was developed from an artist placement with the Scottish Development Agency. The three month long artist residences took place in different locations, from industrial settings such as fishing villages to a residency exploring the mental health care service (https://mapmagazine.co.uk/john-latham-incidental-person). What was the desired outcome of these residencies? Well, the hope was that by involving an artist, “his creative intelligence or imagination can spark off ideas, possibilities and actions” ultimately benefiting development projects in Scotland (Lyddon, 2007). When the committee introducing Latham to the project asked if the artist was going to solve problems, Lyddon replied “No, the artist is going to show us problems we didn't know were there”. In the end, if there is ever an end to a body of work, Latham decided to explore the area in Midlothian from an areal perspective, or ‘from the distance’. It was from this, and through interacting intensely with archival aerial photography from the area, he was able to map out distinctive land features from the shale industry and turn these into a piece of re-conceived monumental, or sculptural work. The act of doing this changes how the public interact with the local landscape. I find the work fascinating and oh so funny to have stumbled into work made in this context during my time doing the residency in Churchill Gardens. I haven't continued to read into the work of Latham, but it has brought up interesting ideas as to how perspectives of place, how history, and fresh eyes can have an impact on how individuals engage with space. I think of how my view of the streets have changed since I began engaging in the area. How the image of a street morphs the more you walk down it. How the build up of memories connected to place erode and evolve as you step away then interact with them again. I am lucky to know these streets now and I get an overwhelming sense to draw them. Once again I'm excited by the power of naming, of bringing into the spotlight, places or people to create a transformative effect on how we engage with them. As I have been unable to draw or make during my time on the residency, I have taken up naming and writing lists of names instead. My diary has one section which includes as many names I can remember from all the people I have interacted with since my time in and around Pimlico and Churchill Gardens. Drawing cements and validates a memory or idea through the act of mark making, and I believe the power of naming and writing these names validates all the connections I have had to people over the course of the two weeks. I have found this at least itches my little creative scratch. Or rather, it scratches my creative itch.

In the afternoon I return to the Thamesbank Centre to volunteer with Shambush as part of the South west festival. With children from the surrounding housing estates, Shambush are holding creative making events in local community centres to try and create a way for children to engage with art and their neighbouring communities. We work to a brief which is to design, paint and glue onto paper ‘solar panels’ these of space, which will later be put together and secured to a huge metal structure and presented as a space shuttle in the gardens of Tate Britain. For each making event a child attends in their local area, they receive a stamp on their ‘space engineer passport’. It is a fantastic idea and I find it so exciting to hear that there is an activity in place to connect these very separate housing estates which tend to never really mix. When speaking to both Shambush and the local children who come to do the making session, it is apparent that Tate Britain is another world to this community. Im not surprised. It is a twenty minute walk away, yet completely inaccessible as a cultural engagement. This is sad but a very real reality. Fine art is most easily digested by those with the confidence to enter into the gallery space and those with the education to understand how to interact with it.

The kids are wonderful and messy and giggly and I laugh a lot with two girls in particular. We are silly and happy and I feel in my element. I feel so lucky to be in this space making with such interesting and wonderful kids. A group of boys come over and make maths themed solar panels. One boy manages to name every dwarf planet in our solar system and I feel very stupid when I talk about the ‘fire hurricanes on Venus’ (he probably knows the scientific latin name for them). Its so great how the space works. We are outside, the sun is shining, kids come and go and there is a real sense that we are in the heart of the community. We are on Peabody estate on Tachbrook Avenue so the street is lined by beautiful tall flats. In its centre is the park which is connected to the community centre, so every flat can watch down on us. I speak to one boy who is in year 5 and he says because of the park he has lots of friends who are older and younger than him. It is a place for all ages.

Throughout the day only two parents come and talk to us and engage with the activities. Its a shame because so often it is the parents who are cautious and scared to venture out and try new things, and go new places which ultimately gets passed down to the kids. When we age we tend to view creativity as something that we have or we don't have. The older we get the more we become aware that we can or cannot draw. The older we get the more we isolate ourselves from activities and places we don't feel comfortable, or that accentuate the fact we cant draw, or paint or act. The kids seem to want to come to Tate when we tell them their work will be shown there, but unfortunately that isn't enough, it is about the parents. Pimlico toy library was great for this, and Shelia was really passionate that she was creating a space which was confidence building for parents. This is vital.

The children power through the activities and start getting a little bored. I suggest making some space themed origami fortune tellers. Im worried that maybe I should have asked before doing this but Shambush are lovely and energetic about getting stuck in and keeping busy. The kids seem to love it and I get a real sense of right. I don't really know how to describe it. I feel in my element. This is huge for me and something which means the world when you're at the start of a career as a young artist who is still trying to find her feet. I wouldn't have had the means to experience bringing ideas to a children's art session before this and I feel so lucky that I am in this position. I feel validated that it is met with so much enthusiasm.

The afternoon wizzes past. The father of the two girls who I had spent a lot of time with is brought down by his carer to go to the park. From the top floor flat their mother calls them up to go and help with caring for the neighbours. They give me lots of cuddles goodbye and run off with hands covered in glue and crisps. I cant help but think about what a potentially tricky life they must have, but how wonderful and giggly they are. I wish I could meet their mother and tell her how great they have been. How great all the kids have been. I leave and have a little cry down the phone to my friend because I'm so sad it has ended. It felt pivotal for me as just me, as someone who is unsure of my next steps, of what areas of work I would like to pursue. It is because of this afternoon, and because of this residency that I have been given this opportunity and this space to gain confidence and experience in wonderful exciting and giggle fuelled roles.

Today is one of the best days I have had. Volunteering gives the residency a whole new level as i feel I'm working as part of a service which is effecting change. This is something I have a growing need to do. Its a wonderful thing that these two great volunteering opportunities with Shambush and the food distribution with Mike happened on my last few days. I feel I am more ready for them at this stage. I think about the residency ending, but on a larger scale, I think about goodbyes. I am not very good at them. I am home and I'm writing lots, I will have vegetable ratatouille for tea and I am going to have a gin and tonic too, because the sun is shining and I am happy. Big day tomorrow. Sad day. Big day. Last day.

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loreletters-blog · 4 years

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To be created by love, makes to love one of our greatest purpose.

A Little Background

When I first came to Melbourne I didn’t really know what to expect. I was looking forward to living by myself, to making my own choices and being in university. The idea of living independently was just exciting. For me, Melbourne was a fresh start, where I could establish a new social life with all sorts of new people and new friends in a new environment. I’ve always been an introvert, but at the same time, I’ve always been interested in getting to know people; their perspectives in life, and how their minds work. So, this was something that I looked forward to so much.

I planned it all out; I had five prospect churches that I was going to visit. To check out which of these communities would be the best fit for me. My parents have always emphasized on the importance of having a church community, that looking for a good one is probably one of the most important things to do, and that the people we surround ourselves with would be reflected in our own personality; so, I did.

Upon my search, there was one moment that I could and never will forget:

It was on a Friday night, we were just worshipping and I decided to open my eyes for a while. It was then that I saw how everyone around me was so delved into the moment, so in love with our God and so passionate about Him. That His presence vividly filled the place, and I felt only one thing: peace. This was the exact moment when God spoke to me, saying “Stay, this is where you belong.”

Soon After

After that moment I started going to the church every Sunday for the weekly services, every Tuesday for their prayer night and every Friday for the cell group meetings. I hung out with people from the church almost every day, I have most of my meals with them and most of my conversations with them. They helped me settle in, not only in the city, but in their community as well.

Even though everyone was so kind to me and I seemed to fit in perfectly well, even though God assured me that this was where I was supposed to be, there was this thought in my head: “Hey is this really the community for me though?”

I’m not entirely sure where that thought came from; it might’ve come from absolutely nowhere, it could have been a random thought in the shower, but it was there. And it bothered me. Because it made me question my surroundings, my relationships and the newly-built friendships with everyone. Then more of these thoughts started rushing in:

“If you wanna leave, now is the perfect time, no attachments yet.”

“Are you sure this church is where you want to commit yourself to?”

And even though I meet these people daily, these thoughts pestered me constantly. In addition to that, I had football matches every Sunday, so the time was just perfect to reconsider where I want to be in and whether or not this was the right place for me.

If I have to explain why, I can only give you a vague explanation: maybe it’s because I fear commitment. And looking back, all the times I’ve felt lonely is because there aren’t really people I commit myself fully to; except of course, my family. I’ve always grazed the surface of a relationship with my friends and I am afraid to go in deeper. Because I hate being in a position where I am vulnerable; and opening yourself up puts you exactly in that spot. So, I leave before I get the chance to really know people, I leave before they get a chance to know me and hurt me. That became a sort of a habit for me and I was ready to do it all again.

Pop Goes the Bone

In the same week when I had these thoughts, I chose to play football over going to church. I figured it was the first game of the season and I had to go. I remember praying before I left for the match, asking for providence and provision. And during game, the same one for which I prayed protection for, an opposing defender tackled me harshly while I was sprinting. I somersaulted in the air, and fell awkwardly. As I landed, I felt a pop on my left shoulder. I ran my hand across my neck and felt something sticking out; that’s when I was told that my collarbone was broken; into three pieces, to be precise. Though my teammates brought me to the hospital, when they left, I didn’t really have anyone. I had to deal with the pain, all by myself.

But then one of my friends came and she was there for me. And throughout the weeks to come, everyone was there for me, ready to help me in whatever way they can. The boys took turns in sleeping over to make sure that I was fine throughout the night. The girls brought me food whenever they were free. And looking back, I don’t think I would have made it without them.

It was incredible really. How God used this unfortunate event to cement my relationship with these people. Because it was then that I saw how much they cared for me; as if they had accepted me fully as one of their own. I think it was then, that I started believing what God said about belonging here. It was then that I saw and felt their love.

Now

I’ve always found it funny (and incredible at the same time) how God waited until I was in an unfamiliar city, filled with strangers, to teach me how to trust and start opening up to people; especially to those that He placed around me. I learned to trust without worry and to love without expecting anything in return. All the fear of getting hurt pales in comparison, as vulnerability turns to comfort with the people you trust. Six months in Melbourne and I cannot imagine what my life would be like without them. They always have my back, for better or for worse. They constantly remind me to be better, push me to grow in Christ. They showed me, that if I delved deeper, friendship could go a long way.

If ever you worry about opening up to people, and for the longest time, like me, you feel like people just let you down and you have no reason to trust anyone, stop. Just stop whatever you’re doing right now, take a moment to look around. Because I believe with all my heart, that God has placed people in our lives, through which He works, after all, He who is love is within all good things. Take it from me, I should’ve believed Him when God told me to stay; because really, surrounded by these amazing people He placed around me, there is no other place I’d rather be.

#fear #insecurity #love #commitment #loneliness #friends #family

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castawxayaway · 7 years

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meant to be

I wrote this quite a while ago but did not like the end result, but rather than waste it I thought it’d be best to post it once I reflected over it. (now published merely because I didn’t have the heart to delete it and it annoyed me in my drafts)

to begin with I have tried something different, it is in third person and I haven’t tried it before so go easy on me. following that it is in dans pov- just to save any confusion!

There he was again, in the same place that he’d always sees her. Swinging out of sync he is too afraid to speak up and instead they continue to swing listening to the squeaks from the rusty chains. How badly they need oiling, he thinks despite it all being an illusion. Turning his head he focus on her whilst she keeps her head straight on, but tucks the loose strands back behind her ear marginally exposing the face he wishes to meet.

Opening his mouth to speak to her as he always tries to she stands up and begins to walk up the grass path towards the stars that shine too bright. Trying to force himself off of the swing there’s always something pulling him down; it’s as if the seat is made of cement and his hands melt into the chains. His eyes widen as he tries to call for her, yet no noise follows. She turns her head, for once facing him and all he can do is focus on those eyes, her freckles that sprinkle her face but more on the tears that stain her face.

Her face turns as she looks around at the empty park, admiring the abandoned laughter that lies in the swings and the zip line. With a few apprehensive steps she walks towards the zip line, perching on the edge of the stand glancing straight at him with a blank expression. “Where are you?” His mind begins to whir as she speaks, her voice echoing around the two of them despite the distance between them. Tilting her head to the side he feels a shiver down his spine, still clung to the swing as his legs move sporadically.

“I’m, I’m right here.” In desperation he calls out as she stares right at him, clearly unaware of his presence. “Do you know where you are?” All he can think about is the need to help her, to hold her in his arms as he has reflected over for every night these past two months.

Two months ago was when they started, the dreams. His mates told him it was nothing, some fantasy due to his isolation and lack of relationship. On the first night he sat in the swing and she walked over to him, he’d never thought she would’ve had such an impact on his life but she did. At first she appeared ghostly, placing her soft hand against his cheek felt too real. The more he tried to explain it to his friends the more they laughed and shunned him down, told him to just go out for a few weeks. Yet despite how much he tried, it wasn’t possible. Wherever he went, no matter how often he tried to stay awake she was there. The perplexed sweet expression that he could not avoid, but as he turned around to see her she was never there.

Her alluring eyes held all the possibilities and optimism that he’d wished for, the smile of innocence under the evening sky. The way she held herself around him, the simple floaty dress as if she had costumed based on a cloud that made her angelic, less ghostly. His sparkling blue eyes glimmer with hope as she jumps down from the ledge, nearing him once again. “Why are we here?” She asks lightly, taking slow steps.

Attempting to understand it all his eyes blur, his heart beating too fast against his chest. He shuts his eyes tightly, telling himself to wake up. “I wish I knew.” He sighs in response, but he can smell the daisies on her, the ones intertwined in her hair. “Who are you?”

Now she stands before him, every detail about her clear to register as his eyes scan hers. The bright optimism amongst the opaque form and sad smile. Lifting her ghostly hand up she places it on his cheek and all he can ponder over is how real it feels. “I’m the one you’ve been waiting for.” She cooed, pushing his hair back into the rest of the mess.

Blinking his vision shifts between focus and distortion, “When will I find you?” His breathing becomes more rapid, suppressed.

Pulling her hand away she takes small steps backward, her eyes still locked on his. “It’s too late.” She cries to him as he continues to fight the chains that hold him still, his vision struggling to be maintained. “Goodbye, Dan.” Her form continues to fade as he protests, his vision failing him until everything becomes black.

Sitting upright my breathing remains heavy, my shirt clinging to my chest with all its might. Glancing around the orange hue glides through the blinds covering my window, greeting me with slight warmth and opportunity. I reach for my phone, my hands still shaking and clammy from the dream that my mind is slowly considering to be a nightmare. With every blink I see her, a snippet of her state, the heavy look of misery and being lost. My need to find her, speak to her increasing with every night she greets me with that ghostly form she has yet to explain.

“It happened again.” I explain down the quiet line receiving a half hearted groan in response. “I, I know we aren’t booked until Tuesday but I really need to talk now.” Fidgeting I pick at the skin around my nails, a distraction from my shaking. “Look it is only getting worse, a lot more vivid. I just, I” Sighing I run out of words, my reasons are the same every time now.

She mumbles something incoherent down the line. “Dan, it’s five in the morning. Be at my office at seven twenty, I can see you for a half hour before my clients arrive.” With the blunt statement she refuses to listen to my gratitude as I am left with an empty line, only hearing my heavy breaths instead.

Getting out of the top that refuses to part with me the memories linger like the sweat does to my skin. All I can hear is her angelic voice echo in the peace of my room, the buildup of pressure in my ears from her laughter turning to screams. With some force I push the blinds back, exposing myself to the morning light. It feels as if the blended orange into the low blues and pastel pinks burn into my soul, I can feel them inside of me working away at replenishing my heart, healing the pain it goes through with every nights sleep.

Pulling at my hair I head down the stairs, phone in hand as it continues to ping, bleep and make various noises from strangers attempts of grabbing a hold of my attention. Of late I spend my evenings scrolling through different social media platforms trying to grasp onto someone who looks like her, but no one ever does. She is never found, she is my mystery. The one I fear is never meant to be solved.

As I near her office with every glance at my reflection I see her following, walking alongside me. Yet whenever I turn my head I’m alone, she is the ghost that haunts my dreams and lurks in my reality. Around me life picks up, the early morning bringing out those in a hurry to hide in their own shame amongst those who wish to be exposed to life as opposed to cowering away from it. In my mind she is the one who wishes to be exposed, sometimes I can picture the two of us in the dead of night, driving around aimlessly but living in the moment. Of late I live somewhere else, in this unknown park with childrens paintings on a brick wall where it is one continuous field of grass spotted with swings, zip lines, climbing frames, see saws. Everything is so pristine yet old, slowly rusting with each dream.

Standing outside of her office my foot continues to tap until she arrives, her heels clicking against the marble flooring. “Hi Dan, come on in.” Before she used to be upbeat, but now I am becoming more of a burden to her which I know and so does she.

We go through the dream, each time her length of notes and the rushing of her pen increases with concern mixed with curiosity. I feel like a mouse in an experiment, being closely observed except I am not forced here, the only reason I come is to find her. She goes through the usual questions and I provide the same responses, how life is becoming harder to seperate from the dream, that I do not know of this place where we exist. That with each passing day I feel closer to her yet I’ve never felt so far away.

Leaving her office I’m left with the same hole in my chest, the one that is unfulfilled as neither of us are any closer to figuring it out. “I’ll be in touch Dan, if I find anything.” She speaks up as I shut the door behind me.

The city is in full business now, lights are on as the street lamps fade. People with purpose stride by whilst those who lack need wither into the background. My eyes remain down, focusing on my footing rather than observing the variety of life before me. I feel a few knocks, some more forceful due to the rush than others.

One knock sends me back, I trip over my own feet but I don’t fall. Immediately someone places a hand on my arm, a small spark spreads through me, I can feel the hole closing. Lifting my head up my mouth goes dry as her eyes go wide, staring back at me. “I, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and my friend is waiting for me and are you hurt?” She rambles on but I zone out of it all, it’s her.

“Do you, do you know me?” I ask sincerely as a small smile begins to form on my face, but her face only becomes more perplexed.

She glances around us, everyone continuing but it feels slower. Everyone moves but in a slow blur, allowing me to focus solely on her. “I, I don’t. Should I?” The hole in my soul becomes bigger, the moment I’ve been waiting months for only to find she doesn’t know me.

Releasing her arm from me she backs away cautiously. “I’m sorry, I must have the wrong person.” I mutter and walk away without another word. Tears fill my eyes as I walk, vision blurring along the streets as all I can hear is her confusion. I expected something, I thought she’d feel it too.

As I reach the corner I dial the number, “I found her.” I choke back a sob as I hear him sigh.

“Don’t tell me you scared her off?” Kyle retorts and I shake my head, pushing my hair back.

With the cuff of my jacket I wipe my face forcefully, keeping my head low. “She didn’t know me. She hasn’t a clue who I am Kyle. I, I don’t know what to do.” I lean against the wall, a mixture of fury and sadness lurking through me.

“I’m afraid you can’t do anything mate, there will be someone out there. She just isn’t the one.” Accepting his statement I go about my day, wallowing back home and wanting nothing but to sleep, to face her.

Lying down my face has become raw from the forceful fabric I have wiped across it too many times. I didn’t want to cry over her, she wasn’t worth it despite everything. All I wanted was to experience her love, to actually meet her and after all this time, it was just an illusion.

Closing my eyes they open again, the park around us has turned to rubble, the grass entirely dead beneath my feet. Searching the area around me I see her, sat on the top of the small hill with her hair flowing behind her. Except she no longer wears the angelic dress, the smell of daisies has passed and is replaced by cruelty.

She turns to face me, a sickening smile plastered across her face. Her eyes no longer hold optimism, instead they turn dark and deadly. “Where are we, Dan?” The voice is not hers, it is too afraid to fit her form. “Why can’t I see you?” She continues to cry towards me as I near the hill, taking hesitant steps up, enticed by her words.

Standing before her she blinks, her eyes turning back to what triggered my heart. “What, what is going on?” I bluntly ask as she stands up, her hand reaching towards my face which I bat away.

“Why, we’re playing a game.” She giggles and my heart plummets. Moving away from me she wanders by what would’ve once been the children's paintings, now only snippets of the bright colours are still etched. “It is me vs your mind. You are letting your mind win too often, and because of this you lost me.” Glancing down to her left arm it begins to fade.

Confused I walk towards her, my eyes turning hard. “I don’t understand you. Why is this happening.” Gripping onto her right arm she shakes her head, a smile forming on her face again. “Why me.” I sigh.

“We were simply not meant to be. And this is your mind’s way of showing you what could’ve been if you took the chance to.” Behind her someone appears, a broad man with blonde hair.

He takes her arm from me, she willingly walks away with him as I stand still, something preventing me from moving. “Goodbye Dan, do not let her fall out of your grasp.” Her whisper wraps around my ears as I fall to my knees.

Shutting my eyes as they open I’m in bed with something pressing against me. Blinking rapidly she lies fast asleep by my side, a small smile on her face. “This isn’t real, it’s all a dream.” I clutch my head and try to make sense of it, it feels too real. Why won’t it end?

“Mmmh.” She stretches out against me, her eyes lazily opening. “Mornin’“ Yawning as she speaks she reaches up and kisses my neck, moving up to my mouth. It feels too real. “Don’t worry Dan, I won’t let you lose next time.”

#idek what this was #erm #like ????#it got weird #and then I got confused #but its here anyway #enjoy?#either way its up and its something #that i spent a while on #too much time on i think hence why i got confused #bastille #bastille dan #bastille writing #bastille imagines #bastille imagine #dan smith imagine #bastille au

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themildestofwriters · 5 years

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Because Tumblr’s going down the shitter tomorrow, I’m going to post a chapter of the up-coming novel “short”-story I’m writing, ‘The Weird and Wonderful Sexual Awakening of Babette Melwyn’. This is chapter four, six seven and follows Babette after having her sexual reawakening and deciding to experiment a bit more. Does it spoil what happens? Well, it was already a foregone conclusion anyway and this is only one part of the story which has quite a bit more then just the smut.Quite a bit more.

Anyway, on to the story!

Babette Visits Pandora’s Box

Breath—in, out. In, out.

My skin prickled uncomfortably, suffocating heat washing all over me. Like the pounding of war drums, my heart was hammering in my chest. I knew that, if anyone saw me, they would see bright-red blush across my countenance.

I didn’t want to here.

I really didn’t want to be here.

Of course, the option to leave was there. It would be so simple. Just turn around and walk away, but I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Indignant pride—along with incessant curiosity—kept me rooted in place. I survived hell and beyond, led armies, ruled an Empire and fought against everything from the Third Reich to the very gods themselves.

Yet… here I was, terrified. Petrified!

It infuriated me, how I felt, and it was all Josephine’s fault—or mother’s fault. It fluctuated now and then.

Weeks had passed since mother asked the question that changed everything, and it had been quite the journey. Now, here I was, standing before a building that was in no way discreet. It was only one story tall, sitting at a corner beside a few other stores—a mechanic and hardware retailer. Cement walls were painted black with a long and thick purple strip running through it, merging with a great eight-ball painted on its side; however, instead of there being an eight in the centre, there was an eighteen-plus. To finish it off, atop the flattened roof was a broad sign that read: Pandora’s Box Adult Store.

It was quite a distance from home, at least another suburb over. As sure as I was that it was far enough from school and home that I wouldn’t meet anyone I knew, the fear still lingered like a miasma. If I locked eyes with someone from school, a friend, a family member or, worse, Josephine herself, I knew I’d die from utter humiliation. That, or I’d bury myself somewhere on Pluto for the next century or two, at least until everyone who knew me was dead.

With that in mind, I took precautions. So, nobody would recognise me and hadn’t arrived as myself, per se.

Nobody walking by would see little Babette Melwyn visiting an adult store, no siree. Instead, they would see a man right out of a modern interpretation of Lord of the Rings. To put it simply, he looked like an elf—if a particularly strange elf—with a very thin and lanky frame, a strong aquiline nose that sat flush with his brow, and bright crimson eyes. His clothes were simple, a pair of plain black pants, a forest green shirt and a satchel that hung across his body. Finally, there was the black beanie that sat on his head, hiding a pair of long elfin ears.

I couldn’t remember the last time I used this form. In recent millennia, I hadn’t much use for it: No need to go undercover; no need to hide from the authorities; no songs to sing that simply sounded better with a masculine voice. I would have preferred a slightly different form from this—mostly because changing sex was a rather odd experience—but it was the only one I had that looked human enough and didn’t look a thing like me.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I adjusted my new clothes and began crossing the car park.

The streets were relatively empty, and I couldn’t see anyone out and about on a walk nearby, so my fears eased. Despite this, I still flung the entry door as open as I could and stepped inside as quick as I could. Unfortunately, in my haste, I almost slammed my face into another door a few feet away. Jerking back to save myself, I quickly noticed the large poster plastered on it—big bold letters declared a warning to minors, stating that this wasn’t the place for them.

Well, I’m certainly no minor, at least chronologically, though mentally? I mused. Completely different story.

I gave the poster a further few seconds of consideration before passing through.

The first thing I noticed was the front desk. A few advertisements and products decorated it here and there—lubricants and condoms mainly—but it wasn’t that which interested me, rather it was the human manning the desk who caught my eye.

I didn’t really know what I was expecting when I entered Pandora’s Box: A leering man with questionable stains on a rumbled spotted shirt; an Amazonian sex goddess with thighs that could crush skulls; or maybe the extravagantly dressed Madame who secretly owned a trafficking ring out back. There were many ideas and expectations I had when I first planned this trip. What I got instead was an old lady with greying hair who looked to be in her sixties or seventies. She wore modest clothes, a pale pink blouse with a short red cardigan over top.

It was… odd.

Nevertheless, what she looked like didn’t matter much at all to me. The fact that she was here, staring at me, however, was something else entirely.

She smiled, warm and welcomingly.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice as sweet as any grandmothers should.

“Hey,” I mumbled back, nerves and social ineptitude making it difficult to say much else.

I turned away quickly, wanting to forget she was even there, only to recoil in shock as the rest of the store revealed itself to me.

Just what in the Abyss had I gotten myself into?

Along the walls, hanging from hooks and on display in little island tables was an ungodly supply of dildos—some small, some so large I wondered how they’d even fit! There was more as well: lingerie, butt plugs, handcuffs, vibrators and so much more. Some of these things I couldn’t even name let alone determine their purpose.

Cheeks flared red and, much to my further embarrassment and dismay, I could feel my pants tighten. My eyes grew wide and for the next couple of seconds, all that went through my head was a steady stream of unholy screams and curses.

I had forgotten about that little fact.

I was biologically male and so I had to deal with all the aspects of being a male.

I took a deep breath and accepted that this was going to be my life for the next hour or so. Reluctantly, I began browsing, all the while attempting to reposition my newest appendage as subtly as I could. By Anu, it was uncomfortable.

As for what I was looking for, I didn’t want anything too fancy nor anything too big—just something to satisfy my curiosity—but it soon became apparent that I had absolutely no idea what I was looking for. Silicone versus rubber; double ended verses suction cup; veiny verses smooth; strap-on compatible verses that one weird dildo that looked more like featureless snowman: there were so many options to choose from that tackling size alone was its own chore, and I had no idea what any of it meant!

Oh, sure, I did spend a few weeks online researching the subject. I read a few articles about sex and masturbation, I learned that what I felt when with Josephine was “being horny” or “aroused”, and I’d seen many videos of people having sex. Yet nothing mentioned anything about the specifications of different dildos and what they meant. I didn’t even think this was going to be an issue! I just thought most of the different designs I’d seen were purely aesthetic based!

Unfortunately, it appeared my ignorance must have shown in some way as, after roughly ten minutes of staring at the shelves with confused horror etched on my face, a voice spoke.

“Would you like some help, dearie?” the old lady asked, her sweet voice unnervingly at odds with everything around her. In fact, the entire store felt off. It was quiet, casual. It was like I just walked into a convenience store but instead of lollies and Stanley knives, it sold riding crops and ball-gags.

I turned to the woman, trying my best to keep composure, and paused—at a complete loss for words. Should I ask for help? I had no idea. I didn’t want to look like some idiot, but I also didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary.

Once again, I cursed my stupidity. Of course there would be different types of dildos, each with their own pros and cons, yet all I did was get off to watching those wretched videos.

After much deliberation, I decided “to hell with it” and accepted her aid.

“Yes, please,” I replied meekly.

She smiled tenderly and left the counter, soon joining my side. It was then I realised that I was an entire head taller than her, a completely useless fact that left me feeling uncomfortable for some inexplicable reason. “Do you know what you’re looking for exactly?”

“I—ah…” I wasn’t really sure how to reply to that. Should I just out and say it? Would that be socially accepted? Or would a euphemism be in order? I had no bloody idea. “I’m looking for… I’m looking for a dildo.”

“Is this your first time?” she asked, this time with a knowing.

First time? I blushed. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Don’t worry, dearie,” she said. “I’ll help you out.”

One misunderstanding and many uncomfortable questions later, I had my vibrator in hand. While I would have much preferred a normal dildo, it at least looked far less complicated than the other toys recommended. The entire vibrator verses dildo dichotomy confused me, but not being an expert left me little room to complain. Of course, getting to that point wasn’t easy nor fun. Not only did I realise how deep the well of my stupidity goes but I think I somehow convinced the old lady that I was trans. After all, how else are you supposed to explain away a man looking for a dildo to use on his vagina?

Soon after paying, I hid the vibrator away in my satchel and left the store as discreetly as possible.

Once out, I wandered around for a bit, eventually arriving at a wooded park nearby. Hiding among the trees, I made sure none were nearby before returning to my old skin.

Shapeshifting was a queer affair. Disorientation was always something to worry about if one was unaccustomed with the art or shifting into an unfamiliar body with different proportions. However, that was only a minor inconvenience for me as it was the shift itself that was more unusual. It was by no means painful or anything, it simply felt weird. It was as if my skin and bones were melting and reshaping again and again until my body fit what form I desired. The first to change was my height, becoming noticeably shorter; my shoulders narrowed; my hips widened; my chest expanded; features became less elvish and more feminine; and then finally, my eyes shifted from a red to vivid gold.

It only took a second at the most, but I was grateful that my body was mine once again. What’s more, the annoying erection was no more, yet I still felt the tingling of anticipation twisting in my gut below, aching for release.

I fought down a shiver and took a deep breath. Every thought I had went straight beck to the vibrator in my bag: what I would do with it; what it would do to me. I was eager, ready, but I couldn’t just fly home right now—I needed batteries.

After once again checking to see if the coast was clear, four great black wings burst from my back, tearing through my shirt. A few seconds, I launched into the sky, vanishing from sight moments later.

A short stop to buy an eight-pack of batteries later and I was on my way home.

I had the house all to myself, what with my family being out for the next few hours, so I had time to satiate my curiosity. There was a reason I chose today to go out to the store.

Locking the front door behind me, I silently set the alarm spell just in case anyone attempted to break in. I then retired to my room, closing and once again locking the door before flopping onto my bed.

I was home, all alone.

The strange aching sensation had tapered off during the flight, but now that I was back, all I could think about was the vibrator and what would come next.

Sitting up, I opened my satchel and removed my newly bought toy, still sitting inside the box it was sold in.

I removed the packaging and examined the purple disembodied member. It was roughly seven inches long, curved slightly, with a realistic mould of the male genitalia. Apparently, it was a high-quality product, not only being waterproof and made of silicone but also with seven different intensities to choose from. Let’s just hope it was worth every cent I spent.

I bit my lip, my legs squirming together as the tingling warmth began spreading throughout my body. I was eager—more than eager—to find out how it would feel. Fingers were one thing, but these were supposed to be ten times better.

I smirked despite myself. Everyone said masturbation was a healthy and natural thing, even my therapist, but their words still didn’t change how I felt. Masturbation was a dirty thing, so depraved and selfish in my mind; a taboo I had never considered, yet a taboo all the same. However, these thoughts only seemed to make the action all the more exciting as if to spite it all. It was a forbidden fruit, something I shamefully tasted once and was left only wanting more.

Quickly, I summoned a Shroud of Silence around my bedroom and got ready.

With the batteries placed inside, I quickly discarded my clothes—my beanie, hair tie, shoes and socks—and threw them onto the floor with everything else that wasn’t necessary.

Next came the tattered shirt. I didn’t really need it anymore and considering the fact that it was already ruined, I tore it off and threw the remains to the floor. Without a bra, I was left bare-chested, everything from my pale lavender-grey skin to my scars—some faint, some not—and my small breasts.

I looked down, I inspected myself—the dark room, a bright monochrome to my eyes. My body felt all warm and sensitive, hyper-aware of the tingling pressure below my navel begging to be attended to. My hands roved, tempted to simply forgoing the vibrator and take matters into my own hands. The slightest touch was like sparks of electricity to my skin, enticing.

I forced myself to stop, to think clearly. I crawled onto my bed. With pillows to act as a buffer, I leaned against the headboard and spread my legs. Absently, I summoned the vibrator to hand and… stopped.

This was the first time I had ever used anything aside from my fingers and pillow, and I had no idea what I was going to expect. Of course, I had seen videos of people using them but seeing and experiencing were two completely different things.

I pressed the button sitting flush with the black base of the vibrator and instantly the room was filled with a low hum.

I squirmed at the noise, the vibrations stimulating my imagination. My legs clamped shut and I could feel my body ache to feel the massaging touch of my new toy. Like tunnel vision, the vibrator was the only thing on my mind at the moment—the desire to feel it against me, inside me; the carnal pleasures it would bring. But before I began, curiosity pushed me further. I pressed the button a few more times, each rewarding me with a new and enticing setting that picked up in intensity until it was buzzing madly in hand.

My breath hitched and quickly I switched the thing off with a final press of the button.

By Anu, I would certainly not be using that setting tonight. That was far too… too potent. I smiled nevertheless, excited to see what this night would bring.

Relaxing against the headboard, I spread my legs once again.

Slowly, the fingers of my left hand ran down my body, past the tuft of silky black pubic hair before gliding over my warm mound. I wanted to ease myself in, not be overly hasty.

First, I started with my middle digit, circling my clitoris—each movement of my finger sending sparks of pleasure, some more often than not, flowing through my body. I varied myself, trying to find that right touch, that right rhythm to get the best effect. Sometimes I would slide my finger between slippery lips, delving deep into my warmth; at other times, I would use two or more fingers, playing with myself until my head became hazy.

The only constant was how deep my breathing became and how slick my fingers got. I felt as if I could go on and on, slowly building myself up and up until that bright flash of absolute paradise. It would be easy to give into temptation, but I stopped myself, huffing a deep breath as I did.

Bringing my fingers up for inspection, I saw they were glistening, lines of wetness connecting finger to finger like a spider’s web.

I blushed. I had never been so wet before.

I knew I was enthusiastic—shamefully so—but I didn’t expect this!

I stared, almost mesmerised by the lines of fluid that coated my fingers. I had seen video after video of men and women using their mouths and tongues, tasting the viscous juices of others. I wondered how it tasted—the girls surely looked like they were enjoying themselves from what I remember.

I tilted my head and, in a fit of impulse, brought my fingers to my lips, dragging my middle finger down my tongue.

The taste… it tasted kind of… I wasn’t sure.

There wasn’t much of a taste to be honest, perhaps a bit sweet? It was underwhelming, to be honest. It wasn’t ambrosia and I certainly wouldn’t drink a glass full. But, somehow… the thought that this was what a woman tasted like?

I wondered if this is what every woman tasted like or if it was different. Did Josephine taste this way? I didn’t know but I wanted to find out—to feel my tongue running along her slick lips, tasting every inch of her. I could almost see it when I closed my eyes, her body writhing beneath me; my tongue explored every inch of her.

I brought my fingers back to my mouth, slowly lapping up the remaining nectar from each digit. This was the closest I could ever get to Josephine and I savoured every last bit, moaning as I did. My tongue grew and reformed, becoming longer and pointed, wrapping around my fingers and tasting every last drop.

Only when I was done and there was none left did I sigh, deep and content. The taste wasn’t anything special but the thought of my tongue exploring Josephine’s depths just made it so… so… delectable. My body was already hot and bothered before, but now I could barely think straight.

I turned my attention back towards my vibrator and then down towards my vagina—aching heat calling desperately to be tended to.

Readjusting my grip, I turned it on to the lowest setting and brought it down slowly. The second it brushed against me, I jerked up, stifling a small cry—a powerful jolt of pleasure, intense and sudden, shooting through me.

It… um. I— I didn’t expect that…

Suppressing a grin, I repositioned myself and pressed against me again. Just like before, pleasure shot through me, but it was more than that—a near constant assault as I pressed it between my lips. The vibrator changed pitch, and I groaned and squirmed.

I tried to be quiet, but I couldn’t help but mutter under my breath.

“Fuck…” I groaned, beginning to move the head, watching it roam around my vulva. I never let it overstay its welcome, exploring around and between soaking lips to my sensitive clitoris and everywhere else. As I did, more jolts of pleasure racked through me, soliciting moan after moan, threatening to overwhelm me.

My head lulled back, eyes closed, as my free hand moved slid up my waist and ribs, tickling my side before cupping my breast. With thumb and finger, I teased myself, pinching my hardened nipple as fresh waves drowned me in carnal delight.

My groans became louder, hungrier. I could feel that presence below my navel growing and growing as time ticked by—tense, like a spring, as if it were ready to release at any moment.

I didn’t just want more, I needed more.

I pressed the button on the base and—

“By Anu!” I cried. My body arched suddenly, an entirely new world of ecstasy taking root. I pressed the button again and again, lost in my insatiable craving for more. “Oh, fuck!”

My mind blanked, the world around me darkening as I focused purely on myself and nothing else. I felt as if I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to. All I could think about was feeding my blind hedonism until I was left a drooling mess.

Pinching and teasing turned to rough kneading—my hand massaging and squeezing my small supple breast.

Soon, fantasies began filling my mind to tempt and stimulate. I remembered back to that particular video I watched—the one of the two women sharing in each other’s company. They would kiss deeply, their hands ever wandering, caressing, teasing. Soon, one girl began to kiss lower, down the other’s neck, past her breast and between her legs.

I couldn’t help but put myself in the other’s position, completely at the mercy to another’s masterful tongue.

But then the girl changed. No longer was she a blonde white woman taking deep pleasure in lapping up every inch of me. Instead, her skin turned a dark caramel, her hair curlier and now a deep chocolate brown. She looked at me, parting hair that obscured her face and—

My heart skipped a beat.

Josephine…

I could see her plain as day in my mind.

She crawled to me, slowly and seductively, her delicious arse swaying so tantalisingly as she did—her enthralling green eyes never wavering from mine. There was a look in those eyes, some unrestrained hunger that scared me, excited me and awoke something deep within me.

Pure bliss flooded every part of my body. I moaned her name, feeling shameful desire swirl at my desperation. That presence below my navel called out, demanding to be filled, and I obeyed.

My lips parted as I eased the vibrator in. First the head then, slowly, the rest of it began to fill me. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. Instantly, I was intoxicated, drunk on unabashed lust. I groaned loud—loud enough that, had anyone been home, they surely would have heard.

In and out, I pumped the vibrator, building speed as I yearned to feel more. My free hand soon joined it, massaging my clitoris as the vibrator continued to send wave after wave of crushing pleasure through me again and again and again.

My fantasy continued, Josephine’s splendour still in my mind.

I soaked up every last bit of her I could remember—her eyes, her skin, those lips. Oh, how I longed to feel those luscious lips upon my own, on my neck, on my breast, teasing me with teeth and tongue.

Down, down, down, down.

How I longed for those beautiful soft lips to mark me all the way down to between my legs—to feel her tongue dance a most wicked dance around and inside me, exploring my warm depths.

Oh, how I wanted her here.

I wanted her, I so desperately wanted her here it was frustrating. I wanted her here to make me her plaything. I wanted her here to ravage me so completely that I couldn’t think straight. I wanted her here to fuck me hard and rough until I was nothing more than an incoherent babbling mess in the palm of her hands.

I gasped.

My entire body seized up, legs slamming shut onto my hands. I clenched down hard onto my vibrator. My entire body rocked. Hips bucking wildly as absolute euphoria flooded my entire body.

I felt as if I was being shattered deep into my very core—a feeling so strong and intense it almost hurt.

Muffled whine turned whimpers tried desperately to be heard as white hot bliss shot through me again and again and again and again.

Jolt after jolt of agonising pleasure ruined me, never-ending and omnipresent. I could feel it building me up and up, just as before. Every inch of me felt so sensitive, like the slightest touch could send me spiralling down all over again.

I cried out, every last moan loudly declaring my depraved deeds to the world.

I couldn’t handle it. It was just too overwhelming.

I removed the vibrator as quickly as I could, fearing that I would break. The second its ravenous touch left, I surrendered to fatigue.

My heart raced. Blood thumped loudly in my ears. My breaths, long and laboured. I was utterly exhausted.

I laid there for a moment, trying to recover my lost strength. The buzzing of the vibrator continued but a quick spell later and all that could be heard was my heavy breaths.

That was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

It was just so… so… pure. So utterly all-consuming. I could barely describe it.

Slowly, my faculties returned. My mind became clearer and my breathing soon became more measured. When my body relinquished control back to me, I summoned the silenced vibrator to hand. I could still it vibrate against my hand and so I quickly cycled through the various settings and turned it off, placing it on my bedside.

I continued laying for a time, staring up at the cream ceiling as my muscles began to relax.

After a minute or so, I pulled myself up to a sitting position and quickly looked down, noticing a sudden wetness against my leg.

I frowned, cheeks flaring hot as I realised just how soaked I, and the bed, was. Not only were my thighs glossy with the clear coating of my release, but there was a large dark stain on my sheets, intermingling with the marks of sweat.

I sighed and reclined on my bed. It’d be a pain to clean up. Next time, definitely bring a towel.

Next time.

I smiled wistfully and turned to the veiny member sitting innocently on my bedside. There was no doubt that I wouldn’t be using it again.

But now? I need to clean up and probably have a bath. A nice warm bath.

#oc: babette melwyn #work: divine intervention

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popcultureliterary · 7 years

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Framed Stories: Fiction Inside Fiction with Adventure Time and Ponys

If every author followed the exact same formula for crafting stories, their readers would languish in boredom! Creators constantly combine different storytelling techniques and literary devices in order to make their works shine amid a sea of other brilliant works. One available narrative device is the framed story.

Perhaps one of the most popular stories told using this device dates back to the 9th century: One Thousand and One Nights, also known as, Arabian Nights. The tale’s protagonist, Scheherazade, tells her husband awe-inspiring stories with intense cliffhangers in order to avoid execution and to rescue other women from the same fate. The majority of the action occurs in the stories that she tells in between the pockets of narration detailing her life.

Framed stories can be found in today’s popular media as well. TV shows often use this device to create playful episodes in which characters take turns telling stories. Examples include Futurama’s “What If Machine” episodes, Gravity Falls’s “Bottomless Pit!” and episodes of Family Guysuch as “We Three Kings.” Popular examples of movies include Forest Gump, Tangled, and Big Fish.

What Exactly is a Framed Story?

Imagine a painting hanging on the wall, decked out in an ornate golden frame. You stand and appreciate it for a while, taking in the average-looking home and admiring the way that the artist used blue around the old woman sitting in the middle of the room. You get a lonely feeling looking at her, and can’t quite make sense of the soft smile on her face. Then, you notice a painting hanging on the wall in the background. It contains a young woman laughing with children. You realize that it is a portrait of the woman and her family. They seem quite happy. It gives you insight into why the lonely old woman smiles.

Framed stories are just the same: a story (or a set of stories) within a larger story that gives you a deeper understanding.

These works typically begin with a framing narration that introduces a character, or multiple characters, who will tell a tale. They set the scene, and launch into the telling. At the conclusion of the tale, the framing narration returns in order to show the impact it had on the listeners.

Creators can use this narrative technique in several ways. Let’s take a look at some of the more popular ones.

Fiction Within Fiction in Adventure Time

Sometimes the framed story comes entirely from a character’s imagination. Cartoon Network’s Adventure Time gives us great examples in its Fiona and Cake episodes.

These rare but well-loved gender-bending episodes follow the adventures of Fionna and her magical cat companion, Cake. The first of these episodes, “Adventure Time with Fionna and Cake,” opens right into the adventure. Fans don’t find out what is really going on until the end, when the scene switches to Ice King reading pages from his book of fanfiction.

Unlike other framed stories, the episode does not open with a framing scene introducing the story, but that doesn’t disqualify it from being a framed story. Authors occasionally use creative license in order to end their work with the framing narration instead of starting with one in order to leave the audience in the dark until the close. What’s important is the purpose that the story serves. Ice King’s imaginative “Fionna and Cake” episodes give the audience (and maybe even other characters) some important insight into Ice King’s personality.

It’s no coincidence that his two protagonists resemble Fin and Jake. At first, it seems like just a fun nod to the fans (which it might be!), but further examination tells a much sadder story.

The ancient wizard constantly tries to befriend the heroic duo, only to have his efforts fail time after time. Ice King just wants to feel included in the adventures and lives of the people of Ooo. He doesn’t have the social skills to do so, and creates his fanfiction to make up for it. We can see this in the episode “Bad Little Boy.”

It starts with a poorly crafted Fionna and Cake adventure told by Ice King, who inserts himself into the story’s climax and rescues his heroes. They tell him that he’s a super cool guy, and Ice King cries for joy at having the opportunity to meet them. Fionna tries to cheer him up, and invites him on the sort of adventures he wishes he could take with Finn and Jake. In the end, Ice King visits a room in the depths of his ice castle devoted to the fanfic’s heroes. He kneels before two massive ice sculptures of his protagonists and discloses his hopes that he will meet them one day in the real world.

We see him wishing to meet Fionna and Cake in another episode as well. In “Mystery Dungeon,” Ice King tricks various denizens of Ooo into helping him through a dungeon in order to bring his stories to life. After the adventure fails his expectations, Ice King tells Fionna in his Imagination Zone that he believes she’s real. Watching from a distance, Finn comments that nobody in the world is as sad as the Ice King (except for Shelby watching the situation play out, perhaps).

We can infer that Ice King, isolated in his land of snow with only a surly group of fleetingly loyal penguins for company, lacks companionship. Knowing this casts his princess-nabbing antics into a new light. He isn't kidnapping the royal ladies out of malice, but out of a desire to fill the void with the companionship that he can’t seem to earn on his own. Failing time and time again, he writes fanfiction in order to know what having friends feels like.

A few novels that utilize the framed narrative in a similar way include The Canterburry Tales, Frankenstein, and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

BONUS: The Ice King’s imaginative tales aren’t the only framed stories featured in Adventure Time. What time is it? Scavenger hunt time!

It Came from the Past

Framed stories aren’t limited to fictional stories told inside of fiction. Many creators utilize the technique to delve into the past of the framing narrative. These stories start with a character introducing a riveting tale about their past, and launching into it for the majority of the work. Just like the fictional frames, these past-delving narratives can happen in different ways depending on the creator’s wishes. It might continue uninterrupted to the end, with the framing narrative coming back to wrap things up, or it might revisit the framing narrative throughout the work in order to introduce new elements of the story.

Let’s take a look at My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. The first season’s twenty-third episode, “The Cutie Mark Chronicles,” uses this narrative style to explore the history of the Mane Six.

The episode opens with the Cutie Mark Crusaders conducting their usual shenanigans to find their cutie marks. After another epic failure, the determined trio set out to ask their role models for cutie mark origin stories. Along the way, they run into each member of the Mane Six and get their cutie mark history. Each of their histories occurs inside of the framing narration of the Crusaders running around Ponyville on their quest.

The framing of the episode serves several purposes. First, it gives Lauren Faust and team an engaging way to tell their intended story. It also discloses the protagonists’ cutie mark history in an engaging way and sets the stage for future episodes.

So why didn’t they just tell the whole story in the past? That’s where a third purpose comes in. Using the framed story technique allowed the writing team to give more information about the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Here, we see the trio trying a new technique to solving their problem: asking the older ponies how they did it. Telling the story this way gives the creative team a chance to demonstrate the Crusaders’ resourcefulness while also exploring the relationship between the Crusaders and the Mane Six.

Finally, their choice to tell it this way allowed the episode to end with the Main Six sharing their stories in the bakery. They reach the essential conclusion that they all got their marks from the same event, which serves to cement their friendship even deeper.

Flashbacks aren’t Framed Stories

An important thing to keep in mind is that framed stories are different than flashbacks (a narrative device where the author gives us a glimpse of events that occurred in the past). You can determine the difference by asking yourself one question: does most of the action take place in the past, or the present?

If you answered that it takes place in the past with occasional narration from the present, you have a framed story. If instead, you determined that the majority takes place in the present, you have a flashback. The events of a flashback usually serve the main story in some way, such as explaining an important event, revealing information about a character, or creating contrast between past and present.

Both My Little Pony and Adventure Time make use of flashbacks in multiple episodes in order to give the audience a glimpse of what happened. Let’s take a look at “Memories of Boom Boom Mountain” from Adventure Time’s first season. Flashbacks throughout the narration show the audience scenes from Finn’s past that guide his actions in the present. These glimpses take up only a short portion of the overall story. The majority of the action takes place in the present as Finn works hard to keep everyone happy.

Video Games Put a New Spin on Things

Video games also utilize this narrative device. Games like Assassin’s Creed and Fable 3 use a framing story to launch players into the heart of the game.

Video games as a genre have also created a unique spin on the framed narrative. Many RPGs, especially open-world RPGs, feature books and letters hidden throughout the world that players can discover and read. The items, while not always important to the player as a tool, often contain the history and lore of the world. Sometimes, they just tell the story of characters who the player will never meet, or ones they interacted with on various quests.

These items give the player a deeper understanding of the world as they run around exploring it. Occasionally, they provide insight into certain characters’ actions, or hints on the location of an obscure quest. Framing these tales within the game’s overall narrative gives players a more in-depth understanding, and allows them to create their own experiences of the journey throughout the game. Players can generally complete the game without reading any of these, but taking a moment to pause and peruse gives them a more wholesome experience.

Tag, You’re It!

Do you have any favorite shows, games, comics, or movies with a framed story? Don’t forget to leave a note! Tell us your take on what purpose the framed story serves in the work.

You can also connect with me on Twitter at @Popliterature, or send me a message.

And as always, if you have a literary device you want to know more about, or a game, comic, show, or movie that you want to see make an appearance on the blog, leave a shout-out!

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