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freesia-writes · 1 month

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Bad Batch Prompt Event #1

Much love to @arctrooper69 for making this official, and I can't wait to see what anyone else has written for these prompts! I'm gonna post the SFW part one here and NSFW part two over on @spicy-clones.

Hunter x F!Reader WORD COUNT 3000 my bad! Content: some basic medical descriptions, reader gets her butt smacked at 79s, and a wee bit o kissin. GONNA USE MY SEXY DIVIDERS WITH @pinkiemme's art since it's HUNTER! :D

“Seriously?” you sighed. “This again?”

“This is completely different than last time,” came the smooth reply, earning both a snort and an eyeroll from you.

“It’s almost exactly the same.”

“Different arm.”

“Oh my gosh.” Your almost-laugh was overshadowed by concern and frustration as you made quick work of the injury and carefully wrapped the gauze around his bicep, trying not to pay too close attention to the gentle curves of the muscles and tendons, the light dusting of hair, the scars and bruises… You cleared your throat, shaking your head minutely and looking back up to his face. That wasn’t any better. His sharp eyes gazed steadily at you, framed by his distinctive nose and the strands of hair that brushed the sides of his face.

“Well thanks as always,” he said quietly, the hint of a rare smile touching the corner of his lips, which were almost always curved in the ghost of a frown from the burdens he carried. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, instead nodding and picking up your datapad abruptly to see what else was on the agenda for the Kamino medical bay that day. You looked back to him, offering a small smile and an honest exhortation.

“Take care of yourself, Hunter.”

* * *

You were surprised to see him only a week later, stepping into line behind you in the mess hall with the rest of his squad. They were normally a boisterous bunch, but there seemed to be a heaviness upon them as they moved rather listlessly. Perhaps a mission gone awry, perhaps the regular wear and tear of being mere property in a seemingly endless war. You caught Hunter’s eye as he moved to the front of his group, setting his tray on the shelf beside yours as you slid down the food line.

“You alright?” you asked softly, startling yourself with the gentleness and vulnerability in your own voice and cringing at the fact that you didn’t even lead with a “hello”.

“Yeah,” he said automatically, his flat affect provoking more anxiety than you’d like. You left it at that, unable to stifle the simultaneous warmth and concern emanating from you. You didn’t know what it was about his mere presence, but he exuded both competence and compassion, intelligence and wit, and you perceived the weight of responsibility that hung over his head, both a gift and a curse of his engineered fate.

You’d come to enjoy his med bay visits more and more, although it was never the ideal circumstances to meet. The elaborate fantasies you concocted as you drifted off to sleep were far more appealing, consisting of stargazing cuddles, fancy galas, coffee shop chats, and many other situations you’d want to share with him. As corny as it seemed, more than all of it, you simply wanted to know him, to know the inner workings of his mind, his joys and worries, the things that made him laugh, the way he liked his caf… It wasn’t the first time in your life that you’d harbored a crush for someone who was as unattainable as they were oblivious of your affections, so you settled to daydream and enjoy the times you did get to share.

It helped that your occupation allowed you some quiet moments and gentle touches here and there. Although, perhaps “helped” was the wrong word.

* * *

“We need you in room 6 immediately,” crackled the voice on your commlink, and you set aside the instruments you’d been cleaning and adjusting, heading that way with urgency. When the door slid open, you felt a jolt of electricity run through your body at the sight of a hulking clone on the exam table, covered in dried blood and haphazardly-wrapped bandages. You knew who it was without seeing his face, which was almost entirely obscured, and before your emotions could catch up, you snapped into work mode.

“What are we dealing with?” you asked the others, who were moving in smooth synchronization to free his head and scan him head to toe.

“CT-9903. Explosion and shrapnel, blunt force trauma, multiple lacerations…” your assistant reported, eyes flitting across the scanner screen.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” your other colleague said, stuffing the wads of bandages into the garbage and pulling on a fresh set of gloves.

“Let’s get to work,” you muttered.

A few hours later, he was cleaned up and sleeping comfortably, one eye closed serenely beneath a spiral of neatly-wrapped gauze that covered the rest of his head. You slipped into the room and tapped the screens, confirming the notes your assistant had entered, then rested a hand on his broad forearm, watching his chest rise and fall and sending out all the comforting and healing vibes you could muster.

“He seems alright,” came a smooth, low voice from behind you, making you jump and emit the tiniest squawk. You whirled around to see Hunter in a chair in the corner, reclining with his legs crossed out in front of him. He’d phrased it as a statement but the inflection of his voice indicated a question, and you exhaled in an attempt to regain your composure.

“First of all, hi. Next time, can you greet me when I come into the room instead of scaring the crap out of me?” you said, accompanied with a little laugh that sounded forced.

“We’ll see,” he returned evenly, keeping his face straight despite your smirk.

“That’s an order, Sergeant,” you attempted, delighting in the slight spark in his eyes as he raised his eyebrows.

“Oh really,” he said, lowering his chin just enough to bring some hair across his forehead as he regarded you with a stare that you could have sworn held a hint of smolder. But perhaps you were seeing what you wanted to see. Your fingers twitched at your sides, yearning to stroke the tufts back from his face… and other stuff…

“Yeah, anyway…” you said suddenly, clearing your throat and turning businesslike all of a sudden. “He should be fine. We’ll run some more tests when he wakes up to check on his hearing. The lacerations should heal easily, and he was lucky enough to avoid any serious contusions, somehow. I don’t know what you all were doing out there but this guy needs a thicker helmet.”

“I’ll make sure to request that from the armory.”

“I’m sure they’ll be wildly helpful and accommodating.”

“Always.”

A silence fell for a moment, then he rose to his feet, stretching to his full height and picking up his backpack. He slung it across his shoulders, along with the concerns and duties that awaited him, and gave you a cordial nod.

“Thanks for taking care of him,” he said with genuine sincerity, regarding you with fondness as he stepped closer. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt frozen to the spot, mind racing with a million scenarios you’d envisioned that started out just like this.

“Just doing my job… sir,” you said feebly, swallowing hard as he moved the tiniest bit nearer. You gazed at his eyes, brown at first glance but peppered with pale green and gray upon closer inspection. You could swear you felt the sparks flying between the two of you… until he spoke, shifting slightly to your side.

“Gotta… head out…” he muttered, and you suddenly realized he had actually been trying to get past you. Flushed with hot embarrassment, you moved aside in a flash, turning away to hide your reddening cheeks.

“Sorry, I didn’t sleep too much last night,” you explained quickly, trying not to stutter. “The old brain isn’t working quite so well today.”

“I’m glad you performed cranial surgery on Wrecker, then,” Hunter observed, and you buried your face in a hand.

“I mean, it wasn’t really surgery, but good point,” you laughed, thoroughly mortified now.

You didn’t see the pursed lips hiding his smile as he turned and disappeared out the door.

* * *

You were deeply saddened at first when you were transferred from the Kamino medical bay to the general medical center on Coruscant. But, as your fellow clone-obsessed friend reminded you, you would be able to go with her to 79s on your nights off, where you could enjoy the company of the types of men you’d come to prefer. It had been a hellish week, with too many patients and too few staff members, and you had worked yourself to the bone. It was as good a time as any to blow off some steam, so it took only a little urging from your friend for you to change into some going out clothes, fix up your hair a bit, and hit the town with her.

Typically one for softness and gentleness, you felt an edge to yourself that night. Perhaps it was the build up of all of the frustrating situations at work, but whatever the cause, you didn’t feel like putting up with any kind of BS. So when the first trooper you walked past tried to smack your butt, you turned on him with the raging fury of a thousand suns and gave him a piece of your mind. Your friend stared at you, dumbfounded, and you heard some chuckles and comments from the crowd. Turning away before you melted into an apology, you stalked off to the corner booth you had left your stuff in.

“That was brutal,” a smoky voice said, and you were floored at the sight of Hunter sliding into the booth next to you. Your friend winked at you from where she stood at the bar, still flirting with a couple of troopers. You stared at him, speechless, and he held his hands up in surrender. “I’ll clear out if you’re going to chew me out like that guy. Just wanted to say hi. Haven’t seen you in the med bay in a while.“

“No, stay!“ You said, more eagerness in your voice than you would like to admit. “They transferred me here…”

“And you just had to get your clone fix?”

You blushed, palming your face before taking a long swig of your drink. It was a stiff one, and a fitting way to end your week.

“Just kidding,” he continued, “We both know you just miss yelling at people.”

“Oh, I’m such a yeller,” you rolled your eyes. You had never been anything but gentle and kind with him and the other patients. And he knew it.

Before long, you both found yourselves lost in conversation, and it felt as though your dreams were coming true. Details of his life and thoughts were flowing freely, well, as freely as possible considering the covert nature of most of his experiences, and the two of you settled into a comfortable rhythm as you nursed your drinks and regarded one another. You shared about your training days, mishaps and mayhem, and your goals for the future. He was happy to listen, answering questions but also content to simply sit. You didn’t want to admit just how much you were thrilled by the entire situation.

“Refills?” You asked, gesturing to the empty glasses on the table. He nodded, but then followed you out of the booth. As the two of you leaned against the bar, waiting to be acknowledged, you tilted your head at him, feeling slightly emboldened for a moment, but it quickly melted when his eyes met yours.

“Yes?” He asked, a smirk on his own face.

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he teased. “Looks like you’ve got something you want to say.”

“Maybe there’s lots I want to say,” you clapped back, putting your hand on your hip. “But I don’t think I’m going to.” You gave him a sassy smile in an attempt to hide the complete and total whirlwind of thoughts raging for consideration within you.

He took a step closer, coming into your personal space, and his hand that rested on the bar counter was dangerously close to your waist. You could almost feel his touch, without any contact being made at all. His eyes were dark beneath his brows, his sharp profile illuminated by the colorful lights all around, and your heart skipped a beat.

“You sure?” he purred, a smug look on his face as though he knew the effect he had on you. “Nothing at all?”

“You’re the worst,” you stammered, dropping your chin and fixing your stair on the ground beside you.

“Yeah,” he conceded with a snort. “Well, you still like me.”

Your head flew up faster than a ship jumping into hyperspace, and you stared at him in utter shock as your stomach plunged. Your mouth fell open a little bit as you frantically searched for words, coming up with none and snapping it shut again. He shifted the tiniest fraction closer, looming over you now in a way that would be intimidating if your veins weren’t coursing with adrenaline and the sheer desire to grab his shirt and show him all that you couldn’t say.

“Thought so,” he said with a satisfied rumble of laughter that made your knees weak.

“I don’t… I mean, I couldn’t…” You fumbled hopelessly, turning away a tiny bit as you grappled for any kind of response.

“Hey lady,” a clone voice said from behind you. “ This guy bothering you?” You turned around to see a trooper with his head closely shaved except for some intricate designs along the sides. He was standing tall, an inch or two over Hunter, and had a warm intensity to his gaze that showed genuine concern more than creepiness or bravado.

You looked back to Hunter, who was still leaning on the bar, relaxed and unbothered. He lifted his eyebrows at you, uncharacteristically playful, and said, “Well?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said to the blue-armored clone, who gave you a polite nod before leaving with one last suspicious glare at Hunter.

“So… you were saying?” Hunter poked, tilting his head at you and fanning the flame. Was he flirting? For real? Or just trying to make you flustered, for his own fun and entertainment?

“Now you’re just being cruel,” you whined, and he laughed, an authentic, deep sound that made you swoon.

“I would never.”

“Hunter, we’ve got to go,” a pert voice broke through your fantasy, and you turned to see a bespectacled man with a serious face standing beside Hunter, who looked at you with an unreadable expression as your heart sank and disappointment lay heavy over the two of you.

“Well. Hope I see you again,” he admitted, a wistful tone to his voice as he brushed his fingers across the back of your hand, sending a jolt of electricity through you, and dipped his head in goodbye before disappearing out the front door.

You went home to your “personal massager” that night.

* * *

You were finishing the patient notes for the day as you bent over your screen at work, tapping away with diligence as you looked forward to freedom for the evening. It had been nearly a week since you’d seen Hunter at 79s, and you’d been kicking yourself for not speaking up more, or flirting more, or making a move, or something. You doubted your paths would cross again, as your friend shared that she’d only seen Clone Force 99 at the bar once before, and she was quite the regular. Bringing your thoughts back to the present, you groaned inwardly as your comm pinged with an incoming message, and you considered not looking at it to avoid any calls to stay late. But curiosity got the better of you, and you took a look at the screen.

//18:42//-ENCRYPTED- {Chewed out any regs lately?}

Your mouth fell open, brow furrowed, as you studied the message. It wasn’t an internal memo, nor was it from any sort of source you’d seen before. It couldn't be… Could it? You smirked, curious to try something that might seem inconspicuous if it were, in fact, an error, but might be playful if it were him.

//18:43// - {Unfamiliar source number, identification needed.}

The response seemed to take ages.

//18:47//-ENCRYPTED- {Identification can be provided in the maintenance alleyway of the med center.}

You were embarrassed how quickly you got there.

The door swung open into a long, narrow gap between the large hospital buildings, filled with random parts and trash chutes, and your heart leapt in your chest when you saw his gray and red armor.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, positively thrilled and unable to hide it.

“I… Well… I don’t know,” Hunter admitted with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since we had to leave… So I thought it might need some medical attention.”

Now it was your turn to laugh, the sheer delight of it all cascading over you. “Oh, and a crusty alleyway seems like a very sterile environment.” He grinned, shaking his head, and you caught a glimpse of his own vulnerability, realizing that he, too, was fairly out of sorts when it came to smooth talk and flirtation. Somehow, that made you feel better, and all the regrets and “what ifs” of the last number of days began a relentless protest in your mind. “Well, let’s see what I can do,” you murmured, stepping closer to where he leaned against the wall. His eyebrows climbed up his head, giving away his utter surprise, and the sight gave you tingles.

“I… ah…” he began, but you leaned into him a little, fueled by months of daydreams and a lifetime of self-loathing for all the opportunities you were too cowardly to take hold of. Plus, his sheepishness and his admission were all you’d needed to hear, and there was an undeniable affection in his eyes that melted you to the core.

“Let’s see if we can help you out a bit?” you offered, simultaneously cringing and delighting at the complete and total ridiculousness of it all. But then he tilted his head and lifted a single, curled finger to your chin, tipping it up toward his face and sealing your fate as hopelessly enthralled. His dark eyes glittered with warmth and trepidation, and the next thing you knew, your lips were pressed against his, eyes closed, arms around his neck.

It was so soft, so absolutely mind-blowingly perfect; your entire body was electrified as his own arms wrapped around you. You felt him exhale, his nose against your cheek, and you were overwhelmed with joy at his closeness, his vulnerability, his all-consuming presence that filled your senses. His body formed around yours, his mouth still gently nestled against your own, and you melted a little further into him, wishing that it would never end.

When you finally did separate with a soft smack of the lips, you left your faces close, your eyes darting to his, which remained closed for an extra second before slowly opening with a relaxed warmth that had you feeling weak all over again. You couldn’t resist leaning your forehead against his own, reaching a hand up to caress his cheek for a moment before begrudgingly pulling back a bit.

“Thank you,” you whispered lamely, and he exhaled through his nose.

“Thank you,” he echoed, sheepish and disarmed.

“Please contact me anytime you need any sort of medical attention,” you continued, wrinkling your nose at just how terrible it all sounded, but he snickered, slowly releasing you with a nod.

“My job is quite harmful.”

Are you 18+? Interested in a smutty part two? Click here. ;)

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#the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb fanfic #tbb one shot #romantic one shot #tbb hunter #hunter x reader #x reader #tbbpromptevent #tbb prompt event

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i-heart-hxh · 6 months

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I'm sure you've gotten this question before but the needle question got me thinking: do you have any idea how the Zoldyck heir situation even works? I'm guessing it's based on a talent and performance base (and having anime protag hair lol), but it's interesting that it's not simply "the eldest child is the heir to the family business." And if so, when was Killua deemed the heir? Love to hear your thoughts!

Hello! Actually, nobody's asked me this before, so it's a fun topic to dig into!

Canon doesn't provide much detail on this topic, so I'll do my best to convey what we do/don't know and then make some guesses based off that.

There's a popular belief I've seen in the fandom that Killua was chosen as the heir because of his hair color (and/or potentially nen type that may or may not come along with this), however this has never been confirmed by anything in the series. I do think when Togashi designed the Zoldyck siblings with Killua being the only one to inherit the white/silver hair like Silva and Zeno, it was almost certainly with the intention of making the fact that he's "special" among the family even clearer, but as far as we know currently, the heir is chosen based on perceived talent/potential.

I'm guessing this might include physical prowess and skill as an assassin, leadership ability, and mental stability. Killua is said to be the most talented Zoldyck in the entire history of the family, so I'm sure that heavily weights the decision towards him (in spite of the elements that make him "unsuitable," which the family seems to believe they can push out of him in various ways).

(Unofficial translation, but it was worded in a more straightforward way than the official one.)

We're never told how or when the heir is decided--perhaps they evaluate the children at a certain age with regards to this, or it's simply an ongoing discussion among the heads of the household until they come to a decision. There may be some formal process or ritual to determine who becomes the heir that we just haven't been given info on. It wouldn't surprise me with how complex the Zoldyck family's traditions, rules, and ways of operating are. I do think it makes sense that the heir isn't just the first born son, because assassination is an intense, multifaceted trade and leaving that business in the hands of just anyone doesn't seem wise.

Here's a bit that implies there's some sort of timeline by which the heir is prepared to take over the family, because Killua is apparently at the most crucial stage of this:

Looking at the other siblings, I think it's pretty clear why Killua is the best choice (in the view of Silva and Kikyo)--Illumi is unstable, power hungry, and has no qualms about killing innocent people to achieve his goals; Milluki is a shut-in who seems more focused on his hobbies than "work" and lacks common sense; Alluka has the Nanika issue and is barely even considered a member of the family to begin with. I don't know if Kalluto has anything in particular that disqualifies him, but it's not as though it's easy to compete with Killua, the most talented Zoldyck in the history of the family...

It wouldn't surprise me if we get a little more detail on the heir situation later in the series, seeing as Killua is still considered the heir as far as we know, and I think that's an issue that's going to have to be dealt with eventually in some way or another.

That's about all the insight I can give on this topic for now because we've only been given little tidbits on how it works, but I hope this was helpful or interesting nonetheless. Thank you for asking!

#hxh #hunter x hunter #killua #zoldyck family #meta #asks #ive-bean-boozled #my posts #if anyone finds any other references to the heir situation and how it works I'd be curious to see!#I don't think I missed any but there's a lot of detail in hxh and I can't re-read the entire manga to be sure

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 2 years

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A Recipe For Lemonade

Series: The Result of Naps

Word Count: 4,500 (Trying to keep it short and sweet.)

Warnings: Implied moderate to severe OCD but nothing triggering as far as I'm aware.

Summary: You invite your handsome, young, dissertation-writing acquaintance to a bowling alley in order to extort a medical professional into letting the both of you take a potentially implicating stroll through her neck of the woods. || Elijah x reader || Here lies my Masterlist ||

STORY BEGINS BELOW

Mystic Lanes - the only bowling alley within twenty minutes of your sleepy hometown - was unusually busy for eleven O’clock in the morning on a Thursday. This you noted with only the slightest twinge of dissatisfaction, glancing around as you grabbed two drinks from the concession stand before returning to your preferred lane. You checked your watch. That aspiring historian friend of yours had two minutes before he was officially late. If he showed up as much as a nanosecond after eleven-fifteen, you would be sure to tease him about it for the remainder of your time together.

Leaning back in your chair, you watched the door to the bowling alley out of the corner of your eye and just hoped you succeeded in not looking like a complete creep. Although, even if you did, could you really be blamed?

You were excited for today and that was saying something; you hadn't been excited about anything in a good long time. This Elijah guy - despite not knowing you from Adam and vice versa - had given you a gift in the form of what most would perceive as a burden. But you were just weird like that. You loved research and you couldn't help it even if you wanted to. You couldn't even remember the last time you'd really been tasked with something challenging. But Elijah's murder mystery? Now, that was something you could really sink your teeth into. It had taken you a while - two days, but you were a professional so that was actually rather significant - to find the final resting place of the unusually attractive almost graduate's supposed "witches". Once you'd completed his little treasure hunt, you had sent the man a text, asking him to meet you at the bowling alley in which you were currently waiting.

You smirked as the hand on your watch slid onto the quarter-hour mark and started counting down. 5...4...3… Elijah was officially-

The door of the bowling alley swung open and in walked your inexplicably pulchritudinous young author-to-be. Precisely two seconds before eleven fifteen. Your jaw dropped. That degree of class and punctuality just shouldn't be legal. It wasn't fair! After picking your jaw up off the floor, you decided Elijah simply couldn't be human. He had to be a robot or something because, as he walked into this town's low-budget bowling alley wearing a jacket and jeans, the guy somehow looked just as perfect as he did the other day, dressed to the nines while he held the door for you in the library. He made you look and feel like a mess in comparison, not that you'd ever let anyone suspect just how acutely you realized such a fact. It was always better to just play it off.

So you waved him over to your lane with a lazy movement that was more practiced than it should have been. His eyes landed on you and he smiled more genuinely than you were used to anyone doing when they looked at you. Such behavior was off-putting. You'd never really been a person others were happy to see. That wasn't something he'd hear from you though.

Hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket, he strolled over to you - looking the picture of grace just as he had the first time you'd seen him. He seemed perfectly relaxed and comfortable in his current position, not a hair out of place and not a single suggestion he might have anywhere else to be. You raised a brow.

Yeah, you would have to find a way to make him bleed in order to be convinced that he wasn't a robot. He was just too perfect. Or maybe you were just paranoid, but the thought made you feel better as he approached.

"You know, for once, you were supposed to be an actual human being - that was the whole idea of this thing - I was going to tease you about being five seconds late." You inquired, fixing a slight grin onto your face to hide any twinge of discomfort that might have made an appearance as you waited for him to sit beside you.

Elijah's brows pulled together and he seemingly took a split second to realize that you were kidding. Then that knee-weakening smile of his made another appearance and you were just glad you were sitting down. "Ah, I see. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you. Perhaps you should take this opportunity to note that not everyone uses their daylight hours to catch up on their rest." He suggested. His tone was dry but you could see the humor in his eyes.

You hummed nodding. "Ha! Yeah, that's funny. 'Bout as funny as a heart attack, really… Say, did something happen since we last saw each other? Because I can't help but notice the absence of the suit that costs more than my life."

Elijah simply shrugged. "Typically I would dress to impress but taking into account our current surroundings, I thought a three piece just slightly over the top."

"I dunno, man. That guy over there is wearing khakis." You chuckled, pointing. "I hate to say it, but I think he's out-doing you."

Elijah smirked and glanced over his shoulder at the man in question. "I see your point," He conceded. However, that's a plaid flannel he's wearing with it."

"Ah, right." You nodded. "Formal lumberjack."

"Indeed." He turned back to you, shrugging slightly. "So, as far as class goes, I'd have to say the apparel of one such as yourself easily outshines our formal lumberjack."

You blinked. "Was that a complement?"

"It was."

You weren't good at taking compliments - not ones that actually applied to you as a person. "Huh… Well, I uh… I got you a drink," You said, sliding him one of the cans you'd been holding.

"Lemonade?" Elijah wondered, raising a brow. "Not the typical beverage of choice for the current season, is it?"

It was the middle of autumn, so not really.

"No, actually that's a punchline." You smirked. "You'll get it in a second. Anyway, I brought you here because I have good news and bad news - which do you wanna hear first?"

He paused, processing that information. "Consider me intrigued. Let's start with the good news, shall we?" He smiled.

"Not where I would have started, but okay." You shrugged. "The good news is, I know who owns your mysterious witchy murder site."

He raised a brow. "And the bad news?'

"The bad news is, I know who owns your mysterious witchy murder site."

Elijah frowned. "I'm confused."

Standing up, you made your way over to the return and picked up your preferred bowling ball, pressing a button to reset the pins. The machine did its thing and you talked in the meantime.

"Remember how I told you that the founding families suck?" You asked, watching the machine lower the pins. Elijah approached from behind you, observing.

"Vividly," He answered, smirking slightly.

"Well, much to the chagrin of people such as you or I, said founding families unfortunately happen to own a significant majority of the land between here and Charlottesville," You continued. You swung your arm and released the ball, letting it travel down the lane. 8 pins down. "Therefore, I had to go digging through literal mountains of hard-copy files just to find who owns the scene of the crime. Thus my only condition for allowing you access to this information is that you include in your dissertation as much of my disdain for this small town's leadership as you deem appropriate."

The young man blinked. "That's all? I was intending to pay you for your services," He said, clearly surprised but otherwise indifferent.

"Well I'm not going to turn down the money, if that's what you're implying." You smirked and gestured to the ball return. "It's your turn, BTW."

Elijah snickered and shook his head before moving to select a ball from the rack. "Not at all, Y/N. I'd be more than happy for an excuse to include your grievances; though, between the two of us, you never heard me say that."

You snorted. "Well you got me, 'Lijah. Scout's honor."

He glanced back at you. “I doubt your status as a boy scout.”

Any retort you may have drummed up for that died on your tongue as you watched Elijah lift a twenty-five-pound bowling ball from the rack like it weighed absolutely nothing. He then proceeded to chuck that massive thing down the lane with no problem whatsoever. The power of toned biceps would always amaze you. What was he hiding them under that jacket for? Unfortunately for him, his throw knocked down all but the two pins on either end - the odds of getting a spare were low. The young man hissed, slightly disappointed and you were glad his slight distraction gave you enough time to pick your jaw up off the floor for the second time that day.

“Splitter,” You hummed. “Too bad.”

He just shrugged. “I suppose I’m a little rusty.”

“Rusty?” You questioned. That throw was about as rusty as an ashtray at Buckingham palace.

He just shrugged innocently. “A bit. Now, what was it you were saying?” He prompted. “Something about small-town God complexes?”

You narrowed your eyes but continued regardless. “The Lockwoods are the worst - Mayor Lockwood died a few months back and it's honestly the best thing to happen to this town in years. Anyway, they own more than seventy percent of the land this town is actually built on, not to mention the all the property they do absolutely nothing with. Next worst is, I would say, the Salvatores - they're pretty chill most of the time, but I'm pretty sure that's just because of all the sketchy crap that's happened publicly on basically all their properties. I mean, this one dude - Zach, straight up disapeared a couple months back; no clue what happened to the guy, but his older nephew is quite the dick.”

“I believe I’m familiar with him,” Elijah commented, off-hand, taking his second shot at those two pins. He only managed to knock down the one on the right, but you were thoroughly impressed by how close he came to the pin opposite.

“You are?”

“Unfortunately.”

You huffed a laugh as you moved to take your turn. “Yeah, the Salvatores are a pretty squirrely bunch - all of ‘em. Anyway, after them we have the Fells - they're your middle-of-the-road sort of stuck up, but at least they're the know-it-all kind which is infinitely better than the nosey kind. Next would be the Gilberts - Gracen and Miranda were pretty cool but they're dead now and their kids are a puzzle I can't figure out. Lastly, would be the Forbes because they're actually pretty solid aside from their tendency to hoard records with no thought as to their preservation." You shrugged and tossed your ball down the lane. The pins fell like dominoes. “STRIKE!” You cheered, pumping your fist in the air.

Elijah grinned and offered what struck you a rather casual high-five. You were a little surprised by the action because he didn’t seem like one to be playful or casual with affection. For whatever reason, he seemed more relaxed today than he had in the library when you’d first met him. More relaxed though certainly no less poised.

“Very impressive,” He commended. You took him up on that high five.

“Beat that, author-man,” You teased, clasping his hand quickly.

“If you insist.” He smiled at you and you were quick to let go, clearing your throat.

The guy just had this disarming manner about him. Somehow he made it easy to forget that you hadn’t been friends for years and it unsettled you because you’d never made a friend so easily in your life. You weren’t the sort of person people tended to get along with. You were quiet and often curt when approached, a bit of a know-all, more than a little OCD, and sort of prissy if you were being completely honest. It bothered you that people couldn’t just live within the lines you thought appropriate, despite realizing how absurd a concept that was. It was simply how your brain worked.

“I’m still a little lost. Did you say which of the founding families owns the property?” Elijah interrupted your train of thought, and it annoyed you but you tried to push that aside as your therapist had instructed. You couldn’t let every little thing bother you, otherwise, you’d never make it in a high-stress environment like that of your dream job.

“I did not,” You replied, catching the grimace before it showed. You rearranged it into a smile, taking a quick breath.

Elijah eyed you for a moment, seeming to notice something slightly off but you’d gotten pretty good at faking smiles. “Are you going to tell me?” He prompted.

“Depends.” You raised a brow. “Do you wanna guess?”

The young man shook his head with a laugh. “As long as you don’t say the Salvatores, I think I’ll be alright.” He picked up his bowling ball from the rack and you just flashed him a grin.

“Sucks to be you.”

He froze, turning on his heel to stare incredulously at you. “You’re kidding.”

You bit your lip. “Nope.”

“Yes, you are. You’re bluffing.” His lips twitched up, eyes like black coffee twinkling with mirth.

“Sorry, ‘Lijah.” You just shrugged, trying to seem innocent. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“I’d except the truth,” He stated casually, lifting the twenty-five-pound sphere into his hand and weighing it dramatically. “Keep in mind this is effectively a blunt weapon that I’m holding.”

You tossed your head back and laughed, doing your best to make it sound as relaxed as his. Elijah had a nice laugh. It was quiet, not really striking in any way, but simply nice all the same.

“Fine! No need for violence, Elijah. Geez!” You giggled. “It’s the Fells who own it.”

“Good to know.” He chuckled and nodded toward the object in his hand. “I suppose I’ll just put this away then.” Elijah casually took his spot and his turn in one nearly flawless movement. The ball traveled down the lane and crashed into the pins. He turned to you with the slightest smug smile. “I believe that’s a strike.”

You faked a gasp, placing a hand over your heart. “How dare you, ‘Lijah. You’ve already threatened me, now you want to beat me in the only sport I can play?”

“So it would seem,” He said.

“What next? Are you going to rob me blind?”

He hummed. “It’s tempting, to be sure. I’ll have to think about it.”

“Please don’t.” You shook your head. “I’m skint broke.”

He just grinned. “So, we know that the Fells own the property. How is that bad news?”

“Because I know the Fells,” You replied, taking a sip of lemonade. It wasn’t very good. “They like their stuff. Also, fun fact: They don’t like me.”

Elijah frowned. “Why is that?”

“Long story.” You assured, waving your hand. “Wasn’t my fault though. I blame the six cups of espresso and Logan Fell’s ego, but there’s a court mandate involved and it was kind of a whole ordeal. The important bit is that I won two hundred bucks, four bottles of whiskey dated 1879, a case of town audit reports, and Logan Fell’s mini fridge. Moving on-”

He held up a hand to stop you from saying anything further. "No, no. I think I'd like to hear the rest of this story, if you don't mind."

"Take me to dinner first," You said, rolling your eyes.

Elijah didn't miss a beat. "Are you free tomorrow night?"

"For you? Yeah, I think popcorn night can wait." For once, you didn't hesitate. You didn't have a reason to. Besides, you were really starting to like this guy. "Anyway, Logan Fell was an idiot who had a midlife crisis at age twenty-six. He's in Vegas now… or dead, not quite sure and I don't care. That makes his older sister the heir of the family estate because of archaic sexist family traditions. Now, Maridith Fell is a doctor and very busy and thus she's only got the one day off - Thursdays - when she takes the time to indulge in her hobby of bowling at precisely 11:30 AM." You smirked and jabbed your thumb over your shoulder at the entrance behind you. "Que door opening. Enter one Dr. Maridith Fell."

"When life gives you lemons… Now I get it." A radiant grin spread slowly across Elijah's face as he glanced at the door. His eyes flicked back to you. "Has anyone ever told you how remarkable you are?" He asked. His tone was so flippant yet completely serious. It made you uncomfortable so you did what you did best. Made a self-deprecating joke and played it off as egotistical.

"No, usually they just say prude and I add an extra -nt on the end to make myself feel better," You said dryly. He opened his mouth to comment but you pretended not to see. "You're welcome, though. Must be good to have a friend who's a professional stalker… sort of." You motioned for him to follow you as you started towards Dr. Fell but he wasn't going to let you go that easily.

"Y/N-" Elijah reached out and caught your elbow and though his hand was gentle, you spun around and smacked his hand away, glaring. It wasn't anything against him - you just hated being touched especially without warning. He frowned and raised both hands slightly as if to surrender, watching you carefully. Like too many people before him, you knew he was trying to evaluate you - searching for what he'd done wrong, perhaps or more likely for what was wrong with you. Unfortunately for him, there was too much wrong with you to figure out so easily. He could see that now. Your shimmering mirage had vanished with a touch. Your practiced facade had shattered.

"Hands to yourself please," You demanded, tone harsh and clipped.

You supposed you were just so used to people getting defensive that you simply skipped straight to shielding yourself. Yet, he didn't react like every other person. Elijah surprised you. His eyes softened and he spoke softly.

"My apologies, Y/N. I didn't mean to upset you," He said.

You froze, unsure what to do so you nodded. "Thanks. I-I don't really… I just don't like-" Your gaze dropped to your feet. This is why you didn't have any friends. You were always messing things up. "Sorry, I-I didn't mean to snap at you."

He waved a hand. "There's no need to apologize for my lack of consideration, it isn't your fault," The young man assured you.

"I don't like to be touched," You mumbled.

"That's perfectly alright," He said. "I understand. What I don't understand is why you insist on putting yourself down at every opportunity."

You pursed your lips and shook your head. "No offense, 'Lijah, but we don't know each other well enough to get into that."

He smiled comfortingly like he understood more than words could say and you realized that he really might. "None so taken, Elskan. Though I really must insist that you try to constrain such comments in the future as they're simply not true."

"Thanks." Your voice was small.

"Of course." Elijah offered you his arm as he had in the library - giving you the choice to take it or not. "Shall we?"

Fixing your fake smile back on your face, you nodded and took his arm. "Why not?"

He led the way toward Dr. Fell and struck up a conversation with the kind of ease you could only ever dream of. While they made introductions, you stayed quiet. Opting to instead, as was only typical of you, observe this odd young man who you tentatively labeled as your friend.

Watching him speak, you squinted just slightly, tilting your head as though you might see him in a different light. You had always been observant and though the angle remained mostly unchanged, you caught on to an aspect of Elijah that you had previously overlooked.

You'd thought him effortlessly perfect.

You were wrong on both accounts.

See, Elijah was more like you. He wore a mask and it did require effort.

You found his flaw in that there was none to be had. His facade was perfect - too perfect and you knew how to spot a well-rehearsed act better than most. After all, your whole life was a well-rehearsed act. Calculated nonchalance was what you lived by - it was how you covered up all the things that nobody needed to see, because those things weren't their responsibility and a smile is what's expected of you and because it just doesn't hurt anyone to keep it to yourself.

Elijah was smiling. He smiled for Dr. Fell, though not quite how he smiled at you. It was more like how you smiled at everyone else. It was a small, content sort of smile. The kind that's more of an accessory than an expression. His seemed content while your own had always bordered on snarky - either way it couldn't have been further from genuine. That wasn't its purpose. That curve of his lips was just something to wear. It was a smile to wear because whatever is underneath it isn't what anybody else should have to see. Although he was certainly better at wearing it than you, that didn't stop you from identifying the seams in his mask.

Somehow, that knowledge made you smile - a real smile. He was good at faking a smile. So he knew how hard it was to do so every day. He knew.

You weren't compatible with the perfection Elijah exuded.

But maybe you were compatible with what was underneath.

Maybe you really could be friends with him.

So you smiled… even when Maridith Fell turned her beady hazel eyes on you with the sort of glare that withers a forest.

"Associate, huh?" She was saying as you tuned into their conversation for the first time. "Well, has your associate mentioned that time when she exploited the law to steal several precious family heirlooms from my brother and I?" She questioned, addressing Elijah as though you weren't even there.

"Oh no, she did," Elijah confirmed, not offering up any further specifics.

"And I didn't steal anything," You added, coming to your own defense. "Your brother was the one who made the bet, I just lived up to it."

"Exactly-" Elijah played off your provided details seamlessly, continuing on. "- And seeing as this is a professional matter rather than a private one, I fail to see how your grievance applies."

Meridith snorted, rather rude. "Oh, it applies all right. I'm not going to give a stranger and a thief free reign to wander my family's property - not in a million years! So you too can beat it."

Elijah opened his mouth to argue but you placed a hand on his arm. Although you weren't very good at surprises, you excelled at preparation and this one you had been expecting.

"That's fine, Dr. Meridith Jane Fell born 1976 to Olivia Nicole and Henry Dalen Fell. You are the only member of your family legally qualified to grant or deny any person or party access to your family's property. If you decide to refute our request to conduct research on your land, then it is completely within your rights to do so." You smiled coolly. "But I feel obligated to remind you that any and all records and/or historical documents whether personal or professional in nature drafted, printed, or written before the year 1913 that are currently within your family's possession are legally classified as Public Domain. Thus, it is completely within my rights as a doctor in my own field and as this town's archive historian to seize said records at my leisure for public archive storage and educational use."

Witnessing Dr. Fell's face drain of color was the highlight of your day.

While she sputtered to find something with which to combat your subtle blackmail, you just leaned back on your heels and smiled pleasantly. Glancing at Elijah out of the corner of your eye, you watched him attempt to subdue a laugh, covering his upturned lips by taking a sip of the drink in his hand.

As the two of you left the bowling alley about an hour later, Elijah having beaten you 189 points to your measly 70, the young author turned to you with a smile on his face. Unlike the one he'd given to Maridith Fell, it was genuine and kind.

"You know, I'm truly glad I woke you from your nap the other day," He told you, meeting your eyes deliberately. "You've been invaluable to my research."

You blushed and waved your hand, brushing away his praise though it meant more to you than you would show. "Nah, it was my pleasure. I had fun, don't worry about it."

He shrugged. "Nevertheless, I appreciate you, Y/N; you made this possible. I never would have obtained access to the Fell properties without you."

You nodded, rocking back and forth on your heels. "Well, you know what they say… When life gives you lemons, just make sure you have a good recipe for lemonade!"

"And by lemonade, we mean blackmail or other methods of extortion," He added sagely.

You snickered. "Exactly!"

Glancing up, you met his eyes and your stomach did the kind of flip-flops that you'd never dared to act on before. Elijah held your eyes for a moment and you felt your lips curling into a smile that was real. So, you figured it was best you go… That was the responsible thing to do - leave before you did anything you would later regret. His eyes were the color of sap and leather and you could spend a few days studying them but you broke your gazes apart before he saw too much of your soul. It was best that way.

"W-well, I'll see you later, I guess."

And you turned to leave.

"Y/N?" Elijah called your name after you. If you turned back around, you weren't sure you would be able to keep your mask up as it needed to be worn. So you glanced over your shoulder instead.

"Yeah?"

You grinned down at your shoes. "Not at all, 'Lijah. Not too bold at all."

"Is it too bold of me to assume I might still see you tomorrow night?" The young man asked.

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @apolloroid @thatweirdoleigh @misswe03 @eat-cake @felinegrate @trikigirl271 @ceciliajay @arshilovesyou @ijustlovetoreadalways @itsautomaticfaegirl @hunterformikaelson @okkulta

Hey there, people of the internet! If you want on or off the tag list for this series and/or all my other works, just send me a DM to let me know! And if Tumblr won't let me tag you, I'll just send you a friendly DM reminder at your request. Thanks for reading!

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hyunjining · 1 year

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hi, how are you doing? :)

getting right into it: you made a comment a while back on where you could possibly write an entire essay on how Larry and Larrries changed the 'landscape of fandom'.

this post: https://at.tumblr.com/larryalbum/709204686830452736/t5742yilryne

(hopefully the link works)

Gaylorlikeme continued onto your post, going further with a real-world application, and I'm thankful that it was really put into words as such. Homophobia is the root cause of a lot backlash when it comes to anything other than a W/M relationship.

Back to what you said, it got me thinking a bit more of what that means. I just wanted to ask if you might keep me in mind if you ever write more about it or actually write an essay one day. I love to read other's thoughts, especially on this topic. As well as having a conversation about it.

I'm really new to being aware of Larry and everything that the ID Fandom has to offer so your sentence just got me wondering about how Larries could have changed Fandom as a whole when it comes to speculation and shipping versus like characters. For example: Kirk/Spock and Dean/Cas or Sherlock/John.

Yeah, it's just really fascinating. Am I on the right track of what you meant by that?

thank u so much! hope you're doing well

hi, i’m alright, thank you 💕

i was kind of joking about actually writing an essay but a lot of people have actually expressed interest so you never know lol. for now i am open to talking more about it because i find it super fascinating.

you’re pretty spot on about what i meant. i think the major backlash that larries have received (spearheaded by 1d’s team, the members of 1d and everyone associated with them) for believing that harry and louis are gay and together has affected every corner of the internet. if you interact with any other fandom, you can almost guarantee that there will be people imploring you not to act like larries, meaning not to speculate on any real person’s sexuality under any circumstances and not to “ship real people.” and of course by that they mean to never speculate that anyone is queer or in a queer relationship, because people have no problem shipping men and women together based on pap pics or brief interactions or them being literal toxic exes lmao. i mean, just look at what happened with andrew garfield and amelia dimoldenberg after that one red carpet interaction: they went viral and fans, news outlets, and other celebrities were openly talking about shipping them.

and i think this deep fear of being perceived as larrie-adjacent has created a weird and honestly harmful status quo where people refuse to acknowledge people who are very clearly queercoding but are not out/haven’t literally said the words “i am queer.” so if you’re not out, you get accused of queerbaiting, of stealing queer roles from “actual” queer people, etc. people think they’re being respectful but they end up harming other queer people and creating this pressure for everyone to come out if they want to live their lives the way they want to. that’s what happened to kit connor (and yet people still misunderstand that situation and turn around and use it as evidence to not speculate on people’s sexualities, when the whole problem was people thinking he was STRAIGHT and playing a bi character, not people thinking he was queer).

and on the topic of heartstopper, people in that fandom are literally telling each other not to say that joe locke and sebastian croft are dating when they very clearly are and it’s just hilarious to me. you can’t tell me that if they were a man and a woman, people wouldn’t immediately assume they’re dating. we can use louis’ most recent stunt (or really any stunt, especially most of harry’s) as an example here: he was papped holding hands with this girl once and there are already update accounts about their “relationship” even though there’s been no official confirmation of them dating.

and i absolutely think this attitude is because of larry. one direction became a thing right as twitter was really taking off, and the band used twitter as their main source of interacting with fans and cultivating their image online. never before had there been something like larry, where people were believing that two male members of the same hugely popular, mainstream band were legitimately dating each other and compiling evidence to support this fact. and the subsequent reaction from their team was so uniquely aggressive that it made larry even more widely known. and so, cut to today, even though 1d hasn’t been a band for almost 8 years (jesus), anyone who’s been on the internet for any amount of time knows about it. but the main thing they know, if they never look any deeper, is how utterly hated we are and how we supposedly ruined harry and louis’ friendship. and they of course don’t want to ruin the relationships of their favorite singers, actors, etc, so they’ve created the environment i previously described.

it’s pretty awful, really. especially because a large amount of larries are queer themselves. but that’s where we are.

thank you so much for your message! i hope that answered your question and i hope you’re doing well as well 🥰

#ask

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sistersin7 · 2 years

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29, 30, and 31 for Bering and Wells for the ship asks, please?

@purlturtle -- I'm doing my best!...

Thank you so so much for the ask... I hope this is to your liking.

Bering & Wells, 29 – Minor injuries, sickness, distress and emergencies.

Myka and Helena are as good and as bad as each other.

When it comes to the big stuff, they are very protective of each other and will do whatever it takes to see to it that the other’s needs are attended to. When Myka returns home from a mission with her arm in a cast, Helena practically launches a full-scale inquiry to verify root cause. And when Helena’s appendix bursts, Myka makes the ER staff life a living hell until they took Helena in from triage.

The small stuff, they are borderline gooey, in a tongue in cheek way. When Helena loses her voice, Myka dotes on her, but answers questions on her behalf, giving them what she perceives is a Helena flare, and a terrible attempt at a British accent (which starts off endearing, but by day 3 annoys the bejesus out of Helena). When Myka cuts the palm of her hand while attempting to fillet a fish, Helena is immensely dutiful in helping out and rebandaging the damaged limb, but all Myka gets for weeks on end is fish jokes.

As for emergencies – cool, calm, quick to assess, quick to act. They are a dream team when it comes to figuring out what’s going on, being the good people in a storm. Between Myka’s analytical mind and Helena’s innovative nature, every emergency has at least three solutions within minutes of occurring.

Bering & Wells, 30 – Could they manage a long-distance relationship?

Yes, begrudgingly, and with plenty of together time in between.

There is a period after they get together and before Helena re-assesses her relationship with the Warehouse, that Myka goes out on pings no end of times. On average (and of course, Helena and Myka know precisely what that average is), during the first 6 months of their relationship reinvented, they spend less than 2 days per month in each other’s company.

Helena learns to value the immediate satisfaction mobile communication provides, and Myka learns to appreciate the slow-to-arrive-yet-terribly-hot nature of snail mail.

They make a point, at the end of those 6 months, to be the most annoyingly in-your-face couple at the B&B, and that, along with Myka’s official request to reduce her time in the field, makes long distance an exception rather than a rule.

Bering & Wells, 31 – Do they finish each other’s sentences? Pick up phrases or habits from each other? Know when the other is hiding something?

Ooohh… would it be classed as cheating if I quoted something I already wrote?... because the short answers are, yes, yes and yes.

Let’s try putting something new together… *cough*

Whenever they are in solving-puzzles-and-saving-the-day mode, their conversations become unintelligible to anyone around them. In a recent situation, when The Warehouse’s computerised system is hijacked by the Flywheel Model from Jeff Bezos’ office, the minute the team susses out the issue, Helena and Myka snap into solutioning mode, with neither utters more than 4 words at a time, and the other agrees, or augments and it’s so scary that Claudia just pushes Steve, Pete and Abigail out of the room, to give the dynamic duo space to do their thing.

Twelve minutes later the problem was rectified and the solution future proofed. No muss, no fuss.

When Helena swaps her leisurely “My pleasure” with Myka’s “For sure” (pronounced almost Canadianly), it grates on pretty much everyone, Myka included. Helena doesn’t notice her swap, but does notice others noticing. It doesn’t last long.

Myka, on the other hand, fails to adopt any of Helena’s quirks. She’s far to aware of her lover’s idiosyncrasies and finds too many of them either endearing or arousing to be assuming any of them herself. Which, doesn’t work in Myka’s favour when she tries to keep *something* from Helena. One time, it’s a surprise party. Another, it’s Pete adopting a cat. It’s at those times that Myka loses her natural cool, trips on her words and rolls her right holder backwards incessantly – subtle tells that Helena picked on quite early during their time together.

Claudia is the one who tells Myka about her tells, and it’s only in dire straits that Myka’s tells show and Helena can pick on them. This, in itself, is the darkest secret Myka has to keep between them, and it’s not until much, *much* later that Myka reveals the secret to keeping secrets, under the influence of an artefact.

#ask memes #bering and wells #mini fics #I suppose?#purlturtle asks #I try to answer

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insanelydeadlybookcollector · 2 years

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What is your opinion on if Chandler is bisexual? Personally I don’t think he is although I accept that there’s enough evidence that he could be, and I really like These Words We Dare Not Say by Drizzy on AO3. If you ever fancied it, I think you could do a really good fic of Mondler having that conversation (not a request or prompt, just praise for how much I enjoy your stories).

I'm going to say a thank you first off for asking this, I love having discussions about characters. Characterisation, in my opinion, is the most important, and nuanced, aspect of storytelling. It's subtle and wonderful and that's why, out of all my other interests, I have decided to follow narratology in my own academic endeavours.

Also, a huge thank you for the accolades. I'm glad you enjoy my work.

What I say next I hope is read as one person's humble opinion. I have gay friends, I have bi friends and I have ace friends. And I did run this response by them just to make sure I wasn't offending anybody. To anyone who is about to disagree with me, that's fine. I'll happily have an educated, calm discussion about it. As I say later, I have a couple of friends (who don't read Chandler as bi either) but really, the only education I have on the matter is their opinion and the bits and bobs I have read (most of which come from twitter). I will not respond to harsh words or tones.

I do not think Chandler Bing is bisexual. I do not think he is homosexual or pansexual. As far as I am concerned, and in accordance with the canon, Chandler Bing is heterosexual.

Firstly, and this is more to do with me than Chandler. I'm a firm believer in canon compliance. Chandler is straight according to canon. (That being said, I'm totally on board with Buddie from 9-1-1. I love them as brothers-in-arm-and-in-fathering-Christopher but I can see totally them as a homosexual couple even though canon hasn't made it official. But the dialogue and character dynamics suggest a more than platonic trust and affection between those two blokes that goes beyond the brotherhood of the fire-fam. But those boys are totally different to Chandler).

To date, I have not had anyone successfully explain to me how Chandler could be perceived as bi. That being said, I have not looked into it more than a cursory glance where it is suggested. To me, it seems that the examples used to suggest bisexuality are rooted in his sarcastic comments where he is very clearly trying to alleviate tension ("I wish I were a lesbian/woman" about distracting from degrading Monica and laughing at Joey), or trying to be part of the group (All of the three times Chandler comments on a man's appearance is grounded in the fact he's trying to match Rachel and Phoebe and Monica's energy, not a comment of his own). Moreover, that "evidence" tends to be taking comments or moments in isolation without a more thorough look at behaviour and behaviour trends. For true characterisation to occur, moments cannot be observed in isolation, characters have to be considered as a complex and multifaceted whole.

Personally, and as far as I can see, the suggestion that Chandler is anything other than straight is a step backwards for men's rights. Given the context of the show, to suggest a man was anything but big, burly and sex-crazed was thoroughly progressive and even today, men who exhibit the slightest bit of emotion still have their sexuality questioned. And to me, calling Chandler bisexual, while not insulting in itself, undoes the breaking down of masculine barriers that the show and this character painstakingly helped topple. This is a man who is very comfortable in his masculinity, comfortable enough that he is neither offended (or frightened that he's been outed) when people suggest he is gay. He is sensitive and paternal and loves his friends (and this at a time when male friendship was frowned upon) to a point where he will do nearly anything to protect Joey and Rachel and mostly Monica from heartbreak. He likes musicals. He likes to dress professionally. He likes hockey and 90210 and wearing a towel in his hair because the conditioner is a leave-in. These things can be proudly masculine and be the traits of a straight man and the show did brilliantly in showing that.

Moreover, given Chandler's traumatic upbringing, I don't think men would interest him at all. As far as he'd be concerned, the last man he trusted enough to love was his father who abandoned him and his mother. But looking more closely, witnessing his father with the houseboy, his mother with her men, (whoever the parent was having the orgies) and helping out backstage during the summers with his father's troupe would all be factors that influenced Chandler, likely influencing him away from an interest in men, given how traumatic it is for a seven-year-old to walk in on a naked body.

Furthermore, he's had his mind opened by these experiences and is therefore more likely to recognise his sexuality better than most people who have to muddle along through. He sees that his parents are accepting, that these are the crowds he's been allowed to interact with and exposed to. Spending time with the burlesque troupe is why he likes musicals, after all, and his parents and their lifestyle that has shown him that being a man does not mean being emotionless. Therefore, he'd be less likely to be closeted. He knows his mind best, and canonically Chandler has decided he's straight.

I think he has an interesting opinion of masculinity. And I think, somehow, despite the role models he has, he is one of the most well-rounded and grounded men in fiction. And that his wild upbringing also enabled him to have such a wonderful expression of masculinity. But I don't think that bleeds across into bisexuality or homosexuality.

#chandler bing #character study #masculinity

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nikialexx · 1 year

Note

For the ask game if ur still doing it, James/Sirius/Remus !

*waves* hi wren!!

I definitely ship it. Of course I ship it. I'm still confused how anyone can't ship it i mean it is literally perfect

What made you ship it?

I've always loved wolfstar and I always believed prongsfoot was kind of a given considering how close James and Sirius were. Like even if it wasn't 100% officially romantic there was definitely some tension there, you know?

And then I recently came to love moonchaser (james/remus) as well. So I figured... why not push them all together :)

What are your favorite things about the ship

I love how they all balance each other out!

James and Sirius are too similar in my opinion (and not in the good way) to last as an endgame ship, making Remus the perfect person to be wedged in between them. He stabilizes them.

James and Remus are two polar opposites (and not in the good way), and I think they'd clash and exhaust each other often, but Sirius sort of takes traits from James and from Remus, making him the perfect person to be wedged in between them.

James also helps to fix (this is the wrong word i think, but you'll get what i mean) some of the biggest challenges to wolfstar's relationship. the communication issues, the way both sirius and remus perceive themselves in the most horrible light imaginable, remus' tendency to shut everything out, sirius' tendency to take on too much, etc etc.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Idk if this counts but,,, it only works if it's the three of them. James/Sirius, Sirius/Remus, Remus/James... i ship them but I don't know if I really see them all as being endgame, or existing without some level of involvement from the third person.

#wolfstarbucks #james/sirius/remus #asks

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back-and-totheleft · 25 days

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From Oliver's official website

The following is a recent Q&A from my Facebook and Twitter pages.

Q: From Jack Forbes Oliver, the Yellow Shirts in Thailand want to displace the current Prime Minister, Yingluck Shinawatra, and her Administration, with an unelected "People's Council" and have gone to great lengths to disrupt elections and disrupt commerce in Bangkok to achieve their goals. They demand "reforms" pertaining to elections procedures and perceived corruption, but have little to show for what reforms they wish and what corruption they suspect. The military is, so far, taking a "hands off" approach but has not ruled out a coup. Yingluck is making her case for democracy, asking the protestors to vote and to integrate into the Thai political system to resolve political differences. There seems to be no end in sight and experts believe that civil war is possible for the near future. What is your take on all of this?

Oliver: My take is as an outsider. I’ve traveled many times to the country and admire their collective sense of harmony in all things. Makes this recent civil strife almost incomprehensible to me. I’m hardly knowledgeable about the complex interior politics of the country, but my feeling is generally ‘the majority rules’—in other words, live with it. As bad as Thaksin may have been and may be, I would imagine time has, and will, softened his impact. Things change. Do not fracture this beautiful country.

Q: From Ben Bracken It seems everyone successful in film has a connection to some rich people or a rich dad in the film business that gets them in the door. I have neither. I have no money, just the ambition to succeed everyday in a world where 20% of American males ages 25-54 are unemployed. I'm not lazy and will never collect unemployment, so I work everyday at a shit restaurant for $4.95 an hour plus tips (that you never get anyway) and work harder than anyone you've ever met. I have self taught myself to be a DP, an actor, and barely afforded to put myself in school for screenwriting. I don't know anyone famous or anyone's rich uncle to help me get my foot in the door. So, my question to you, Mr. Stone, is a simple one. Would you please hire me? I don't care if it's shoveling the elephants shit on the set of Alexander or getting you coffee. I will still be the hardest worker you've ever seen. I humbly thank you for even reading this as I know you will probably not respond to my question as I've seen the other questions people way smarter than me have posted about you and your work. Either way you're still one of my heroes. Thanks, Ben Stiller

Oliver: This is a tough question but I’ll try to answer it. Just to keep things clear, I had no strong connections to get me into this business. I wrote my way in, and it took many scripts and much rejection until some of them were read and gradually I was able to find more and more work.

That said, when I actually penetrated it as a writer and then moved, after a few setbacks, onto being a director. I found that many young people and outsiders were vying for jobs as assistants and interns, but that the union rules were pretty strict on this matter, and that the best way in was through the assistant directors’ department. After the union regulations were fulfilled, the producer, production managers, and assistant director would interview new people for roles as assistants and interns. Generally speaking the job is a tough one—long hours—and often takes place far off the set around the trailer camps and various messengering jobs. Often people would be frustrated that they didn’t get enough time inside or close to the set (On the other hand, being inside the set all the time can be—believe me—quite boring and I think many people would be disappointed.).

Perhaps the best way to approach this is to work on low budget films as a production assistant, where one probably gets a lot closer to the action. I worked on a soft porno back in the early 70s in NYC hauling heavy dollies up and down staircases in New York City.

When, and if, we do start up a film, we crew up like a pirate ship or whaling expedition for the journey. At that time the producer/production manager/assistant director make their choices as to whom they want to work with. Sometimes I weigh in.

Q: Ben Norbeetz Why in many of your films do you repeat certain phrases, ideas and metaphors. "Kiss the snake with no hesitation" was in the doors and alexander and a motif in Natural Born Killers, your close up shots on a single eye was apart of both any given sunday and the doors, the "world is yours" is in scarface and alexander. is there something all of your works mean to say?

Oliver: Each motif is different and probably for a different reason. I wasn’t aware of the similarities until you brought them up, but certainly, I think the idea of the snake in “Doors,” “Alexander,” and “Natural Born Killers” represents a sensitivity to the issue of fear. That by going through the fear, one finds a courage that was not available before. Jim Morrison was writing about the snake long before we made the film. And of course the analogies of snakes and dragons appear again and again in mythology. Although I walked among many rattle snakes in “Natural Born Killers” and lived through my share of snakes in Vietnam, I’m still not comfortable around them.

As to eyes, I’ve been shooting close ups of eyes for so many years I don’t know which exact mention you have in mind. I think it’s a striking visual. The eye is the window of the soul and often speaks an inner truth to us that is beyond the word. And people’s eyes in general, if you look closely at them, reveal much. Movie stars often have blue eyes, because I think they give more access than brown/black eyes.

As to the “World is yours,” well, that’s a subjective frame of mind, and it can well be true if you believe it.

Q: Patrick Dailey Please give us some details about the new "Alexander : The Ultimate Cut" blu-ray/DVD. Will it have new features, new transfer, etc. Thanks!

Oliver: I can tell you the new “Alexander” is 8 minutes shorter and has some structural changes of significance. I think it’s cleaned up. It’s a real final to me. In the 2007 version I was trying to get out all the stuff that I wasn’t able to get out in 2004. And then I was able to look at the 2007 version in various film festivals around the world (San Sebastian, Taormina, and New York.) After seeing it in public like that, I was able to go back and see some of the things that I had added were not necessary—as well as remove some of the complexity that still existed. That’s why I trimmed it. I’m very happy with this new version and it’s definitely a final one. There is no new transfer—not necessary because everything was beautifully transferred the first time.

Q: Attila Peter Of all the empires which one would you prefer?

Oliver: Very good question. I think as a Roman it would’ve been very dangerous to stay alive. There seems to have been a poison in the air, and in the capital too many Romans were killing each other. I think in some ways the British Empire must have been perhaps one of the best, at least if you were an Englishman! But not a native. The idea of going to Eton or Oxford, joining the military, or being a businessman when most people around you are ethnocentric, you think of yourself as superior. It’s an amazing illusion—but produced some amazing results.

We’re now living in the American Empire. So you make up your own mind. Many are happy with it and comfortable. Depends on your consciousness of our history. If interested see “Untold History.”

As to the best Empire, I’m not sure, but I think the Mongol Empire of the 13th/14th centuries makes a lot of sense. Although bloody (who wasn’t at that time), they had an amazing degree of intelligence. As tribal nomads and outsiders, they brought to the sense of empire a newness and ability to see beyond parochial concerns. And because they were a small tribe they were concerned about their universality. They truly brought a modern order to feudalism and tribalism, and their influence is still strongly felt today in the East.

I also deeply respect Alexander’s Empire because of his respect for local laws and customs—as did the Mongols—and the fact that he did not loot and rape the place, as the English and Americans, in their benign way, did. So I vote for the Mongols.

Q: Matthew McKenna Is there a person or persons who have been a major influence on your life?

Oliver: Huge question. We can talk in the personal sphere or artistic sphere, but let’s say we’re talking of the American political sphere. I’d say Roosevelt and JFK. And in a negative way Reagan, LBJ, Nixon, Bush (father), Bush (son), Truman, and Eisenhower. Without a doubt the U.S. has had its share of awful Presidents who’ve really destroyed what this thing could’ve been after WW2. Please see “Untold History” to understand my feelings. These are people who have directly influenced our life in a very powerful way.

Q: Mary F. Nugent On behalf of WH Wisecarver: I was on the Capital Hill in 1991 when JFK was released. It was surprising to me the controversy and re-evaluations it provoked amongst my younger peers. In lieu of your recent post on the prohibition of being able to do your MLK movie and the rehash of contrived political thrillers in today’s films, do you see a time when real thought provoking cutting edge films can be made in Hollywood again?

Oliver: You’re asking a bit of a rhetorical question. Films don’t necessarily have to be cutting edge to be thought provoking. For example, “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel” (2011) was a beautiful film about older people that really had a point. It wasn’t cutting edge in the sense of what people normally think, but who cares as long as it move you and provokes your feelings and thoughts. I said earlier on another post I really was struck by “All is Lost,” I think that “Blue Jasmine” in its way make you think about people that I knew in New York. It’s a great character study. I think good movies are coming along all the time from abroad, from here, and I wouldn’t dismiss the industry for that. We filmmakers are always struggling to get something fresh and different done. Few of us succeed. But we try.

I think that the concentration on money, as with the rest of the culture, has hollowed out the business. I know that studios are just not developing dramas unless you’re a top of the line director, and they rarely do that without making you compromise. It’s hard to get things great things made in that way. If the directors stick to their guns and develop stuff they really believe in, I think it’s possible to get films made. I know that we have many more markets available to us, as well as different forms of financing, but sometimes you have to assume you’re not going to make much money making a film, and you’re going to live with whatever distribution you can get. So I think it’s a very harsh playing field—but good stuff does get turned out because people are ‘burning’ to tell a story. I sometimes feel we’re the like that medieval acting troupe in Bergman’s “Seventh Seal.”

Q: Nathan Paul Oliver as a filmmaker myself I come across a predicament often behind the camera. Do you ever sacrifice continuity of a shot for your vision?

Oliver: Yes, I often do. The logic of the technician is often in conflict with the heart. Especially as the sun is going down and fast decisions have to be made. Best to make those decisions early in the day.

But as you can see from my editing, it’s sometimes discontinuous, and probably far more interesting because of it.

Q: Matt Higgins How is it that you were able to turn your horrific experience of being a combat soldier in Vietnam into something productive- producing great films that brought Vietnam into the focus of the American mainstream, instead of becoming one of the many casualties of PTSD?

Oliver: Well, I probably did have my share of PTSD, but I didn’t know it at the time because it wasn’t called by that name. I think that terminology started in the late 70s (not sure). I think the fact that I met a good woman who helped me reintegrate, and I did gradually join back into a film school at NYU and was inspired. I think willpower played a role in it. There was much rejection. Remember, it took 10 years (‘76–‘86) from when I wrote “Platoon” to when it was actually filmed, as well as 10 years (‘79–‘89) for “Born on the Fourth of July.”

This is the point of the artistic journey isn’t it? To take the ordinary and the oppression that’s sometimes served up to us, and make of it something celebratory.

-Archived version here from Feb 13 2014

#oliver stone #official website #q&a #social media #facebook #twitter #jfk #alexander #movie business #film business #ptsd #motifs #themes #artistry #thailand

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kittymaine · 6 months

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Spooky Boys Sneak Peek #2

NaNo is still going pretty good. I'm at 15k words right now, so I'm a little behind schedule, but I'm still really happy with how much I've gotten done.

This sneak peek is from chapter two! Again, just as a reminder, I have not re-read or edited this bit at all. This is taken straight out of the first draft.

Which was when Chardi was interrupted from considering just how cosmically shitty his entire life had been as a tall muscular man approached him.

At first, Chardi didn't consider that he was coming for him. He just barely perceived him out of the corner of his eye walking toward him, but he thought he must be heading for something just behind him. But, then he was standing at Chardi's table staring down at him and Chardi realized he must actually want to interract.

The man was very tall, but also very muscular, wearing a tight black v-neck t-shirt even in the chilly air of the coffee shop. His dirty blonde hair was artfully tossled and his ears and face were covered in shiny silver piercings. His eyes were a dark blue and his blonde eyebrows were slanted down over a face made for movies. Or, at least, made for TV movies.

"Are you Chardi Sodhi?" the man asked, his face not betraying an ounce of emotion.

"Yes...?" Chardi responded slowly, frowning up at this tall white guy he had never met before. He wracked his brain for any reason why this guy might be approaching him or any hint of a memory of where he might have met him before, but he was coming up with nothing. Chardi had a few friends around campus, but he wasn't exactly the friendly outgoing type and he was pretty settled with the few friends he had. And, anyone who wanted to approach him in a professional capacity would have waited for him at his apartment, he thought. So, who exactly was this guy.

"My name is Derek Knight," the man said and then waited expectantly. Chardi stared at him, but the name didn't help him recognize the guy. He was just stumped as he was a second ago.

"Do you mind if I take a seat?" the man asked.

"Uh," Chardi started as he tried to fumble up a way to make the weird guy go away. But, the man didn't wait for Chardi to respond and instead pulled out the chair directly across from him and took a seat with his hands pressed pointedly to the tabletop. "Uh, go right ahead," Chardi deadpanned with an unimpressed look at this complete stranger who had arleady worn through all his good will in about two seconds of interaction. Chardi did close his laptop so he could look at the guy without having to lean around his screen, but wasn't willing to make anymore concessions.

"I'll get straight to the point," the man, Derek Knight, said. "I run a paranormal investigation group called Eastern State Paranormal Research Team. Experts, for short," she said with a small twitch to the corner of his mouth that Chardi took to mean that he thought that honestly pretty generous translation of an overly long acronym was pretty clever. Chardi struggled not to roll his eyes and won with a force of will. "I've recently come into a generous budget to investigate St. Agnes Girl's Preparatory School. Are you familiar with it?"

"No," Chardi grunted out with a frown. He was starting to have a bad feeling about where this was going, but he held onto his own imagination with an iron grip. He didn't want to jump to conclusions that could send him spinning into anxiety for days. He didn't have the bandwidth to deal with that on top of everything else. It had to just be a weird coincidence. Chardi could hold onto his own thoughts until this guy at least got out whatever it was he wanted to say.

Derek nodded sagely, like that was the response he expected. "That's not unusual, even for locals. It's been closed for decades and even before that it's sordid past was covered up by officials. But, rumors of the strength of its haunting have been circulating in the paranormal research community for years. I'm putting together a team to investigate this location for hauntings."

"I don't see how that has anything to do with me. I'm a nursing major," Char ground out, his knuckles white where they gripped at his own arms. He was holding onto his own panic by the skin of his teeth.

Derek Knight gave Chardi a shrewd look, his mouth quirking up at the corner again. "I think that you're more than just a nursing major, Mr. Sodhi. I've been following up on another rumor that's been floating around the paranormal community for years and I'm pretty sure I've solved it."

"Shut up," Chardi hissed, finally losing control of his own panic. His shoulders came up around his ears and his dark eyes darted around the coffee shop for listening ears, but no one seemed to be paying attention to them anymore.

Derek continued as if Chardi hadn't spoken. "I have it on good authority that you were being fostered by the Faulton's when they were arrested-"

"I said SHUT UP!" Chardi shouted, jumping to his feet.

The entire coffee shop went silent, every head swiveling him as Derek Knight continued to stare at him with that little infuriating smirk.

Chardi could see Resa making her way over to him with murder in her eyes as she looked Derek up and down, but he didn't plan on sticking around. He shoved his ancient laptop into his bag without the normal amount of care he showed it and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair.

Derek was still talking. "I think you would be an indispensible part of my investigation. And, I can compensate you handsomely. I've got network backing and they've provided a generous budget for the first episode-"

Chardi was hustling toward the door, trying to block out whatever he was saying, but before he could reach the glass door a hand latched onto his elbow jerking him to a stop. He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, felt his free hand clench into a fist and draw back. Chardi forced himself to freeze.

This was Resa's coffee shop, where she snuck him drinks and snacks whenever no one was watching. He was looking at possibly being homeless within the next few weeks. If he punched out some random stalker asshole in the coffee shop, he was pretty sure he would be banned for life and lose one source of warmth and food at a time when he could least afford to lose something like that.

"Hey, asshole! You're bothering my customers. You need to leave," Resa was barking at Derek from behind him, but he was ignoring her.

"Here, take my card. Think about it. Everybody could use some money and it wouldn't cost you anything. Just a weekend in an old abandoned building." An honest to jesus business card appeared over Chardi's shoulder. He glared at it.

He didn't want to take this asshole's business card, he didn't want to think about the Faulton's or about what it was like to live in that house, and he didn't want to see or speak to this guy ever again. But, if taking that card would get him out of the situation without making any more of a scene than he already had, he would take it.

Chardi snatched the card out of Derek's hand. As soon as he did, Derek let go of his elbow and Chardi shot through the door of the shop and out onto the wet pavement. His hand was shaking as he shoved the card into his pocket and walked as fast he could without running toward his apartment building. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, but he didn't feel like fighting anyone. Mostly he just felt like shaking apart.

#nanowrimo #nano 2023 #writblr #kittywrites #updates

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chojuuro · 2 years

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pride asks!!

💥 🍭 🌼 for jinzuu

☀ 💫 🌈 for hiroki (i NEED to know if hirocho go to pride together)

OH MY CHILDREN

pride asks!!

under a cut bc whoops it got long

jinzuu!

💥 - When did your muse find out about their queer identity?

I THINK she was young when she realized she was not a boy. when she'd run off to meet with her "cool new friends" (aka isari and then jibiki when he'd start joining them) she'd use a henge to present as femme while she was still masc back home. partially bc she wasn't sure if it would be accepted but also, she was still kinda figuring herself out. gender in general is a little squishy in kiri but she didn't really grow into her confidence until hiroki started training her and then it kinda just started rubbing off

she's known she's bi pretty much her whole life tho even if she didn't really have the words to explain it for a long time. she'd have crushes on both boys and girls in the academy and it was never a big thing for her

🍭 - How long did it take for your muse to come out of the closet? Did they come to only friends? Family too?

she didn't come out till after she graduated the academy, i think; hiroki (her sensei hehe) and her teammates were some of the first people she told when she'd introduced herself at their first meeting, and it was the first time she'd used her chosen name.

i'm still trying to work out her exact family situation, but she was orphaned by the time she was 15. i do think she was able to come out to her parents before they died and though it took a little bit for her parents to get used to it and understand it, they were overall accepting. jinzuu has been presenting femme full time since she was 11-12 <3 ninja magic for trans things my beloved

🌼 - What advice would they give to younger LGBTQ+ youth?

"don't let anyone else give you any shit for being authentic to yourself! it's not always gonna be easy and not everyone's gonna get it, but that's on them and not a you problem. if you let some nobody try and tell you what's what, it's gonna start affecting how you think about yourself. you just gotta do what you can to get by, y'know? there's enough hardship from everyone else that you don't need any more from inside. if they still don't wanna be respectful then send them auntie jinzuu's way and i'll take care of 'em."

hiroki!

☀ - How confident is your muse in their queer identity?

VERY ACTUALLY he's the type who never felt the need to come out "officially" with his sexuality, and his gender is something that he never really talks about? just bc it's not something he thinks about a lot. i have it listed in his bio as "Man but it's like [vague hand gesture]" and truly i think that's the best way to describe it. he's amab, perceived by others as a cis man, and is generally pretty typically masculine; he's fine with all of this, and often calls himself a man around others, but it's a very loose interpretation of it in his head.

(in a similar vein, chojuuro just labels himself as gay for a similar reason (when he's more like demibisexual with a very strong preference for men and has only really been attracted to like one woman in his life probably but he's not gonna discount that), that explaining the whole ins and outs are just a little too complicated. hiroki handshake chojuuro using a more simplified label unless theyre around others they know will Get It)

💫 - Does your muse care heavily about pronouns? Are they fine with any pronouns? Do they care at all if the wrong pronouns are used?

OH PIGGYBACKING OFF THE LAST ONE HEHE hiroki uses he/him but i think he'd be generally fine with any pronouns? the kids called him mama for a good portion of their younger childhood and he loved it. he/him is what people will usually assume for him and it's what he uses for himself and is the most used to but he wouldn't correct anyone if they use the wrong ones for him. anyone else tho and it's on sight if theyre doing it on purpose

🌈 - Is pride month a big thing for your muse? Do they celebrate? Go to events? Wear pride flags?

HERES THE THING. i dont think it was a huge thing for him in his youth bc it was just so normal in his head to be queer. probably had a bi flag (or whatever kiri/naruto universe interpretation of that DHFJB) in his little apartment but didn't really go all out.

UNTIL kagura told them he was gay and then hiroki and chojuuro took him to his first pride and it's been a tradition ever since. hiroki with a young kagura on his shoulders at pride is something so special to me actually

they'd then extend the invitation to ikada when they adopted him following the first funato incident and kagura and ikada would argue about who got to sit on hiroki's shoulders. chojuuro's short he was never an option sorry buddy DJSFBJ

#ask #misttiddies #SORRY THIS TOOK A HOT MINUTE i kept getting distracted hsdbf #N E WAY THANK U <33 #hoshigaki jinzuu #shimizu hiroki #ocposting #happy pride

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toushindai · 2 years

Text

Thinking about. how I write both Meg and Nyx as the less traditional-looking partner in a polycule and ways in which they’re similar and different in that regard. Disclaimer: this is 100% about how I write this subject and is not to be taken as prescriptive.

Both Hades/Persephone and Thanatos/Zagreus are first and foremost romantic in nature, and in my working canon these are the relationships that turn into official, on-record marriages, while Nyx/Persephone and Megaera/Zagreus are—let us say off the books. They are not thereby lesser relationships—this is important. They’re just not as front-facing. And I think that Nyx and Megaera are both comfortable this way, but in slightly different ways that I’m trying to articulate here.

They are both, in my opinion, on the aromantic spectrum, and moreover on the asexual spectrum. But, again, in different ways. Nyx I characterize this way simply because she came into existence before romance and sex existed. She’s not a being whose heart and body have those kinds of desires built in, although they may be elicited situationally. Meg, on the other hand, I write as romance-repulsed—uncomfortable at the idea of romantic entanglements touching on her, at being asked to respond in ways that don’t come naturally to her. And this may have to do with the kind of being she is, or maybe it’s just who she is as a person. The “source” is less clear-cut in her case, and is less a factor in how she understands herself. Moreover, I write her as uninterested in sex unless there’s kink involved to the point of calling her gray-ace. This is not something I can or will back up with text; it’s just how I like to write her.

So in these ways, Nyx/Persephone and Megaera/Zagreus don’t resemble amatonormative relationships in the same way that Hades/Persephone and Thanatos/Zagreus do. But what I’m thinking about is how Nyx and Megaera, respectively, frame their importance to their partners. I’m struggling to put vibes into words here, but—

Nyx/Persephone is—inasmuch as I feel comfortable using the term without a full and felt familiarity with it—a queerplatonic relationship. It is underlain by a strong emotional connection in the same way that Hades’ relationship with Persephone is, but rather than that connection being a romantic one, it's something other than that. So, for this reason, I think it feels injurious to Nyx to think that her relationship with Persephone might be considered less worthy or real than Hades’. Of course this polycule has additional considerations of politics, and I don't think that Nyx wants to be Queen of the Underworld to Persephone's Queen any more than she wants to be so to Hades' Lord of the Underworld. It is more deeply felt than that, and unconnected to it, and special for its unconnectedness given how closely twined Nyx is with the realm.

If the foundation of Hades/Persephone and Thanatos/Zagreus is romantic, and of Nyx/Persephone is emotional, then the foundation of Megaera/Zagreus is absolutely sexual(/kink). I will say a thousand times, to anyone close enough to hear, that this doesn't mean that they're only interested in each other on a physical level—simply that their first connection happened on a sexual level and further connection grew out of that. Meg feels, I think—in part due to her responsibility to stop Zagreus from escaping the Underworld, but also because of her romance repulsion—that she would rather her relationship with him go publicly unrecognized unless it can be accurately perceived.

I think what I'm feeling—what I'm trying to put into words—is that Nyx feels that her relationship with Persephone should be considered of the same class as Hades', despite its different foundation, while Megaera considers her relationship with Zagreus to be of a different class than Thanatos's. In each case, however, the relationship is equal in significance and weight.

#hades game #persenyx #megzag #hadespersenyx #megzagthan #nyx (hades game)#persephone (hades game)#mzt #hpn

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blccded · 2 years

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I really like all the Ros but let's be honest Sybil is the most safe and healthy one XD

Like Valens is hella emotionally distant and hella difficult to get any kind of affection from

Calder seem fine and perfectly normal but is clearly hiding a more cunning and dark side.

And Eris......is the epitome of a corrupter in a corruption kink

Of course all of them are in my fantasies but for real Imma marry Sybil ✊ (sorry other Ros you cool too)

So now consider me officially a Sybil Stan and prepare to receive tons of asks from me 😔 Cuz my sweet baby deserve way more love and affection than their getting and I'm here to fix it 😤

Sybil Stans Unite ! Let's show them love!

WE LOVE IT WHEN YOU GUYS ANALYZE & PERCEIVE OUR ROS PLEASE DO SO MORE OFTEN; thank you very much, dear anon!<3 You're right though, out of all 4, Sibyl is the most 'tame' so to speak. Their route will still be interesting given their abilities to see snippets of the future so there'll be plenty of dramatic moments with internal conflict but they're still a cinnamon roll! Valens is definitely the most emotionally stunted and hardest to grow close to due to their past, but once you crack the shell then they'll cherish you. Their love language is more so acts of service so although they aren't one for fluffy words, they'll express their love in other ways— it's going to be a steep learning curve for them even so 😔Meanwhile Eris unapologetically just does what they want. You're also spot on with Calder, oftentimes in real life, you don't get to see the red flags until you're already down the rabbit hole and then you open up the closet and the skeleton falls out 💀 His route will definitely be a bit of a rollercoaster in that aspect but being Eris' right-hand man would probably mentally traumatize anyone. Sibyl is the RO that gets some of the least asks/attention so THANK YOU FOR STANNING SIBYL— SIBYL STANS UNITE<3 LOTS OF LOVE FROM US.

#please perceive me #ask #interactive fiction #interactive novel #if wip #if #blccded #choicescript #wip #blue blooded #blue-blooded #sibyl.#SIBYL STANS UNITE

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helloalycia · 3 years

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The Wrong Lifetime — Ten // Wanda Maximoff

chapter nine | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter eleven

author’s note: okay so this was supposed to be published yesterday but (if anyone cares lol), basically, i finished my last year of uni two days ago and so yesterday was the first official day i had that i didn’t have to do work, so i spent the whole day playing video games 😂 but it’s here now, so i hope you liked it!

Approaching Y/B/N's study, my annoyance returned when I remembered how he acted only an hour before. I didn't bother knocking as I let myself in, seeing him loosening his bow tie and looking out the window.

"What the hell was that?" I snapped instantly.

He sighed, yanking his bow tie off and throwing it to his desk. "What was what?"

I crossed my arms to contain my frustration. "You know what, Y/B/N." He continued to play dumb, so I watched him with a frown. "Why are you so against me getting published? I thought– I thought you'd be proud of me. It's all I've ever wanted."

With a scowl, he looked the other way. "I'm the writer, Y/N, not you."

His words created an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. Jealousy was a disgusting look on him, one I never wanted to see.

"No," I said, uncrossing my arms and staring daggers at him. "You're not the writer. I am. You only got noticed because of me!"

"Shut up!" he shouted, finally meeting my eyes. "You don't get to do this! It's not about you!"

"Yes, it is!" I shouted right back. "For once, it is about me, Y/B/N! Because this is my chance to do something I love."

He rolled his eyes, getting riled up all over again. "And that's another thing. Why the hell are you putting silly ideas into my fiancé's head about making money? Are you trying to make me a fool in front of my in-laws?"

I squeezed my fists together, narrowing my eyes. "They aren't your in-laws."

"Oh, you know what I mean!"

He didn't deserve Wanda. He couldn't. She was too good for him.

"Sorry that your masculinity is so fragile that you can't let your fiancé do something she's passionate about," I said through gritted teeth.

He glowered down at me. "You need to butt out."

I smiled bitterly. "Maybe if you didn't start on Pietro for no reason, I would."

He scoffed. "Please. That man is only trying to get into your pants."

I don't think I'd ever wanted to strangle my brother as much as I did right now. Did he really not believe in me? He couldn't accept that maybe I'd earned this on my own accord? Thankfully, unlike him, I could contain my emotions and managed to swallow down my anger.

"You know that's not the case," I said with a dangerously calm voice. "You should talk about your soon-to-be brother-in-law with some respect."

Y/B/N sighed, moving to sit at his desk. I followed him with my eyes, unable to recognise who he was. I hadn't dubbed him for the insecure type, but I was being proven wrong many times tonight.

"I don't want to do this right now," he said quietly, sinking his head into his hands.

I uncurled my fists, fed up. "It's already been done."

He looked up, but I didn't wait to see his face. Maybe he wasn't the brother I thought he was.

—

"Honest opinion," Wanda said, before revealing herself from behind the curtain. "Nice or ugly?"

"Nice."

She smiled brightly, twirling around in the dress she was trying on, before going back behind the curtain to change into another one. She'd invited me over to hers to hang out, which meant watching her try on a bunch of new dresses and getting excited over each one. I wasn't complaining.

"So, that first book," she picked up from our previous conversation as she changed. She was referring to Y/B/N's first published book. "That was really you?"

"Yep." I pulled my legs up onto the lounge sofa and leaned on my hand, elbow propped on the back of the seat. "I mean, it got edited of course, but the initial manuscript was mine."

"Wow," she commented. "That must have really sucked to hear everybody praise it when it was actually yours."

"It did indeed."

She came out from the curtain wearing a dress that wasn't particularly nice looking. It had a baggy torso and slim legs, making Wanda look very unflattering. And that was saying something – she could pull off anything.

"Nice or ugly?" she asked, hands on her hips.

I squinted, tilting my head and trying to think if I should lie or not. Her blue eyes peered down at me intimidatingly and I knew I couldn't find it in myself to lie to her.

After a moment, I released a breath. "I'm sorry, love, but it's kind of ugly."

She chuckled, giving me a knowing smile. "Good. This was a test. Means you're paying attention."

"Wow. You think I'm just sat here for fun?"

She didn't respond, but an amused smile was on her lips as she headed behind the curtain to change yet again. It was quiet as she was changing, before she spoke up again.

"You know when we first met? And you showed me around your room?"

"How can I forget? You thought I was jealous of my brother," I quipped with a smile.

I could imagine the eye roll she was giving me. "That was before I knew you wrote half his stuff."

Stifling a laugh, I nodded even though she couldn't see me. "Okay, go on."

She sighed. "I told you how I fell in love with that first book. How I fell in love with the words. And the person who wrote those words.”

"I remember."

She reappeared from behind the curtain, this time wearing a stunning floral blue sundress. It fell off her shoulders, revealing cream-coloured skin and a well-defined collarbone. I smiled softly, overwhelmed with admiration for the beautiful woman before me.

"I'm glad it was you," she said, and I suddenly remembered we were in the middle of a conversation.

Her eyes sparkled brightly as she smiled my way, and then her words sank in and my heart fluttered with adoration.

"Me, too," I breathed out.

She held my gaze for a second longer before looking down at her dress, pressing her hands over it. "So. What do you think? Nice or ugly?"

I raised my eyebrows with astonishment. "Wanda, you look absolutely beautiful."

Her shoulders relaxed as her eyes flickered to mine. "So, I should keep it?"

I spluttered, "Duh!"

She laughed, before approaching me and sitting beside me. Leaning her head on my shoulder, she pulled her legs onto the sofa and sighed contently. I wrapped an arm around her, resting my cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you'll finally get the recognition you deserve, milaya (darling)," she said, lifting her hand to intertwine it with mine over her shoulder.

With an entertained smile, I held her hand firmly. "Maybe, love. I haven't said yes."

"Oh, you'll say yes."

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, revelling in the warmth her body created as it pressed to mine. We had no concerns that somebody would catch us since nobody was home and the servants knew not to bother us.

"So, what was the book actually about?" she asked, playing with my fingers.

"Huh?"

"The book," she repeated. "I've heard Y/B/N's take on it, but what about yours?"

At the mention of my brother, I rolled my eyes. We still hadn't spoken since our argument and I wasn't exactly in the best place with him right now.

"It doesn't matter," I mumbled into her hair.

She used her elbow to nudge me gently in the stomach before grabbing my other hand and wrapping it around her waist.

"I like hearing you speak," she said softly. "And I love the way your mind works."

My cheeks flushed at the compliment, but I appreciated her words. She always had such an effect on me and I'd come to only care about one opinion nowadays – hers.

"Okay, I guess..." I sighed, subconsciously pressing my fingertips to hers. "The book is about a man who loses his wife to his own ignorance, right?" She hummed in agreement, so I continued. "Y/B/N always talks about how it's about a man failing to appreciate his wife, but that's not how I intended for it to be perceived."

Interest piqued, she sat up straight and turned around to face me, leaning her head on my chest and looking up with curious eyes. I smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to her nose, making her scrunch it up adorably.

"It's supposed to be about the wife discovering that she's her own woman and that she doesn't need her husband to be okay," I continued, holding her gaze. "It was her own self-discovery that pushed them apart, as well her husband's stupidity."

Wanda's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I like that interpretation a lot better than his."

Licking my lips, I breathed out through a smile. "You're biased, dear."

Her eyes flickered to my lips. "Maybe."

I chuckled before closing the gap between us, connecting our lips in a short, sweet kiss. She relaxed against me before smiling as we pulled away.

"Ya lyublyu vas (I love you)," she whispered.

I always loved when she spoke in her native tongue. She sounded so at peace when she did and it warmed my insides.

"I love you, too," I whispered right back.

She grinned, carefree, before turning to lean on my shoulder again. I held her, enjoying the silence that formed between us. Her presence was always enough and I never wanted anything more. But I knew Wanda and I knew that she couldn't stay quiet for too long, so something was definitely up.

"What are you thinking?" I asked quietly, not wanting to startle her in case she was too deep into her thoughts.

She sighed. "It's stupid."

I smiled. "I doubt that."

It went quiet and I assumed she didn't want to share, but then she played with my fingers again as she spoke.

"I was wondering what it would be like if we were able to get married," she murmured. "With the dresses and walking down the aisle and the rings."

I laced my fingers through hers, the thoughts having crossed my mind at times, too. It was nice to think 'what if', but it was also a dangerous game.

"The wedding cake would have to be chocolate," I played along, not wanting her to think she couldn't talk about it.

She snickered, loosening up in my arms. "Of course. And the colour scheme would have to be red."

"Definitely," I agreed, knowing she wouldn't have it any other way, "...it could be somewhere small but comfortable. Surrounded by nature, maybe."

"Yes. With flowers all around us and the sound of birds tweeting in the trees."

A comforting smile crept on my lips as I closed my eyes, imagining it in my mind. What a beautiful day it would be.

"I'd force Pietro to be the ring bearer," she added as an afterthought, and I laughed, chest moving up and down with her on it.

"He'd hate that," I pointed out.

"Exactly," she said with a mischievous hum.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "What about afterwards? Where would you want to live?"

She scrunched her face up before settling with, "Somewhere remote. Away from people. Maybe a nice cottage somewhere."

Nodding in agreement, I said, "We could have a beautiful garden in the back. I'd do my very best to make it perfect for you. And you could paint whatever you wanted there."

A considerate smile tugged at her lips at the thought. "Yes! And we could get a pet. I've always wanted a pet."

"I guess we could... what pet do you want?"

With no hesitation, she said, "Chickens."

I looked down at her, quirking a brow. "Chickens?"

Looking up at me, she stared like it was self-explanatory. "They're cute and they lay eggs. Think about it. Fresh eggs for breakfast every morning."

God, she was so cute. I smiled, squeezing her hand. "Chickens it is, love."

She got excited as she tugged on my hand. "You can finally get a study of your own!"

"And you can get your own studio," I added, making her grin.

"And I'd keep it sparkling clean."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Don't lie, Wanda."

She rolled her eyes, though wore a humoured expression. "Okay, maybe not..."

"You can keep it as messy as you want," I promised her, as if it was actually going to happen and we'd get what we wanted.

The dream was so vivid in my mind that it could have been a memory. Wanda and I living together, peacefully and without hiding... if only we weren't in the wrong lifetime.

"I like to pretend that you gave this to me," she said after an unsettling silence fell upon us, raising her left hand for me to see. She wiggled her ring finger, the silver band and emerald gem glinting in the light. "It makes me feel better."

I swallowed hard and forced a smile, intertwining my fingers in hers and bringing them to my lips to kiss gently.

"Technically I picked it," I reminded her to lighten the mood, but it didn't work.

A sad smile appeared on her face. "Maybe in another lifetime, we could have met in a world that allowed this."

My smile faded into a frown at her words. Like I said, considering the 'what if's' was a dangerous game, and we'd already played too much of it.

"You're going to marry my brother soon," I said quietly, the realisation hitting me. "This– us, will have to stop."

She sat up and turned to face me, eyes looking between mine as she shook her head. "It doesn't have to."

I rested a hand on her cheek and she leaned into it, kissing my palm. I savoured the feeling of her lips against my skin.

"What we're doing isn't fair on either of us," I said reluctantly, afraid to say what we'd avoided for as long as our relationship lasted.

She frowned. "I'd rather have you like this than not at all."

My heart ached because I knew she was being genuine, and the truth is, I felt the same. But that brought me to our next dilemma.

"It's not fair on Y/B/N either."

She tensed her jaw. "The world doesn't want us together, Y/N. They're the ones who forced us to be like this."

"Like what?" I asked with knowing eyes. "Cheaters?"

Her eyes glossed over and it broke me to see her so hurt.

"Is it really cheating if I never wanted to be with him?" she asked with a shaky voice. "If I'm only acting out of duty? If I never loved him?"

Realising I'd saddened her, I moved forward and pulled her in for a hug, running my hand down her hair and to her back. "Sorry... I didn't mean to make you upset."

She sniffled and I felt her tears soaking my shirt. "Don't talk like that... I don't want to lose you."

I swallowed hard, nodding into her shoulder. "I don't want to lose you either, Wanda."

But I knew that deep down, we couldn't hold onto everything we wanted to in life. Deep down, she must have known that, too.

—

"...and this is where we write up the contracts. It's where we'd write up yours if you say yes."

Pietro grinned cheekily as I gave him a knowing look. He was showing me around the publishing house – a proper tour, not just me lurking around on the few visits I'd been here for Y/B/N – with hopes of convincing me to sign a contract with him.

"Pietro, you said you wouldn't be biased," Wanda warned, and I gave her a grateful smile as Pietro chuckled.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," he apologised, though he definitely didn't mean it. "I just really think you'd be a great fit here, Y/N. I already have editors willing to work with you based on the few pages they've seen of your work."

I raised my eyebrows, startled. "Wow, seriously?"

He nodded. "Most definitely. As I told you the other night, you're talented. And with my help, you can be successful, too."

A smile fell on my lips uncontrollably. A real editor wanted to work with me. Woah.

"I'm gonna get some coffee," Wanda said, squeezing my shoulder. "I'll get you both some, too." She wagged a finger towards her brother. "Don't pressure her whilst I'm gone."

He raised his hands in defence. "Okay, calm down, sestra (sister). I'll be fair."

She lowered her finger, shot him a final look, then smiled at me before leaving for the café next door. I chuckled at how cute she was and how much she cared before returning my attention to Pietro.

"I won't pressure you," he said to me, perching on the edge of an empty desk. "I just want you to know that you'd be well looked after here. I wouldn't let anyone talk down to you, nor treat you with disrespect because you're a woman. I don't condone that here."

I relaxed at his words, offering him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Pietro. That really means a lot."

He returned the smile before his gaze moved over my shoulder. Smile fading, he cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away. I turned around, curious to what had caught his attention, and then I saw Y/B/N standing in the doorway, looking around for something. His eyes eventually fell on me and he perked up before heading our way.

I hadn't spoken to him since two nights ago after dinner. He'd actively avoided me, too and I wasn't complaining, having still harboured an unexplainable anger for him. What was he doing here?

"Y/N, hey," he said awkwardly, stopping before Pietro and I. His eyes flickered to Pietro before he asked me, "Can I speak with you?"

Instinctively, my jaw clenched and he seemed to notice as he shook his head quickly.

"Not to argue," he clarified. "Just to talk."

His eyes were pleading and I couldn't find it in myself to deny him. He was my brother after all, we couldn't argue forever. Nodding wordlessly, I smiled apologetically to Pietro before following Y/B/N to a quiet side of the room. My eyes ran along the many employees working away at their desks before falling to my brother before me.

"What is it?" I asked, maybe a little too harshly, but there was no going back now.

He frowned, eyes flittering around nervously. "I want to apologise for my behaviour the other night. I shouldn't have acted how I did."

I hugged myself as I shifted my weight between my feet. "Okay."

"You were right," he continued, finally meeting my eyes. "You deserve this. You've always been there for me, helping me with my writing when I needed it. I should have reacted better, but I let my jealousy get the better of me."

My mouth opened, surprised at his apology.

He offered me a sad smile. "The truth is, Y/N, we both know you'll be the more successful of us both. And you'll be so preoccupied with your own writing that you won't be able to help me anymore. And it was selfish of me to think that first, but I did. And I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I'm your big brother and I should've been better."

Chewing on my lip, I let go of waist and straightened up, nodding slightly. "I– thanks. Thank you. For telling me that."

His shoulders relaxed as he nodded. "Also, you were right about what you said about Wanda. And I'm going to apologise to her first thing."

My expression softened at the mention of the girl who'd only ever been good to us. "She's seriously talented, Y/B/N."

"I know."

I nodded, stepping forward and resting a hand on his shoulder. Looking between his eyes, I only saw regret and I knew he was being genuine with his apology.

"You're forgiven," I told him with a small smile, before pulling him in for a quick hug.

He returned it and I felt relieved to know he was supportive. I didn't see a reason to not accept Pietro's deal now... everybody I cared about was okay with it.

"Wanda is here by the way," I told Y/B/N when we pulled apart. "She's just getting some coffee for us."

He nodded and we returned to Pietro, who gave me a concerned look. I smiled reassuringly and he relaxed before looking to my brother with a smile.

"Hey, Pietro, sorry for what I said last night," Y/B/N was quick to say. "It wasn't cool. I know you're not like that and I shouldn't have even thought it, let alone said it."

Pietro was one of the chillest people I'd met as he offered his hand out to my brother. "No worries, mate. Bygones."

They exchanged a handshake before my brother glanced to me.

"She's really good," he said to Pietro. "You'd be lucky to have her here."

My face heated up as Pietro nodded in agreement. The two of them looked to me with proud smiles and as uncomfortable as I felt with the attention, I was grateful to have their support.

"I know," Pietro said. "All she's got to do is say yes."

"You haven't said yes yet?" my brother asked with disbelief, before slapping me on the arm playfully. "Y/N! This is your chance!"

"And it's a big decision!" I reminded him.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but then I caught sight of Wanda over his shoulder and perked up. She smiled my way but then noticed Y/B/N's presence and proceeded with caution.

"Hey, I got you both a coffee," she said, giving Pietro his and handing me mine, but her eyes were searching mine with worry.

My hand brushed hers as I accepted my coffee and I squeezed it reassuringly. She seemed to believe me as her lips twitched into a small smile before looking to Y/B/N.

"Hey," she said to him quietly, biting her lip.

He glanced to me for encouragement and I gave him a subtle thumbs up. This seemed to help as he wiped his hands on his trousers before looking to Wanda hopefully.

"Hey," he finally spoke. "Please can we talk in private for a moment?"

She nodded, humming in response, and followed him to talk.

"Match made in heaven those two," Pietro said sarcastically, and I tried not to laugh, but damn was it funny.

"Look, I think I've made a decision," I said after a moment, feeling my heart speed up at the realisation of my next words.

"Oh? And what is it? Will you let me publish you?" Pietro asked, quirking a brow and watching me with an excited smile.

Well, there was only the future to look forward to now.

I grinned. "Yes."

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #marvel #mcu

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foodieforthoughts · 3 years

Text

Down in History

Summary: Your first award function with Henry as a couple.

Pairing: Henry x Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Fluffy comfort

A/N: This is a birthday fic dedicated to the wonderful Lisa (@killjoy-assbutt-1112). Babe you deserve the world and here's to me trying to make your day a little brighter. Hope you enjoy and I'm sorry I'm a day late. 🙈

Also, thank you to @the-soot-sprite for helpful writing tips and @infinite-shite for listening to me talk about this. ❤️

Song inspo:

Title: Down in History

I looked out the window as hordes of paparazzi lined outside to snap a picture of their favorite celebs. The police tried to contain the crowd, failing miserably like I was failing to contain my growing anxiety.

Closing the curtains, I turned to the beautiful dress hanging on the mannequin. It was a gift from Henry for our first red carpet event tonight. I ran a hand lightly over the satin dress, feeling the silky fabric glid smoothly beneath my touch. The bodice was embroidered with silver crystals, glinting as the light caught in them.

I chewed on my bottom lip and wound my arms around my body. I was nervous beyond explanation. The media had dissected our relationship left, right and centre. They had scrutinized Henry for being with a girl who was nearly two decades younger than him, again.

"Miss," Maurice peered from behind the door, her cat-eyed glasses perched low on her nose. "We need to start getting ready." She informed and with a nod from me, she entered with her posse behind her.

I sat on the swirling chair they had placed in front of the mirror. While the ladies got to their work, I took the opportunity to look into my relationship with Henry.

As soon as our meetings became more frequent and the paps started getting more content, our faces started to appear on blogs and websites. My life became an open book with everyone trying to pull it apart piece by piece, commenting on things they had no business getting into. I had a fair idea about Henry's 19 year old ex-girlfriend and how much slack he had gotten for it. It was the sole reason why I was reluctant to officially date him even when he persistently asked for it.

After months of running into each other every day on our daily morning runs, Henry had finally stopped me for a chat one day. I had been a bubbling bundle of nerves when he had asked my name. The sexy Hollywood heartthrob seemed like he had planned on bumping into me that day for his questions seemed like he had memorized them. I wasn't the one to complain and when he had asked if I was free for coffee, I had agreed in a heartbeat.

"He's in the other room, miss. Maurice insisted that this room should be Female Central."

"Where's Henry?" I asked, turning slightly in my seat to look at our assistant sitting on a chair typing on her iPad. "I didn't see him since morning."

"Guilty." Maurice commented as she curled the ends of my hair to fall down my shoulder in waves. "Are you nervous?" She asked, talking to me through the reflection in the mirror.

"Very. I think I'll pass out even before I reach the red carpet."

She tapped lightly on my shoulder. "Don't worry. I heard Henry tell his friend he's not going to leave your side the entire night."

Despite all his efforts, I had once almost broken up with him. Henry had been away for filming and I had stayed back at his house. Somehow my location had gotten out to the public and I had been chased by the paps and fans, asking questions about Henry. I had locked myself in his house, too afraid to go out and when Henry was unavailable for calls because of the time difference, I had been a crying mess. In the heat of the moment, I had texted him that once he is back it is going to be over for us. After a long call later in the night, lots of crying and soothing, we had pulled through.

I felt a flutter in my heart.

Henry had been the most supportive boyfriend in the world. He had been with me through thick and thin, gently easing me in his life. He had promised me that whenever possible, he wouldn't let anyone harm my image in anyway. And he had rightfully held his promise. He had assigned PR representatives to look after my public image and gone as far as to make a big celeb gossip blog retract their article spreading personal information about my life.

Maurice eased me into my dress with the help of her assistants and started making the necessary adjustments to it. I stood with my arms out, looking at myself in the mirror and marveled at the image that looked back at me.

I worried about how people were going to perceive me tonight. They were going to complain how the dress had lost its charm because it was on me. Or they would comment how I look like Henry's child, like they always did. Or maybe this time they'll comment on the way my body was built.

My eyes welled up in tears and I sniffed, looking up and trying to not ruin the makeup. A knock on the door, distracted me from my inner turmoil. I waited for one of the ladies to open it and when they did, the sight in front of me nearly took my breath away.

Henry looked daper in a suit, made to perfectly fit his body. His eyes softened as he took notice of me and he entered through the door to walk towards me. "What's wrong baby?" He asked and took my hands in his.

Maurice and her assistants were done with their work on the dress and they quietly left the room to give us some privacy. I felt my lips tremble as the self doubt began clouding in my mind.

"I-I'm scared." I muttered. The welling tears in my eyes were threatening to fall down.

"But why? I'll be by your side the whole time. You don't have to worry about anything." He reassured me, walking me towards the bed and making me sit beside him.

"They are going to comment on our age," I mumbled quietly, twirling my fingers in a curl, refusing to look at him.

"I don't care, baby. And you shouldn't either. What's important is that we love each other and I accept you for who you are."

I weakly smiled at him as Henry kissed my cheek. The tears were threatening to fall but I managed to blink them away. He held my hand, gently circling his thumb over my skin in circles. I heard him sigh and run his free hand through his hair.

"What?" I asked, worried he had something running in his own mind.

"I was going to do this after the event, but-" He said before sliding down the bed and on his knee.

My mouth fell open, stunned at the turn of events. I stared at him wide eyed as Henry fished out a signature blue Tiffany&Co box from his pocket. He smiled sheepishly at me as I could only stare at him.

"Henry, what are you..."

"Baby, I love you. I have been searching for a person like you my whole life. I have never been happier before in my life. I don't care what people say, all I want is to spend the rest of my life with you." He pressed his lips, trying to breathe calmly. "Will you marry me, baby?"

Henry opened the box leaving me mesmerized by the beautiful double halo diamond ring sitting on the plush velvet cushion. But it wasn't the ring that made me cry, it was the love that seemed to be overflowing from within me for this man. I didn't care about the ruined makeup, nor the sobbing mess I was becoming.

I barely could nod a 'yes', before Henry with tears in his eyes smiled brightly up at me. He sat up and pulled me in for a hug as I wound my arms around his neck. He kissed my lips softly, before he pulled the ring out of its box. I bit my lip and watched as he slid the platinum band on my finger, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions as it sat snugly around my slim digit.

"Now, let's go to the event and let everyone know that you aren't just my girlfriend, but also my future wife." Henry said before kissing me until I couldn't breathe.

#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill fanfic #Henry Cavill x reader #Henry Cavill rpf #Rpf #Lisa's birthday fic

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hanazou · 3 years

Note

Hi! Could I ask for Dazai, Ranpo, Kunikida/Atsushi with an s/o who frequently picks their skin/scabs/scalp. My psychologist, mom, and I are pretty confident that I have ASD, and it's a relatively common stim. This can also happen with ADHD, OCD, and anxiety disorders -- I'm not sure if this suggestion is too centered around a reader’s identity! (Also, it's not intentional self-harm; it relieves stress and boredom, but just happens to cause damage :/ If you're uncomfortable, I understand) Thx! <3

dazai, ranpo, and atsushi and a lover who constantly picks skin/scalp/scab.

📜 Books : Dazai | Ranpo | Atsushi

📜 Word count : 2.3k

📜 Shelf : Paperback

📜 Category : Headcanons

📜 Genre : Fluff, with a tiny hint of angst with Dazai and Atsushi

📜 Caution : Vague mentions of disorders and insecurities

📜 Note : Don't worry, @my-introvert-hideout! I'm not uncomfortable nor is this too specific. In fact, I had so much fun writing this! I chose Atsushi (because I kin him I resonate with him better), I hope this does your suggestion justice. I apologize if any of these is inaccurate.

Enjoy your books! 💛

Dazai Osamu

He's an ex Port Mafia executive and currently employed as a detective. Never doubt that he'll catch on your habit the first time you display it around him. But only when things are official between you two will he take an action about it.

With his background and quick wits, Dazai knows a lot about the quirks people can have, where they came from, and why they do it. By judging from your expression and slights of movements, he knows that it's caused by your certain conditions and nothing like deliberately inflicting pain on yourself. After all, he's well accustomed to self harm itself too, and he doesn't see it in you, not that way.

Dazai's understanding on your habit will be more personal rather than analytical--because of his self destructive tendencies. He can relate to you in this aspect, but whether this is a bad or good news is completely up to your personal interpretation.

Only after things become official between you both that he steps his feet into ‘that’ zone, deciding now he has the right to interfere. He's the type of guy that perceives intervening with issues like this requires a special established relation with you beforehand, if not, who is he to say anything?

Dazai doesn't mind that you never took the initiative to tell him first, what matters that is he knows and he has for long. He'll take his chance of intervention when you start picking yourself again, but only when it's just the two of you around. If you're with the other ADA members or within a crowd, he'll just figure out something to distract you and do it subtly.

The private moment will come sooner than you think. With a swift move that escaped your eyes, he has taken your hand hostage. "Nuh-uh," He cooed. "You're prone to injure your pretty skin."

His direct words will push you off guard. You'll notice that he knows about your quirk, maybe get a little shy from not realizing that he knows if you're the shy type of person.

Dazai is a clingy guy and even more so as a boyfriend, your habit will only give him a legitimate reason to hold your hand wherever you two go. Your hands will sweat from constantly holding his. He will definitely use it as an advantage to tease you too.

"I have to go to the bathroom, can I trust your hand or do I have to keep holding it?"

You will literally throw his hand away. "What th—Go by yourself."

Dazai has loads of tricks up his sleeve, and combined with his knowledge, he knows more than one or two or three methods to help you. Whether they are effective or not depends entirely on you and your condition. Sometimes his tricks are so subtle that you didn't even realize until you think back about it.

Assuming you're thinking of seeking help from experts, Dazai will be totally with the idea. "I can feel your earnest effort for this, I'm glad for you."

He'll take you to your appointments and wait for you, and sometimes walk you back home, which is also another trick to ditch work and piss Kunikida off. Two birds with one stone, right? :)

Expect him to shower you with loving words after every session. Maybe it will even make you feel corny. But truth be told, he'll deeply ponder about your condition, you, and himself. He's well aware of his nihilism and ponders whether the words he said are genuine or just part of the new personality he adopted when he left Port Mafia that sometimes run on autopilot.

(aka he suspects he's not being totally earnest with his sweetness)

If it's the latter, the corny lovey dovey words will double as an effort to help you and himself. Don't blame Dazai too much, he has trouble differentiating between what’s good and bad (as what was said by my man Oda), but at least he's trying hard for your sake.

When you show some progress, he will be so expressive in praising you. His self doubt or whatever it is, that can wait. His darling comes first.

Dazai will give a hug or two and other romantic stuffs like that even if you're in public. He's a tease and you know you love it. If you especially get embarrassed about it, he'll try to fluster you even more. Is it to distract you or himself? Nobody knows.

Edogawa Ranpo

This Yokohama's best detective is well versed in a lot of things, psychological conditions included. If you have any condition at all, it doesn't take him long at all to understand it. Nothing escapes his pretty green eyes.

Ranpo's approach will be the opposite of Dazai. His will be more analytical rather than emotional or personal.

In the scenario where you don't feel too confident about your condition, you might be constantly worrying Ranpo will make a blunt comment about it. But trust me, you don't have to worry anything about it with this guy. He’s straightforward, but he’s not rude.

Even if Ranpo hasn't had any personal experiences of feeling/witnessing this sort of thing firsthand, you can count on him to be knowledgeable about it, although his words won't be exactly delicate. He knows that some people have problems if it's addressed boldly and he knows where the line for him lays.

Ranpo is the type of guy to think that if you never told him about it, then that's your decision and it's nothing to make a fuss about/make complaints for, but he's not going to pretend he doesn't notice. He doesn’t hold back his tongue.

He will treat this situation slightly akin to a case for him to solve. Why? Because first of all, he’s your boyfriend. Who else is better fitted to take care of you and analyze the root cause? Second, because of that personal attachment with you, he will feel the obligation to step in.

When nobody is in the agency office since they don't slack off like him, he'll stretch back against his chair, hands behind his back, and call out your name who stayed behind to assist and babysit him.

"Won't you hurt yourself if you keep doing that?" He asks, his sharp eyes closed. Blunt questions are his signature. You will instantly freeze, only realizing that you were going off with your habit.

You won't feel the need to explain it, because you know that he knows, and he knows that you know he knows (do I make sense? this sounds like that one Dazai and Fyodor meme)

"If you want, I know some ways to help and I'm acquainted with some experts." He says easily, stuffing his mouth with chips. After he swallows, only then his green eyes opens. "You're hurting yourself, you know that?"

I'm not going to sugar-coat his personality. If you want heartfelt, supportive, and warm words, talk to Kenji or Yosano because you won't hear it from Ranpo. But the brighter side is that Ranpo is a very good listener and offers practical suggestions that you know are fool-proof. With each word you vent to him, the more methods spring up in his head to help. Lucky of you to have him!

If you agree to seek professional help or his own, he's a different kind of romantic than Dazai who knows how to swoon you off your feet. Ranpo’s praise won’t be like Dazai’s (since receiving conventional praises is his thing), but he'll say something rather indirect like "Good for you. Nobody knows what's best for you other than yourself, not even me."

After your sessions are over for the day, Ranpo will gift you his favourite snacks. Chips, cookies, ice creams, jellies, sodas. Do you know how lucky you are if Ranpo gives you his favourite snacks? Mostly it's because he's not confident in sweet talks so he's hoping that you'll get the gist of what he's trying to do.

Heck, he'll even wait for you (partially because he doesn't know how to go home by himself, but that's not the point) quietly without whining that it's taking too long. To occupy himself, sometimes he'll bring some papers of the cases Fukuzawa gave him and solve interesting cases. But when you emerge from the door, everything is forgotten and his attention is fully back to you.

"Oh, you're finally finished!" He springs back up to his feet, arms expanded.

I encourage you to tell him about your sessions. He'll compliment you in his own ways believe me.

"My super deduction concludes that you did well." He says as you pop out the popsicle he gave, a cheeky grin on his face. Oh, you one lucky fella.

On the way back to the agency, presumably on a train, if you're getting better, Ranpo will definitely smile cheekily to himself, prideful of you and him.

"I'm always right, after all." He says. "What do you think, aren't I such a great boyfriend and detective? You're lucky to have this combination all for yourself!"

Damn right you are.

Nakajima Atsushi

This will be slightly lengthy.

In terms of discovering this quirk of yours, Atsushi's approach will be different than Dazai and Ranpo's. If anyone is insecure about this one aspect in your relationship, it will be Atsushi.

Let's be frank, Atsushi's abused background didn't let him know much about the world, disorders/special needs included. We're talking about the boy whose first idea of survival was to jump on strangers. He was thrown into the real world without any experience and minimum social skills, it's almost impossible he immediately clicks on the reason behind your habit.

Despite so, Atsushi will notice it, weretiger senses used or not. Growing up abused, he was forced to notice the microexpression changes on people’s face and their quirks/habits as a defense mechanism in case he earns someone's ire (remember about the infiltration mission with Akutagawa on Rats of the House of the Dead when he said he can hear when someone’s mind snaps). Even though he believes you will never pose a harm to him ever, he couldn't help but to overthink every single little thing you do. He just can’t help it.

Constantly picking your scalp/scab/skin makes him free fall to the assumption that you're anxious around him since he knows that people sometimes fidget when they feel unsafe. At first, he thought that you're nervous around him. Is it because he's a weretiger? Because you don't trust him? Because you think of him as a hindrance?

This sweet boy thinks a lot about you. You basically live in his head rent free, and ever since he noticed your habit, you will quickly climb up the ranks of things-Atsushi-overthinks.

He will address you about his insecure thoughts after they're brewed aka rotted his brain long enough

When you're picking your skin, Atsushi will call your name softly as he fidgets. "Are you, maybe, uncomfortable around me?"

The confusion you will feel. "What?"

The conversation will spin around how and why that thought even popped out, and because of mutual confusion, it will take a while until you're like "OH. That's why."

You will have to explain it but he's not that dense as to he'll keep asking "Huh?" As I mentioned, anxiety is his old friend. He understands very well the constant need of having to pick to ground yourself and alleviate the intruding thoughts.

He will apologise for assuming things himself, maybe overreact a little, blaming himself for thinking things are about him when it’s actually about you, and he will be very tender about it. After all that, he will do everything in his power to help with your condition.

Atsushi will keep your hands busy by holding it before you start picking yourself, gently, but firmly. He will use his heightened senses to pick on the signs before you pick your skin/scalp/scab and try to distract you by doing anything.

Remember that one scene of his entrance test where he panics, not knowing what to say to Tanizaki? yeah he will be like that.

"AAH! Look! A cat!"

Then Atsushi will get more creative. He will not hesitate to spend the money from his cute wallet to buy lotion/moisturiser for your skin that smells so good (thank you for your help to guide him pick it, Kyouka), hoping it will help you. Maybe he'll get you gloves to match his own (matching couple things are never outdated). You won't pick on your fingers that way.

If you ever want to talk about your condition, please, share it with him. I insist. He insists. It's a win-win solution for both of you. His faith that you truly treasure and believe in him will harden (helps with his self esteem), and you get to throw off the load burdening you down.

He also feels it's his responsibility, part of that is because of his Headmaster's words, but mostly because he treasures you that much. If he caught you picking again, he'll become super worried and so guilt ridden.

If you decide to seek professional help, he will be 100% supportive. I won't sugar-coat again—Atsushi will detect his disappointment at himself for not being enough to help you on his own, but at the same time he's also realistic. He knows that he doesn't have what it takes by himself.

His Headmaster's words will echo again, again, and again. "You failed to help your own lover? Have this orphanage taught you nothing—have I not taught you anything? Will you ever amount to any good?"

He will fight it back harder than usual because now, it's about you. He can't afford to fail you, especially you. If you do talk about your condition to him, it will calm him down by a lot.

In short, your condition impacts Atsushi more that you ever thought. Please support each other.

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