#i struggle so much with colouring this show sometimes but i like how this turned out!
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ROSWELL, NEW MEXICO
4x08 Missing My Baby (requested by anonymous)
#rnmedit#roswellnmedit#roswellnmsource#roswell new mexico#malex#malexedit#michael guerin#max evans#requests#*laurengifs#cinemapix#cinematv#hope this is okay!#i struggle so much with colouring this show sometimes but i like how this turned out!
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A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [5.9K]
THE TIMELINE
"Oh no, you know you know I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying,
For someone I could die for, someone I could try for
Fall apart and cry for, go 'head, risk my life for."
-Someone I Could Die For by Lewis Capaldi
II. ROME, ITALY: 49 BC
The roar that came from the bowels of the Colosseum never became easier to hear.
The noise seemed to make the city shake, the streets empty, the market stalls abandoned in favour of bloodshed. The games took place in the summer, when the skies were an endless blue and there were no clouds to tamper down the climbing heat. The sun bore down on the sandy pit of the enormous Amphitheatre and the seats were filled, the doors that had already been closed still surrounded by regretful stragglers who were forced to listen to the chaos from outside of the walls.
Fourteen men had died already, three from the jaws of the lions, two from the bears and eleven from the swords of other imprisoned slaves. The cheering from the crowd made your stomach curl. The floor of the stage was covered in red, the sand streaked with spilled blood and the animals that were bullied back into their cages had their jaws tinted pink.
It wasn’t a joyous occasion, no matter how many people celebrated in the name of their emperor. The leader of Rome was sitting mere seats away from you, dressed in ruby robes that were slung like a cloak over his white toga and his laurel crown glinted with golden beads that sat tucked into the olive wreaths. He was drunk on wine and violence, and your father sat next to him in the royal box, ever eager to please as he clinked his chalice against his kings.
Being the daughter of Rome’s most beloved senator certainly had its positives. You were dressed just as finely as the royalty around you, the fabric that was made to fit your frame swept to the floor and only yesterday, the emperor’s cousin had gifted you a necklace made of the finest gold, inset with glittering emeralds, pretty enough for a princess.
The same cousin smiled at you from across the row, each seat in the royal box made from plush velvet, the high backs ornate and cushioned, unlike the stone carved benches the rest of the civilians were sitting on. You smile back, uneasy but polite, and your father nodded approvingly.
You were expected to marry, you knew that much. You were already considered too old to be unwed and you knew the rest of the court whispered about how you would now struggle to bear a child. But the man that was expected to be your husband wasn’t who you loved. He wasn’t unkind, he wasn’t cruel - not like you’d heard men could be. The girls in the kitchen would tell you stories of how their husband made demands. Shouting each night for their meals, their baths, how their shirts weren’t stitched right, how their beds would lay cold because their wives were too tired.
Some men visited the bath houses, you knew that much. Seeking out a lupa for the night, the ladies that were called she-wolves, with their painted lips and robes that showed so much skin. Some men decided that they didn’t need to listen to their wives at all, you were once told, horror etched on your face. Some men took what they thought they owned.
So no, the emperor’s cousin seemed kind enough. But you weren’t in love with him. You weren’t sure who you were in love with. A dream, perhaps. One that kept returning to you from a young, young age. A dream about a different town, one you’d never been to before. But in your sleep, it felt like home. White buildings and green gardens with tall, tall trees and pretty, ornate gazebos made of stone on the edges of shallow ponds. You were by the sea there, a blue-green ocean that seemed so calm.
Sometimes monsters came, the marble statues that guarded the city came to life and turned your dream into a nightmare. There was always fire and fury, storm clouds and too big waves and a man with skin the colour of death would try and take your hand. But even when the dream turned bad, there was always someone else.
A man, with a blurry face and a mess of almost too long hair. It hid his eyes from you and you could never make out too many details but you burned when you looked at him, you could weep when he touched you. Sometimes he led you through the burning town, his hand clasping your own as you both tried to run and run and run.
Other times, you lay in a bed with him, skin bare and your head on his chest as he murmured the sweetest poetry to you, words that made your heart race. Your dream was encased in white linen sheets, a hazy, soft light that always made it look like early morning and when the man’s lips met yours, you always woke up.
Him. You loved him.
You hadn’t been in love before, but whenever you dreamed of the stranger, you were sure that must have been what love felt like.
“Have some grapes, darling,” your thoughts were interrupted by your father as he thrust a plate of fruit and cheese under your nose.
But the fifteenth gladiator was being dragged through the gates by the armpits, a clawed hammer still sticking out from his chest and your insides turned over at the idea of eating such sweet treats as blood poured from the men in front of you. The emperor’s box was almost nauseatingly close to the fights.
You shook your head before you remembered your manners, smiling politely and murmuring, “I’m quite alright, thank you.” You blew out a breath, shaky and faint.
From your other side, one of the young girls who had been gifted to you on your sixteenth birthday waved a giant fan. A large peacock feather, a huge plume of colours that merely wafted the too warm air back and forth but you smiled your thanks at your lady in waiting, a pretty girl who’d turned into a prettier young woman. She was small and lithe, angular in the face with curls that came to her sharp jawbone and she smiled back.
Nancy, as she’d introduced herself to you a week after she’d arrived at your fathers house, from the Wheeler family of Liguria. She didn’t like the gladiator fights anymore than you did, always murmuring about the rights of the animals and how inhumane it was later in the night as she drew you your bath.
“—from Verona,” your father was saying with a mouth full of provolone. “One of their best, so they say, His Majesty simply had to have him.”
You blinked, frowning in confusion at your fathers words. You hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest and nothing you’d caught made any sense. “Sorry?” You grimaced apologetically and took a few pomegranate seeds from the plate of food in apology for your rudeness. “Who is from Verona?”
Your father rolled his eyes, a sure sign that you’d be lectured in his study later for your lack of respect. “The next gladiator, child.” He gestured to the stage where the soldiers were locking the gates to the tigers, each big cat growling with menace when the men came too close to the bars. “They say he’s unbeatable. Our Highness offered a more than generous helping of coin for his papers but Verona’s general didn’t seem to want to part with him.”
You frowned again. The crowd seemed to be aware of this man and his presence, murmuring and shifting in their seats in anticipation. “If that is the case,” you prodded. “Then how is he here? If the gladiators… owner—” the word left a terribly bitter taste in your mouth and you felt heavy with guilt when Nancy’s fan brushed your shoulder. “If his owner didn’t want to sell him?”
Your father snorted, an unattractive sound that made Nancy wince beside you. “No one tells the emperor of Rome ‘no’, dearest.” Your father shrugged. “The gladiator cannot be owned, if his owner is dead.”
Bloodshed. Always bloodshed.
A man came from the east side gates with chains around his ankles and wrists. You couldn’t quite see him for your seat, not yet, but the crowd above and around you roared, eager for the final fight to begin. The man already looked beaten and tired as soldiers stepped forward to unlock his manacles and you sat forward in your seat for the first time since you entered the Colosseum that day.
He had messy hair, dark brown and hanging just past his chin. It was already damp looking, matted and dirty from being kept god knows where as the emperor's new toy. He was shirtless, his body lean but corded with muscle. He had wide shoulders and a lithe waist, powerful thighs and skin that was tanned from the sun, a sure sign he spent too much time outside, training hard in the Italian heat.
As he moved closer to the middle of the stage, you saw the marks on his body, leftover scars and new slices in his flesh that still looked viciously red. The crowd got louder as a sword was thrown at his feet, a large, heavy looking thing with a bronze handle. Some cheered for the new warrior, hoping for some excitement, while others jeered and booed, already too attached to their darling reigning champion.
The gladiator picked up his sword and the crowd became wilder still, but he gave them no mind. He didn’t put on a show like some of the others, he didn’t flex his muscles or raise his weapon like it was already a prize. His leather loincloth was a deep wine colour, the tan leather pleats looking far from newly made and the material was already streaked with blood and dirt before his first opponent arrived.
Your heart felt heavy for him, as it did for all the others who were forced into the Colosseum - prisoners, slaves and animals alike. You watched the gladiator flex his wrist, testing the weight of his weapon just as the gates in the west cranked open.
Rome’s current champion strode out from the shadows and into the bright sun, his bare chest glinting with sweat and Hargrove held his hands aloft, grinning as the crowds went insane. He beat his chest, his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and when he was handed his own sword, he wasted no time in running towards the new fighter, the steel blade glinting.
You gasped, moving closer still to the edge of your seat and you couldn’t find it in you to bear much mind to the looks your father and Nancy shot you. It wasn’t like you to take such an interest in the sport, never mind be so heavily invested. You didn’t like to watch the wounded, preferring to close your eyes when the screams began, hiding cowardly behind Nancy’s fan when the blood turned the sandy stage pink and red.
But this new gladiator, he was fast.
He dove at the last second, dodging the tip of Hargrove’s blade and he rolled towards the section where you sat. Dust kicked up from the move, his sword tearing into the wreaths and sashes that hung from the Emperor’s box. You grasped the edge of the wooden frame, peering over the side and down to the stage, hoping to not see blood already.
Instead you found the gladiator looking back up at you, his sword still in his grasp and when his eyes met yours, they widened. Something like recognition hurtled through you, a feeling that sucked the breath from your lungs and you felt dizzy, like lightning itself had struck you from the sky. You thought the man perhaps felt the same, a frown on his face telling you that he felt just as confused as you did.
But before you could consider where on earth you could have possibly seen his face before, Hargrove attacked again, bringing his blade down to where the gladiator's shoulder should have been, if he hadn’t rolled once again.
You were on your feet now, the stares of your father be damned. Your eyes were wide, your heart beating far too fast, like you yourself were on the stage, being hunted for sport. Wood splintered into the space under your nails as you watched the man run, his muscles pumping, his eyes narrowed.
“Darling, are you quite alright?” Your father placed a hand on your arm, more confused than concerned.
“Yes, I just— yes.” You cleared your throat and sat down again, albeit back to the edge of your chair. You could feel the rest of the royal party staring at you. “Where did you say the man was brought from? The new gladiator?”
“Harrington?” One of the Emperor’s councilmen interjected. He pointed a pudgy finger at the brown haired gladiator, who was now swinging his sword with as much power as Hargrove. “Steven Harrington of Verona, best of his breed I heard. His general didn’t take too kindly to the King’s offering and well— you know what happens when his Highness is made to feel upset.”
The metallic clink of the swords filled the arena as everyone held their breaths. Not many had lasted this long against Hargrove before.
“Rumour has it that he didn’t take too kindly to his general being beheaded. Took six men to get him into the back of the cart, even more to make him train. He’s been refusing food all week.”
The idea of it made you feel unwell, a sickly, creeping kind of pain curling around each of your ribs and suddenly you were starving, just as much as you were sure the man would be. But still, I didn’t seem to make him move any slower, it didn’t hinder him in bringing his sword down any harder.
But strangely, every time the new gladiator was struck, every time his knees hit the raw sand, every time he got close enough for you to see him suck in a gasping breath— you felt it too.
It was a battle like you’d never seen before, more vicious than the others from that day, a showdown under the blazing heat of the high sun. No tiger seemed as powerful as Steven Harrington of Verona did. There was something animalistic in the way he moved, all power and lean muscle, a steely glint in his brown eyes that you didn’t dare look away from. He moved too quickly for Hargrove’s blade, dodging and diving as he flung up sand, blinding his opponent and slicing at his legs. Each move was a blur, the stage bleeding with fresh red, the blonde gladiator on his knees.
But Hargrove was ruthless, grappling with the newcomer until they were both wrestling in the dust cloud and the crowd went insane, people chanted and stomped their feet, the amphitheatre shaking down to its very bones. The imperial box quaked with the energy, but truly, you weren’t present enough to feel it.
Your eyes never left Steven’s fighting figure.
The swords seemed to be forgotten, the steel blades rusted with blood, both fresh and new, and they lay in the sand. Fists flew, knees pressed to chests to keep the other down and it was brutal, it was harsh, it was deadly.
You wanted to vomit. You feared you might.
You wondered what would happen if you leapt from your chair, if you let your skirts get torn and bloodied in the mess of the stage, if you threw yourself down onto the sand and begged for Hargrove to take his hands away from the new gladiator's throat.
Would you be punished? Beaten? Locked away? Killed?
You weren’t sure but somehow, all the options felt worth it. You couldn’t watch this man die before you. Not when it felt like you’d already witnessed his death before.
But Steven wrestled himself out of Hargrove’s hold, twisting and tumbling whilst he gasped, one hand clutching at his reddened neck and the other grappling for his blade. He swung it through the air, arching wide, his wounded shoulder ripping with effort it took but the sword landed where the warrior intended it to.
Silence settled over the colosseum, the air still enough for you to hear the surviving champion heave out gasping, heavy breaths. There was blood on his hands, his chest, his face.
His right eye was already bruising, red and lilac coming to the surface of his skin like fresh blooms in spring. His shoulder was a mess, his right leg causing him to buckle slightly as he rose to his feet.
The man turned, jaw slack, his sword falling limply to the ground once more, his opponent still and at his feet. His eyes found yours and time stilled, at least, to you. The crowd erupted, an explosion in its own right, the entirety of Rome cheering for their new champion.
A man you were sure you already loved.
By the time the fight had ended, you felt beaten and bruised. There were no marks on your skin, no blood seeping through your gown, but something inside of you hurt all the same. It felt like something was clawing at your heart, a memory that was banging on the front of your skull, screaming at you to remember.
When the guards dragged the gladiator from Hargrove’s limp figure, he dropped his sword to the sand and spat a mouthful of blood towards the ground at the royal pit. The Emperor merely chuckled as others around you gasped and before you could even hear your fathers protests, you were on your feet.
Steven Harrington was shackled once more, the metal chains clinking around his hands and feet. And as he was led away back into the arches, the gears of gates making an awful protesting noise, his eyes found yours once more.
A burning gaze, too intense to look away from and you could’ve sworn on the gods, on the stars above, that something inside of you tugged sharply. Like the pull of a string, tied in a bow between your ribcage, urging you forward.
Telling you to go.
So you did.
You gathered your skirts in your hands and made your way to the exit of the box, too focused to hear your fathers objections until the guards at the doorway halted you with their spears. The wooden stalks crossed themselves over your chest and you froze, the string tied to your heart pulling tighter and tighter and tighter—
The Emperor was staring at you, with cold eyes and a smile that wasn’t really a smile. He spoke to your father, not you. “Where, my dear senator, is your lovely daughter running off to?” The king turned back to you, brows raised. “Doesn’t she know that more wine will be served soon? My cousin is looking forward to her company.”
Your father stared at you, a stricken expression on his aged face because everyone in the royal box could read between the lines of the Emperor.
You cleared your throat, eyes still trained on the sharp metal points of the spears that were very much in your face. “Forgive me, father - your highness - I was merely hoping to get some fresh air.”
“The sight of all that blood makes her rather delicate,” your father agreed and the crowd of councilmen, generals and their wives tittered in their jewels. “She isn’t one for conflict.”
The Emperor stared at the side of your face, something you could feel despite bowing your head in his presence. You stared at the floor and waited, heart racing.
The royal tsked. “What a pity,” he declared but he waved a hand, each finger heavy with golden rings, and his soldiers stepped aside. “Be back in time for the parade, child, you have company to entertain.”
The Emperor’s cousin leered at you, his wine glass empty, his lips stained ruby but none of it mattered right now, not when you were taking off once more, skirts dragging across the dust and sand, your chest heaving as you tried to navigate your way through the crowd that was already dispersing.
More guards, heavily armoured and with their swords drawn, were too preoccupied with a fight that had broken out between the arches, two lower class men arguing over a coin they found on the ground. Taking your chance, you moved with your head down, your face hidden as you slipped through a door that was normally carefully watched.
The heavy wood slammed shut behind you, the sunlight swallowed whole. Burning torches lit the narrow corridor, a maze of them leading you underneath the Colosseum. The hypogeum was almost damp as you tried to navigate its many walkways, a gasp leaving your throat as you took a wrong turn and ended up face to face with the iron bars that separated you from the animals.
A huge tiger growled at you, bloodied teeth bared in a snarl, the stench of raw meat and faeces hanging in the cool air. You backed away, eyes flickering from cage to cage, each one filled with another poor creature. Lions, bears, a rhinoceros and its offspring, and beyond them, an even larger cell holding prisoners. They all stared at you, men and animals alike, but nothing was spoken.
You backed away, unable to breath, turning on your heel and walking quickly enough to spot the familiar grey robes of the healers used after the battles. You followed, your steps light, and watched him enter a small room. Between the door opening and closing, you spotted the gladiator perched on a wooden table, his head bent low and his face hidden behind his damp hair.
You weren’t sure what possessed you, but before you barged into the room too, both men staring at you from the table where the healer held a ragged cloth to the gladiator’s shoulder.
“Miss, you have no need here,” the healer announced, his voice strict and cold. He narrowed his eyes as he gestured to the door. “This is no place for—”
“My father sent me.” It was a lie, of course. A bold and bare faced one at that. But you stood a little taller and lifted your chin, the emerald necklace at your throat shining in the low light that came from the small fireplace in the corner. “The senate has questions I’ve been asked to deliver. I shall not leave without the appropriate answers.”
On the mantle, beside bottles of acids and other medicinal vials, sat a small statue of the goddess Veratis. Her marble eyes seemed to judge you and your lies and you swallowed down the bitter taste it left on your tongue. But looking at the man - this stranger from Verona - the need to speak to him, to be alone with him, was overwhelming you to the point of senselessness.
The trouble you could be in if you were to be caught in your lie… or worse, down in the hypogeum. This was no place for a woman of your standing, never mind to be alone with a gladiator, both of you unspoken for. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.
“If we may have some time alone?” You added with more authority than you should have held. “Unless you’d prefer that my father leave the Emperor’s side to ensure his orders are fulfilled?”
The healer sighed but placed down his tools. He flashed you a smile that was all crooked teeth, more bite than kindness, but he made his way to the door. “That won’t be necessary, My Lady,” he told you and he left, closing the wooden door behind him.
The silence was a deafening thing. The crackle of the fire was still there, the distant roar of some poor, wounded animal, but whatever was held between the two of you took on a life of its own. It seemed to suck the rest of the world into it until there was nothing left but you and this man. He was staring at you still, brown eyes wide and so familiar, looking as confused as you felt as you stared right back.
It felt too easy to take a step forward, but the warrior flinched. Your next was slower, softer, more cautious. Your hand found the rag that the healer had once held, what little water it had been soaked in was cold, the material harsh. It didn’t take you long to find a new cloth in one of the drawers of the apothecary table and you took your time to warm some fresh water over the hearth.
Honestly, you didn’t know too much about medicine, only the basics that your father’s head servant had taught you as a young child. You found the small bottle of alcohol with ease, plucking it from the shelf and adding it to the warm water before soaking the new rag.
You held it up in offering to the man, still far enough from you that his dirty hair hid most of his face. His tanned chest was streaked with sweat and dust, marred with old cuts and fresher wounds from Hargrove’s weapon, but for the most part, he seemed okay.
“Can I?”
The gladiator lifted his head then, his hair falling away from his cheeks and you took in a sharp breath at the sight of his face. He was handsome, painstakingly so, but over and above all else, he was someone you were sure you knew.
The man nodded, just once, lips pressed together and as you came closer, his nostrils flared and his large hands gripped the edge of the table. His eyes raced across your features, recognition coming to the surface and before he could ask the questions that were clawing at his throat, you lifted the cloth and pressed it to the cut on his shoulder.
He hissed, teeth bared and you frowned, hushing him softly, apologies murmured just as quiet. “I’m sorry,” you told him and gods, he knew you meant it. “I need the alcohol to soak the wound.”
Your heart stuttered when he let you, shoulders tight and back ramrod straight, but his eyes were on your face the entire time you worked. “You’re not a healer,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
His voice rung through you, a deep timber that was hoarse and scratchy, no doubt from refusing to speak since his capture. You hoped he’d been drinking enough water.
You shook your head as you pulled away, dipping the bloodied cloth back into the bucket. “No, I’m not,” you confirmed.
Another swipe at his skin had him jerking in response but the blood and dirt was finally clear of the cut. It would need stitches, you were almost sure of it, but your skills started and finished at the basics.
“Then why are you here?” The gladiator’s eyes were trained on your necklace, a sure fire way to recognise nobility and you were overcome with the urge to rip it from your throat. “Why did you follow me?” He spoke like he already knew the answer.
You were hesitant about it, but you couldn’t stop your hand from lifting to his neck, fingertips brushing two beauty marks on his skin. They felt electric under your touch and you were impossibly warmer now, despite the old cell lacking the heat from the summer above.
“I feel like I know you,” you whispered. Your voice cracked with an emotion you didn’t quite know the name of. “I feel like I’ve mourned you.”
The gladiator looked back at you from behind his damp hair, the long strands matted with his and his enemies blood. He didn’t look as concerned as he should have been at your strange words. In fact, he leaned into your touch, lashes fluttering at the sensation.
“What an odd thing to say to someone who hasn’t died,” he answered quietly. But his gaze roamed over your features and something about being so close to him felt cosmic, it felt like a catastrophe waiting to happen. “I think I’ve met you before,” the gladiator whispered. He sounded reverent now, his own hand shaking as he brought it to your face.
He cupped your jaw, your chin, his rough fingertips trailing over your soft skin and when his thumb dragged across your bottom lip, you gasped and pressed closer.
“I think I meet you when I sleep,” he said and he frowned at his own words, at how confusing he must’ve sounded. “Every night, when I close my eyes. You’re in a garden and then you’re in my arms.”
Flashes of a bed came to mind, white linen sheets and too much bare skin. A man’s chest, tanned and muscled from hard labour, your hands that roamed the expanse of his back. You remembered how he kissed you in your dreams, with a longing so intense it could waken the gods.
Like he had enough love for you that he could end the world.
You could only nod. His thumb was still pushed to your bottom lip, your mouth parted as if you were waiting and his stare was so intense you felt warmer than you had in the stadium above.
Who was this stranger?
And why did it feel like something inside of you was being stitched back together by the sheer sight of him? His touch felt healing, it felt like home. Like it was only made for you to feel. Like he was made only for you.
Above, something boomed. Loud enough to be heard underneath the hypogeum, over the roars of the unsettled animals. If you had been outside, you would’ve witnessed the blue sky turning grey, shades of moody lavender and navy, storm clouds rolling across Rome from seemingly nowhere.
Thunder rumbled, threatening noise, something that made you and the man move closer to each other, like you both knew you were in danger.
That you knew something bad was coming.
“I don’t understand,” you said, eyes blurring. You weren’t sure why you were crying but Steve didn’t seem to question it. He merely swiped away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. “You’re a stranger— we’ve never— we’ve never met.”
Despite your words, the gladiator moved closer, standing from his seat on the wooden table to lean his forehead against your own. Your eyes slipped closed, nose bumping his. He smelled like metal, like blood and dirt and sweat but underneath there was something like fire there, like molten iron, like lavender fields and fresh cotton. Like a daydream, like something you weren’t sure was real.
His bottom lip touched your top one, only just, only barely. A whisper of a kiss, a small insight of something that could’ve been, of something that maybe once was.
Thunder rolled again, louder than before, as if it was right above you both. Even over the din of the crowds above, you could hear the heavy patter of rain that was now flooding the colosseum, the stage soaked. Another warning, something you’d seen before in a dream just before it turned to a nightmare.
“I was meant to find you,” Steve murmured. He had your face cradled in his hands, an overwhelmingly gentle touch despite the dried blood under his fingernails. His voice grew in urgency then, like he knew something was coming. Someone. “I was meant to come here. I can feel it. I understand now.”
“Someone once told me you’d come back,” you suddenly remembered, your voice eager, your eyes wide at the memory. “I don’t know— was it you? From before? From—”
From another life, you wanted to say.
How ridiculous those words were, how silly, how stupid. But there wasn’t any other way to explain. Logic didn’t seem to exist when everything you felt from this touch of this stranger led you to believe that somehow, someway, you’d spend a lifetime together.
Like you were supposed to spend this one with him too. And it didn’t seem long enough, decades wouldn’t make up for the time you’d lost searching for him, for this stranger who only came to you in your sleep. But he was very real now, solid flesh and bone underneath your own hands, brown eyes that seemed warmer than the Italian summer.
You didn’t want to let him go.
“In here, my King,” a voice interrupted. The door was open and the healer had returned, a cold look on his already stern face. The Emperor was behind him, ruby robes collecting dirt from the old floor. Four soldiers flanked him. “I have every reason to believe the Lady sold me lies, Your Highness.”
It happened too quick. Too fast.
The Emperor studied you, Steve’s hands still on your face as you stood too close, ready to kiss, ready to fulfil something neither of you were sure of. It felt catalytic.
“Seize him,” was all the Emperor said, one lazy flick of his wrist sending all four guards at you both.
There was too much movement in the tiny room, bottles of medicinal wares clattering to the ground and smashing at your feet. The table groaned as Steve was shoved into it, his own reactions too slow from his injuries. He grunted and reached for you too late, his hand slipping from your own, fingers barely touching, as he was shoved at from either side.
One soldier shoved the butt of his sword into Steve’s wounded soldier, the other bringing his armoured knee into his bare stomach. The gladiator doubled over, a gasp leaving his chest before he fell to his knees on the stone floor.
“Stop this!” You yelled, urging forward, trying your best to throw yourself into the mix of it all but someone’s arms - another soldier - caught your round the middle. “Unhand him! Your Highness - please - he hasn’t done any wrong, please—”
The Emperor just looked at you blankly before he picked at the jewels around your neck. He tutted, as if it were a shame, a waste. You could hear the shackles being placed back on the man, the low groan he gave as the metal was tightened around his sore wrists.
“He won,” you whispered, your voice low and choked. You were ready to beg. “Please, he won. He doesn’t deserve this—”
“I don’t like anyone else playing with my toys,” the Emperor interrupted. He said it like he was discussing what to have for lunch. “And my dear cousin doesn’t like anyone playing with his.” He motioned to the guards once more. “Take her back to her seat, where you make sure she stays. This isn’t any place for a Lady,” he told you mournfully.
You didn’t get to see what happened to the gladiator as you were escorted out of the room. But you did hear his yells when the door slammed shut, the dull thuds of impact that you were sure were on his already bruised and broken body. You hadn’t even told him your name, or that you dreamt of him too. That during your worst night terrors, he was the one that saved you.
When you reached the imperial box once more, your skirts dirtied from the sand, your face tear stricken, you felt broken. Like you’d been snapped in half, like someone had found that wound Steve had stitched up and pulled it apart again the seams. Like someone had ripped something important from you, half of your heart, perhaps.
You didn’t even notice that it had stopped raining. The skies were blue once more, the sun shining, the only evidence of the sudden storm were the drops of rain that had soaked into the pillow on your chair.
Steve was gone and the thunder was too.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington oneshot
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Ex husband price brain worms again, c.w/ nsfw, unedited, bad writing, I've never published nsfw before
It's your ex-husband, Price's birthday, and the last thing you expect is for him to show up, with a sweet, suave smile on his face
It's not even his custody day but he says "come on, love. I wanted us to spend it together, like a family. You're really not going to let me take my favourite two girls out for my own birthday?"
All you can do is roll your eyes and let him as he walks in, leaning down and leaving a small peck on your forehead as your daughter runs down the stairs to hug her dad, squealing.
He's adamant about cooking lunch for you two, but you stop him
"Oh, come off it, John, I'll cook since it's your birthday, and you keep saying you'll take us out"
He gets dragged off to play teaparty with the little princess and comes back after a while, his arms slot around your waist, swaying side to side softly as you half heartedly try to stop him, he just grins and nestles his head into the crook of your neck,
"Let the 'birthday boy' hug his wife, love."
"Ex-wife, john."
"Mhm, whatever makes you happy. Happy wife, happy life."
Lunch is served, and the three of you spend the rest of the day going shopping, prices idea. Dollhouse, cars, legos, Barbie, slime, whatever the kid wants, and some small gold necklace for you, even though you won't accept it,
"They're too much, John, stop it-"
"But, love, this is your favourite design and the colour. It'll look beautiful on you."
He buys it and even gets the jeweller to engrave a small j.p on the back of the charm while you're not looking.
He takes you two to a small fancy restaurant at the end of the day, your daughter playing with her new toys on the table, while John's hand holds yours on the table.
"Might retire soon, getting up there in age, love," his eyes watch the way your light up slightly, looking at him before turning away slightly, seeing his gaze, "ill be able to be around more often, wasn't that one of your complaints, I was too busy, so I gave you a little one."
You smack his arm lightly, "Oh, shush, John. She'll be happy. She is always saying how she misses her dad. She keeps asking for a little brother, says everyone in class has one except her," You chuckle softly
At the end of dinner, he drives you two back home, your daughter tuckered out, he picks her up and takes her to her room, tucking her in, kissing her forehead softly, "sorry, I'm not here much, princess, I promise to be around more, okay?"
He comes downstairs and kisses your cheek as you swat him off lightly,
"Stop it, John, you know that's not appropriate,"
"Mhm, whatever you say love, come help me take the things out the car will you?"
The night ends with price bending you over in the backseat, fucking you desperately,
"Fuck, love, I missed this grip, you might have a hard time saying it but your pussy's been missing me, huh? The guys you bring round ain't big enough for ya anymore? Don't worry, daddy's here."
Your fingers grip the car seat, squealing every time he thrusts in
"There's only one thing I wanted for my birthday, you know, love? It's been real lonely up by myself sometimes, and been thinking," he hums lowly, grinding deep inside you while you struggle to even keep up with his pace let alone words, he moves over you, one hand groping your breast, teasing the nipple, the other coming up to your clit, rubbing it along with the harsh pace, "been thinking bout this pussy, and getting the present of life, ain't that cute?"
You gasp, your pussy squeezing around his cock tighter as he starts rubbing your clit faster, "John, please- is, is too much," you moan
"You're doing so well for me, mama, you want another little one too, right? You always said one feels bad, we need to give our little baby a sibling,"
"John- holy shit," your legs shake as he presses you down against the seats, every thrust with one purpose, "please, please, I'm so close!"
He keeps going until he feels your legs trembling, three loads in, his fingers massaging your clit, his lips kissing your neck, leaving hickeys for everyone to see.
You wake up in your bed, listening to John's snoring as you yawn, shifting to get up slightly, his arms tighten around you and his eyes open slightly.
"Mmhm, best birthday ever."
He mumbles before he starts snoring again
#chubby reader#i forgot how to tag#its been like 4 months#captain john price#john price#captain john price x reader#john price x reader#ex-husband price#cod x reader#cod mwii#price x reader#captain price#biting my hand so hard rn
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Silly Love
Hello!!! Here we go with a request from an anon for my Comeback Event!! Thank you so much for your request anon! It was such a delight to write!
Here is the request: “AAAAH i'm so excited for this event!!!! I wanted to request Ben Barnes with the Idiots In love trope!! like maybe they do interview together or we spot them publicly and they're so blushing and happy together that they forget to stay low in the public eye !! thank you so much Carole for giving us some fan content i love and appreciate your work so much ❤️”
This is so adorable, honestly…
****
Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader
Warnings: so much fluff your teeth will rot
Summary: you and Ben are giving a series of interviews for a project you’ve filmed together. But as the day goes by, it’s harder and harder for the two of you to remain serious and not act like the two fools in love that you are…
Word count: 3447
There was something in the way you spoke that always felt so reassuring to him.
Ben wasn’t certain of what it was exactly. The sound, the tone, the octave, the rhythm… He didn’t know what it was about your voice that simply… soothed him. He merely had to listen to you, close his eyes, and everything else would disappear.
He remembered the first time he heard it. It was through his TV screen. It didn’t feel the same then. It lacked the gentle imperfections your voice carried in real life. Still, he remembered watching the whole show you were playing in simply to listen to your voice.
One of these magic tricks of yours.
He should have been paying attention to what you were saying, to what the journalist was asking too. But as he stared at you, he simply forgot about anything else in the room but you. He stared at your eyelashes as they moved with each of your small blinking movements. He studied the curve of your nose, the line of your jaw, the colour of your lips. He knew how soft they felt against his. He fought against the sudden urge to simply cradle your neck, turn your head towards him, and kiss you until none of you could breathe…
You turned to him, and he fell into your eyes. Impossible to look away. Impossible to breathe at all. It felt like drowning, but in a wonderful way. Like falling forever and never wanting to hit the ground.
He didn’t even notice the way a dreamy smile formed on his lips. He was resting his chin in his palm, his elbow resting on the wooden armrest of his chair, set right next to yours.
He saw you tilting your head slightly, frowning a little…
He recognized those signs. It meant that you were waiting for an answer to something he had not been listening to…
“Ben? What do you think?” you repeated.
He shook himself, straightening up again, and blushing terribly.
“I… I am terribly sorry. I did not listen to the question,” he apologised, letting out an embarrassed laugh.
You soon joined him, chuckling while the interviewer repeated her question. You hid your embarrassment behind your hands…
You knew perfectly well why Ben had not been listening. He wasn’t paying attention.
You could hear his excuse, he gave it to you every time he wasn’t listening to you.
It’s not my fault if you’re too gorgeous to look at for me to focus on anything else.
And sometimes, you wondered if he truly meant that. Of course, you took it as a charming and flirty excuse. But there were moments when he would just stare at you the way he just did… maybe he was merely gawking at you, for real.
“Well, I was very happy to work with Y/N,” he answered, and you realized that, this time, you had been the one who wasn’t paying attention to the journalist sitting before you. “I had been admiring her work for a while so… huh… I was very curious to learn how she built her character’s presence, how she approached her roles. And it… it turns out that she is also an amazing human being so… I am a very happy man, indeed.”
You struggled to refrain a smile at his words. You knew perfectly well that you made him a happy man because of your blossoming relationship, not because of your talents as an actor.
You noticed the smirk that appeared on his lips, and knew that you were not doing a great job at hiding your emotions. A mix of satisfaction and embarrassment and shyness…
He adored it. He was so proud of himself for making you look like this. You were so adorable then…
You had not made your relationship official. Ben and you were both adamant in keeping your private lives private. Besides, you had met while working on this movie, and you didn’t want your relationship in your real lives to become a tool to promote the film. So, you were both determined to keep your relationship secret, for now.
You had to admit though that sitting next to Ben all day long, in a rather dark room, made it very difficult for you to act like the two of you were mere friends.
“What did you take home with you from set at the end of filming?” the interviewer asked, apparently oblivious of your inner battles.
“I took home some… small things that were on set… I don’t think I should tell you in details,” Ben laughed. “But I have one of my suits. Let’s… let’s say that.”
“What about you, Y/N?”
You thought for a second, but couldn’t stop yourself from answering as honestly as you could.
“Wonderful people.”
Ben and you exchanged a tender smile.
You were both resting your arms on the armrests of your chairs, and Ben used your proximity to brush his pinky finger against yours, ever so slightly, so no one in the room would notice.
The gesture was there though, tender and intimate, and you grinned at each other. Ben was blushing fiercely again.
“How nice!” commented the journalist.
“See? Told you. She’s amazing,” Ben nodded, making you roll your eyes.
“You have such an amazing chemistry on screen. I think it’s one of the biggest charms about this film, to be honest. And it must be hard to navigate through a love story between two characters. How did you manage that? How did you establish this connection?”
Ben cleared his throat and you saw him looking up at the ceiling, looking for a lie.
After all, he couldn’t answer with the truth. He couldn’t answer with: well, we both genuinely fell in love with each other off-screen, so it wasn’t hard to pretend to be madly in love on-screen. No, that couldn’t work…
You wanted to help him, find your own answer, but you were quite taken aback by the question as well. You were thinking about all these long evenings spent together in his apartment, drinking tea, or sometimes whiskey, and talking for hours and hours; failing to notice that the night was flying by. All those mornings laughing with him in make-up. Listening to his sweet voice as he sang on his piano during the weekend. The long walks on Sunday afternoons. And this feeling that kept on growing and growing, but you couldn’t possibly imagine that he felt the same…
And then, the comments of your friends about the two of you. The fact that you had become so close so quickly, that you wanted to spend so much time with him, that you didn’t think about dating anymore. The realization that struck you like a punch in the stomach that you were not having a mere crush, but were falling desperately, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with your co-star. The doubts, the long days spent thinking that he could never feel the same.
Until that Sunday afternoon when he sang this bloody song he had written, and you sat next to him while he played on his piano and… you just couldn’t stop yourself.
Your first kiss. It tasted like sunlight, tea and soft music.
You were brought back to the real world when Ben finally spoke.
“We talked a lot about the most intimate scenes, and the most emotional scenes too. Huh… we… we really wanted to be on the same page, and to be sure that we were both comfortable and able to express in the best way what our characters were feeling. And I think that level of understanding was very important. And… you know just… trusting each other. Huh… and then we simply became very good friends so it made everything pretty easy.”
You couldn’t refrain your tender smile as you stared at him while he spoke. You drank every word. You studied his dark hair you loved messing up with your fingers so much, his short beard you adored against your skin, the angle of his jaw, the corner of these lips you wanted to kiss all the damn time…
You shook yourself, trying to pay attention to the interview again.
“Alright a few fun questions now,” the interviewer said, a smile on her lips. “I’ll ask you some questions and you have to answer with the first thing that comes to your minds, at the same time, on the count of three. Sounds good for you?”
“Sure, sounds fun,” you answered, smiling as well.
“Alright. Tea or coffee? One, two, three…”
“Tea.”
“Coffee.”
You rolled your eyes at Ben’s answer, and he did the same because of you.
“That bloody, tasteless hot water,” you complained.
“I love coffee too.”
“But you prefer tea.”
“I do prefer tea.”
“Very cliché for a Brit.”
“True… I’m not going to try to deny that.”
The two of you exchanged a teasing smile, before focusing on the journalist again, waiting for her next question.
“Your favourite thing about each other. One, two, three…”
“His kindness.”
“Her kindness.”
You both gasped at your matching answers.
“You are extremely kind, like… too kind, honestly. Very patient as well,” you nodded, and Ben was grinning at your words.
It was the kind of radiant smiles that were almost blinding.
“You are way too sweet. And just so… so genuinely nice. In the best way,” Ben added, his grin turning into something softer as he stared at you. “You’re always trying to make sure everyone around you is happy and well. You have a very generous soul. I love that about you.”
“Aww…” you couldn’t help it when you reached for his hand and gave it a tender squeeze.
“Now, what is the thing you dislike the most about each other?” the journalist asked once you were looking at her again. “One, two, three…”
“Nothing.”
“He’s so distracting.”
Ben looked at you in shock while you and the interviewer were laughing so much.
“Wow… I was not expecting that one,” Ben admitted. “I was being so nice to you, I said ‘nothing’! Did you hear that?” he added, turning to the interviewer. “I can’t believe it...”
“You really are so distracting though.”
“I’m very focused when I work,” he argued.
“You have the whole shouting-to-get-into-character thing,” you started, counting on your fingers.
“Oh… yeah… that’s right. I see how that can be quite distracting…” he admitted, and you saw him starting to blush again.
“You’re always in people’s face, or touching me, or hugging me…”
“That’s nice though!”
“It’s nice, but still distracting.”
You raised a third finger.
“And you’re very handsome. It doesn’t help.”
His smile turned tender again, the tips of his ears turning red.
“Thank you, that’s nice.”
“Do you want to change your answer?” the journalist asked Ben with humour.
“I think I’ll say that she’s too honest sometimes.”
You all laughed.
“You never think before speaking,” Ben went on, still laughing. “It’s hilarious.”
“I am hilarious.”
“You truly are. But it gets you into so much trouble sometimes. Do you remember when we were at this restaurant and you thought the couple at the table next to ours were father and daughter?”
You doubled with laughter, hiding your face in your hands.
“That was so embarrassing.”
“You’re so loud…”
“I was tipsy!”
“Drunk. You were full-on drunk.”
“No, I wasn’t! I was very tipsy but I was not drunk.”
“Anyway, you said this so loudly and the look they sent us!”
You were both laughing so much, both of you forgetting all about the interview.
“I just wanted to disappear.”
“You really get us into so much trouble sometimes…”
“But you like it. You would be bored otherwise.”
“Just like I bet you love it when I distract you.”
“That’s quite true.”
You and Ben intertwined your fingers together, holding hands, and Ben brushed tenderly the back of your hand with his thumb. You didn’t think about what the gesture could mean for the rest of the world. You were too busy getting lost in his dark eyes.
The journalist interrupted your thoughts though as she spoke again. You separated your two hands, movements made slow by reluctance.
“What’s the last emoji you sent to the other? One, two, three.”
“Laughing face.”
“Kiss emoji.”
You frowned hard at Ben.
“Your last emoji was a heart, not a laughing f…”
But you saw the look in his eyes and stopped talking.
He was lying on purpose… shoot…
“Yes, you’re right, it was a laughing face,” you lied, but you were pretty certain that you were not convincing.
Ben tried to keep a straight face, but it was difficult.
The interview was (thankfully) over though, so the journalist left, and you bid her a good day with a handshake and a warm smile.
Ben asked for a two-minutes break before welcoming the next interviewer, pretexting that he needed to go to the bathroom, and you followed his lead.
Actually, you found refuge in the deserted staircase of the building, and both exploded with laughter in the empty space, your laughs amplified by their echoes.
“We really need to be more careful, my love,” Ben argued, trying to be more serious again.
“You’re right,” you nodded, letting him wrap his arms around you to draw you closer to him. “I’m sorry.”
“I am not fully innocent either…”
“But that emoji… and I said I sent you a kissing face!”
You buried your face in your hands and rested your forehead against his shoulder. Ben merely laughed.
“I don’t think that was enough to start a rumour about us being together, though,” he reassured you. “But I was right. You really need to learn to think before speaking…”
You swatted him playfully on his upper arm, and he doubled with laughter.
“Now, we should go back. We still have many interviews to give. And no more hand-touching, mister!” you scolded him.
“I can’t help it,” he complained. “Besides, before we go back, I really need to do something first. Something I’ve been dying to do ever since we entered this room, because… you are so beautiful like this, love…”
You gave him a flirtatious smile, knowing perfectly where this conversation was heading.
“And what could that be, honey?”
“This.”
He leaned down to kiss you tenderly on the lips, a hand climbing up your body to rest gently against your cheek, cupping your jaw to guide your face towards his again when you tried to break the kiss. You lost your fingers in his hair, messing with the dark locks, but none of you cared.
Kissing him felt too amazing for you to care about anything but his lips.
“Honey? What are you doing? Hurry up, I want to watch the movie!”
You wore your most annoyed tone, but heard Ben chuckling from the corridor anyway. You couldn’t refrain a smile at the sound, even if you were trying to act like you were annoyed. It was too warm, too reassuring for you to feel anything but happy whenever you heard his laughter.
You rearranged the covers of Ben’s bed, waiting patiently for him to finally join you so you could start watching a cute romantic comedy you had found on Netflix. But he seemed to be taking forever…
He finally appeared, wearing nothing but a pair of dark boxers, and you couldn’t help it when you let your gaze roam the length of his body. His hair was dishevelled from the shower he had taken after dinner, and you loved it. He was staring at his phone as he walked in the room, but looked up to catch the sight of you lying there, cosy and warm in his bed.
Best sight on Earth, he reckoned…
He slipped in the bed with you, and you greeted him with a grin and a peck on the lips. But you frowned as he focused on his phone again.
“Is everything alright?” you asked, snuggling in his side as he raised his arm for you to settle in his embrace.
“Yeah, just… was checking on some comments on a couple of interviews we did together the other day, you remember?”
“When it was just the two of us?”
Ben nodded, eyes still fixed on his screen.
His hand was drawing mindless patterns across the small of your back. It was comforting, soothing… it reminded you that he truly was there, by your side.
It had been a few weeks now since you had recorded these interviews, but of course you remembered. It had been proper torture to seat next to Ben all day without being able to touch him, to speak your mind, to remind him that you loved him…
“Sure, what about them?” you asked dropping a kiss on his chest, and you smirked at the sight of the smile that formed on his lips under your touch.
“Well… a couple of friends have warned me that some comments are… quite… accurate…”
You frowned hard, leaning closer to look at his phone, and he turned the screen in your direction so you could read the comments too.
Your eyes grew round.
I bet Ben and Y/N are more than friends… have you seen that chemistry?
The way Ben just gawked at Y/N for two full minutes, not listening to anything she or the interviewer said, is a big mood. Also, they’re in love.
Lol, when they held hands at 6:30, I’m dead, thx!
Not the type to start rumours but… are these two together? Like… irl?! Because they seem like a real couple trying their absolute best to hide how infatuated they are with each other… and failing.
Ben and you exchanged a glance.
“Oh…” you breathed.
“I think we… have blown our cover, love,” Ben joked.
You were afraid he would be mad, but he seemed amused by the situation, more than anything else…
“You’re not panicking? Or annoyed? Or angry?” you carefully asked.
He noticed your wary tone, and looked down at you, before dropping a kiss in your hair.
“No, I don’t care, to be honest.”
“I thought we had decided to keep all this a secret.”
“Yes, well… I don’t mind. I love you, that’s all that matters.”
You tightened your hold on him, making him chuckle.
“I love you too,” you whispered against the skin of his neck, closing your eyes as you deeply breathed in the sugary scents of his soap and shampoo.
“Do you mind terribly that everyone is figuring things out about us?” he asked, and this time he was the one wearing a cautious tone.
“Not really, actually. I thought it would stress me out, but I don’t really care.”
You exchanged a loving smile, and he brushed his nose and his cheek against your forehead, making you heave a content sigh.
“By the way… I want to watch these two full minutes where you are… how did they say that? Oh, yes… gawking at me,” you teased him, a cheeky grin on your lips, while he exploded with laughter.
“I’ve watched it,” he confessed, his eyes tightly closed and his head thrown back in embarrassment, trying to hide from you, but you could still see that he was fiercely blushing. “I’ve watched it and I can’t believe I’ve stared at you like that in public…”
“Is it that bad?”
“Yes, it is.”
“You’re so sweet… so cheesy…”
“Oh, shut up!” he grumbled, making you laugh.
“I want to watch it, give me your phone.”
“Absolutely not!” he protested, extending his arm so the device would remain out of reach.
“Ben! Give it to me!”
“No!”
“I can also just use my own phone…”
“No… no…”
He grabbed you by the waist when you reached for your phone on your bedside table, pulling you towards him and making you both fall on the mattress.
You were both laughing so much by now.
“No! Don’t watch it!”
“If you start tickling me, I swear to God, you will soon be a dead man…”
“I’ll find another way to distract you, that’s alright…”
“Stop kissing me like that…”
“Really? You want me to stop?”
“No… not really…”
“Hmmm… thought so… Y/N!”
“I got the phone! When is it? WHEN IS IT?”
“NOOOO!”
Ben kept on attacking you with waves of kisses and tickles, but you held his phone in hostage, and he ended up losing the war, as you watched the full video together. He expected you to laugh at him, but you didn’t. You simply kissed him hard and tender on the lips, and snuggled into his arms.
It was a happy evening, in a life full of love…
#ben barnes#ben barnes x reader#ben barnes x you#ben barnes x y/n#ben barnes fanfiction#ben barnes fanfic#ben barnes oneshot#ben barnes imagine#fanfic#fanfiction#writing
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Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [40]
chapter forty, act five: the ballad of me and my brain
masterlist
July 24th 2017
When the plane landed and a familiar head of bright platinum hair started excitedly running towards her, Tommie forgot all her worries from the past few months.
She’d given an excuse to the guys about struggling to travel so much and deciding she would help Phoebe with her album which is due to release later in the year.
They’d given an official announcement for the fans, saying something about a personal matter she had to step away for. Tommie hasn’t been on social media, she’s too afraid to see the responses.
“So, you broke up with him?” Phoebe questions her, glancing over from where she’s sat behind the wheel of her car, driving them to her flat where Tommie will be staying for a while.
Tommie smiles sweetly, placing her hand on top of hers, “Thank you for picking me up.”
“Tommie…” Phoebe says slowly tilting her head, “You didn't break up with him?”
She pushes her hands through her freshly cut hair, it's back to being just above her shoulders, the dyed colour no longer visible.
“No, I just… we’ve seen each other like twice since.”
“Have you slept with him?”
She’s trying not to think about the drunken night just over a month ago that she and Claeb shared while she was back in LA. She wasn’t in the right mind frame, and she’d hardly call it sleeping together, more like a push-pull door they went through but didn't really come back out of.
“You did?”
“I was drunk. And I haven’t seen him since, he’s avoiding me.”
Phoebe nods, “He knows what Matty said is right, if his band makes it in the music industry it’ll be because of you. Their music is shit, I’ve seen them perform, they can’t hold a tune. He knows you’re too… you, to break up with him over text.”
“It’s rude, I’d hate it.”
Phoebe sighs, “So he’s gonna keep avoiding being in the same place as you as long as he can until their names out there, which, at this point, may be until one of them tragically dies and teenagers start a trend about it on twitter.”
Tommie groans, falling back in the seat with a sigh, “I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll help you.”
“Phoebe?”
She hums looking over, “I need help with something else too.”
⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ
July 30th 2017
Caleb audibly gasps as he opens his bedroom door to find Tommie sitting there, anxiously chewing on her nails.
“Tom?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Uh, can it wait, I was on my way out.”
“No!” She’s standing, face to face with him, “We can’t keep going on like this.”
“Like what?”
“With you avoiding me until it all blows over, this is what we always do, Caleb. Something goes wrong, we fight, you say shit, I ignore it, I say shit, you ignore it, then we get distracted with work and pretend nothing has happened. We can’t keep- it’s not healthy.”
He shakes his head, “What do you mean, Tom? You’ve been on tour, I’ve been in the studio writing music. I can, push aside tonight’s writing session, they’re working on bass anyway-”
“Caleb.”
She shakes her head gently and he raises a brow, “Well, what do you want me to say, huh?”
She doesn’t say anything, just licks her lips and looks down.
“Do you want me to tell you how I’m terrified to give myself to you because any second you could turn around and dump me for a guy that loves drugs more than he loves you?”
“Cal-”
She’s standing now but he cuts her off, “It hurts me, it physically kills me watching you pine after him when he doesn’t give a fuck about you. I can give you everything you want from him, but you won’t let me. Do you know how much it hurts me?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That you’re in love with me when I can’t be in love with you.”
Caleb scoffs, and she tilts her head as she tries to further explain her statement, “But I- I don’t think it’s your fault.”
“You don’t think?” He asks.
“I’ve always struggled with my feelings, Caleb, I don’t know if I feel the way other people do. I think, sometimes- Okay, I-” She groans at herself, there’s so much she wants to say, and when she thinks in her head it’s all so clear, she just can’t get it out.
“Spit it out, Tommie.”
“I don’t think I ever did love you.”
Caleb turns away, “Are you still in love with him?”
“This isn’t about Matty, this is about us, this relationship. I liked you, Caleb, for a long time I did, but then… I started to get bored, and I know you did too. So don’t turn this whole thing around on me.”
“I have a ring.”
“Caleb-”
“I do, Matty saw it, you can ask him.”
She shakes her head and looks away from him, to the wall, where a frame used to live, with a picture of them together.
“I put my life on hold to support you, I stopped going to writing sessions to join you on tour. I stopped talking to my family-”
“I never asked you to do any of that.”
“But I did, when you need me I’m there. And now you need Matty, you need him and he’s not here, I am-”
“Because I came to you, Caleb. You only reach out to me when there’s something in it for you. An idea for a song, help with a drum beat, a cool guitar riff, for the past two years the only conversation we’ve had outside of music are arguments about my relationship with Matty.”
“Can you blame me? Look what he did to us-”
“We’re not going down that path again, let's stick to our failing relationship-”
She’s not sure who raises their voice first, but they’re both going at it, throwing insults and past mistakes at each other. Using what they’ve learned in their few years together, insecurities, weaknesses, anything they can grasp.
It’s when Caleb says something about Emma that she pauses, “What?”
“I said Emma was right.”
“Right about what?” Caleb debates on shooting himself in the foot, or twisting the knife of pain in her back.
“She came to me a few months back, she was drunk, tried to convince me to go back to Georgia with her, to get a job down there and leave you. I didn’t, because I’m a good man. She told you that you wouldn’t do the same, that if Matty came to you begging you, you wouldn’t stay loyal to me.”
“He did.” Caleb pauses, “He came to my house, he begged me to leave you. I said no.”
“You expect me to believe you?”
“No, but the reason he did it was because I told him that I was going to break up with you. That day I asked you to move in with me, I was going to break up with you. For Matty.”
Caleb remains silent, she continues on, “But he was dating someone, and- I guess it opened my eyes to me and him never being anything.”
She stares at him, he can’t take it. Her confessions, her honesty, “I slept with Emma.”
She breathes in, as if winded and he stares at the floor, “And I think part of the reason I did it was because I thought you and Matty had slept together.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“What?”
“I’m pregnant. I’m not keeping it.”
His brows furrow, “Woah, you can’t just, just tell me that and then say you’re not keeping it.”
“I just did.”
“You can’t say that and then tell me you’re killing it.”
“It isn’t anything yet, I’m not killing anything.”
“Surely I have a say in this? As the father?”
She shakes her head, and swallows thickly the lump rising her throat, “I’ve booked the appointment, I’m going tomorrow. I felt it was right-”
“Right? Fuckign right?” He asks standing above her now, “You have my child in you and you think I don’t have a right? What if I want to keep it, raise them-?”
“And bring them up to hate their mother who let their unemployed deadbeat fucking nobody father raise them alone?”
Claeb’s jaw clicks, it pops under the pressure as he grounds his teeth together, “What if I say no? Ring up-”
“Ring up who?”
“I’ll tell the press.” He threatens after a long beat of silence, “Tell them everything-”
She grabs his collar bringing him down to her, “Tell them, fucking tell them I fucking dare you. And I will make sure your band never sees the fucking light of day.”
Caleb gulps as she looks him dead in the eyes, “I’m getting the fucking abortion. Because I’m twenty-three years old, I have my whole career- whole life ahead of me. I refuse to be tied down to your old arse with a fuckign ugly kid who has a stupid American accent and can’t spell colour right. Fucking try me, Caleb Kidwall. I will end your career faster than you last in bed.”
She lets him go and grabs her jacket from the end of his bed, pausing at the door, “And I want your shit out of my apartment.”
⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ
July 31st 2017
The two women sit on Phoebe’s couch, the redhead lying with her head on her shoulder, Phoebe’s arms wrapped around her as she softly pats her hair.
There’s a film playing on her tele, Fantastic Mr. Fox as per Tommie’s request.
She’s miming the words of Foxy’s monologue half way through the film about how all the animals need to band together.
‘My suicide missions been cancelled,’ She whispers under her breath just a few milliseconds before Foxy’s saying it back to them, ‘We’re replacing it with a go-for-broke rescue mission.’
“That badger’s cute.” She suddenly says pointing at the baby badger dressed in a skeleton costume and Phoebe hums in agreement.
Tommie sniffles, wrapping her blanket further around herself tiredly, “Did I make the right decision?”
“What do you think?”
“I didn’t want a child.” She says, “I don’t ever think- no, I know, I don’t want kids. That’s not me.”
“Then, you made the right decision.”
‘A crack accountant, a gifted musician, a pretty good minnow fisherman , and possibly the best landscape painter working on the scene today…
taglist
@thereisaplaceintheheart, @indierockgirrl, @sofaritsalrightt, @julezs-bl0g, @eaglestar31, @sophinthealpss, @noacfemcel, @if-my-heart-bleeds, @befrwime, @fallingforel, @sexorchocolateorpillowsorclouds, @3terna15unshin3, @1975sophie1975, @thesocraticjunkiewannabe, @littlesoldierelleora, @procrastinatinglikeapro, @beatr2x
-let me know if you want to be added :)
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Gentle Linkverse scenarios cause its been a rough day
Twilight and Colin sometimes find clay in the waters around Ordon Village. They make little trinkets and attempts at useful things like trinket holders. The other kids like to join sometimes, but their parents dont always let them due to how messy they get.
One of Colin's favourite things was the little goat family he and Link made and ended up coming up with a whole storyline for.
They're all displayed with pride, and Link said he'll bring paint from castle town soon. They shall be a beautiful and colourful family. 💛
_
The coat Wind has wrapped around his waist is Linebeck's old coat. It's seen far better days and it doesnt actually do much as a coat. Linebeck doesn't really get why Link insisted on taking it instead of letting him throw it out.
He's give the excuse that he wants to practise sewing, and shown off the various patches he's added as proof. Linebeck isn't so sure that's true however.
Trying to figure it out, he fumbled about asking about it in various round about ways. Comedically fell on his butt a few times and got hit by a sign. Yet no answers from Link...
Finally, while nursing the wound on his nose, Tetra walked in and said she'll tell him why Link wanted the coat, in exchange for him to take outhouse duty that week. At first he refused, saying he doesn't care about this THAT much... But as Tetra turned to leave he accepted the deal.
Linebeck struggled to believe what Tetra said as the truth, but couldn't deny it either. She said Link would miss the coat because it reminded him of Linebeck...
Silly kid, he was right here! Who needs an old rag of a coat for that.
He is now secretly working on getting a new excellent quality coat, not for himself but for Link. Why? Er, he just doesnt want to see the kid run around with that thing anymore... Yeah, that's all. Mhm. Tetra why are you smirking. Stop.
_
Groose, inspired by Pippit's delicious pastries, picked up a book on candy making from skyloft. He's made a few batches of some fairly okay-ish treats, which he showed off to Zelda and Link. He is a bit too nervous to show the others yet... Er, well not nervous! He just... He just wants to make the best batch possible!
He asked for input on what flavours he should try next, and Zelda suggested various fruits they'd found on the surface. Link meanwhile took a moment to ponder things, before offering with that usual smile of his: "Fish?"
After baffled questioning he did admit he knew it wasn't an usual flavour for sweets, but he'd always been curious of the idea...
Groose decided then and there— against Zelda's wishes— That he would commit his candy training on figuring out the perfect fish candy! Don't worry Link, I wont let you down!
Link told him it's really not that important, but Groose had already set his mind to it.
So far? No luck. It tastes awful. Zelda suggested he make them a normal flavour but in the shape of a fish. Groose is now attenpting to make fish flavoured candy in the shape of a fish.
The next few tries did not look like fish. What they looked liked shall not be spoken of, in fact.
He continues to practise, though! And although this goal seems to be doomed to fail, all the trial and error has really made his normal candy making skills improve and FAST. Perhaps when he realises how good he's gotten, he'll finally feel satisfied.
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HEYYY CERUUUUU How you doin?<333 I see your requests are open👁️👁️ can I request butler reader with Scarabia this time? Idk what to request because I’ll gobble down whatever you write anyway ong
Butler of Scarabia
Kalim Al Asim x butler reader
The golden rays of the sun streamed through the windows, fracturing within the glass panes. Multicoloured spots were cast across the walls, shattered remains of light illuminating the halls.
You’ve never known the house of Scarabia to be dark. Even at night, lanterns were lit in every room. Stained glass, elaborated designs dyed every colour under the sun. There were a considerable amount of such lanterns in the estate. Each with a unique design, tailored by only the finest of craftsmen.
Every night, you make your rounds, lighting every single lantern in turn. Welding nothing but a single candle wick balanced precariously on a silver plate. Coated with a reddish hue, that plate certainly has seen better days.
With powdery particles peeling off with every touch, your fingers soon reeked of metal. A stench that stung your nostrils, stabbing like a thousand needles.
Sighing, you resume your pace. It’s nothing you’re not used to. Asking for a better plate would only bring more trouble, with your master being a little too enthusiastic. He always seemed delighted whenever you asked him for something.
Eyes lighting up, particularly rocketing off his chair. With every movement he made, an assortment of gold jewellery would jiggle along. His bangles, the little bits and pieces hanging off his outfit, that wonderful pair of earrings he was ever so fond off. They made quite the deafening racket when he got fully worked up.
You have to remind him to calm down.
That was the kind of Master Kalim Al Asim was. All smiles, laughing like there was no tomorrow. He had a natural way of setting people at ease.
You should know.
When you enlisted at Scarabia, Kalim took time to show you around personally. Reaching for your hand, his fingers slipped around yours, fitting like a puzzle snapping in place. His palm was soft, the palms of the wealthy. Yet it was ever so gentle, pressing against your own.
He dragged you around the place, pointing out his favourite spots around the house. A carpet that was just a little more softer then the others, a particularly sunny spot in the house, and a deserted room.
“It’s great for dancing!”
He proceeded to demonstrate, stripping off his shoes. Prancing to the centre of the room, he quickly slipped into a flurry of movement. Flowing from one movement to the next, he simply looked magical. An enchanting view, untouchable by mortal hands.
Every step he took echoed off the walls, resounding around the room. A immersing experience, you felt yourself more and more drawn to this odd master.
More and more drawn to Kalim.
It’s odd, isn’t it? You were a butler, a mere servant. Honestly? You shouldn’t be conversing with him this casually. However, whenever you tried to be a little more formal, Kalim would look at you, eyes wide open. A heart-aching expression, much like a kicked puppy.
You gave up soon after.
Kalim has always been Kalim, for the better or for the worse. It’s in his nature to light up the lives of others. Although you do worry about him sometimes.
Slowing to a halt, you reach for another lantern. Balancing your candle, your fingers prise open the glass door. Dipping the flame into the wick, it quickly lit. A small ember flame flickering through the glass.
You press the door shut with a click.
A creak greeted that. A door crept open, a teary face appearing from within.
“I can’t sleep…”
A bleary face, eyes struggling to open fully. Hands reach for your sleeves, tugging at them like a child. You hang the lantern back up, before allowing Kalim to drag you into his room.
His arms slide around yours, holding on rather tightly. As if you were the only thing that ever mattered in his life. His most precious treasure.
Despite yourself, you reach towards Kalim. Hand resting on the small of his back, you rub comforting circles into his skin. In the hopes of calming him down, you slowly inch towards his bed.
Kalim tucks himself in, eyes never leaving your form. He reaches out, fingertips brushing against yours. A warm, tingly sort of touch that sent butterflies deep into your gut.
“Could you stay? At the very least, until I fall asleep!”
His fingers slip into yours once more. Falling perfectly, pieces in a puzzle. Once again, you find yourself leaning towards him, another fool blinded by the warmth of the sun.
However, who could blame you?
Not when the warmth was ever so inviting. You’ll gladly burn up within, if it was for him.
“Sure, Master Kalim.”
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#Kalim Al Asim#Kalim x reader#twst Kalim#Kalim Al Asim x reader#butler au#you victims will get Jamil when I’m not as tired
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How do you draw Idia’s hair so good?? I struggle with the basic shapes so much!
Sorry for the late reply! Your ask got us excited because Idia’s hair is such a pain to draw, but also such a fun detail, and I’m very happy that you like the way I draw it <3
Katsu suggested to me to record a speedpaint, and uhh, here it is. Please, don’t mind the wonky anatomy and me horsing around with zooming in and out randomly. As you can see, I struggle with Idia’s hair myself and constantly redraw it until I’m satisfied or at least tired enough to say “eh, that’ll do”. In case you’re wondering, it took me ~25-30 minutes to do the hair, and the original video was 59 min long lol I always spend a lot of time moving, reshaping and redrawing details when I draw Idia…
youtube
I’ll also list some tips and thoughts about it based on the way I draw it…
The shape of Idia’s hair is not at all consistent. Even in Toboso’s art it looks slightly different sometimes, which makes sense, because Idia has magical fire hair and technically you could do whatever you want with it.
But some rules tend to apply each time. For example, even though Idia’s hair is long and seems naturally “heavy” because of it, the individual strands tend to be turned upwards, like fire would. Not every single one, but the shorter ones and the ones closer to Idia’s head tend to do so.
It’s wavy, but not too wavy. If the hair starts looking too “soft”, add sharp edges, random strands sticking out, rough shapes, etc.
Oh, and it’s important to remember that it floats. This means, it doesn’t just go straight down, it does this weird “S” shape. It’s also hella long, I always forget just how long Idia’s hair is. If the magic fire logic didn’t apply to it, it would reach the ground easily. The volume of his hair is much bigger than I tend to remember too: it's quite thick and luscious lol So please give him lots of hair!
Tiny little flames + “holes” in the main ehh body of hair (wow there must be a way to phrase it better) make everything look good and more believable. Have fun with it. You might’ve noticed, I draw and redraw and move them around a lot in my speedpaint.
Obviously, I am no expert, and every artist I know draws Idia’s hair a little bit differently. The speedpaint doesn’t show it, but I always have some of Toboso’s artworks of Idia open when I draw him, just to make sure his design is not too off. I would definitely recommend looking at refs while drawing Idia (or anyone), and maybe even trying to redraw the hair from Toboso’s artworks once or twice as a study, it’ll probably make it easier to understand how Idia’s hair works.
You haven’t asked about the colouring, but I love colouring Idia’s hair, so I’ll talk about it a little. Colouring Idia’s hair is simultaneously the most fun and the most tedious part of drawing him lol 15 minutes of my hour long video is just me filling Idia’s hair with the base blue colour with a lasso (I refuse to use a bucket tool…)
But once you’re done with the base, this is where the fun begins. Because at this stage you can be pretty rough, just add in darker and deeper blues near the middle/core(?) of the hair mass. It doesn’t have to be very even or pretty, add some smaller dark spots; we personally really love it when Idia has this round little blob on his bangs. In the video you can see that I added it later on because I forgot about it lol
After the dark part is done, erase the ends of it a little bit with a soft brush. Not too much, we should still be able to see the shapes.
Then, on a separate layer set on overlay mode, with the same soft brush add some additional brighter spots, to make the hair look glowy. I used the same light blue as the base colour, and the overlay gives it a pretty hue.
And finally, add some white highlights at the ends of the strands. This is the stage when everything stops looking wrong and weird and starts looking like Idia, at least to me.
Phew, I think this is everything I wanted to say… I hope it was at least somewhat helpful.
Sorry for the long post, I just love talking about the drawing process. And about Idia too!
Once again, thank you for your kind words; I’m very happy that you like my art.
Have a good day!
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tagged by @adawongs thanks for the tag ♡
before/after gif challenge:
rules: from your creations, choose as many gifs as you’d like and do a before and after to show off your colouring and sharping skills.
My thoughts with coloring my Arcane Gifs under the cut:
So.... Arcane... soooo painful to make gifs sometimes lmao. Anyways, for around 95% of what I make, I have a base Arcane PSD which you can see in the first 3 gifs of Vi, Jinx, and Cait. Then, I adjust the curves, color tones, and color balance when necessary. Most of the time, it turns out okay, and I really like it for brighter scenes.
But oh god does it STRUGGLE in dark gifs like the one for Cait lmaoooo. A LOT of colors need to be adjusted, and even the Caitlyn one doesnt come out perfect. Since it's super dark, I can almost never use it for large gifs. It's why I just cherry pick which scenes to make into larger 540 x 540 scenes. The darker ones I typically either leave alone or make smaller crops so that you don't get to see much noise. I really need more practice on coloring them.
There are very rare times wherein the base PSD doesn't work, like the last Vi set, which had to be colored entirely different. I just don't like seeing a lot of yellows on my gifs (as a personal preference), so I decided to have a different coloring for it. I might experiment with more coloring next time, since I almost never feel satisfied with my colorings. But I still find my base PSD to be good enough for majority of the scenes. I’m still deciding if I should stick to an even more basic coloring style to preserve the original animation.
My sharpening settings are the same across the board, I don't really do anything else other than my smart sharpen and gaussian blur settings.
Overall, Arcane for me is pretty difficult to color lol, but it's mostly because I always struggle making dark gifs. I love the series, so I still try my best to make as much gifs as I can. I'm not much of a graphic maker though lol, because I'm not that creative. I usually just stick to making basic gifs instead. I’m always so awed at how other editors color and edit their Arcane sets because they’re all so good!
I'm really glad that I finally managed to have a base PSD so that it makes coloring a lot easier! Hopefully, I can continue to make more when S2 comes out.
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@myschevious i loved the idea!!!!
you're all mine (NSFW)
pairing: shu yamino x gn!reader
t/w: noncon if u squint, dubcon, spitplay, dacryphilia, kinda mean dom!shu, sub!reader, stalking , university au??, obsessive behaviour, occ shu 💀, implied noncon somnophilia, implied noncon drug taking, creampies, belly bulge, oral, unprotected sex
he saw you as a perfect individual, the way you presented yourself never failed to amaze him. the moment he saw you walk into the room, he was starstruck.
how could you be so gorgeous? he would sneak a few glances at you during lectures and sometimes you'd catch his gaze on you, you would shoot him that smile which made his heart skip a beat. whenever you did that, he would whip his head around with his cheeks all flushed.
he had never felt this way about someone before, you were just the one. he never really believed in love at first sight but the moment he had laid his eyes on you, he knew you were the one.
"hey," shu was snapped out his thoughts when he turned towards the voice, it was you.
he thought for a moment before returning the greeting.
you shot him a grin, "we're partners for this project!"
"ah, okay, we can discuss about it after this," he said with a smile, despite his calm facade, his heart was pounding against his chest.
"I'll see you after this!"
-
16.00
he was waiting for you patiently outside the lecture hall you were in. you finally stepped out looking drained of energy but the moment you saw him your mood immediately brightened up.
you greeted him again before leaving campus with him to his place to start on your project.
-
"you have a whole set up?!" you gasped, looking at the sorcerer who was nervously rubbing his neck.
"sorry, I forgot you took comp science," you giggled a little before plopping down on the floor infront of his bed and pulling out your laptop to begin your work with shu.
"I've already planned out everything, I'll do the research of this and you'll do this," you started guiding him on what you had prepared, but shu was barely listening to what you were saying. you just looked so breathtaking without even trying.
"shu? are you listening?" you voiced out, looking at him slightly concerned.
"uh, yeah," he quickly looked back at his laptop, clearly trying to avoid eye contact.
"you weren't listening were you?"
"yeah okay sorry, could you repeat it," he chuckled nervously.
you just nodded with a laugh before repeating what you said.
-
after that, the two of you started hanging out more. you got to learn more about shu and he got to learn more about you!
you never noticed how shu would remember the slightest details about you, like how you prefer to have your coffee or even your favourite colour. sometimes he would even make mental notes to himself that you preferred this over that.
you found yourself feeling even more attracted to the sorcerer as time passes, he was funny, cute and really intelligent. he always made sure you were comfortable and never failed to show up when you needed his help.
going over to his place became a weekly event, studying with him was amazing! he would teach you anything you struggled with and you would do the same if he needed help. sometimes you two would get really sidetracked and start doing stupid things, like one time, you both tried pilk. you almost threw up after drinking it while he was laughing his ass off at you gagging. sometimes after he served you tea, you'd feel oddly really tired, and he was the sweetest friend! he told you to just take a nap and he would wake you up when you needed to go home. whenever you woke up, you'd feel a little sore but much more refreshed. but for some reasons, when you take a shower everytime after coming back from taking a nap at his place, you noticed some kind of white fluid leaking out of your private area. of course you trusted shu too much and just brushed it off as something else.
-
18.00
he drove to your favourite restaurant, intending to surprise you with your favourite dish take out. he did not expect you to be there. and you weren't alone, there was another person sitting directly infront of you. shu felt his blood boiling just at the meer sight of you laughing away with this mysterious other.
after all he's done for you? after all you've been through together? you're out on some date with another person? how could you do this to him?
his fingers were digging into his palm as the sorcerer resisted the urge to storm into the restaurant and ruin your silly little date. however, he had a better plan in mind. he walked back to his car and got in, patiently waiting for you to come out with your "friend".
fifteen minutes had passed. there you were, walking out happily with your little friend who held the door open for you. shu got out of his car, briskly walking towards you.
"shu! why are you-" you couldn't even finish your sentence before he grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you towards his car.
"shu, where are you taking me?!" you asked, you could hear your friend yelling at shu.
he remained silent, you turned around, bidding goodbye to your friend who looked absolutely heartbroken.
you both got into his car. there was a moment of silence before shu spoke, "who was that?" he seemed extremely upset.
"they're a friend of mine from high-school, we just decided to have a mini reunion and catch up a little.." you explained, feeling a little worried of what he would say.
afterwards, the whole ride was filled with an awkward silence.
-
"why are we at your place?"
you both walked into his house, you made sure to politely greet his sister who happened to be in the living room. you trailed behind him like a lost puppy.
you were surprised with how upset shu seemed, but you weren't gonna lie, it was pretty hot seeing him like this. reaching to his room, he held the door open for you, you mumbled a quick thank you and walked into the room.
before you knew it, your back fell flat against the familiar cushion of his bed. shu- no it wasn't shu anymore. he wasn't the shu you knew, the shu you've spent countless hours with.
you let out scream only to have your half-scream cut off by shu smashing his lips against yours. you've been dreaming of this moment, touching yourself to shu but this wasn't like what you had wanted at all. he was like a complete stranger.
"s-shu?" your chin was held at his fingertips, his lips now centimetres away from yours. you were beyond flustered.
"I didn't like that," he started, his face was incredibly red. he moved his hand towards your shirt, removing it seeing as you had no response towards that.
"i-i want to be the only one you do that with," he mumbled, his face still in a dark shade of red, clearly embarrassed. he continued to strip off more articles of clothing till you were both completely naked.
he noticed that you were already aroused, he pinned you against the bed, your wrists in his large hands. he was kissing you again but this time a bit more confident.
he moved downwards, he was at eyelevel with your sex. he had watched countless AVs imagining the actress was you, he couldn't believe this was really coming true. he stuck out his tongue, using kitty licks against your heat, moans of approval from you made him even more confident. he stuck a two fingers into your hole, pushing it in and out.
you were approaching your climax when he suddenly stopped, "n-no! please! i-i wanna cum," you cried, he smirked, "not so soon," he said before getting ontop of you once again.
he was so near you again, his sweet scent filled your senses. you looked down and boy were you surprised by the grith he was packing. he rubbed his tip against your hole before sliding himself into you. you let out a moan of pleasure, the stretch was a little painful but he was slow with it.
"g-god you feel so good," he groaned as he bottomed out inside of you. his hand caressing your stomach that seems to have the imprint of his cock. he grabbed his phone that was resting on the bed, "p-please move" you whined before noticing that he had his phone in his hand, he pressed the record button.
"w-wait are you recording this?!" your face was flushed, the embarrassment creeped up onto you.
"why? you seem to be enjoying this."
you shook your head frantically, trying to keep at least a little bit of your dignity. he let out a chuckle before pulling himself out completely.
"if that's what you want," he shrugged, his phone still recording.
"w-wait no! p-please, 'm sorry..." tears were brimming your eyes, you felt humiliated, it felt as if you had already thrown away what was left of your dignity.
"you're really sorry?" he cocked an eyebrow, in which you responded with a nod.
he pushed himself back into your heat, letting out a groan when he felt your velvety walls clamp down on him. he started pistoning into you, you were a mess, your cheeks were in a crimson shade of red, your eyes all puffy from crying, but it felt heavenly.
"open your mouth."
you obliged, holding your mouth open for him as you felt a warm glob of his spit shoot into your mouth, his camera angled at your face as you swallowed it nervously.
"do you feel good," he asked, caressing your cheek as you nodded frantically. "use your words," he instructed.
"y-yes, i-i feel good," you whimpered, your eyes rolling back into your head as you felt him press against your prostate. "who's making you feel good?" he asked again.
"its- ah! you! shu- ngh! shu yamino!" you struggled to get your words out, you could barely think straight while shu was enjoying himself, knowing he was the one who was fucking you stupid.
your moans were getting louder, completely forgetting the fact that his family could probably hear you getting destroyed by shu. he grabbed cheeks, pulling you towards him, kissing you passionately to shut you up.
he pulled away from you, he let out a blissful groan before cumming together with you, you creamed all over his cock and he filled you up to the brim.
taking a brief moment to catch his breath, he quickly pulled out of you, he moved to his table, he was looking for something.
he came back to you, you were still panting and coming down from your high. in his hand he held a permanent marker.
no way
you thought to yourself. the felt tip of the pen grazed your skin as he wrote something below your belly button. he stood up again, this time with his phone in his hand, "cheese," he said with a smile. and there it was, a picture of you with his cum leaking out of your abused hole with the writings of "shu's cumdump" pointing towards your leaking hole.
he was going to treasure that image forever.
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for this weeks prompt! some impulse x grian (i am sorry i started writing and couldn’t stop)
Grian loved being a graphics teacher. He loved seeing all of his students excited faces and seeing how eager they were to learn when being taught something creative. Even those that didn’t really want to go into graphics enjoyed the freedom Grian gave them and that he allowed students to catch up on work in other classes if they weren’t planning to take graphics in the future.
What Grian didn’t like were other teachers. Sure, most were nice enough but very few enjoyed teaching as much as him. So, he stayed within his department mostly. Scar and Pearl were always just as passionate about their lessons as he was.
But sometimes, neither of them are in (that’s the issue with them both living together.) So, Grian usually has to pray the replacement teachers are able to keep the classes in check, as well as running around between all three classes that day.
He is just setting up in his classroom when a pair of men walks in, both a fair bit taller than him. The first one he locks eyes on is, “Mumbo!”
“Hi Grian! Impulse and I are gonna be taking over Scar and Pearl’s classes today.”
Grian turned to look at the other, larger man and felt his face heat up. “Oh… hiiii Impulse.”
“Sup dude! Yeah, I mean, our classes are all on field trips today with the other science staff plus we both have some kind of graphics knowledge from college so we figured we’d be most helpful. Is that ok?”
“Ofcourse it is.” Grian tried not to melt into a puddle. Sure, he didn’t interact with many non art teachers but the one of the ones he did see a lot out of work was Impulse. He was friends with Pearl (and Grian’s best friend Mumbo) so he was often with them for drinks or shopping days and well… Maybe Grian had developed a little crush on the man. Nothing major, just that he was a nice sight. With a kind voice and an amazing beard and being only a little taller than Grian, he just thought he was quite attractive, especially when he would go on little tangents about engineering and science.
The three of them sat around Grian’s desk as he began explaining what the classes had been up to and the lesson plans for the day. “Hm… you know what, my first class is one for older students and Scar and Pearl don’t share it… Maybe you two could stay here and get used to things and help out some students if you’re able to?”
“That’s an amazing idea, Grian!”
To say Grian went weak under Impulse’s praise would be an understatement. However, he had a class to teach.
Watching Grian teach felt like a privilege to Impulse. Grian, who in his mind was quiet and easily flustered and who maybe didn’t like Impulse all too much, was so confident when he taught. His class were like a well oiled machine and seemed just as hooked on Grian’s every word as Impulse felt.
As the class began to work, Grian immediately began making his way around the classroom, giving some students who were already struggling help and having lively conversations with others. Impulse began observing some of the students’ work, complimenting them all until he heard Grian’s voice. “Impulse, come over here, I need to show you something!”
Like a lapdog, Impulse immediately made his way over to Grian, “Yeah, G?”
“Look at this student’s work. Isn’t it incredible?” Grian began to show Impulse some of this student’s work, including some graphics he’d made for each school department.
“Wow, these are amazing and really inspired. I love the bright colours you use as well. Welldone.” Impulse could see the student’s eyes light up, as well as Grian’s
The day ran smoothly, most of the lessons were well behaved, especially with Grian poking his head in to check. At the end of the day, Impulse came into Grian’s classroom. “Hey, G… uh I was wondering if you still rode your bike?”
“Huh… oh yes I do.” Grian was busy packing away some work to mark, ending up with two full bags and his arms totally full as well. “I was gonna get the bus today though.”
“Why don’t I drive you? I uh I have a van so you can easily put your bike in and it would avoid and student work getting damaged… plus the forecast says it’s gonna rain.”
“Really? Thank you so much.”
Impulse took the sheets of work from Grian’s hands to help him out and the pair walked out to the car park. Impulse put Grian’s bags and papers into a large plastic box just to avoid them receiving any extra damage while the other got his bike from the shed.
“You play the drums?”
“Yeah, some of the engineering and science department people get together and play… it’s just for fun but it’s really fun.”
“Well, I’d love to hear it some time… Uh, sorry, let me just..” Grian hoisted his bike inside and rested it on the floor beside its lock.
The pair got in their seats and Impulse began to drive, some random music playing from the radio. Grian rested his head against the window, watching as the rain began.
“Hey G, um… do you not like me?”
“Huh?” Grian turned to Impulse, looking horrified. “No! Not at all.”
“Oh… it’s just that you always seem uh not very talkative around me and you always avoid me when we hang out in groups… do you not like me hanging out with you?”
“No I- Oh gosh, this is embarrassing…” Grian sighed and stared straight ahead at the road. “I might have a bit of a crush on you.”
“Oh… that’s cool.”
The pair then burst into laughter.
“Cool!? Impulse who responds to someone having a crush on them with cool?”
“I don’t know! I thought you were too cool to like me!”
“Oh my gosh…”
The pair calmed down now, the air in the van a lot more relaxed. As they pulled up outside of Grian’s, Impulse cleared his throat.
“Would you like to go out for drinks soon? Just the two of us…”
“Like a date?” Grian asked hopefully.
“Yeah, uh if you want.”
“I’d love to.”
Grian's students totally don't notice Impulse hanging around the art department more often nowadays. And no, he totally doesn't bring Grian a snack, and Grian totally doesn't find flowers on his desk.
Mumbo, Scar and Pearl also love taking responsibility for getting the couple together, despite contributing absolutely nothing. It's their right!
#hermitshipping#ask#grian tag#impulse tag#mumbo tag#scar tag#pearl tag#gripulse#mod 🎀#weekly theme: teacher au
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Katerina Ivanovna Verkhotseva! (For the ask game thingy)
2. Favorite canon thing about this character?
5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?
7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?
8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?
12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?
14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.
25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?
(You don’t have to answer all of these if you don’t want to, however I love your takes on her and am dying to hear you talk about her more.)
Oooh, finally! Someone sends me something related to the ask game! And about one of my favourite girls, too!
2. Favorite canon thing about this character?
If I had to choose just one, it would be how explosive she can be. I love it so much when things don't go her way and she goes from being so doting to resorting to insults and almost throwing hands. This is not simply the rage of a young woman who shows her true colours when she doesn't have what she wants, she really, really seems to be convinced that things are going her way... And then reality hits her.
5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?
Oh, Katya Ivanovna, you would have loved Me and My Husband by Mitski. Somehow I imagine the lyrics being about her and Mitya at first, but as the song goes on she's actually talking about Ivan.
7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?
I don't feel like Katya is talked about much in general, and I can say so confidently after navigating as much TBK related content on the internet as I could. So I don't really know what to say. When she gets attention, I specially love it when her God/saviour/martyr complex is adressed and appreciated. She is a little weird.
8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?
Tough question, since there is a lot I dislike about how female characters are treated by readers in general (as well as narratives). I'm going to try to be original and say something I haven't said before. I don't really like it when the girls are pitted against each other, like you have to choose one of them or think one is better than the other. I think a lot of the animosity between her and Grusha come from struggles with themselves and their fears and insecurities, and I feel sympathetic towards both of them, both young women who want to feel some control over their lives. So it breaks my heart a little when other people who prefer Grusha put down Katya and viceversa.
12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?
This is half headcanon half character reading, but knowing that she lost her mother at a young age and that there is a theme of absent mothers throughout the book, I like to think that the loss of her mother impacted how she turned out and why she seems to take on some motherlike, overbearing tendencies herself.
14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.
Hmmm, I don't know how I'm supposed to answer to this, but I associate her with elegant, long clothing in green, blue and white, sometimes with gold accessories. Combined with the light brown hair of my design, it gives her a springlike kind of look.
In The Sims, I gave her a preppy, simple look with light colours. Here she is, I don't know why she's loooking at squids on her phone.
25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?
Katya was a character who had to grow on me. On my first read, I didn't like her much, but I didn't dislike her either. She was, in fact, one of the harder characters to visualize. I had to make several sketches of her designs because all I could think of was "tall slender girl with dark eyes and a lot of hair". Only after processing what I had read for a longer time I started to pick apart everything she said and started to appreciate her more (and started to appreciate her relationship to Ivan as well). In retrospective, the buildup to her introduction was great. It's not as good as Nastasya's, but it's the work of a good writer. I love Katya, saviour complex and all.
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Their Favourite Place To Kiss You
Summary: Their signature place to kiss you, and how they would react to you kissing them in that exact same spot.
Genre: Romantic fluff
Character(s): Ethoslab, Xisumavoid, Mumbojumbo
Author's Note: So anyways I started writing—
Ethoslab [Wrist]
Etho's kisses are actually common in private and out.
So it's hard to call them a surprise.
But sometimes, some of his actions just caught you off guard.
You could be just walking, or just sitting somewhere together, alone simply basking in each other's presence.
That is until he grabbed your hand, and pulled it up close to his lips.
He didn't take his mask off: no. He kissed your hand through it.
While the colour of the fabric is dark, perfectly hiding his face away from the world, it's actually thinner than what you had expected.
You can feel his warm breath through it and he pressed his lips to the bottom of your palm, before slowly sinking to your wrist.
It's warm. You're not sure if it's because of his breath, or because of the fact that you're just absolutely flustered by his action.
With how his lips are pressed firmly, yet gently right on your pulse, you're made aware of how his actions affect your heart.
Pulling away, he look back up to you, you can feel his grin behind the mask:
"You seem a little flustered there sweetie. What'd I do? Hm? Care to explain?"
Kiss his wrist back. Just pull up the edge of his gloves enough, and kiss where his pulse is.
You can feel it quickened underneath your lips, but you know Etho.
He would just take your action as a challenge.
Now you're in a competition against your boyfriend, good luck, he's hard to defeat when it comes to flustering the hell out of you.
Xisumavoid [Neck]
This might be out of the blue, but if anything, Xisuma is a tease from the bottom of his boots to the top of his head.
So it's no wonder that his favourite place to surprise you with a kiss is your neck.
Just like Etho, his mask doesn't stop him from showing you his appreciation through kisses.
When no one's around, he likes to pull you in his embrace and just buries his face to the crook of your neck.
It calms him down, whenever he feels you so close in his arms.
But when the feelings of sentimentalism are over; he'd start pecking.
Firm kisses, butterfly kisses, hell he would even blow a raspberry on your neck just to hear your protest and struggle as he keeps you close.
Even with his mask on, you can feel that he's enjoying it.
And well, you can't blame him. You enjoy this type of affection from him, too.
"You're not gonna get away from me. Did you really think you could escape? I mean you probably could but you wouldn't. Would you?"
Doesn't mind if you kiss his neck back, if you can reach it that is.
Would actually love it if you do, though. It most likely will happen when you too cuddle.
He likes holding the back of your head and keeping you there: it gives him a sense of protection where he can both protect you, but also be protected by you.
Though if you want a more intimate scenario on his kisses, naturally, it's not rare for his pecks to turn into more intimate and desperate kisses.
The rest, really is up to you on where you want to take his kisses to. :)
Mumbojumbo [Palm]
One would think that Mumbo's main form of kisses are to kiss the back of your hand, or your knuckle.
-which are correct. But you would be surprised at how much he enjoys kissing your palm over the back of your hand.
Usually it would start with a greeting. Him taking your hand in his and pulling it up to kiss knuckles on your hand.
Then he would hold it there: breathed in your presence, before holding your hand in his and pressing your palm over his lips.
He likes burying his face in your hand, that's it.
He just likes to appreciate the tenderness and intimacy of giving appreciation to your hand.
It has finished many tasks and built many things, as well as going through many challenges. It should be right to appreciate and treat it as it deserves.
Bonus points if you greet him by cradling his face in your hands first!!
He'd just hold either of your hands and turn his face to kiss them each.
He's so soft, please kiss him back.
"Hello to you too, love. How was your day?"
Will actually die if you kiss his palm in retaliation.
#colewrites#mcyt x reader#hermitcraft x reader#ethoslab x reader#etho x reader#xisumavoid x reader#xisuma x reader#mumbojumbo x reader#mumbo x reader#x reader#reader insert
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“there is happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you” – Taylor Swift
This week, I’d like to explore how fandoms allow us to escape from our troubles, thus becoming a coping mechanism. But before I begin, I’d like to bring you back to the first half of that lyric that hints at a deeper truth – that even after we return to the sometimes harsh embrace of reality, there is an enduring happiness. A great reminder that a current source of happiness is not your only source of happiness. Also, for this post, I shall be drawing on my own experiences. Let’s start!
Trigger Warning ---
eating disorder, depression
Introduction
Much like hobbies, fandoms are something we hold close to our hearts. They keep us entertained, they spark our interests, they light up our days. Now here is the question I’ll explore in this post: Can fandom be a form of escapism or a way to cope with real-life challenges? Let’s explore this relationship between fandom and real-life.
Escapism through fandom
Fandoms have become gateways for people to escape to fictional worlds, even if the fictional world isn’t inherently better, they find comfort in the fact that it’s of a different reality. Like the Marvel universe that’s constantly faced with extraterrestrial threats, I enjoy watching their movies and television series because I like to imagine myself as one of those superheroes skilfully battling 7 villains at once. When I first started watching the movies, it was my form of escape from the reality of my eating disorder that rendered me underweight and weak.
Coping with real-life challenges
Fandoms are also ways to cope with real-life struggles. For instance, 3 years ago in the depths of my despair, I became dependent on watching the television series, F.R.I.E.N.D.S. It was a comfort to watch the characters navigate through their life with their close friends. Then, I would watch the series over and over again to feel the same comfort. I escaped the loneliness of my reality through the lenses of their friendships and repeated episodes to cope with my anxiety of the unknown. Though the show did not solve my problems, it was a significant part of my life because it gave me hope that someday, I would have my group of friends to go through life with me.
Sense of belonging
After I watch a show or a movie or read a book, I would go to TikTok to see what everyone else’s take on it is. Thus entering me into the fan community of the media. I don’t only watch these videos to see who has a similar opinion as I do, but I also like to see if someone notices a detail I missed, or if they have interesting theories or alternate endings. These things validate my experiences which in turn instils a sense of belonging for me in the fandom. And when I decide to interact with these videos by commenting, I would often end up sparking friendships with those in the fandom as well.
Creative outlets
I’m sure you’ve seen art and merchandise made by fans. It’s a thing because sometimes the official merchandise just isn’t cool enough or just isn’t our style. And so becomes the overlap of hobbies and fandoms. Taylor Swift’s current world tour, The Eras Tour, has taken this for a colourful twirl. Fans attending the concert have started a tradition of designing friendship bracelets to trade with each other as a fan experience. They also share their various creative designs with each other, turning it into a fun activity before the concert itself. Some of these friendship bracelets have even reached the donning of Taylor’s mother, Andrea Swift. Fan projects like these hold a fulfilling allure as they not only provide a chance for fans to connect deeply with each other but also offer the tangible joy of creating memory keepsakes transforming shared fandom into enduring, physical symbols of camaraderie.
Escapism vs avoidance
My last point in this discussion is the fine line between escapism and avoidance. While finding solace in fandoms can be a comforting escape, it is important that we recognise the risks of excessive immersion. Too much reliance on fictional worlds or temporary sources of happiness may lead to neglecting real-life challenges. It is imperative that we recognise and acknowledge when escapism has turned into avoidance. And when this happens, we should always seek necessary and professional help to ensure a healthy relationship with the things that make us happy. Thus fostering resilience in facing life’s realities.
Conclusion
In conclusion, fandoms undeniably serve as both escapism and coping mechanisms, offering solace and connection. However, we must find a balance that enhances well-being. We should embrace the positive and supportive facets of fandom, avoid judgement and have an open mind when approaching fandom communities where diverse sources of happiness are celebrated. In short, be kind, everyone’s fighting battles you don’t know about.
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One thing about me: I like community. I like to make people feel at home and welcome, moreso if they make me feel the same.
About two years ago, the husband and I started a guild on Mobile Legends: Adventure. Gained little traction in english, so we decided to switch over to french and go recruit in those channels.
Nowadays, we're a thriving community of 50 people with very rarely an open spot. I befriended a few of these people and generally just enjoy watching them having fun (I'm guild leader, fyi).
Yesterday, I was chatting with one of our two Swiss players who asked a lot of questions about my writing. Not gonna lie: it made me feel sooooo good that she asked. I do crave attention (don't we all?). And with my plans to get some stuff ready to self-publish, I figured I'd talk about the first story I intend to release.
I narrowed the theme down to: Vampire guy struggles with trauma and ends up encountering a creature more dangerous than himself that ends up playing with his head.
Her response was, basically: that's different, usually Vampires are shown as supreme beings, so it's cool that this one'd get manipulated.
I had to take a mental double take on that. Because: I'm so used to my world that, for me, this sort of situation is like... normal. Vampires are apex predators to be sure, but there's still more dangerous things than them lurking about, and this guy happens to meet such a being (with reason). It never struck me that this story could be interesting just because it shows Vampires in a different light. I guess I can no longer tell if something is 'cool' or 'different' because, well, my nose has been stuck in Aeyuu for so long that it sometimes even affects my perception of RL normal (for example, blue is warm, red is cold, yes my brain sometimes thinks these colours are inverted irl in terms of temperature).
All this to say that it made me happy to hear her thoughts, happy in a way that goes beyond excitement. It's a wide, calm sort of happiness, mingled with hope, mingled with premature contentment that reading my stories might make other people happy (even if the themes tend to be dark and tragic XD). This is the feeling I've been hanging onto lately, to try and get past the utter anxiety and dread of self-pubbing something and it 1. getting hated 2. getting ignored.
In that line of thought, I've finally reached out to an editor (on PillowFort) and gotten the first reactions to this story yesterday. A lot of it is pertinent. It sure as hell drove my anxiety through the roof since, y'know, there was criticism in there... but I'm also glad to finally be taking yet another step forward. And I'm liking their style, be it a bit too brutal for me in places, but then they do see things that I've either overlooked, ignored, or that need a tad better wording to make the meaning/reason clear.
Additionally: today, I find I have 7 more followers on here. Which... wait, just, wow? How? And I check my notificiations and see: oh yeah, I reached out in a nice, encouraging, honestly-me way to people. Not gonna lie: much as that is my personality, I'm also still autistic, chronically tired, and some days I don't have the spoons to socialize, let alone to like people. But when the energy allows, I enjoy just going to the quiet places and leaving a friendly message. Creating a sense of: you belong with the community, too.
This said, I do have plans to 1. write a real writeblr intro sometime, 2. make feedback asks available. With my potential/likely editor not being a pro but someone like me who is self-taught and picks up instinctively on issues, I feel like this is something I want (and am allowed!) to give out in turn.
Creating community, y'know? And the world I want to see, which is a world where people are nice to each other, help each other out, but also get to have boundaries and see them respected without a 'no' turning into an argument or anything. Utopic to be sure, but what's wrong with having ideals?
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Hello! I love following your stories and your posts. You always have such an interesting take on things!
I have a question that maybe controversial (that's why I'm on anon), so feel free to ignore this if you don't feel upto it.
I'm a cis, straight woman of relative economic privilege in a very traditional, conservative country. Which is to say, all of my interactions with and information about the LGBTQ+ community are from the internet. This sometimes is an issue because I end up learning the wrong things, where I think I'm being an ally but I'm just thinking things that are problematic in different ways.
I write a bit of fanfiction for other fandoms and I really enjoy watching 9-1-1LS. I have story ideas for Tarlos, but I'm not sure about the ethics of someone like me writing about a queer couple. Is it okay for me to do that? Or is it more respectful to just read and listen and learn? In case it's fine to write it, never having actually witnessed a queer couple's relationship, how do I write realistically without perpetuating problematic tropes that I've seen in Hollywood/TV/other fics?
(This might get long, I’m sorry followers, one day I’ll learn to shut up but not today and not about this)
I want to start by saying that ‘own voices’ started out as a good thing. It started with the purpose of allowing marginalized communities the space to tell their own stories, rather than prioritizing a white man pretending he knows what racism feels like when he doesn’t. It had really good intentions, and it’s still important to amplify the voices of people who are speaking from direct experience.
But because social media spaces are literally never capable of nuance, it pretty quickly turned into ‘you aren’t allowed to write or talk about things that you don’t have direct experience with’ and this is where it became a really harmful mentality. It has led to things like celebrities being forcibly outed (off the top of my head – Lee Pace, Kit Connor, Casey McQuiston, and Jameela Jamil, but I’m positive there are others) because the internet mob said ‘you can’t portray/write about queer characters if you aren’t queer! Publicly perform your sexuality for us or ELSE!’. On a much smaller scale, it led to me not including characters of colour in my stories for years, because tumblr and twitter told me I wasn’t allowed to.
These are not positive things. I saw a post once, years ago, that said something like ‘yes it’s important for POC to get to see characters who look like them as the hero of the story, but it’s equally important for people to see characters who don’t look like them as the hero of the story, because that’s how you learn empathy for people who are different than you’ and that has really stuck with me. It was not good that a teenager was forced to come out before he was ready a few months ago because twitter told him he was queerbaiting by just existing and living his life. It was not good that I went years excluding characters of colour from my stories. It was not good that I never tried to get into the headspace of someone like Sam Wilson or Nile Freeman or Yusuf al-Kaysani or Carlos Reyes or Marjan Marwani. We develop intense empathy for people who have vastly different experiences than us when we care about their lives and their stories and their struggles.
I showed this ask to my best friend who is also queer and he made a lot of good points in a series of very passionate texts but among them are these:
I would rather someone be open and wanting to explore a new community, perhaps occasionally stumbling over the wrong thing, but learning rather then sitting on the sideline like some kid outside of a candy store window.
I’m not interested in allies who are silent. Who haven’t put themselves in my shoes. Who don’t adore the parts of our community the way I do. I don’t give a FUCK about people who are just going to sit there and say “it’s not my place to speak/participate.” I want my allies in the thick of it. I want them saying I stand with you, vocally and I’ll only sit when you sit.
Quit making people treat marginalized groups like exclusive clubs. Everyone is welcome in my gay house
I know my family loves me because they are my family and I am of them. I need to know the rest of the world is going to let me in, too. I need to know that some successful author who has absolutely no stake in the game ALSO sees value in a queer voice in their story. I need to know I have a place in the world BEYOND the people who are accepting of me because they are like me.
So. All of this is a very long-winded way of saying please please PLEASE write and love and care about queer characters even if you, yourself are not queer. If you’re worried about getting something wrong or unintentionally writing something that is offensive, ask a queer person if they would be a sensitivity reader for your story before you post it. And be willing to accept the criticism if a person comes to you after and says ‘hey this was offensive’ (while also understanding that one queer person or one POC does not speak for the entire community, and that the concept of offense gets incredibly complicated sometimes). But write it. It is a wonderful, necessary thing when people care about communities that they are not a part of. In the immortal words of Mr. Bernie Sanders, when then question “Are you willing to fight for someone you don’t know?” is asked, the world gets infinitely better when the answer is yes.
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