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sebastianswallows · 14 days

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The English Client — Five

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: Tom hurts himself like an idiot and tries to hurt reader like an idiot

— WORDCOUNT: 2.6k

When she returned the next morning, she didn’t have the sense that anything was wrong, even when she found the ledgers placed in the wrong order underneath her desk. It wouldn’t be the first time… So she followed her routine and spent the chill hours of the morning making coffee in the little kitchen in the back and finished a review of Pliny the Younger she’d begun two days ago.

It wasn’t until later, after lunch, when she went into the back rooms to put Pliny in his place that she realised something was definitely wrong. The carpet, usually so carefully smoothed over the trapdoor, was creased in a light wave, its yellow tassels ruffled. The table in the centre of the room was quite askew as well, the items on it shifted to the right. She froze, then rushed to check the hidden door.

But the door was safe. There wasn’t even a scratch on it… She placed her signet ring into the keyhole and it popped open with a click, just as it always did. She lifted it and stepped inside, down the steps that led into the tunnel. It was dark and quiet… Nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe she was the one who made that mess the last time she was there. She did tend to be a bit clumsy sometimes…

With a sigh of relief, she climbed back up, and as her face reached the level of the floor, something shiny underneath the table caught her eye. She got up and closed the door behind her, then crawled on her knees underneath the table to grab the foreign thing.

It was one of those fancy pocket knives with all sorts of uses… Red handle, stainless steel blade. Her heartbeat turned frantic and sweat cloyed at her hairline, and she felt her stomach drop — someone else had been there. And she’d have to report this. With brisque and heavy steps, she went back to her desk and picked the phone up.

“Hello?” she whispered once the Curator picked up. “It’s me, upstairs. Erm, has anything gone missing? What? Oh, n-no reason, just, I think we had a break-in and — No, it’s fine! Just — I don’t think so. Erm, did I call him? Not yet. I —”

She listened to the frustrated cursing of the man downstairs as she stared at the Swiss knife, turning it in her hands, her whole body tense and weak, when suddenly her frown melted away and lips parted. There were two letters inscribed into the blade: C. M.

“It’s someone with the initials C and M,” she said quickly. “Know anyone? No, I don’t either… Alright. Alright, I’ll call him now. Thank you.”

“Yes, it’s not much to go on, but —”

“There is no need,” scraped the voice from the other end of the line.

“What?”

“You said nothing was taken?”

“A-as far as I can tell… Downstairs is safe too.”

“Hm. Possibly something forgotten by a customer.”

“H-how can you be sure?”

“If it had been an intruder, you would not have found a knife,” he said. “You would have found a corpse.”

She frowned, not really understanding him but ready to accept this resolution.

“S-so, what would you like me to do?”

Silence on the other end. Perhaps he expected her to increase security, or just carry on as normal since he seemed so calm about it…

“Put a copy of Torchia on display.”

“What?!”

“If it really was a break-in, and it has to do with the auction, we will test the resolve of our thief.”

“Do you want that book or…”

“Yes. Ask Ambrogio,” he said, and in the background, she could hear the scratching sound of him writing something down.

“Alright, sir…”

The scratching persisted until he hung up on her.

III

Tom smiled against the receiver. He so hated telephones with their smooth plastic in unnatural colours, but they were faster than an Owl… Besides, muggles seemed to love them.

“Yes, if you could manage it, I’d be ever so grateful,” he drawled silkily, putting on the same boyish airs he did when meeting with another of Burke’s clients. “No no, not right now. I’ll tell you when. Is that alright? It is? Oh, wonderful. You know, I keep thinking of that hotel you mentioned. You were right about this one, it’s awful. Yes. Yes, I’ll consider it.”

He hissed a few more pleasantries and said goodbye. When it was over, he reached to the bedside table to hang up, but not without some difficulty. He sighed and rested his cheek against his long cold palm cushioned by the pillow. Tom was lying on his front on the narrow hotel bed, a pack of ice on his hip — just a few cubes tied up in a handkerchief. It did little to reduce the bruise that bloomed there, but at least it kept the swelling down. He could think of a dozen potions that would do much better than this, but he had none of the ingredients on hand. His own fault for leaving London without buying some supplies first…

He held the pack to him and got up gingerly, growling all the while. He should have been happy, he’d made a great deal of progress in finding where they held the book, even if the way was closed to him. And with a bit of luck, he might yet find a way to gain their trust.

Tom limped over to the window, a drop of water sliding down his naked leg. The sun was setting and the streets were filling up, frothing with white dresses and silk scarves. How he hated being around muggles…

He let the curtains close again and waved his wand to brew him a cup of tea. Fire spells were so useful even if you didn’t have your mind on arson. He was at least glad he’d brought some tea leaves with him, and could brew them at just the right temperature. The milk they served around these parts was also not so bad, and worked wonderfully with the brew. It soothed his nerves if nothing else.

He sat down in the armchair, legs askew, loose shirt covering him to his thighs, and picked up his notebook. At least he knew they had the Trevisan that he was after... It would make the perfect excuse to visit again — in a more overt manner.

Absentmindedly, he placed the ice pack on his lap, and immediately jumped up in his seat.

“Oh fuck! Cold!”

He growled and with a sharp flick of his wand transformed the pack into a pillow, and settled down again.

It should have delighted her that Frederico found the freedom to ask her out for lunch again. She sometimes thought she worked too many hours, but that impression faded when she heard from him. All Fred ever talked about was work. His shop was two streets away — not his of course, just as Casa Ur wasn’t hers — but he behaved as if it was his child sometimes, so dutifully he tended to it. She put it down to the speed with which she worked, as she was younger than most of the other book dealers in the city and less worn down by its pressures. But even she could not muster the endless enthusiasm of her friend.

Their lunches together had nothing romantic about them, they never did. He was a kind, soft-spoken man in his mid-forties, his skin just starting to sag around his cheeks, his forehead creased from frowning, brown eyes wet and tired behind a thick pair of glasses. The way he looked at her unnerved her sometimes, but then again, he seemed to look at everything that way…

He picked her up from Casa Ur and they went to a restaurant together, his paunch swinging before him and the sun shining brightly on the bald spot at his crown. He loved to talk, his high hoarse voice filling up the silence. She didn’t mind. She needed the company.

“And anyway, to prevent the shipment from being late, we found an old pathway they could take to avoid the flood, and they arrived five minutes before schedule,” he said, finishing the latest drama from his shop as they sat down at the restaurant across from the Fontana Trevi. “Can you imagine? Flooding, in the hottest summer on record?”

“Oh, last summer was even hotter.”

“You think so, but that’s not what they said on the weather report.”

“I think I’ll have carbonara,” she hummed, licking her lips. She loved the menu at this place…

“Hm? Oh, parmesan gnocchi for me, I think. With cream and garlic, oh yes… Wine for you?”

“No, I don’t think so. Just water.”

“Might be a while until they come around to us. So many tourists out today. Awful. Anyway, I wanted to tell you about the reason we found that route. Guess.”

“I don’t know,” she laughed.

“Guess, guess! Alright, so, it was our collection of Martinelli maps.”

“Fascinating. Oh, there’s a waiter! Scusi, cameriere!”

She hadn’t liked Fred when they first met two years before, but she’d gotten used to him. Or, she’d learned how to put up with him, allow herself to be carried on the wave of conversation that he wove. Now, it was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, eating in the open air, letting his enthusiasm drown her worries as he wagged his sausage fingers in the air to summon up the largess of the maps that saved his boss’ shipment.

Every one of their colleagues was different, each with their own flaws and problems — broken marriage, spiteful children, loneliness and illness and malaise — but they all carried the same passion for books. Books most people never heard of, books only obsessives cared about, books older than countries. They, few and a little insane, were together enchanted by their beauty.

So she could forgive Fred his childlike wonder, even during their lunch break, because the same passion smouldered, albeit very deeply, within her. It was what kept her going in spite of her loneliness, her anomie, and the drudgery of daily life.

“By the way, who’s coming at the next auction?”

“Most of the same,” she sighed, her breath fogging the half-empty glass of water. “A few new names this time. Foreign names. Can’t say I know any of them.”

“Must be invited by Oso.”

“Oh, I doubt he has the authority.”

“No, but you know how the Baron looks up to him.”

She chuckled, her lips pursed to stop a toothy grin. “Given his condition, it’s hardly surprising.”

“What do — Oh, you mean the… Oh, that’s quite cruel,” said Fred, his eyes two charcoal slits beneath the fat dark crinkles of a smile.

“Sorry, sorry…”

“But anyway, you know he could talk him into doing just about anything.”

“Maybe… Would you like to have some coffee before we go?”

“Sure,” he said. “I know you don’t really like talking about the auctions.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just that… just that…”

“Just that you don’t like it,” he laughed.

She was playing with her fork in the leftover sauce of carbonara while Fred waved a waiter over when she noticed from the corner of her eye a familiar contrast of black hair and deathly pallor. Was that Mr. Riddle? His eyes were hidden by shades and his full lips were pressed against the rim of a wine glass, but she was certain it was him. She turned before he spotted her.

While Fred kept droning on about another fascinating problem he’d had at work, she found her thoughts drifting, dreaming, and a soft smile blossomed on her face at just the memory of how good Tom looked the last time he was in her shop. Those dark curls falling over his eyes, how she longed to ease them back, to trace the sharp angles of his jawline, to kiss him… His lips looked so soft.

She sneaked another glance his way when the waiter took their plates. Leisure looked good on him, even if he seemed an amateur at it. A workaholic, perhaps, like her… He wore a pale green shirt today. The colour tasted sweet in her mind, like pistachio gelato. It was generously parted at the neck where his sweat was cooling, and underneath the table she could tell his legs were crossed, clad in sinfully tight silver-grey trousers.

“And once we had the original manuscript, we realised it referred to the Capuchin Catacombs, not the Parisian ones! My dear, are you listening?”

“What? Yes, the catacombs, of course,” she said, hiding her warm smile behind a cup of coffee.

The shop was more quiet than usual when Tom stepped in that day. That was to say, it was quieter than when he’d broken in. There was a tense silence to the place, one that slithered up his spine and settled pleasantly at the back of his brain.

He hadn’t missed the Torchia displayed in the window, in the centre of a carefully constructed swirl, holding court over far lesser volumes. In fact, it was the reason he had come.

“Buongiorno.”

“H-hello!” she called from behind her desk, getting up quickly enough to knock over a stack of papers when she noticed him.

“Didn’t expect to see me again, did you?” he grinned, sliding a hand casually in his pocket.

“Not really, no,” she chuckled. “How can I help you?”

Her eyes flitted to the window before coming back to him. She was expecting him to ask for the Delomelanicon again. She probably had a whole little script ready once he did. As if Tom would fall for so obvious a trap…

“Well, I was wondering if you had a copy of The Lost Word, by Bernard Trevisan.”

“W-what?”

“Is it a bit too obscure? He’s a —”

“Fifteenth-century alchemist,” she said, her smile suddenly beaming with nothing of the apprehension from before. “The Lost Word is a famous alchemical treatise! Yes, I know it. Which edition?”

“Doesn’t matter. Any would do.”

“We have a solid copy. Not too old, but faithful to the original, and at a good price.”

She began leading him into the second room before she’d even finished speaking. What a charming girl… She’d hoped he hadn’t been the intruder, and Tom had just confirmed it. He had gained her trust.

He followed her quick and careful steps, a heady perfume trailing behind and the metronomic echo of her thin high heels.

“It’s quite deep inside,” she said.

“Is it indeed?”

His hand came slowly out of his pocket, holding his wand.

“Not much further now, through this door.”

Tom stopped, took aim, and cast it.

“Imperio.”

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” she asked as she kept walking.

“…Nothing?” Tom muttered to himself in wonder. He looked down at his wand as if it were impotent.

“What?” she said, half-turning.

He shoved the wand back between the folds of his jacket before she could see it.

“Ahem, nothing,” he smiled. “Please, continue.”

A chill ran down his skin and bile rose in his throat in anger. It was clear to Tom now that this building, or perhaps the very land it sat on, was protected by some counter-charm. His usual solutions of bending locks and minds would not suffice, but he could not call himself the Heir of Slytherin if he could not find a way. Tom eyed her figure, infuriating and sleek, and decided then and there that she would be his key.

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient

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good-beanswrites · 25 days

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My last post made me want to spin the ballet au to suit the general cast, keeping Es as the protagonist 🩰

I don't have art for this one but I still got a bit carried away with the details LOL This definitely leans more into a sweet fix-it :3

The story would open with Es waking up in the medical room of Milgram Dance Academy, a very small and isolated school. Es is told they suffered a bad head injury during a performance, resulting in amnesia. Their instructor (Jackalope. Make this work however you wish.) tells them not to worry about it, and to focus on their dancing for now. Es feels a pressing responsibility to stay and rehearse, so they agree.

Jackalope tells them they must understudy several roles while recovering, not ready to jump into things right away. They're grateful, since they're struggling with their identity and expression without their memories.

The first student they are directed to is a shy and lanky dancer by the name of Haruka. They study under him as the role of a graceful, melancholic swan. They watch the choreography in general, and it looks nice enough. Es proceeds to spend several rehearsals with him, talking and bonding and learning he has a bit more going on than meets the eye. They try to offer help as he admits to familial issues, self esteem questions, and comments about sibling jealousy. In turn, he teaches Es to mimic some of his powerful emotions. At the end of their time together, they both perform for their class in full costume and staging. Now, Es understands each move with a deeper understanding than their initial look at the steps.

Next, they’re sent to meet the bubbly girl playing Juliet and begin the process anew. This continues to make a total of ten roles. Some of the dancers take the sessions kindly, while others are brash, secretive, or just confusing.

After rehearsing with Kotoko and learning to understand her determination and confidence, Es is sent back to Haruka, who has moved onto a new show and new role. They’re shocked to discover that their words to each dancer – always well-intentioned – had caused some issues backstage. Now, there are rivalries and changes in stage presence. While experiencing stress (that Es has inadvertently caused,) some were distracted in rehearsal and got injured. Es must take on the interpersonal issues as well as the choreography challenges.

I don’t have all the roles down and was trying to stick to well-known shows anyway, but I think I’d want Muu to be the Sugar Plum Fairy, Kazui to be Albrecht from Giselle, and Amane to be Clara. I wanted to keep them traditionally gendered to prove there are plenty of roles for men, but I can’t help but have Odette/Odile thoughts for T1 Mikoto ;-;

Like the other post, I'm equally tempted to have the dancers performing ballet adaptations of the mvs 👀 I want to see. Bee tutu. Doctor coat costume. Marching band tutu. AKAA mismatched look. The backgrounds. The music. The choreo. So many cool possibilities...

As a sweet au, it all ends with everyone better for having met one another. Es is cast in a solo performance, combining everything they've learned both emotionally and technically from the others. They feel satisfied with their sense of identity, and shine onstage ✨️✨️✨️

#milgram #es #plus the whole cast lol #ballet aus my beloved!!!!#is jackalope human? does he teach ballet on his lil bunny paws? you decide 👍#oh albrecht is the guy giselle falls in love with but when his true identity is revealed she dies/kills herself of heartbreak ;--; jsyk ;--#if anyone has any casting ideas lmk 👀 these were off the top of my head but i can definitely look for fitting roles for everyone #unlike the other au i dont picture any murder equivalents here -- they still have their flaws and everything but no ones gotten hurt #both these aus require a school full of other dancers but im picturing the milgram cast as es' specific class they spend all his time with #and since the other students are the audience i guess that means you all are part of my au 😌 welcome to dance school 😌#you could probably combine 05/06 or 06/07 as romeo and juliet while going through their respective lovers issues #when amane plays clara i want fuuta as her drosselmeyer :3 (both for sweet reasons and. eyepatch.)#i had the bulk of this jotted down for so long - its nice to finish the art and clean up the phrasing to post!#dropping this while i reboot my brain from my trip... i shall return soon ;-;

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wavyhairedvixen · 5 months

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Hard work pays off

pov: Loki as an art teacher

tags:

f/m, Loki x reader

18+ content, porn with plot, spanking

Summary: This semester you get sorted into the class of the most demanding art teacher named Master Laufeyson, which results in conflicts between the two of you. Even though he keeps giving you harsh criticism you stay determined. You decide to prove him how wrong he was when he called you mediocre, and you start to work on your sculptures night and day with such passion like never before. All the while, you can’t get him out of your mind… Your thoughts are consumed by his gestures with those big hands, and his impeccable style. One night as you work in the studio all alone he unexpectedly shows up, surprised that you’re still there. It pleases him to see you working overtime just to prove him your worth.

Master Laufeyson keeps watching you from afar. You’re not aware of your teacher’s presence, as you keep carving the wood. The studio’s warm air is filled with the soothing scent of pine trees.. A song from Sting is playing in the background, and you occasionally sing along to the music. As your master comes up behind you with his signature inaudible steps, you get a whiff of his minty cologne. Your heart skips a beat as the realization hits you. You whip around, redness tinting your cheeks.

“Good evening, master!” you smile awkwardly.

“It’s impressive how persistent you are; not many students have your mindset, you know.” He taps his bottom lip with his index finger, stepping closer to your artwork, taking in its fine details.

You can’t believe his words… Is he mocking you? No, he seems dead serious. You are too shocked to speak, disbelief plastered on your face.

“You proved your talent to me, little one! Look at your sculptures, they are full of emotion,” he remarks with a self-contented smile.

“Master… You put me through all this misery to…” you mumble searching for words, furrowing your brows.

“For your own sake, yes. And look how well it tured out!” he looks you up and down with a twinkle in his eyes. “I think we should drink to that,” he says cheerfully and snaps his fingers. Two glasses and a bottle of wine appear out of nowhere in a cloud of green smoke on a table.

“What the…” you stare at it with your mouth agape. “I must be going crazy”, you think to yourself. “First you’re being nice to me, then it turns out you’re a magician.” You burst out laughing. “I can’t believe this…”

“There you go, my dear!” He hands you a glass of wine. “Just to make it clear, I’m not a magician, I am a god. And please, don’t tell a soul about this! Oh, actually, you can, since they wouldn’t believe you anyway…” he chuckles, watching you gulp down your wine. “Another one?”

“Definitely!” You let him refill your glass as you look him in the eyes. “I don’t care who you are… You have no idea how much your harsh remarks hurt me!” you say bitterly. “I understand that you wanted to challenge me, but was it really necessary to humiliate me in front of the whole class?”

“I’m sorry, I might have gone a bit too far sometimes. Can I make it up to you?”, he asks with a sly smile stepping closer, his gaze resting on your lips. He places his hands on your hips and dips his head to place a soft kiss on your lips. You close your eyes and kiss him back sensually, savouring the moment.

“You needed to learn some discipline in order to reach your full potential…” he whispers, breaking the kiss for a moment while running his fingertips along your sides.

“Oh, shut up…” you hiss with an annoyed look, peering up at him.

He grabs your chin with one hand and pulls you closer with the other, holding you in his firm grip. “Choose your words carefully, when you’re talking to your master, or I’ll have to teach you some manners, kitten!”

Your cheekiness seems to have aroused him just as much as his authoritative tone has stirred something within you. He kisses you more passionately this time, showing you who’s in charge. His tongue is smooth and relaxed as he strokes yours slowly, letting his hand wander to the inside of one of your thighs.

“God, he’s a good kisser!” you think to yourself.

As you both pull away for some air, you say through laboured breaths, “You know what I think? That you actually had a lot of fun tormenting me with your cruel words, you psycho…”

“I warned you to watch your mouth!” He pinches your butt, earning a squeak from you. “I think it’s time to teach you a lesson!” He rubs the spot where he previously pinched you, then turns you around by your waist and locks one of his big hands around your throat, pressing himself against you. You can feel his erection poking your rear as he cups one of your breasts with his other hand. “Just to make it clear: you’re mine,” he whispers as he nuzzles his nose along your neck, biting your earlobe tenderly. “Obey me, and I’ll reward you… Disobey me and bear the consequences…” his hot breath tickles your ear and you practically melt into his touch.

He traces his fingers along your chest and abdomen, all the way down to your thighs. The next thing you know is that you’re naked, and leather straps have formed around your thighs, waist and tits. He lifts both of your hands above your head and you feel a rope form around your wrists, holding you in place. You gasp as he tugs on your harness by the waistband.

“Oh, God… this feels… so tight. So good…” you groan. Then he lets go of your neck and smacks your butt with a gloved hand. “Ow!” you feel a stinging pain where he slapped you, warmth spreading over your ass cheek, being followed by a tingling sensation.

Wetness coats your folds as he smacks your other cheek too, chuckling darkly, “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you this time, darling…” He steps away, admiring his work.

“Please… Master!” you whine, tugging against your restraint, looking back at him over your shoulder. He steps closer, kissing your neck and sliding his gloved hand over your pussy.

“Please, what? You want more, you wicked little thing?” Your arousal coats the smooth leather of the glove as he rubs your clit.

“Mhmm…”

“You’re enjoying your punishment a bit too much, don’t you think?” he coos and bites your neck.

You feel his teeth sink into your skin and his warm tongue licking a stripe over the mark he left. Then he slaps your butt with his gloved hand again. As the wet leather makes contact with your skin you cry out from the pain. But soon the pain dissolves and that same pleasant warm tingling lingers as before. You’re a moaning mess by the time he releases your hands and turnes you around kissing a trail down your body. He stops at one of your breasts, sucking and nibbling on your nipple while groping the other one, pinching your bud between two of his long fingers. You can feel your arousal dripping down the insides of your thighs.

“Please! I’m aching for your touch, master…”

“Patience, pet… I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. I wanted to fuck you unconscious the first time I laid eyes on you, and believe me, keeping my cool was a challenge whenever I saw these curves in those tight dresses.” He gets on his knees pecking kisses around your navel. “You have no idea how excrutiating it was for me to admire your delectable body without ever laying a finger on it.” He emphasises his statement by licking over your mound, while groping your ass, pulling you into his face.

“Ahh…” you moan, practically trembling with anticipation as you run your fingers through his hair.

He starts to quite literally devour you, and your knees go weak as you reach your orgasm. With one precise thrust of his tongue against your clit, he sends you over the edge, your body buckling against his mouth, as you cry out. He licks up the nectar oozing out of you, with a satisfied groan, making such obscene noises that you blush a deep shade of red.

Suddenly, footsteps and the creaking sound of an opening door fill the silence. You freeze on the spot, hand gripping your master’s shoulder. Unbothered, he waves one of his hands and in an instant, you find yourselves in a nicely furnished room with a huge bed at its center.

Your eyes go wide. “That was fucking close!”

“Did the previous situation excite you?” he asks with a wicked grin, wiping your arousal off of his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I could get expelled for what we did, you crazy bastard!”

“That filthy mouth of yours is gonna be the death of me…”

He stands up, his tall figure looming over you as he guides your wrist to his crotch. Your fingers glide over the bulge in his pants, before you start to unbuckle his belt and pull down his trousers and underwear. You wrap both of your hands around his long and thick cock, pecking a gentle kiss on the tip. You pull back the skin and lick along his cock then take the tip into your mouth. You moan as you let him slide deeper, sucking on him, stroking the base of his cock with your hands, picking up your pace while doing so. As you keep bobbing your head you look up at him. He peers down at you, eyes heavy with adoration and lust. You moan around his cock as you let it slide into your throat, your muscles contracting around his shaft. He groans as he cums into your mouth and you swallow his hot seed.

He caresses your cheek with his thumb as he purrs, “Good girl…”

“Brother!” you freeze as a thunderous voice shakes the corridor outside.

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #loki x reader #writeblr #loki laufeyson

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 7 months

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Sicktember #19

Prompt: Curled Up With a Pet

Fandom/OCs: Priest ‘verse OCs (Luc and Flora)

Words: 2530

Sicknario inspo: 'Have you taken anything for that fever?' from this post and caught in the rain scenario from this post.

Author’s comments/background: Ah my sweet babies, in the honeymoon of their relationship. This is tooth rotting fluff, giving a new meaning to the idea of sickly sweet, but it’s definitely sickfic and easily one of my favorite things I wrote this year. Another prompt that just needed some characters to bring it to life, though, which made writing this easy. Enjoy the continued progression of Luc and Flora’s relationship. I set myself up perfectly for some romantic sickbed sex as the next chapter. We’ll see if I have the b*lls to write that, though.

~~~***~~~

The last week in June was always when Father Luc took his summer vacation. He had rented an isolated cabin by a lake in a different state this year, ensuring the lowest possible chance of meeting someone he knew, which enabled Flora to join him along with Charlotte, his golden retriever. The pair had been scheming and anticipating the trip for months. Days of uninterrupted time together, not having to hide or cover their whereabouts, was something they had only dreamed of. Now they would actually experience it.

The first few days of the trip were blissful. They spent hours basking in one another's company, talking about everything and nothing, elated not to be watching the clock or looking over their shoulder constantly. They ate every meal together, swam at all hours of the day, cuddled on the couch, stayed in bed for hours, explored and memorized every line and curve and expression and breath… perfection was the only word they could find to describe those first days.

Around midweek, though, Flora was going a little stir crazy. It was decided that she would run to the nearest town for a grocery run and some window shopping. Luc despised shopping of any variety, so he opted to stay back and go for a hike with Charlotte on the nearby paths. It would be their first time apart in days, and Flora felt a little strange leaving them in the rearview mirror. She felt almost exposed without the warmth of his solid presence only a touch away. She decided she wasn't going to linger long in town, not wanting to waste a single moment of the blessed week.

Luc, too, missed Flora the moment her car disappeared, but he had been looking forward to hiking since they'd gotten here. Flora was not an outdoors girl, though he knew she would've toughed it out just to please him, so he seized the opportunity to go while she was otherwise occupied.

In his eagerness to get a few miles under his boots, he didn't look at the weather before starting off, which proved to be a huge oversight. The first half of the hike was perfect. He set a challenging pace, but didn't push himself and eased up when he needed to, though he refrained from taking any long rests. Charlotte trotted along with him merrily, enjoying her investigations along the path but never straying far from his side.

The hour he'd set for his midway point arrived, and since he was feeling great, he decided to go just a bit further. The moment he made this decision, so it seemed, the rain clouds rolled in with frightening speed. Within minutes the first fat drops were falling. Luc groaned and turned around immediately, knowing it was probably too late. Sure enough, within fifteen minutes rain was falling steadily, surprisingly cold for the month of June. He had a cheap plastic rain poncho in his pack and he threw this on, knowing it would do little good in this, heavy, soaking rain. He tried to keep up the same pace, and even sped up where he could, but the path was steep and slippery in many places and he was forced to slow down for the sake of safety, so in the end he lost time. He avoided any injury, but he still slipped and fell more than once, and soon he was muddy on top of everything else. Any enjoyment he'd gotten from the first half of the walk was quashed by the cold, wet second half, and he was beyond relieved when the cabin appeared over the rise. Charlotte started running when she saw it, desperate to get somewhere dry, and he wasn't far behind.

Even though they returned almost forty-five minutes later than he intended, shockingly Flora hadn't returned either. He realized she was likely trying to wait out the rain, since driving in inclement weather made her anxious as it was, and this was unfamiliar territory to boot. Relieved not to have worried her, he toweled off himself and the dog, threw his filthy clothes in the wash, and hopped into a hot shower.

He felt worlds better when he emerged, except that the damp chill seemed to have settled in his bones. Donning a sweatshirt and sweatpants, he planted himself on the couch to await the return of his beloved.

About an hour after the rain had slowed to a drizzle, Luc heard the truck in the driveway. She had texted him when she was leaving town that she was on her way and that she'd picked up frozen pizzas for dinner, so he had the oven preheated and the pans ready. He waited just inside the door for her, and the moment she entered they collapsed into each other as if their absence had been months instead of hours, a hug so tight that neither knew where one of them ended and the other began. He breathed in the sweet scent of her, relishing the tickle of her hair against his neck.

"I don't know how I'll get used to not being able to touch you in public again," she murmured in his ear, echoing his thoughts exactly.

"We won't deal with that until we have to," he murmured back.

They continued with similar sweet nothings while they moved as one into the kitchen and got the pizzas into the oven, unable to keep eyes and hands away from one another.

"How was town?" he asked after a while, in the midst of making sweet iced tea to go with the pizza.

"Adorable. It's cliche, but the best word to describe it is quaint. They have little shops for everything. The grocery store was very overpriced, but they did have a lot of good stuff. I definitely splurged a little. How was your hike?"

He made a face. "Wet. Well, breathtaking at first. The trails are wonderful. But we got caught in the rain and got drenched before we could get home."

"I wondered why Charlie was looking all bedraggled. And why you chose to shower without me," she said, nudging her hip teasingly against his. "I'm sorry to hear that. I know you were really looking forward to that."

He shrugged. "Maybe I'll get another chance before we leave. But next time I'll actually check the weather first."

The rest of the night passed similarly. The rain never stopped with only the intensity varying from hour to hour. After their first day out of the house in days, the pair was tired and spent a languid evening watching movies on the couch. Flora sat in Luc's lap, her head on his chest, with a blanket covering them both. Luc was thankful for all the extra warmth keeping him from shivering, since he still couldn't get warm. They both dozed off and on, but during one interlude between movies, Flora made Luc promise to take her out to lunch the next day and go with her to a bookstore cafe she'd seen for dessert. Because Luc's only objective for the whole week was to make Flora the happiest woman alive, of course he said yes.

~~~

In the wee hours of the next morning, Luc woke out of nowhere. Usually a hard sleeper, at first he was confused as to why he was awake, until he realized the pillow was unpleasantly wet under his face because apparently his nose was running. He gingerly lifted his head to find one nostril was completely clogged while the other was already tickling furiously, as if a dozen sneezes wanted to get out suddenly. He crept out of bed, careful not to disturb Flora. Charlotte raised her head to look at him from her bed on the floor, then laid back down with a huff of annoyance.

He tiptoed around the foot of the bed, scrubbing at his nose until it squelched which only served to make him want to sneeze more, and over to the ensuite bathroom. Once the bathroom door was shut behind him, he blew his nose several times, then finally gave in to stifle a smattering of fittish sneezes into a towel. Another round of nose blowing, which triggered a little coughing fit, and at last he felt better. Opening the bathroom door, he was startled to see Flora half sitting up, blinking at him in confusion.

"Are you okay?" she mumbled, fuzzy with sleep. "Heard you coughing."

He frowned. "I didn't mean to wake you. I'm fine. Just a tickle."

"Heard you sneezing too. Are you coming down with something?"

He shrugged. "Maybe a little chill. All the rain yesterday and such. Nothing to worry about."

Flora nodded, already coasting back to sleep. She was out before he had gotten under the covers. Before he could settle, he again had to scrub at his nose and was annoyed to find that it was already feeling drippy. He laid down with a huff reminiscent of Charlotte's and closed his eyes. He too was asleep again in moments.

~~~

The couple slept in the next morning, as had been their habit this week. By late morning, though, Flora, more of a morning person than Luc, was flitting around like a butterfly getting ready while the priest hadn't yet managed to get out of bed.

"Why are you getting all dressed up?" he mumbled, still half asleep.

"Because you promised to take me to lunch, silly! It's already brunch time as it is."

He ran a hand across his face, suppressing a groan. "Right, right. Okay, then I need to start getting ready too." He tried to keep his tone positive, but going into town was the last thing he wanted to do. Anything beyond moving from the bed to the couch was the last thing he wanted to do. But he could never disappoint Flora, not during their magical getaway. He was sluggish getting ready. His nose and throat still bothered him, his eyes felt puffy, and now he had the makings of a headache too. Yet he didn’t complain, smiled at Flora whenever he was near, and tried to act as if nothing was wrong.

He couldn’t hide anything from perceptive Flora, though. He hadn’t made much headway in getting ready, and had only just made it out of the shower when she stopped him with a gentle touch on his arm. “Are you okay, Luc? You look pretty out of it.”

He sighed, choosing truth over a white lie. “I think that hike yesterday really took it out of me. I’m exhausted. Got the sniffles. Just really don’t feel great. But hey, I can still take you out to lunch, don’t worry. I want to make you happy and make the most of our time here."

Flora gave him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t do that to yourself. I can see in your eyes that you really don’t want to go out. You stay here and rest and hold down the fort. I’ll run up there and grab a book or two and some lunch and coffee to go for us. You don’t need to make yourself miserable for my sake.”

He chuckled softly. “I would never be miserable if I was with you. But if you’re sure, then I’ll take you up on that offer. I know you’re getting bored just hanging around here. And all I want to do is go back to sleep for a while. I promise I’ll be better company when you get back.”

“Especially if I bring you some caffeine,” she laughed. “Okay, it’s a deal. I’ll see you in a few hours, then. Enjoy your rest.”

“I’ll miss you the whole time,” he said softly. He hated that he would have to watch her drive away again, but knew he wouldn’t feel any better if he were with her in this case. It was for the best for him to stay here, so he could get himself into shape to enjoy her when she got back.

~~~

Flora was back by late afternoon with a bag full of books, and a bag full of takeout, plus a carrier of drinks. Luc wasn’t in the living room, and she had a strong sense of deja vu, recalling the official beginning of their romance when she nursed him though a horrible chest cold. She set the food in the kitchen and the books in the living room, then poked her head into the bedroom, smiling at the sight that greeted her.

Luc was wearing the same clothes he had been when she left, and it looked like he had turned around and laid down as soon as she was gone. He was on top of the bedspread, but covered in the blanket she always traveled with, snoring deeply and curled up in a “C” shape around Charlotte, who was also snoozing. Unlike the first time she had nursed him, though, she wasn’t about to let him sleep all day, not when they only had a few precious days left alone together. Plus, she was hungry, and she assumed he would be too.

She perched on the side of the bed and ran her hand up and down the length of his leg. When he didn’t stir, she tried gently shaking his arm. He shifted and mumbled, immediately scrubbing his nose, which she noted was an angry shade of red, into his shoulder with a snuffle. She went to brush the riot of dark curls away from his forehead, but frowned when her palm made contact with his skin. She shook his shoulder again, softly calling his name. His eyes flickered open and lit up upon seeing her. They shared a tiny smile.

“Hey, sleepyhead… Have you taken anything for that fever?” she asked softly, trying not to let worry color her tone too much.

“Fever?” he mumbled. “What fever?” Luc slowly sat up, rubbing a palm into one eye and sniffling, only to be wracked by a harsh shiver a moment later that made him hiss in discomfort.

“Oh no, are you cold?” Flora asked, though the answer seemed obvious, scooting closer to him and lifting her arm invitingly.

“Freezing,” he said, and she thought she heard his teeth start to chatter as he pulled her blanket closer around himself, then sagged against her with a sleepy yawn, his heated skin making the hair on her arms prickle. She simply sat and held him for a bit, weighing their options.

“Looks like I might be making another run into town,” Flora murmured. “I’m not sure how much medicine I brought. I think I just have Tylenol and Ibuprofen.”

“Don’t go again,” Luc mumbled, still half asleep against her. “I’ll be fine. I just want you here with me.”

Flora laughed softly. “If you insist. Your wish is my command.”

“All I wish is that we go watch more movies with coffee and dinner.”

“Call me Jeanne, then, because I think I can make that happen. As long as you promise you’ll take some medicine and not get any worse.”

“Your wish is my command,” Luc echoed sleepily, his dimple flickering in a smile.

#sicktember 2023 #skt 2023 #priest 'verse ocs #prompt 19

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punksocks · 2 years

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Astrology Observations Pt. 4

Only based of my personal experiences, take them with a grain of salt!

Saturn in 5th is interesting. I read somewhere that it means you won’t be creative at all and will always struggle with it, but I have Saturn in the 5th and I’m a full time artist. I’ve been drawing since I could hold a pencil. Saturn has required a lot of persistence and patience to learn artistic disciplines. If you have the desire to creatively express, you have to accept that it won’t click instantly. But when it does the levels of relief and knowing that wash over you are amazing and the creativity you bring to the table will match no other. That’s what Saturn is, it teaches difficult lessons that are hard to get through but you’re definitely a master of your craft in a new way with every hill you climb.

Capricorn moons will probably be raised by their grandparents or by older relatives. At the very least they will have a deep impact on your life.

I’ve noticed that many other earth moons (Capricorns and Virgos especially) I meet will often have other mothers. Maternal figures that are aunts or grandparents, even outside of their family. A figure from a different culture background or country that will be very kind and nurturing to you in ways you didn’t realize you needed and may help you advance in your life/career as well. This seems common with Scorpio moons in my experience as well.

For moon signs/aspects with harder experiences with their family (I’d say Capricorn, Aquarius, Virgo, Scorpio, maybe Aries/Pluto and Saturn conjunct, square, or in opposition to their moon) they often grow up becoming instinctively callous toward emotional distance and lack of support at home but they meet figures in their lives that are incredibly kind and sincere to help them find emotional solace throughout their lives. Those moon signs grow up tough and have to work backwards to find ways to be open and kind and emotionally in tuned throughout their lives.

Sagittarius and Pisces and other moon signs that can grow up a bit naive often have to do the work of learning how to grow a sense of awareness around keeping themselves grounded and handling bad influences without becoming cold and callous as they age, in contrast.

I think there’s so much caution around Aries moons because Aries is a very youthful sign. The balance between keeping themselves youthful and vigorous but also not falling into immaturity can be very hard for Aries placements in general. Between Aries sun, moon, and rising, I think Aries suns have the easiest time course correcting in this way. Aries risings often charge into a lot of situations full force and can learn to this less over time. Aries moon take any challenge or any talk of change and compromise so much more personally, they tend to be more immature and find ways to prove themselves right throughout their lives. When people say Aries moons are selfish, it points to this tendency to make matters all about their emotions and no one else’s.

No placement is a bad placement all natal placements are just about learning how to use your energy less single mindedly and learning how to adapt to the challenge at hand while using your skills to bring in a new perspective.

#astro observations #astroblr #astro community #astro notes #Saturn #moon #Capricorn moon #virgo moon #Scorpio moon

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possibly-god · 3 months

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Camp Counselor Angel

My pitch for bringing Sleepaway Camp (1983) into Camp Counselor Jason - full credit to @junkmix/@junkmixart for the universe

(Because CCJ is comfort media for me, and considering how much Sleepaway Camp is derivative of Friday the 13th, it felt natural to bring them together)

Background: Rather than being written off, Officer Frank presses to have creepy camp cook Artie's "accident" properly investigated. The revelations of said investigation lead to the shutdown of Camp Arawak, and the removal of "Angela" Baker from Martha Thomas' custody, being returned to their father's partner Lenny. Five years and much soul-searching later, 18-year-old Angel Baker (he/she/they/any) and his cousin Ricky seek to confront some trauma and apply as counselors at Camp Crystal Lake.

Angel: Angel acts as an activities leader (she's a crack shot on the archery range and leads a damn good sing-along, though he still tends to avoid water activities due to trauma and dysphoria), soft-spoken, witty, and disciplined while providing a listening ear and outspoken voice for ostracized campers. The kids don't always understand their identity situation at first (Angel's not always sure he understands it herself), but generally come around as kids do to new ideas ("Are you a boy or a girl?" "I'm whatever I want to be."). While exploring said identity, he discovered the many gender-bending musical artists of the times (Bowie, Prince, Queen, etc.) and developed a love of music. They still carry a bit of a torch for Paul, staying in touch after their short stay together at Arawak, but lacks confidence that those feelings could ever be reciprocated. Pamela is a steadfast supporter and good influence for Angel, vocally condemning his prior abuse and encouraging their self-expression and -advocacy. Angel has a bit of a competitive streak (feeling in some way she needs to "prove herself"), and has a friendly rivalry with Jason as he seeks to challenge his "Counselor of the Week" streak. No matter how fierce the competition gets, though, Jason is always there to help pull Angel back out when she starts going back in her shell.

Ricky: Ricky manages one of the boys' cabins, leading them in baseball games and prank raids while making sure the fun never goes too far at someone's expense. He's distanced himself from his mother since learning of her abuse of Angel, moving in with them and Lenny the year prior, and is a little confused but has the spirit supporting his cousin's identity (he's definitely the type to pull a "his pronouns are they/them!"). He still has a fair but to unlearn about masculinity, but just being around Jason (sweet beefcake that he is) is causing some notable improvement. He's also still foul-mouthed ("Watch your goddamn language, you little shits!"), and still unlucky in love, flirting with Carrie and Laurie to no avail. He's also maintained his friendship with Paul, and tacitly encourages his and Angel's budding whatever-it-is.

Stuff that could happen:

Angel making "the face" into a flashlight while telling ghost stories

Artie and Mel seeking revenge for their injuries and the closure of Arawak (possibly a guest appearance from Meg realizing what a bullet she dodged in this timeline)

Aunt Martha applying to Camp Crystal Lake as a nurse, trying to worm her way back into "her babies'" lives

Judy redemption arc

(Am I being massively optimistic about queer acceptance in the 80s? Absolutely, but isn't optimism kind of the point of this whole affair?)

#sleepaway camp #friday the 13th #camp counselor jason #angela baker #jason voorhees #pamela voorhees #horror

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qloof · 1 year

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For the OC ask game I have quite a few.

Voxel on Zeo and Johannes.

Aria and Vita on Dynamis and Tithi.

Acec on Johannes and Chris

omg…!!

Voxel on Zeo:

I'm still working on Voxel's personality and tendencies but I have a feeling that out of all the coaches, Voxel doesn't see eye-to-eye with Zeo the most (ironic as they are both sort of Fox bladers lmao). Zeo, although he doesn't come around as much as Toby or Masamune because he's busy with WBBA work, is the more professional and strict bunch of the team when it comes to coaching (is this a result of his Team Starbreaker training and he doesnt realize it? perhaps..) and Voxel just isn't a fan of it. He much prefers Masamune's relaxed rules and Toby's softer way of addressing what he needs to work on. Voxel has no idea why Vita likes Zeo so much. Voxel, in general, gives attitude to almost every adult, but will still follow what they say and not disobey with a flat-toned "yes sir". He gives the most attitude to Zeo. Somewhere in the plot, Voxel impulsively and angrily challenges Zeo to a bey battle (something he always does when he has a problem with someone) and promptly loses, earning some sharp words from Zeo, which makes Voxel sulk for a bit and think about his current position on the team. (insert training arc that i've hinted to in the discord server :3). As Voxel integrates himself more into the new gen Team Dungeon and the USA Team, he shakes off of his attitude and works on proving to Zeo that he can contribute to the new team.

Voxel On Johannes:

I haven't thought much about Johannes interacting with new gen Team Dungeon, and I don't think he would, but Voxel would definitely hear stories about him from the coaches. Voxel finds the image of Johannes very funny, and a bit embarrassing for the senior bladers because of how dumb they seemed when dealing with him (lmao). . .

Aria on Dynamis:

OHHHHHH ok for some background information, every USA Team member has their favorite Legendary Blader (that they all argue about who's better). Aria's favorite Legendary Blader is Dynamis. Attempting to power-scale to justify her favorite against the others is not her style; she simply likes him because she thinks he's the prettiest and has the best aesthetic. [ In my headcanons, Dynamis works alongside King for promotional photo shoots sometimes ]. She's the number one Dynamis fan on social media and everyone knows it <3 her response to criticism is "don't care + didn't ask + ur fav can't dress + ratio" At some point I would like her to meet Dynamis in person, but I'm not sure exactly what sort of interactions they'd have adjdjdjjd she would ask for a picture though <3 and maybe challenge him to a bey battle <3

Aria on Tithi:

Ooo this one I had to think about a little bit. For Aria I think it's a bit more difficult to see Tithi as such a figure like the other Legendary Bladers, simply because he's only a few years older than her, but Tithi is very high on the favorites list because he is fun. She thinks his bey and battling style is super epic. ur telling me bro's mythology is quetzacoatl itself???? that's crazyyy !!! I'll have to think more about interactions soon :3 (if they ever have any in the plot adjdjd) but Dynamis would like her fashion sense. . .

Vita on Dynamis:

Through a fan lens, Dynamis would be high on Vita's Favorite Bladers list, but also he's high in terms of respect. Vita already carries deep respect for her coaches, and since Dynamis is King's senior, she feels a little little bit intimidated. Stories she's heard of Dynamis during the Nemesis Crisis blew her mind. she was just kinda like "what,..what do you mean he split the star fragment…" She doesn't have very much to go off of other than popular stories (but her vision of him is taken down a few notches when King tells her some other stories of Dynamis lmao) I don't have any interactions in mind for them at the moment, but they would deffo talk about the mythology behind their planets/mythologies

Vita on Tithi:

I think it would be sort of the same as Aria's view of Tithi adjdjdj . .

Acec on Johannes:

Acec has not met Johannes in person so he doesn't have much to go off by other than the stories Masamune and Bao tell him. Acec's reaction to what Bao tells him of Beylin Fist's experience is very "what the fuck?? you let a catboy do that to you guys…" and he starts laughing. there are tears in his eyes.

Acec on Chris:

Acec sees Chris once in a while when xe visits Team Dungeon. Acec walked in one day, saw him just chilling on a chair, turn to Masamune and go "who the hell is that" (Chris also goes "who the hell is that") Acec would probably join in one the light bullying of Chris Beyblade, but otherwise wouldn't mind him and have some chit-chat. I don't think they'd be more than acquaintances really, just people who are chill with each other because of mutual friends.

#I HAD SOOO MUCH FUN TYPING OUT VOXEL AND ZEO STUFF #metal fight beyblade #mfb #mfb oc #ask

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bonesandthebees · 2 years

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Okay so, after Phil reveals he knows Wilbur and Tommy are sirens, he starts mining for information. And Wilbur doesn’t see the point in hiding it. Which is also a smart move since hiding more/still being stubborn about hiding info would make Phil suspicious that he’s still hiding more. While right now Phil has no reason to assume he’s hiding more, let alone being able to use the Voice.

It also gives us some nice exposition. And this is the second time I read things is partially already know because of asks before realising it’s completely new info in the fic. It really nice to see how you apply this info often it’s the explanation for things we’ve already known or seen. Like the twilight sky and the windy season being explained by a lack of rotation (I forgot the name for it) or Eldingver’s general hate for Wilbur, which we already know, is explained by the fact that the king didn’t like him and even after his passing that sentiment stayed. And then there’s the constant question of how did Wilbur end up in his position and why is he a bastard which has followed us the entire fic.

We also get a lot more insight into how Phil thinks. Wilbur is interesting to him. Because he’s a bastard who has gotten shit for it his entire life, yet he’s still not used to it/affected by those insults even though he knows to hild his tongue. Phil sees potential in him, but if he wants to use that potential he needs to be able to mold Wilbur. Which is what he’s doing here, or trying to do, or maybe just test how easily he can be molded, manipulated and shaped into what Phil wants him to be.

He’s calling Wilbur out because he wants him to get over it. He’s pushing buttons until he gets a reaction, then keeps pushing that button until he stops getting one. Meanwhile, he’s constantly providing Wilbur with challenges so he’ll rise up to them. Wilbur’s smart, Phil says as much, so he just keeps giving him these little nudges to make him fix himself. He’s giving Wilbur advice to get him to where he wants him to be (or thinks Wilbur wants to be).

Part of me also wonders if Phil has caught onto the get pity strategy (because it looks like it's working in the secret meeting last chapter) and is trying to counter it by pushing Wilbur’s buttons until he abandons it for his own gain (aka be g petty and proving a point). Also, how good is piglin hearing? Is there a chance Techno overheard that part?

-🌲

yessss I love when I can finally explain an exposition thing that's already been mentioned a bunch of times in the story, though it's definitely confusing a bit when I remember explaining stuff to you or others in asks but then being like wait i never put that in the actual fic tho oops-

you're slowly gonna get more and more context as times goes on! I love blending exposition into plot instead of just dumping exposition all in the beginning. it's slow reveals of more background as the subjects come up that allows you to understand the world better and better. it's a really fun balance to strike :)

literally phil's entire thing right now is that he's extremely interested by wilbur for many reasons. he understands that tommy is the crown prince, but wilbur is the one who has made all the major decisions. he's the ridiculed bastard, he's the leader of the duo, he's the trained advisor, he's cunning, he's intelligent, he's petty, he's childish—phil wants to understand how his brain works and what makes him tick. and what better way to learn how something works than by playing with it? I keep seeing comments where people think we're getting a dadza adoption arc but like, while i'm not saying there's no parental feelings at all, that's really not where phil's head is at, especially not right now. stars!phil is a different characterization to how i normally write phil and i'm having a lot of fun with it. his motivations towards the way he treats wilbur aren't necessarily kind and parental, it's a game to him more than anything.

also, no, techno did not hear that last part don't worry

#ask #spruce anon #the stars and their children

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hesfrombarcelona · 5 months

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Dear Mothman, by Robin Gow

Genre:

Dear Mothman is a middle-grade novel in verse.

Target Age Group:

This book is best for ages 10-14.

Summary:

Sixth-grader Noah is dealing with the grief of losing his best friend Lewis, the only kid he knew who could relate to the mix of emotions he's experiencing since realizing he is transgender. Lewis and Noah were working on a project to prove the existence of the cryptid Mothman, and Noah starts writing letters to Mothman, sharing the thoughts and feelings he's not sure anyone else will understand.

Justification:

Dear Mothman received starred reviews from Booklist and School Library Journal. This title caught my eye because I have always been interested in the Mothman stories.

Evaluation:

For this book I will be evaluating plot, characters, and language.

Plot:

Dear Mothman is an introspective story, and the main action of the plot does not occur until around the last quarter of the book. This is not necessarily a negative thing, but it might be more of a challenge for kids who generally enjoy action-driven plots to get into this story. Much of the storytelling is done through memories, as Noah remembers and processes his friendship with Lewis, and the aftermath of the tragic accident that killed him. The central question Noah sets out to answer, "Is Mothman real?" is not definitively answered in the book, although Hanna and Noah have some experiences that lead them to their own conclusions. However, the real question at the heart of the book is who Noah believes himself to be, and the lessons he learns throughout the story put him well on the path to making decisions about who he does and does not want to become.

Characters:

Noah is sensitive and precocious. He is sometimes hard for the reader to make sense of, which in a way contributed to the story, because much of it is about Noah's struggle to understand himself. Hanna, the other character whose point of view is represented in the book, is more one-dimensional. Even when she is narrating, Hanna's thoughts and actions are nearly all centered on Noah. Noah and Lewis are both transgender, and Hanna identifies as queer. Positive representation for both of these communities at this age-level is still fairly rare, and therefore especially important. Noah and Hanna are the main characters, and all others are mainly background pieces for their experiences.

Language:

The dialogue in this book bothered me a bit. Because Dear Mothman is written in verse, some unusual word choices are to be expected. The lyrical language is also to be expected. What I found distracting was an unevenness in the way the characters speak, and write, to each other. The main characters are in the sixth grade, and sometimes they speak like typical kids; overusing words like "cool" and "awesome", repeatedly inserting "like" as a filler word. Other times they are using uncommon words that one would not expect to find in most sixth-graders' vocabulary, and sophisticated metaphors and similes in everyday conversation. Kids do sometimes surprise us with unexpected wisdom, but many of the instances in this book just felt forced to me.

I enjoyed this story most when it was focused on the kids' plans for the future, both immediate and far-off., because those were the times when the characters seemed best-developed. The plot was unusual and held plenty of surprises, which made for an engaging read. The main thing that pulled me out of the world of the story was when there were unnatural-feeling moments of profundity inserted. There were too many times when a line read like one of those oft-mocked social media posts in which people claim that their young child said something unbelievably advanced for their age. There were many of those to me and I found it quite distracting. On the whole, this was an interesting book, but not as outstanding as I had hoped.

References:

Gow, R. (2023). Dear Mothman. Amulet Books.

#childrens literature

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phasmwrites · 3 years

Text

drinking games || itadori yuuji

this is a part of the sewer’s valentine’s day collab! please be sure to check out all the amazing writers & artists on the list here! thank you for letting me be a part of it! 💗

Pairing: Itadori Yuuji x Female!Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), Alcohol Intoxication

Word Count: 4.8k+

A/N: Here’s my first fic for the JJK fandom! I hope its turned out alright 😩💗 my pink item for the collab was pink vodka! I wound up having quite a bit of fun writing this, Yuuji’s just prime playful sex material and I love it 😍 If you’re uncomfortable with themes of sexual acts being initiated under the influence of alcohol then please don’t read. All characters are aged 18+.

[You: 22:42] Put some pants on I’m coming over [Yuuji: 22:43] U better bring food [You: 22:43] I got something better! [You: 22:50] OPEN THE DOOR YUUJI

Stumbling into the apartment, you clutch at the bag slung over your shoulder that contains the surprise you’ve brought along with you, “Are you deaf?”

“Ah, sorry, I had my headphones in,” He scratches at the back of his neck before closing the door, “What’d you bring? Is it for me?”

“I barely even walked through the door!” You roll your eyes, feeling his curious gaze at your shoulder as you place the contents of the bag onto the coffee table: a bottle and two shot glasses.

Pink liquid sloshes inside the glass container, grabbing the man behind you’s attention. Yuuji reaches over and picks up the bottle, reading the label until it clicks what exactly you’ve brought with you.

“You pick tonight, before I have to go on a mission in the morning to bring alcohol over?” He whines, tilting the liquor back and forth with mindless fascination, “This looks like a girly drink anyways.”

“It’s vodka, come on you can drink a little with me yeah? Unless you’re gonna pass out early on me like last time, you lightweight.”

Shifting anything into a challenge is a surefire way to get Yuuji to become an active participant, always striving to improve, including how much alcohol he can consume supposedly. You smirk in victory while he goes to find a bottle opener, mumbling about how he’s going to prove you wrong this time.

“Is Megumi here?” Making yourself comfortable on the thrifted couch, you inquire on his roommate’s whereabouts. After leaving Jujutsu Tech, you and Nobara sought out a small apartment in the city while Yuuji and Megumi found one a bit closer to your alma mater.

Nobara normally accompanied you on the trip up the mountains to their place, but she had left the apartment that evening for an overnight mission. It seemed Megumi was just as busy too, “Nah, Gojou-sensei asked him to join on a last minute thing.”

“I’ll just have to record you passed out in the bathroom then.” You tease, remembering the last time all four of you had gotten together and drank. Faint memories of Yuuji barely holding down his liquor as he stormed to the bathroom plagued your mind, followed by all of you finding him knocked out cold on the tiled flooring twenty minutes later.

He inserts the bottle opener, using his superhuman strength to yank the cork out in one fell swoop, “Let’s make a bet; you win, which you won’t, you can record me admitting defeat and post it online, I win, I get you to do something for me.”

“First of all, how do we determine who wins?” You raise an eyebrow, holding your glass out for Yuuji to pour the pink liquid in, “Second, what exactly would I do for you?”

“Whoever says no to another shot first, loses, and I haven’t figured it out yet, you scared? Hm?” Placing the bottle down, he glances over at you and wags his eyebrows tauntingly, waiting for you to snatch the bait you tossed his way earlier when you challenged him to drinking in the first place.

The shot glass brushes against your lips before you allow the alcohol to effortlessly glide down your throat, swallowing it all in one go, “You’re on.”

Yuuji’s wolfish grin has your stomach at an immediate disadvantage, with the way it feels like numerous knots have formed within the space currently reserved for liquor. You divert your attention to the television, grabbing the remote and flicking through movies to find the perfect candidate.

After downing his first shot of the evening, he points forwards, “Oh! Oh! Let’s watch a horror movie!”

It would make for a good drinking game, you think to yourself as you click on the horror genre, a myriad of bloody thumbnails coating the screen. The amount of cliches alone would have both of you finishing the first bottle after one movie. Yes, you brought a second, unable to resist the buy one get one half off deal the liquor store was having.

You both agree on watching the classic Scream movies, taking shots for specific horror movie tropes that appear along with every time either one of you falls for a jumpscare.

“Y/N…” Yuuji suddenly whispers at your side only minutes into the film, “You want popcorn? I want popcorn.”

“Hurry up then! Can’t have you cheating by getting a snack.” You tease, laughing to yourself at the way he dashes to the kitchen to throw a bag of kernels into the microwave.

He leans on the archway between the two rooms while waiting for the appliance to ding, but you didn’t notice until you visibly flinch at the sight of a chair being thrown through a window on screen, “I saw that! Take a shot!”

“Wha– that’s not fair! I can’t tell if you flinch from here!” You whip your head around only to be met with his toothy grin, “Yuuji!”

“Are you scared of losing that bad?” That puts an instant scowl on your lips; he knows you’re just, if not more competitive than he is when it comes to silly games like these. By the time Yuuji returns to your side with a bowl of fresh popcorn in tow, you’ve long since took your second shot of the night.

Minutes tick by, drinks are taken, and you’re beginning to feel the alcohol buzzing through your system. The buttery snack is nearly gone, the pink-haired man at your side having practically devoured most of it. Your fingers walk along the plastic bowl in search of more, refusing to tear your gaze from the movie, until they suddenly meet another hand.

This paired with the suspense building in the film has you jumping slightly in your seat. Yuuji lets out a loud laugh as you glance in his direction with an incredulous look on your complexion, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“Here,” He brings the last piece of popcorn towards your face, waiting patiently for you to part your lips. As you do, his fingertips just barely brush against them, causing your body temperature to rise very quickly at the contact. Yuuji’s soft, gentle eyes don’t waver from your own pair for what feels like an eternity and your tipsy brain is going on and on about how attractive your best friend really is–

That is, until a loud noise coming from the television yet again has your entire body jolting in surprise, “Fuck!”

“Thas’ another shot.” Yuuji slurs only slightly, turning back towards the film as he leans over and pours you the drink this time.

“It’s not fair,” A whine escapes your throat before liquor is yet again poured down it, shaking your head at the bitter taste, “You’re trained to be good at this.”

Suddenly an arm is draped over your shoulder, tugging you closer to the male’s sturdy frame, “Come ‘ere, I’ll protect you from the big bad scary movie.”

You’re about to protest how that actually wouldn't help, but the next jumpscare rolls around and you’re unwavering at the gruesome sight. That, paired with how safe you actually feel when pressed against Yuuji’s side, has you shifting closer until your head is laid on his shoulder and your legs are curled underneath you.

His fingertips wander along your arm, mindlessly tracing shapes against your skin and chuckling to himself whenever goosebumps form in his wake. Shots are now chugged straight from the bottle, neither of you wanting to detach from the other but both unable to express that aloud.

It would be so easy to blame your feelings on the copious amount of alcohol, but the liquid courage has only brought your infatuation to the forefront of your thoughts. Being wrapped in Yuuji’s embrace was something you hadn’t realized you wanted, even needed, until this very moment.

Your mind is swirling by the time the first bottle is actually finished and you’re halfway through the second movie. Unable to stop anything that spills from your unfiltered mouth, you blurt out, “Yuuji, you’re like, a human radiator, what the fuck.”

“Oh!” He hiccups, “Are you too warm? I can...I can move or turn on the fan–”

The attempt he makes at lifting himself from the couch is futile, his wobbling legs giving out on him along with you refusing to let go, “No! I like it.”

“Gotta get alcohol too, we finished the bottle and there’s still the second movie and oh I think there’s a third one too if I’m not mistaken–”

“No- no more shots,” Just the thought of more liquor makes your stomach churn; you had definitely reached your limit a few shots prior but if you push it any farther, you might be the one with their head in the toilet this evening.

Your admission of defeat has Yuuji turning to fully face you, his button nose nearly brushing against your own, “I win?”

“Yeah,” The words sting your stubborn tongue, “You win, I’ll do whatever you want, but be nice!”

“I almost forgot about that! Hmm...”

His eyes search yours while he silently thinks of what he wants as “compensation” for winning the silly drinking game, the movie you both once paid close attention to now only background noise. You could just faintly feel his breath on your lips, the gap between both of you subconsciously growing smaller.

A dust of pink coats Yuuji’s cheeks when he finally speaks again, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes-” You manage to exhale before his lips crash onto yours, the taste of popcorn still lingering on his mouth. The kiss is sweet, albeit clumsy from your intoxicated state of mind, but it has Yuuji giggling nonetheless. He tries to contain himself, opting to release soft hums like he’s just taken a bite of decadent chocolate.

“Wow,” The pink-haired male gasps out as you pull back just enough for some much needed air, “I’ve been wanting to do that for years.”

“Years?” You manage to squeak out, leaning back just enough to look into those warm, brown eyes.

Yuuji appears like a deer caught in headlights, realizing the words that just stumbled off his tongue, “I- uh...yeah, I hope that isn’t weird–”

It's your turn to cut him off with a kiss, right after adjusting yourself on the couch just enough that you could toss your arms over his shoulders, dragging his body closer to yours. Deft fingers play with the small strands of hair at the back of his head, eventually raking his locks between them. His own hands find solace at your hips, guiding you onto his lap without pause.

A part of you was still in disbelief, unable to understand how you had gone from watching scary movies to making out on the couch. You don’t even get an opportunity to dwell on it, Yuuji’s lips forcing yours open just enough for him to guide his tongue inside. The feeling of him eagerly exploring every cavern of your mouth with the pink muscle has your legs clenching at his sides, heat beginning to pool between them.

Then, unexpectedly– “Ow!” Your teeth clack, forcing you apart from one another in surprise and slight pain.

“I’m so sorry,” He brings his palm to the side of your complexion, an adorable pout spread along his bottom lip, “I think I drank a bit too much.”

“It’s okay, me too.” You laugh, leaning into his touch. The way Yuuji gazes at you in this moment makes you feel like a goddess, nothing but absolute adoration swimming in his irises. Had he truly felt this way for you all this time without you catching on?

Slowly, you meet him in the middle again, this kiss much less rushed than before. What once felt like roaring waves crashing onto the earth’s surface, overwhelming all of your senses, had calmed to soft laps at the sand, gently guiding you into the ocean. Occasionally, a small hiccup or a breathy laugh would leave one of your mouths, still in disbelief that this was actually happening.

Yuuji’s lips then leave yours in favor of pressing them along your jawline, peppering your skin with feather-like delicacy. His travels lead him to the curve of your neck, your head lolling to the side to give him easy access. When his teeth first bare themselves and tug at your sensitive skin you subconsciously grind your hips down and let out a shaky exhale.

“Do that again.” He mumbles, fingers curling harder into your sides, “Please.”

Another roll of your hips has him whining against you, gathering your once unlittered skin between his teeth as he coaxes a mark to form under his ministrations. With your lips just barely parted, you release a needy moan, the noise traveling to both Yuuji’s ears and the space between his legs.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was your infatuation settling on the surface, but every touch was so warm and only made you crave more. You set a lazy pace of rocking your hips against the man beneath you, digging your fingernails into the back of his scalp as he continued to mark up your skin, practically claiming you as his. You want that, you think to yourself, you want to be his.

As his mouth travels back up in search of your lips, you speak against them, “Take off your shirt.”

You emphasize your request by blazing a hand down to the hem of his loose tee, tugging at the soft material. Yuuji’s half-lidded eyes open a bit wider at the suggestion, “Are you sure? Listen, I know we’re kinda drunk, but I really do like you, like a lot. I wish I would’ve had the courage to do this sooner–”

“I like you too,” Cutting Yuuji off on his tangents seems to be an ongoing trend that evening, “I want this, I want you, so make me yours.”

While he takes a moment to process the words just spoken to him, you decide to make yourself loud and clear by yanking your shirt up and over your head, tossing it onto the hardwood floor without a second glance. His eyes immediately divert to your now partially exposed breasts, intricate lace holding them close together.

“You’re so pretty,” Yuuji blurts out, tentatively bringing one hand back to your cheek, “If you ever want to stop just tell me, promise?”

Glancing down, you notice he’s held out his other hand with only his pinky sticking up. With a light giggle you nod, curling your own finger around his to seal the deal. The next thing to escape your mouth is a squeal, Yuuji’s lips returning to your own with a renounced fervor.

Except you tug harshly at his shirt, reminding him that you wanted it off and you wanted it off now. He follows through this time, detaching himself from your mouth only temporarily.

The pads of your fingers immediately explore his newly exposed frame, feeling his body shiver under your cool touch. His hands trail down your arms, palms gliding along your skin until they nearly meet one another at your perky breasts. When he stalls momentarily, you whine in protest against his lips and eagerly press your body closer to his warmth.

Yuuji uses your silent plea as encouragement to continue, pressing indents into your soft mounds and toying with the bra that separates him from your hardening nipples. Despite that, he runs his thumbs over them through the flimsy fabric, chuckling at the breathless noise you produce in response.

He goes silent the moment the palm of your hand presses against his clothed erection, fingers curling around his length through his sweatpants. Gasping into your mouth, you take this opportunity to invade his with your tongue while slowly sliding a hand down his shaft.

“Can I take your pants off?” You eventually ask, causing him to halt his ministrations.

He’s quick to comply though, nodding and begging against your lips, “Yes, please.”

It still didn’t stop him from pouting when you lifted yourself from his lap, but his expression quickly shifts when he watches you sink onto your knees directly in front of him. With your calves resting on the hardwood floor, you reach up and curl your impatient fingers around the waistband of his sweats, yanking them down in one fell swoop.

You were fully expecting to have to drag a pair of briefs down his toned thighs, but you’re pleasantly surprised when his cock springs free and slaps at his toned abdomen. Glancing up, you notice the way Yuuji’s caught his bottom lip between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed when he meets your gaze.

“Don’t hold back any pretty noises from me Yuuji.” His mouth parts ever so slightly, obeying your command while never tearing his eyes from you.

Your delicate fingers immediately wrap around the base, feeling his hot skin throb at the sudden touch. A small puddle of precum rests along his lower stomach, having come from his drooling head.

Yuuji sucks in a deep breath when your tongue lolls out of your mouth, but the tension seemingly dissipates when you begin lapping at his leaking slit, “Hah! That tickles!”

Repeating the action, you’re unable to stop yourself from eliciting another bout of laughter from the pink-haired male. You swallow his precum with an amused grin, watching him through your lashes to gauge his next reaction.

“Oh fuck…” All laughter dies in his throat when you take the entire head between your lips, sucking hard at the sensitive skin. Low groans escape past clenched teeth instead, one of his hands digging into the cushion with so much strength he might just tear it to shreds.

The further you travel down his length, the more vocal Yuuji is in return. His unoccupied hand travels between your locks, seeking any sort of purchase to keep himself from cumming in twenty seconds flat.

Despite that, he truly wasn’t prepared for just how amazing it felt when you began bobbing up and down along his veiny cock, your hand stroking what wouldn’t fit. He refuses to tear his gaze away, refuses to let his eyes close in bliss and miss even a second of the view in front of him.

This goes on for what feels like forever: your big, soft eyes peering up at him while his cock is wedged between your pouty lips, a culmination of saliva and precum beginning to spill down your chin. If he peeks even further down he can see your perky nipples straining against your bra; it was a sight he wants to burn into his memory for the rest of his life.

“You’re so perfect, so good, please don’t stop, please, please, please–” Yuuji begs, accidentally thrusting his hips upwards in desperation. The feeling of his head at the back of your tight throat has you instantly gagging, tears pooling at your lower lash line.

It takes him a few moments to notice those tears now rolling down your cheekbones, quickly loosening his grip and allowing you to remove yourself from his length, “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” You reassure him after a much needed breath, brushing your swollen lips along the prominent vein that runs down his cock, “I kinda liked it.”

He doesn’t even get a chance to respond to such a blunt statement before you’re hollowing out your cheeks and sucking him back into the wet cavern of your mouth. The muscles in his thighs begin to tense with his rapidly impending orgasm, fingernails digging harshly into your scalp while he chants praise after praise into the thick air.

“I’m so close, hah, if you don’t- if you don’t stop I’m gonna,” Yuuji tries to speak with some cohesiveness, but it dissolves into debauched blabber when your hand reaches up and begins massaging his aching balls, “I’m gonna cum!”

This spurs you on further, taking him as deep as you can until you nearly choke on his head once more. Your nose almost rests on his pubic bone when his grip on your hair tightens, forcing you to keep still as he spills thick, hot cum into your eager mouth. His eyes are screwed shut as he pumps ropes of white fluid down your throat, long, guttural moans passing his lips.

Persistence is key, you tell yourself as you refuse to release him until you’ve swallowed every single last drop. Until finally the overstimulation gets too much to bear and Yuuji yanks you off of his softening cock.

“Wow,” He exhales, allowing you to glide his sweats back up his frame and climb into his inviting lap.

You can’t help but giggle at his blissed out state, pecking his lips once, twice– before speaking, “Wow? That’s all you can say?”

“I think you sucked my brain out too,” Yuuji whines, hands resting comfortably on your pert ass, “Before I go completely braindead, let me return the favor.”

“You’re so dumb, Yuuji–!” A squeal is ripped from your throat when your back meets the couch cushions, bouncing ever so slightly before a lean figure hovers over you.

The smile spreading across his complexion is contagious, those pretty brown eyes sparkling as he peers down at you, “You’re so beautiful, you know that? I’ve wanted this for so, so long.”

Your legs squeeze around his waist, drawing him closer until you can reach forward and capture his mouth in yet another fleeting kiss. This entire evening feels like a fever dream, or rather a wet dream from the depths of your subconscious. One might mistake it for fantasy if his words of praise and gentle touches didn’t ground you back, back to the reality where Yuuji is now trailing his soft lips down the column of your neck.

He continues his journey downwards until reaching the swell of your breasts, nuzzling his nose into your cleavage and mumbling into your skin, “Tell me if I do anything you don’t like, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, watching as he leaves a few more pecks along the tops of your chest before descending down yet again. Eventually, your legs drop back down onto the couch, Yuuji’s mouth and hands hovering over the waistband of your leggings.

Wasting no time, he eagerly curls his fingers around the material and rolls them down your thighs, your calves, and over your feet so he can cast them aside. You feel so exposed, your matching bra and panty set on full display to the man above you. If you look closely, you can see the way he drags his tongue over his bottom lip at the sight.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Yuuji groans before burying his face between the apex of your thighs without warning, like a tiger pouncing on its prey. All you see are pink tufts of hair as he drags his tongue along your clothed slit, impatient to get a taste of you.

He remains like this for what feels like too long, refusing to toss your panties aside as he sucks at the drenched lace while massaging the inside of your thighs with his palms, “Yuuji, please.”

“Hm?” Peeking his head up, he gets a glimpse of just how desperate you truly are; your eyes glassy, bottom lip puckered out, fingernails digging into the couch cushion, “What is it?”

“Take em off already!” You’re full on whining, jutting your hips up to emphasize your point.

He can’t stop himself from laughing before hooking his index fingers on the sides of your panties, growing more and more excited by the second. Neither of you expect the material to actually tear off of your frame from his mass enthusiasm, though, “Whoops.”

“You’re so lucky you’re cute.” You chide, but the sheepish grin Yuuji shoots your way has rendered you unable to be upset at the ruined underwear.

Finally tossing the flimsy lace aside, his next words run shivers down your spine, “I’ll make it up to you.”

His mouth descends onto your cunt in a flash, diving headfirst between your sopping wet folds with renowned fervor. The pink muscle of his tongue leaves no part of you untouched, eagerly lapping up whatever your body has to give him. You cry out in pleasure, thighs trapping Yuuji between them, even though there’s nowhere else he’d rather be in this moment than eating you out like a man starved.

When he isn’t dipping his tongue into your tight little hole, his lips are gathering your clit between them and sucking hard at the sensitive bud. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your skull, the heel of your foot digging into his toned back in search of some sort of purchase.

Just when you thought it couldn’t feel anymore amazing, he reaches down and presses not one, but two fingers at your entrance. He hums against your clit at just how hot and tight your walls feel around the appendages, wondering how good it would feel if it was his cock instead.

Tears begin rolling down your cheeks at the intense pleasure coiling in your lower abdomen; all these different sensations coming together in an attempt to drive you over the edge. From his mouth sucking fervently at your clit, to his fingers rapidly thrusting against that spongy spot inside of you, you were sure to tip over fast and hard.

“Yuuji, I’m- I’m so close already–!” Your voice cracks when he suddenly inserts a third, stretching you even further, “Please!”

Ever eager to satisfy, he picks up his pace even more, fucking you on his thick fingers and lavishing your fluttering cunt with his warm mouth. The pleasure is becoming too much to handle, your legs shaking rather violently, your climax so close.

You reach for his pink locks, tangling your fingers through them when your orgasm suddenly hits you like a freight train, a loud cry tearing through your throat. Yuuji coaxes you through it by refusing to halt his ministrations, enjoying the way you’re gushing around his digits and into his awaiting mouth.

When you start to come down from your high though, you realize he’s still very much between your legs, “Hah! No more! It’s too sensitive!”

“I think I’m gonna have to buy a new couch.” Is the first thing Yuuji says when he finally lifts himself up, your cum coating the entire lower half of his complexion, “You came a lot.”

“You’re embarrassing.” You instantly cover your face, growing warm with abashment at the realization.

The first thing you see when he eventually moves your hands is his concerned expression, having wiped away your slick with some napkins laid on the coffee table, “I thought it was really hot, but next time we should put a towel down or something.”

“Next time?” You squeak, completely forgetting how this entire ordeal came to fruition in the first place; him kissing you and admitting that he’s harbored feelings for you for years.

“I mean…yeah,” Yuuji’s cheeks go pink at the insinuation, “But I know we did things kind of backwards, so I’d really like to take you out on a date sometime, if you’d want.”

His words were sober, the alcohol having long since passed through both of your systems. Your own heart melts at the way he lays his own on the table, unwavering in his infatuation for you. Before vocalizing your answer, you lean up and capture his lips for the umpteenth time that evening in a toe-curling kiss.

“I’d love to go out with you, Yuuji.”

BONUS

The front door creaks when Megumi forces it open, cursing to himself about needing to fix it one of these days. It’s nearly seven in the morning when he returns to his small apartment and the only thing he wants to do is throw himself into bed and sleep for many, many hours.

Except, the sight in front of him has his left eye twitching: an empty alcohol bottle lays on the coffee table along with a bowl of unpopped kernels, numerous shot glasses, and a pair of lace panties. The television was still on, playing some vintage horror film he didn’t recognize.

He has half a mind to storm into Yuuji’s room and give him a piece of it, and he decides to do exactly that. Though, when he slams open his roommate’s bedroom door he’s met with a sleeping Yuuji holding you tightly in his embrace, a large blanket draped over both of your frames.

“Huh.” Megumi tilts his head to the side, realizing he should have expected it to be you, after all those years of listening to his friend’s pining.

The anger subsides only slightly, telling himself he’s still going to yell at both of you for not cleaning up when suddenly a mouth manifests itself onto the back of Yuuji’s hand, “Disgusting, isn’t it. At least you didn’t have to listen to it.”

Not necessarily disgusting, Megumi thinks, but he’s way too tired to deal with any of this anymore and begins to retreat to his bedroom when, “I wouldn’t suggest sitting on that couch anytime soon, either.”

Definitely too tired for this shit.

thank you for reading! please let me know your thoughts! 💗

#itadori x reader #yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #jjk x reader #yuji x reader #itadori yuji x reader #phasm.writings #writings.jjk

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nobodyfindthisacc · 3 years

Text

Slides and Monkey bars

Sana x reader

Fluff

Request~ “can you please do the prompt: only time can tell, with g/n reader x sana (twice) please make it angst but with happy ending im a sucker for sappy endings 😭”

Word count~ 1.2k words

A/N~ didn’t turn out as angsty, so i hope you still like it :))

There she is, dancing and singing on stage in front of millions of fans. Even with a single wink, she manages to capture thousands’ heart. You aren’t an exception either, you’ve never been. And maybe that’s why it hurts, knowing you’ve been there for her since before debut, yet you had no chance in winning her like she did with you.

You wish you could leave. You wish you had the heart to ghost her, for the sake of your heart. Yet here you are, standing helplessly at the backstage with flowers in hand, awaiting for her to jump into your arm per usual. And she does. Pumpkin orange hair fills you vision, as the idol hug your waist tightly.

“Wow there m’lady. Be careful, you could’ve made us fall and crush these beautiful flowers i brought for you.” You say with a hand on her shoulder. “Haven’t you already fallen for me? And these flowers aren’t as enchanting as you are” she flirts with you like she always does, but you knew better than that. “Sana” the smirk on Sana’s face fades away, along with her hands around you. “You have to stop flirting, I’m fine with your affection but now it just feels like your leading me on.” You say with a somber smile.

“no no, I didn’t mean to lead you on! Im sor-“ Sana’s frantically waving her hands, in order to make sure she doesn’t hurt you. She might not be your lover, be she’s definitely your friend. “I know, you didn’t mean to. Don’t worry.” You cut her off and give her a cheeky smile in hopes to cheer her up.

The air after that is a bit awkward. With Sana being self conscious with everything she does and says to me. She’s a really nice friend at least. You guys go off for a walk while the rest of her group goes back to their dorms. The car ride’s not as awkward as before as she starts loosening up again, singing to the songs on the radio with casual humming from you.

Once you arrive at the park, sana gets off whilst rubbing her hands because of the chill breeze going through the sky in autumn night. You offer your hand, to which she takes. While strolling through the park, you encounter a playground, far too familiar for both of you.

“Hey it’s that playground we played in back in high school!” With that she goes of to the said playground, climbing up a slide. You chuckle at the girl as she slides down the toy. “Aren’t you a little to old for that miss?” You tease only for the later to pull your arm to another part of the playground. “Oh stop it. Just because we’re older, doesn’t mean we can’t play with it too.”

You end up in front of a monkey bar. A particularly tall one at that. “Can the master still go through the highest bar? Or are they now a drowned out used been?” You let out another laugh as she challenges you with hands crossing her chest. “You really want me to climb a monkey bar for children?” You insult the toy, “hey it’s still taller than both of us” her rebuttal made you narrow your eyes towards the figure in front of you, with a smirk displaying on your face.

“I need more convincing.” Sana looks at you puzzlingly as she thinks of a way to convince you to have some fun. Only deciding to be mysterious. “You’ll get a reward!” “From who? You?” You ask, pretty intrigued. “Of course me! Who else?” She proclaims slightly offended by the lack of belief. “Ok, i just thought you were gonna have jyp transfer some money into my pocket.” “Hey!” She pouts at your tease. “So what is it? The reward?” You ask one more time, only to be met with a grin from the other. “You’d have to do it first.”

You end up doing it. You were gonna do it, even without the reward, it was just fun teasing sana. But the reward was a bonus. She’s probably gonna buy you some drink from the soda machine near the playground. Your hands are starting to feel a tad burn from all friction the bars gave, and you are definitely bad at swinging compared to when you were called the “master of monkey bars” but you held on finishing it for a free soda, but mostly because of pride. With an arm reaching for the last bar, you finish of with a jump.

As childish as it sounds, you’re ecstatic at the accomplishment. Maybe it’s the feeling of still having a little part of yourself way back in your younger days, maybe it’s just because you like proving to others you can do it, or maybe it’s just because of the reward. You continue to jump to Sana in happy fit. “Ta-da!” You do jazz hands in order to show off to the later. “The master still got it.” You exclaim, now panting after several jumps of high, resting your hand on your hips.

Sana didn’t know what she feels right now. But seeing you jump in joy to her reminds her of a puppy running to its owner after catching a ball. It’s unbelievably cute. She just wanted to keep you in her pocket. She wants a lot of things right now, actually. But she couldn’t put in words. “Sana?” So she ends up doing something on autopilot.

She kisses you.

You pull away in surprise. Why did she kiss you? She rejected you didn’t she? She didn’t like you right? Not in that way right? Is she purposely leading you on? Questions fills your mind as you look at her questioningly and with caution.

Meanwhile, Sana backs away in fear. What’d she do? Why did she do that? She isn’t romantically interested in you, right? God, do you hate her now? Are you going to leave her? She looks shook by her own action. Thus why you’re the one to cut the silence.

“Sana, what was that?” You as curiously, you didn’t voice any anger for that’d make things worse. And you’re truly more curious than anything. “I-I don’t know.” She stutters. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I know. I just, I just did it on instinct? I don’t know, I just did it without thinking and I’m so sor-“ she rambles on and on, not even realising her feelings spilling out.

“Sana, stop for a bit. Breathe in and breathe out. Your starting to shake.” You stop yet again, now going closer to the later, putting both hands on her shoulders. With your instructions, she starts to calm down from all the fear of you leaving. You wouldn’t, she assures herself.

After a moment of silence, you ask her the most important question of your relationship, the one sana dreads the most. “Do you like me Sana?” She didn’t know. She’s unsure of herself. She’s afraid of ruining things. Things like your relationship, things like the public’s opinion, things like her friends and family’s opinion. But ultimately, she figures to admit the truth. “I think I do”

Letting go of her shoulders, you both stand there in silence. Until you ask again, “Do I have a chance?” A whisper of hope is let out, as the crickets chirp in the background. Not like you guys would ever acknowledge it, too immersed in each others’ eyes and warmth.

“I don’t know yet.” A helpless cry responds to the question. Confusion, love, and disappointment swim in her eyes. She didn’t know. So your hand reaches out for hers, intertwining them. “It’s fine, i can wait.”

#twice imagines #twice imagine #gxg #twice x reader #sana imagines #twice scenarios

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choosing-criminalminds · 3 years

Text

One More Time

Summary: Their love was years and years in the making, and even when prison quickly builds back up the walls they worked so hard to break down, Spencer learns just how strong the foundation of their trust is.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader(ish) -> told mostly in the 3rd person, from Spencer’s POV

Category: angst (?)

Warnings: mentions of character death (Maeve, Gideon), mentions of blood (Maeve’s death), slight panic/anxiety, language -> let me know if there are any more to add!

Also, un-beta’d, we die like the trash we are.

Length: 5.6k

A/N: Okay yeah so first post. So…this turned out much longer than expected? This is for Ellie’s ( @spenciebabie ) writing contest/celebration and goodness I’m so nervous because I’ve barely written, much less posted, anything in years. Anyway, I guss I decided to challenge myself to write this? I hope you guys like it?

Also, if anyone wants a new friend, please hit me up because I’m too shy to say hello myself.

Prompt was: “Why don’t you make me?”

-*-*-*-

“Trust has to be earned, and should come only after the passage of time.”

—Arthur Ashe

-*-*-*-

For all his genius, Spencer didn’t know what to make of the fact that he found himself inexplicably drawn to her.

It wasn’t until years down the line that he realized he had been exceptionally aware of her since they met, carefully observing, cataloguing the way she so gently and kindly defied every expectation and pushed past every preconceived notion he had of her. By then, she had already settled in a little corner of his heart and helped seal the cracks in his life that he didn’t even know existed.

But when she first joined the team as an intern, he was more than a little reluctant to get to know her. It was during the summer between her college graduation and the start of her graduate studies, and she seemed too worldly, too perfect. She wasn’t like the girls from high school, or even college, for that matter, who were simply mean. On the contrary, she was wonderfully polite and incredibly ambitious, intelligent, and very much the type of girl that was far too out of his league, one that wouldn’t spare him a second glance before continuing down whatever focused path she was on.

That’s why he planned to avoid her as much as possible her first day in the office. She had, thankfully, spent the morning in Hotch’s office, since he was her official supervisor, but when he saw them about to emerge right before lunch, he panicked, muttered a random excuse, and shuffled out of the bullpen, leaving a bemused Derek and Elle in his wake.

It didn’t help that he was ducking out of rooms while JJ was giving her a quick tour and making introductions, and almost every member of the team had cornered him, encouraging him to talk to her, to befriend her due to their closeness in age. (“She’s only what? Two-ish years younger than you?” When he mumbled that exact date, Penelope had broken into a large, wicked grin, poking him teasingly in the cheek. Gratefully, she held back any further comment.)

Spencer had blinked, a little surprised, when Penelope Garcia, who generally disliked change, had only good things to say. Remarkably humble about her achievements, and not in the standoffish fake way, Penelope commented after admitting she had run a background check on her. Genuine, and quite sweet.

Polite, Derek had said, if a little quiet, trying to see where she fits in the team dynamic. You should reach out, be a friend, he suggested.(Spencer ignored the very pretty slipped somewhere in the comment, as well as the knowing smile shot his direction when he felt his cheeks flushing.)

A surprisingly wicked sense of humor, was all Elle said with a sly smile. (Spencer chose to ignore that too.)

And when Spencer tentatively asked the man, Jason Gideon, a man of generally few words, had spoken of her, however briefly, with surprising fondness, because of course Gideon had met her when she was a child, because of course her uncle now headed legal three floors up, and of course her uncle was the last third of the BAU’s Holy Trinity, of which Gideon and Rossi were a part of.

You’ll get along very nicely.

Spencer was incredibly intimidated, to say the least.

And then when he couldn’t avoid her anymore (because of course they were desked next to each other), all it took for her was noticeably catching herself from extending a hand, then offering a small little wave and a nervous smile to leave him breathless. (He pointedly ignored the look knowing look JJ shot him.)

He tried to stifle the little seed of hope—that she definitely wasn’t interested in him, and her saccharine smile was nothing more than a false front to make a positive impression during a lucrative FBI internship meant only to bolster her resume—but the resolve crumbled quickly. She turned out to be so genuinely kind and sweetly humble that Spencer cursed the fact that the internship lasted only through that summer.

It also certainly didn’t help, either, that the very first thought he had when meeting her was a single word.

Pretty.

-*-*-*-

It was almost ridiculous how well she got along with everyone in the office.

She clearly made it a mission to make the most of the time she had and was more than willing to put in the work and prove her worth. Although she was technically Hotch’s intern and her main role was to assist the core field team, Spencer watched as she managed to get on absolutely everyone’s good graces through a combination of unassuming charm, sharp wit, and willingness to learn and to help that was so uniquely her.

For Spencer, it meant that she happily listened to what he had to say, encouraging him to continue when appropriate or saving a quiet question for later when it wasn’t. When she told him that she enjoyed listening to him talk, Spencer was taken aback, stuttering as he tried to figure out if she was only saying that to be polite. She gave him a gracious smile, ensured that she “quite honestly enjoyed” listening to him, and proceeded to ask a few well-timed and well-pointed questions to smoothly nudge him back to their previous topic.

Spencer stared at her, slack-jawed, then smiled bashfully, and allowed himself to hope.

(He definitely didn’t know what to do with the fact that when she knowingly reached out to his hand resting on the table and lightly tapped the back of his hand, he didn’t have his typical knee-jerk desire to pull away. He also mostly certainly didn’t know what to do with the fact that when her thumb grazed over his knuckles to sooth the tension he didn’t even realize he had, he felt an inexplicable calm ease into his very bones.)

-*-*-*-

“It’ll take a good five, six years to finish my J.D./Ph.D., but Hotch offered me an open invitation to join the team when I do, and I’m more than inclined to take his offer when the time comes.”

Spencer peered at her, breathing out a sigh of relief that he didn’t realize he was holding. It was the last day of her internship, and she was making the rounds to say her thank you’s and goodbyes individually to the members of the team. He was the last one, and he had been dreading the conversation the entire day.

While he wouldn’t describe what he felt for her as anything beyond a genuine, platonic friendship—in the grand scheme of things, they’d only known each other for ten weeks—their easy companionship had become very dear to him. And he was terrified and nervous that her time with the BAU would be just a small chapter in her life before she moved on to the bigger and better things, leaving him behind as a fond but distant memory.

She laughed softly at his surprise, before it trailed off into a sigh. She then took a deep breath and asked. “Do you trust me?” Spencer looked at her, a bit dumbfounded. Did he trust her? Her gaze was heavy on him and the question weighty, a gentle demand for an honest answer. Did he trust her? Yes, he did, he supposed, they were friends. Right? He breathed in deeply, squared his shoulders just a bit, and answered in the affirmative.

As if she sensed his hesitance, his unease, she gave him a knowing look and took one of his hands into hers, fingers brushing over fingers, before hooking her pinky around his. “Because I promise you, Spencer Reid, I’ll be back, right here. You’ll be waiting for me, yeah?”

He looked at her in awe, the dim light of the nearly-empty office reflecting off her kind eyes. Warmth spread through his chest, and she smiled so brilliantly that he nearly forgot to breathe, to answer. To answer. He smiled back, twitchy, introspective, and considered the weight of her question. He nodded and responded simply.

“Always.”

-*-*-*-

She managed to remain on the Bureau’s consulting payroll over the next several years, though she was primarily based in the Bay Area as she finished her graduate studies at Stanford. The team as a whole still went to her for a fresh perspective when needed; she video called in to help on cases when necessary and met up in person if a case called them to California.

He knew that she kept in touch with JJ, Penelope, and Derek, and that Hotch and Emily (whom she met shortly after Emily joined the team and a case brought them to LA) were also friendly, if professional, contacts. Spencer himself was known to receive the odd phone call from her.

However, what had Spencer almost covetously pleased was that they had something they shared exclusively between the two of them, because she had steadfastly kept her promise to write to him.

-*-*-*-

Her letters were as beautiful as they were constant, and Spencer handled and read each one with care.

Her handwriting suited her; while it generally was neat and clear little scrawl, he knew it would get a little freer, and little loopier when she was tired, if she was particularly excited, or if she found herself a bit tipsy. (And yet she still managed to always write in an almost perfectly straight line even on a blank sheet of paper. He was envious, and when he told her as such, he could hear the laughter in her response as she wrote it a little more wobbly than usual.) And while he knew her to be tilted more on the quiet, introverted side of the scale, she had a way with the written word, each phrase poetic and thoughtful.

And they were remarkably therapeutic to write in return, Spencer found. Their initial letters mostly consisted of light banter about their mutual and individual interests, updates on the progress of her research (sprinkled amusing tidbits of her exasperation and frustration), bits and pieces about his cases and updates on and amusing anecdotes about the team.

However, over time, he slowly opened up to her, about his fears, his hopes, his dreams. And when he hesitantly divulged bits and pieces about the drugs, his mother, the headaches, he felt the relief in his entire body when she responded with empathy and grace. In turn, she did the same. She was vulnerable, she was open, and as wonderful and quite near perfect as he knew her to be, he was pleased to find her so incredibly human.

Those letters he slowed down to read, committing them to memory with more intention.

(He kept her letters in the drawer of his desk at his apartment, and eventually moved them to a specially designated box when he needed more room. When he learned that she did the same, he couldn’t help the tender warmth that fluttered in his chest. He still didn’t know what to do with the feeling.)

-*-*-*-

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

It took six years, and an additional five months at the Academy (and then another few weeks as she was introduced to the legal team, with whom she would also be working with in her role as legal liaison), but she kept her promise and found her way back to the BAU, and it was like she was never gone.

This time, in her re-introduction to the team, she was a breath of fresh air.

When she approached him individually with a nervous smile, she reached out, then hesitated, and a sense of déjà vu washed over Spencer. But then, she had placed a hand on his elbow, and when she smiled, he breathed in a sense of peace and familiarity, of comfort.

“You waited.”

He smiled back, and in a rather forward gesture on his part, he adjusted so he could take the hand on his arm into his.

“Always.”

-*-*-*-

She was too good for him.

Whatever relationship they had—Spencer didn’t know what to call it, though friendship seem too trivial of a word for it—he knew it was too good, too perfect to last.

Because in a cruel twist of fate, her first case back on the team, however unofficial it was, was Maeve.

He was hyperaware of the neutral expression on her face when he finally brought his fears to the team. To anyone else she would seem serene and put together, but to him the slight sag in her shoulders and the realization transitioning to acceptance were clear as day. Spencer never mentioned Maeve to her in their letters, but later, in retrospect, he believed she had an inkling, at the very least. You seem happier, she had written, once, not too long after he first became acquainted with Maeve, and that makes me happy.

Did it? Then he didn’t want to know what his misery would do to her because then, Maeve died, and in his grief over another woman, he fought desperately to push her away.

She could share his happiness, but he refused to let her share his pain, his brokenness. She did not deserve that, and he would not be the one to destroy the beauty and sunshine and hope she brought everywhere with her.

But when they finally took Maeve’s body away, and when the blurred commotion of sirens and law enforcement and emergency services and constant hammering of half-hearted condolences and check-ins finally died down, he felt the blanket around his shoulders be adjusted, and a now-familiar pair of hands take in his own, firm, and refusing to ever let go. Thumbs traced over his knuckles as soothingly as he remembered, and only then did he begin to vaguely process the fact those hands had been tucked into his almost the entire evening, anchoring him through the haze and the fog.

As if on cue, she squeezed his hand gently, like she knew exactly when he was slowly becoming aware of her presence, and he suddenly found he lacked the strength to do what he initially intended.

Still dazed, he felt her shift, and she was kneeling on the ground in front of him where he sat on the curb, and softly drew him into a hug. Any form of resistance he previously had dissolved; he clung to her, tears stinging his eyes once again.

It’s okay, I’m here, I’ll stay, she whispered, I’ll stay, always and always.

Just don’t push me away.

“I-” His voice cracked. “I loved her.”

He paused, his voice weakening.

“I love her...”

Hands ran soothingly through his hair.

“I know.”

She always did.

“…so much.”

He didn’t need to see her face to realize that she was crying with him, for him—he could feel her trying to contain the trembling in her chest, trying desperately to remain composed. He tried to do the same, but when she tilted her head and let him bury his face into her neck, Spencer finally felt fresh tears begin to flow, and he allowed her to take his face into her hands and chase the tears with her fingers.

And Spencer wept freely, first for death of the woman he loved, and then for the tears and the grief he caused the one person he could call his kindred spirit, his soulmate.

-*-*-*-

He healed, slowly.

There were good days, when the thought of Maeve did not stir up memories of blood and fear and gunshots but, rather, of auburn hair and admiration and hushed conversations on the phone. On those days, he felt like he was no longer haunted by a ghost and could finally begin to move on. On those days, he could slow down, appreciate the small things again, and focus on how a pair of familiar, steady hands pulled him out of the past, anchored him in the present, and allowed him to hope about the future.

But then there were the bad days when her touch scalded and burned his skin. The warmth and the pulse of blood rushing through her veins and the germs on her hands and her life was overwhelming because Maeve was dead and cold and gone. So, with every glare and with every sharp comment aimed at where he knew it would hurt, he finally made good on his desire to push her away.

It was on those days the bitter voice in the back of his mind whispered how it was supposed to be Maeve, not her, there alive with him, holding his hand as they faced the world.

It was also on those days he chose to disregard the regret that settled in the pit of his stomach each time he heard his own biting voice, and disregard the horror brought on by even thinking of wishing she were dead instead. He began to ignore the tremble in her hands when she reached out to him and brushed her fingers against his in concern, and he ignored how she gradually began pulling back, hesitant, nervous that her touch would be unwarranted, unwanted. He certainly ignored the unconscious flex in his hand, the ache for the reassurance and comfort he had become so accustomed to—

He ignored it all until he woke up, one night, to an empty bed, and a sudden surge of panic rushed through his body and bile rose in his throat. She was right there, when he fell asleep, giving him a small smile and nod when he asked if she could read to him, to stay the night. Now, without a word, she was gone, she was gone, shewasgone and Spencer could feel the tightness in his chest and tears sting his eyes when realized that the only one to blame was himself, himself, himself.

Why, he thought bitterly, why was he like this? Why must he try to push away every good thing in his life?

But then, there he stood, barely aware of the tears on his cheeks and ice running through his veins, as he found her curled up on his couch, franticly wiping away her own silent tears and exhaustion from her eyes. He stumbled forward, upset, upset at himself because he made her cry again. And when she flinched when he cradled her face in his hands, apologizing to him, he nearly choked back a sob, his hands trembling as he tried to wipe away the tears that did not belong on her face.

Neither of them went back to sleep that night, and Spencer began to realize just how strong she was, as she gently told him through her tears the hard truths of his situation and where she stood in relation to him.

I can’t fight with a ghost, she had murmured hoarsely, but I can work with her legacy and her memory.

And then, with a pinky wrapped around his, she promised that she would be there to help him through it, but the only way was if, and only if, he let her.

It was that night (or, rather, morning, as the sun rose) that he began to come to terms that, whether he deserved it or not, she—and her pure and unadulterated goodness—was more or less a permanent fixture in his life, and he felt more at peace than he had in ages. And when the early rays of sunlight filtered through his windows and caught her in a soft glow, he found himself once again in awe. He reached out, hesitantly, and his heart soared when he felt the familiar pressure of her hand slipping into his.

She was steadfast and loyal and strong. She was brave, she was patient, she was kind. Moreover, she was alive, she was breathing, and she was here, present, by his side. It took time, and more painful conversations and more painful realizations, but eventually, the good days were a bit more consistent, the sun just a bit brighter, and his breathing a just bit freer with her hand pressed firmly into his own, her pulse thrumming beneath his fingers until his heartbeat synced with hers.

And Spencer was finally learning, learning about what to do with the fact that with her by his side, he felt like he could truly face the world.

-*-*-*-

Face the world he did.

When Gideon died, he felt his hand twitch, and the compulsion to escape and hide tugged at the back of his mind, and an old, nearly forgotten itch made its way from the crook of his elbow, slowly ebbing into in his veins and nagging in the crevices of the back of the mind.

But when he felt her hand slip into his, he felt it abate, the tension in his muscles eased. When her lips twitched into a knowing, gentle smile, he could see the underlying grief and frustration. Of course. She had known Gideon just as well as he did, if not better.

He breathed deeply and smiled back. It was weak, it was twitchy, and it was sad, but it was a smile, nonetheless. He wasn’t in this alone.

-*-*-*-

They were seated on a large blanket in a secluded park in D.C. on one of their rare days off when she pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, and suddenly it seemed like all the right pieces finally fell into place.

And when she whispered those three little words, and everything made sense. He looked up from where he laid, and again he was breathless at how the setting sun caught in her hair and reflected off her skin and her eyes. But then, when he opened his mouth to respond, the same three little words caught in his throat and his breath hitched, and he wanted to cry. He wanted to respond, to let her know that her feelings were returned, but the words failed him.

“It’s okay,” she murmured softly, and he trembled as he felt her hands cupping his face and fingers gracing over his cheekbones, “if you don’t reciprocate; I’ll live. But I just wanted to let you know–know that I’ll be by your side no matter what happens.”

It wasn’t until they were at the door of her apartment, when he found the strength to push past the nerves and respond.

“I do re-reciprocate, and I want–I want to say it, because I do,” he stuttered out, “but I just…don’t know how to say it yet.”

He suddenly felt like a prepubescent schoolboy, nervous and quaking and terrified. But then, magnetic as she was, she brought his gaze back to her face, and her knowing smile breathed air back into his lungs. His heart blossomed, and the fingers rubbing circles into his hand anchored his attention on her. “Then I’ll wait until you can. Always. Forever.” She paused. “Do you trust me?”

Spencer peered up at her, brows furrowed. Unbidden, the memory of the first time she asked him the same question floated to the front of his mind, and he couldn’t help the breath of amusement. The question caught him off guard, but this time, when he found his voice it was resolute, quick, and sure.

Yes.

He felt a pinky hook around his, and the now-familiar warmth bubbled in his chest.

“Good, because it’s a promise I intend to keep.”

This time, the tears her fingers caught were those of appreciation and relief.

-*-*-*-

And then, the sun set, and prison happened.

-*-*-*-

At first, it was easy to ignore.

Prison changed him. He knew it did, and he knew that she wasn’t naïve to the fact either. He was a bit harder, a bit more defensive, and while he tried his best not to show it, he knew she could see the darkness had just a little bit more of an edge. He was well aware of how she watched him just a bit more closely.

It seemed alright at first. It took a while for him to adjust; there were certainly bumps and bruises along the way, along with some admittedly choice words exchanged in frustration, but that was expected.

But he supposed it was the small things, and small things add up.

The first week her hand naturally slipped into his like nothing’d changed, but his grip was tighter and more desperate than normal, like she’d disappear or slip through his fingers if he didn’t. At the same time, he was also too terrified to touch her otherwise, as if she’d break like glass if his grip on her waist was just a bit too tight.

She never commented, gave him space, and allowed him to initiate physical contact.

She didn’t need to know, he rationalized, it wasn’t her burden to bear.

Then he began to hold her at arm’s length. She pushed, gently, and he pushed back, harder. He knew she was only trying to help, but he needed to figure it out for himself, lest he hurt her again. She only sighed, and relented. While her concern was apparent with how she watched him with just a little more unease, she gave him space.

However, while she was an exceptionally patient person, there was only so much distance and space one could handle. When she reached out, worried, and pressed just a little harder, he withdrew completely, and his rationalization slowly evolved. Stop hovering. Don’t need you treating me like I’m broken. Don’t need your pity.He ignored the pain that flashed in her eyes, the quiet desperation in her voice whenever she called after him after he refused to listen, and the increasingly familiar ache in his entire body when he began to avoid and refuse her touch.

It was the small things, because when the nightmares started, it wasn’t so easy to ignore.

-*-*-*-

“—eathe, Spencer. That’s good, breathe.”

The mumbled affirmations continued as he slowly processed his surroundings.

Queen-sized bed. Egyptian cotton sheets. Breathe in. Goose-feather down pillows. A firmer memory foam pillow that smelled of her shampoo. Breathe out.

Safety.

He was still bleary-eyed when he sunk back down, burying half his face in the pillows and ashamed as he mumbled a quiet apology. Her voice was kind, understanding, telling him it was alright as she tucked a stray lock of curls away from his face. When he seemed to settle back down, her hand gentle rested on his jaw, thumb absently tracing his cheekbone.

“Do you want to talk—”

“No.��

She frowned, sighed, took a moment to flick on the lamp light and collect her thoughts; he could see, through his lashes, the gears turning in her head about how to proceed. Meanwhile, he heaved a sighed, and sat up against the headboard. His eyes closed, doing the same as her. She then reached out, touched his hand, grazed her thumb over his knuckles and drew circles on the back. It started slow, hesitant—she was surprised that he didn’t recoil, and frankly, so was he—but the motion was familiar, grounding, so he let her continue. He knew it helped her focus as well.

“Spence, you’re…you need to talk to someone—it doesn’t have to be me! But bottling it up all inside, it’s clearly tearing you apart.”

“I agreed to start talking with my therapist, haven’t I?”

His voice was flat, defensive.

“But you haven’t, and…knowing you, you won’t be telling them the whole truth.” His jaw tightened and his lips pursed, his hand gripping the sheets flexed, and he looked away from her, intently staring at a random point in the room that wasn’t her. As always, she seemed to know him far too well.

She let out a breath of a sigh; she knew he was beginning to shut her out again. Her free hand lifted to his shoulder, rested in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve told you before, that you’ve started to shut people out. I know–I know you’re so, so strong, but you don’t have to face it alone. You don’t need to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders; we’re not as fragile as you seem to think we are.” She paused, contemplating. “If you need someone with distance that you can trust, call Derek, call Hotch, even, but remember, Spence, I made you a promise: I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

When he didn’t answer, still staring off into the mid-distance, she sighed.

“I’ll leave, give you some space. Think about it.”

She was at the bedroom door when he finally cleared his throat and responded. His voice was bitter as he bit out: “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

A quiet ‘wha–’slipped from her lips as she angled toward him as he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, hands gripping the sheets tightly.

“If you want to leave, fine. You seem to be doing that quite well recently. The door’s right there and you don’t have to come back until you want to make me a charity case again. But if you want me to talk, if you think you can handle it, then be my guest. Take a seat and why don’t you make me?”

He instantly regretted the words, but some dark part of his mind as pleased that he could see the anger and annoyance spark through her as she inhaled deeply and slowly turn around to face him in full. “I will if that’s what it will take.”

Spencer’s gaze hardened.

“You don’t have the fucking guts.”

A brief moment passed as she took him in full, eyes flashing. Spencer raised his gaze, challenging, daring her, and then, the same, shadowed part of his mind was savagely happy that he had finally gotten a rise out of her, because she bit back with venom.

“Fucking try me.”

And then, he watched her warily as she visibly froze, then deflate, her jaw tightening and eyes welling with unshed tears as she stumbled backward to the door.

“But–but not like this. Not like this. I’m–I’m so sorry you didn’t–you don’t deserve…” Her voice was quiet, but it was hitched with a swirl of emotions Spencer couldn’t pinpoint, and he was suddenly aware of the hot tears dripping down his cheeks. “I’m going–I’m going to go…” He heard the doorknob turn, and suddenly the sound of gunshots rang in his ears, and he could the taste the metallic bitterness as blood and dead brown eyes filled his vision.

Wait. Wai- She was halfway out the door when he called out, voice cracking, and through blurred tears he saw her shut the door and shuffled and stumbled back into the room toward him, kneeling in front of him. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear the whispers of his name and the urgency of the apologies. And then his eyes fluttered closed when she reached up to brush the tears away, and the motion opened the floodgates. It was one of the many little touches they shared—thumbs wiping over cheeks and hands cupping faces—and he had half a mind to shove her aside, but dear God he hadn’t felt it in far too long; he leaned, almost desperately, into her touch and he could hear her sniffling back her own tears.

Fuck.

He was always like this.

His passive aggressiveness was his defense mechanism; he lashed out blindly whenever he felt vulnerable, not caring who he hurt and how much. It was something she had been helping him work through, and he thought he was getting better, but here he was, hurting her because of it again.

Not like this.

He barely noticed that she had pulled him into a tender hug, but now that he did process the warmth of her embrace seeping into his bones, he wanted to push it away. He didn’t – he didn’t deserve this but now she was pulling back, and it sent a brief course of panic through his body, a fear that she was pulling away, away from him, away from the darkness and shadows that loomed permanently over him. He wouldn’t blame her, but–but…oh.

Her eyes always spoke volumes for her, and now that she had firmly tilted his chin up, her gaze firm, resolved.

“I know you are feeling vulnerable, and I know that you believe you can do this on your own.” She breathed in deeply. In turn he gazed up at her through his tears, as evenly as he could, and she met it without wavering. “You are strong, Spencer Reid, so, so strong, been so for so long. But…but I made a promise that I would always be by your side, and I’m never going to break it. So please.” Her voice hitched, and his breath caught in his throat. “Please, trust in me, one more time. Just one more time.”

Moments ticked by to the time of his heartbeat before he finally nodded, and the relief and the elation in her eyes soothed the dull pain inside his heart. This time, he drew her into his arms and into his lap and sighed as he leaned into the crook of her neck.

Thank you.

I love you, too.

-*-*-*-

“Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.”

—Maya Angelou

-*-*-*-

#spenciebabiesficcontest #joy's writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic

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thezeninclan · 3 years

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mirio, deku, bakuou, kirishima, iida, shinsou. doing the rasputin tiktok challenge thing

the dance

mirio

definitely did it absolutely no prompting

ngl he just thought it would be fun (and he was right)

even though he posted it on his public tiktok, with hundreds of thousands of followers, almost everyone that knew him irl knew the video was meant for you

obviously roped nejire and tamaki into helping

nejire spends the entire video doing the dance in the background, tamaki just sighs from behind the camera

mirio didn’t even do it live in front of you, just did it himself, posted it, and waiting (impatiently) for you to see it

when you didn't respond within 3 minutes he texted you the link and waited anxiously for a reply

bonus: heres an actual video of mirio actually doing the dance

kirishima

another one who did it with absolutely no prompting

probably spent the entire afternoon filming with the rest of the bakusquad

mina taught him the entire dance, step by step, and she only got a little bit mad when she had to repeat it like 25x so ejirou could be absolutely sure he was doing it right

mina ended up making her own video that night, which oursold kiri’s 10:1— but not to you

ejirou was honestly happy to do it bc he loves showing off his muscles and proving to the world, and to himself, just how far he’s come since his middle school days

even showed off his hardening

flexing his chest, arms, and stomach as tight as he possibly could, until he was so tired from flexing that his face was almost as red as his hair

bakugou

only did it to prove he could do it better than kirishima and damn deku

scowled the whole time

actually ended up doing great- despite the fact that he was giving ten, maybe fifteen, percent energy

until it was time for him to come up flexing

nearly ripped his tank top in two trying to get it off in his excitement

sends the video to you while you’re in the room with him, sitting on his bed while he works at his desk

katsuki watches you carefully as you furrow your brows at the sudden text and click it open

you smile down at your phone as you watch, until he recognises the part where he took his shirt off

you literally drop the phone, turning bright as kirishima’s hair, and can’t help but sneak a look up at him, your eyes flickering back and forth between his eyes and his broad shoulders

deku

100% did it for fun and blushed the entire time

only did it in the background of mina’s video, with a few other students from 1-a

was beyond thankful that he was all the way in the background and dancing so badly that nobody really paid attention to him

but you did

you couldnt take your eyes off of him tbh

he was so sweet looking, struggling so hard to get the steps right, even when he was almost a complete 10 seconds behind

but when he took off his shirt....

you almost drooled in your lap

bonus—

dabi

did it for the hell of it tbh

probably to mess with tomura

twice and toga were more than happy to help

toga filmed, twice taught him how to do it bc jin is absolutely addicted to tiktok (who isnt)

spends the entire time acting like he isnt trying his damnest to do this stupid fucking dance when in reality he’s been practicing for hours behind a locked bedroom door

makes eyes at the camera

will absolutely lick his lips seductively several times, while looking the camera dead in the eye

bonus: heres an actual video of dabi actually doing the dance

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha crack #fic: bnha #writing

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ilovejevsjeans · 3 years

Text

WHAT MAKES ‘PECULIAR’ McLAREN SO HARD FOR RICCIARDO TO MASTER

The esoteric driving-style demands of the McLaren MCL35M have been laid bare during the 2021 Formula 1 season by Lando Norris consistently producing superb performances while new team-mate Daniel Ricciardo has faced a long, hard and often fruitless slog to adapt.

Norris and former McLaren team-mate Carlos Sainz also found the car tricky to drive, but ultimately adapted well. But over his first 11 races as a McLaren driver, Ricciardo has been frustrated by attempting to implement a counter-intuitive driving style required by what he’s described as a “peculiar” car.

“I knew straight away it was a different beast,” said Ricciardo of the McLaren-Mercedes MCL35M.

“I’d be lying if I said the Renault wasn’t a different beast to the Red Bull, so they are all different. But there’s certainly some things where this car is slightly more peculiar. That’s the puzzle that I’m still trying to solve.

“But every car will respond and react differently, and this one’s got a couple of other things, I guess.”

Usually, you would expect a driver of Ricciardo’s high calibre to get on top of a new car after half-a-dozen races. Certainly, he thought that was how long the process would take before reluctantly admitting more recently that his struggles are “a reality” rather than a temporary problem.

McLaren’s executive director of racing, Andrea Stella, suggests the problem is Ricciardo is from the “opposite end” in terms of driving style. But what exactly is it about the McLaren that is so specific and has caused so many struggles, and why can’t these characteristics be dialled out easily?

“What we kept is some characteristics of our car that make it very special to drive, which we see with the experience Daniel is going through because he came from the opposite end in terms of how you would like to drive a Formula 1 car,” said Stella of the transition from 2020 to ’21.

“Our car requires some special adaptation, while we work to improve this aspect. It’s no secret that our car is good in high-speed corners and may not be the best car when you have to roll speed in mid-corner.

“We are trying to adjust some of the characteristics to make it a little bit more manageable to drive. At the same time, the important thing to deliver is aerodynamic efficiency, even if we couldn’t necessarily improve in terms of balance and [driver] exploitation of the car.

“We are relatively happy with the rate of improvement of aerodynamic efficiency that we have been able to achieve in early races and hopefully a little bit more will be coming in the next races.”

So let’s delve a little more into the characteristics of the McLaren that have stymied Ricciardo. In keeping with what Stella says about high-speed performance, Silverstone in July was a strong qualifying performance relative to Norris, even though he struggled for race pace.

But Silverstone is a high-speed circuit without so many medium and slow speed corners that remand more rotation of the car. It’s here, with the kinds of corners that dominate at the Red Bull Ring and Hungaroring, which hosted the races either side of Silverstone, that have proved difficult.

Ricciardo’s problem is that he likes to carry speed into the corner by braking a little earlier (except when making one of his trademark overtaking moves) and rolling the speed into the corner. The McLaren has a front-end weakness that is mitigated by braking later, but then appears to still require a relatively progressive application of steering lock.

Ricciardo has struggled to do this, often braking earlier than Norris and ending up with the car under-rotated, meaning he is still traction limited for longer in the exit phase than Norris simply because he’s effectively extending the corner.

“He’s a driver who likes to roll the speed in the corner and not necessarily attack the braking as much as our car requires,” said Stella. “We understood very quickly what the issue was. We could model this aspect, which means Daniel knows what to do in terms of working on the simulator, in terms of coaching the driver. But the progress that we do see race after race is not necessarily a switch.

“Sometimes I use the example of a musician. You can tell him how to play the guitar, you can use a lot of theory but at some stage he will have to spend quite a lot of time with the guitar and make quite a lot of exercises. You don’t necessarily take a step in concerts. Most of the progress you make will be when you work in background at home and you spend hours and hours exercising.”

Just as Ricciardo has done, Stella points out the lack of testing opportunities has made this problem harder to get on top of. Ricciardo had just a day-and-a-half in the car pre-season and since then has done his learning on race weekends. At times, he’s been intensively coached by race engineer Tom Stallard as he battles to tune into a driving style he’s at odds with.

But this has to fit in with the usual work of the race weekend and can’t waste time doing needless experimentation. It’s an extra distraction, but Stella says he’s “optimistic” Ricciardo will eventually get on top of it – and has been impressed with how his racecraft has at least made it possible to put together a solid run of results, albeit only scoring 50 points compared to Norris’s 113.

The obvious question is why McLaren can’t simply change the characteristics of its car. After all, we have seen other drivers who had to adapt to the machinery be met in the middle by teams, notably Fernando Alonso who benefitted from a power steering change that gave him the sensitivity he needed to optimise his driving style.

But in the case of the McLaren, it is more about the aerodynamic characteristics than the mechanical ones. And even if the trait could be eliminated, it would likely make the car less competitive. The need to brake late and the fact the car can have a weak front end perhaps indicates the necessity to be more aggressive in shifting the aero centre of pressure forwards at corner entry in lower and mid-speed corners.

If you brake earlier and roll the car into the corner as Ricciardo wants to, the aero centre of pressure will not be as far forward as if the car is on the nose. But in attempting to make this style work, there is also a more aggressive shift in the aero centre of pressure rearward as the driver comes off the brakes, which also appears to be creating a limitation for Ricciardo in the corner entry phase.

It’s also a style that is close to Norris’s default approach, although it’s important to note that he’s put a huge amount of effort into evolving his driving style in recent years.

At the end of 2019, he spoke about experimenting with his style in the Abu Dhabi test and given he and Sainz struggled in different ways, the pair were able to learn from each other. The result of that was a tricky car but that both could make work – but creates a driving challenge that surprised Ricciardo.

Stella is uncertain how long this characteristic has been in the DNA of the McLaren, although it appears to have been for some time. After all, progressing along development paths often augments such characteristics over time.

“We have been scratching our heads on how long this characteristic goes back in time,” said Stella.

“The aerodynamics is where the forces come from and I think it goes back to some seasons before the current season. It’s a set of characteristics in terms of how the car delivers the aerodynamic forces, which is not new to this year’s car.

“This year’s car is a close sister of last year’s and there’s certainly a close relationship to the previous years’ cars. So it has to do with the methodology that can produce quick cars, but with some [specific] characteristics.”

It’s also important to remember that the aerodynamic characteristics are not independent of the mechanical ones.

What’s crucial is the interaction of the mechanical platform and the aero – as well as the all-important aero performance of the floor.

This is not just about how the car is loaded up front to rear, but also in other directions. It’s a hugely complex equation to capture these interactions through all phases of a corner and this is where understanding of the characteristics will lie. This is why McLaren is largely stuck with the characteristics for the rest of the season.

“F1 cars are entirely dominated by aerodynamic delivery,” said Stella. “Then you work with suspension and the other mechanical aspects, but those aspects are often compensation and integration, not the leading parameter which is the aerodynamic delivery of the car at the various attitudes, the attitudes being the front ride height, the rear ride height, the yaw angle, the roll angle.

“This is what causes the car to be strong in a straight line and to be less strong as soon as you generate some yaw angle or rotation of the car. At the same time, when I talk about aerodynamics, this is definitely what leads to this characteristic, but it is also quite difficult to fine tune because to generate the aerodynamic forces you need to establish floor structure.

“It takes months or years of development to consolidate these floor structures so that you can achieve the aerodynamic efficiency of the car is absolutely astonishing and never matched in the past by any Formula 1 car.

“So when you embed these characteristics so deeply, it is difficult to change them. So it’s easier to work with mechanical aspects, but even those aspects are relatively limited because of homologation in 2021.

“You find yourself relatively stuck and that’s why a lot of the requirement and a lot of the demand shifts to the driver’s side. This is the tool, it’s quick, but it needs to be driven in a certain way.

“There’s not much we can do at the moment. So while we can improve the aerodynamic efficiency, it is a lot more difficult to improve some of the characteristics with a mind to the driving style.”

You might assume that these characteristics will be eliminated next year given the comprehensive change in regulations, but Stella suggests it is possible that it could be a consequence of the methodology used by McLaren.

If it’s a product of the underlying science, then it’s possible the characteristics could carry over. This is why Ricciardo can’t simply ride out the season then start anew in 2022. What’s more, given it has produced a competitive car, it would be wrong to say that McLaren has got things wrong.

All F1 cars have what is called ‘limit behaviour’, particularly when it comes to corner entry. Some aspects will always ‘give up’ first and it’s simply that McLaren is a more extreme example of the tradeoffs present in most cars.

“I find this quite typical,” said Stella when asked if this was something he had encountered before. “Even going back to my days at Ferrari there were various seasons in which the cars were pretty much experiencing similar characteristics.

“It’s always a bit difficult to find the right blend between having the car which is strong in mid-corner and maintains good characteristics in straightline speed. Conversely, if you focus your car on straightline and high-speed, then it comes a bit difficult to maintain good aerodynamics in the middle of a corner

“It’s not McLaren specific. What is McLaren specific is that our car is clearly on one side of this typical split of characteristics that you can achieve.” (X)

#daniel ricciardo #articles #andrea stella #dan

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just-like-playing-tag · 3 years

Text

A totally self indulgent compilation of my favorite works on this blog of the year June 13, 2020 - June 13, 2021

2019-2020

The following lists are all in chronological order according to the date each post was first published.

Top 10 panel edits:

#1: It's our first morning

Date: Aug 20th, 2020 Time: ~ 2:18 h I really like how this one turned out!!! The 2020 Emma b-day edit has a lot of major panel redraws, but this is probably my favorite. I I really enjoy how I made the shadows work!! And the ear banfage looks pretty neat. Nice!!! Immagine

#2: Norman birthday edit 2021

Date: Mar 20th, 2021 Time: ~ 2:21 h Awww, soft Norman :') There was a bit to redraw, but I think everything turned out pretty neat!!! I believe everything works out fine. Though looking back at it, the part of the ID I added is definitely top small :')

#3: Manga dub: Yuugo gets knocked out

Date: Mar 27th, 2021 Time: ~ 5:05 h Here start the Manga Dub redraws to which I gave my everything ahah. This one turned out nice! I think the shoes turned out particularly good eheh. I like how Yuugo's clothing lineart- for the texture, I wanted to go for something heterogeneous, but I'm not fully confident in the final result. Gilda looks very rushed but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#4: Manga dub: Yuugo makes his dramatic entrance

Date: Apr 5th, 2021 Time: ~ 4:02 h This is pretty cool!!!! The coat took ages to redraw, but sis it turned out perfect!!! I'm very proud of this.

#5: Manga dub: RayGildEmma hug!!!

Date: Apr 9th, 2021 Time: ~ 1:31 h Awww, a beautiful panel I was really happy to have the chance to redraw. Taking into account what there was to redraw, I'm actually surprised with how little this took! Ray's backpack was a pain to make, but I think it turned out fine. I'm very happy with Emma and Ray's heads!!

#6: Manga dub: Formalities

Date: Apr 12th, 2021 Time: ~ 5:31 h It is not always easy to give sense to Demizu's perspective, but I do my best!!! In this I am *so* happy with how Don and Ray turned out, they look neat! The background on the other hand... It took hours to make ahah. I'm not fully confident in the perspective, but I'm happy with the details I've added- I really did my best to make it look like athe other manga panels and I think it paid off!!!

#7: Manga dub: We may be weaklings, but we're still alive

Date: Apr 30th, 2021 Time: ~ 1:37 h This little Emma is so cute!!!!!! I think the redraw turned out pretty perfect. I'm really satisfied with how this one turned out, and it's such a cute little Emma!!!! She's so brave and optimistic, I love her. It's a shame this panel didn't make it to the episode :')

#8: Manga dub: Goldy Pond Gang

Date: May 7th, 2021 Time: ~ 8:44 h lmao This is probably the panel redraw I'm the most proud of ever :') Just think everyone turned out very nice!! The ceiling is not exactly perfect, but it still works somehow. I'm very happy with how Gillian's back turned out!! I don't really like the fading effect on the right, but 8h in I got pretty tired of working on this ahah

#9: Manga dub: This is Goldy Pond

Date: May 21st, 2021 Time: ~ 1:29 h I'm very glad for how the Manga dub has been challenging me to learn to redraw backgrounds, something I had quite literally never tried before. It can be a little frustrating, but it's so satisfying to see the final cleaned piece!! With this panel, I also learnt to use copy and paste, which is something I had never done before beyond texture

#10: Manga dub: Good morning doctor

Date: May 21st, 2021 Time: ~ 3:42 h This is another background that turned out pretty good!! That one Norman is one I knew I would have had to fully redraw sooner or lager- the background was a bonus ahah. I'm very happy with the final result!!

Top 5 edits as whole:

#1: The Promised Neverland manga ending edit

Date: Jun 14th 2020 Time: ~ 12h 41min (5h 45min of cleaning panels in the edit + 5h 37min of cleaning panels that didn't make it to the edit + 1h 19min of resizing) + time spent cleaning panels I've deleted the file of so I can't see lmao This is overall very nice!!! The concept of an Emma evolution through her back is cool, and I think overall the edit turned out very aesthetically pleasing. The concept idea came to me while I was working on the 2019 Emma's birthday edit, a long time before the manga ending announcement- back then I wouldn't have imagined using it in occasion of the manga ending, but I think it ended up making a nice tribute. The colors add a nice touch, since so far my edits had always been black and white- it makes a sweet closure. To make that edit I selected 76 panels of Emma framed from her back; I plan to make other versions of that edit using the discarded panels eventually!

#2: Emma - Chapter 181: Beyond Destiny

Date: Jul 12th 2020 Time: 2h 57min My last edit for the manga 🥺🥺 I think this one is my very "manga ending edit" because to me it really signed the ending of weekly chapters and their weekly chapter edits. It makes me a little sad to look at it, but it's also, I don't know, kinda sweet to see how I grew both in my panel cleaning and as a person since I first started my blog. I'm glad I got into TPN!

#3: Emma birthday edit 2020

Date: Aug 22nd 2020 Time: 8h 54min This one turned out so well!!! Though I used the same concept for all the trio edits, I think this one is the best one. The two panels on the left / two panels on the right alternation combo never fails ahah. The colors are nice (shout-out to my sister for making me a palette), despite the fact that it was hard for the lighter ones to make them work with the images without having those disappear. I'm very satisfied with the panels I chose for this, I think they work really good together! Also, it got me very happy to read everyone's comments saying they liked the fading effect in the last panel :)

#4: Emma + Eyes Close Ups [1/?]

Date: Jan 24th 2021 Time: 5h 55min This one was really nice!! Another idea I got when working on the 2019 Emma birthday edit I was glad to finally execute. Started the edit in September, finished it in December. I'm overall very happy with how it turned out... I hope I will be able to make more in the future!

#5: The Promised Neverland Parallels → (9/?) » 114 // 122

Date: Feb 23th 2021 Time: 5h 7min (panel cleaning only) Aaaaahh I really like this one!!!! A parallel I love very much, and I'm really happy with how the edit turned out. All the hair redrawing looks neat!!!! The gif is maybe a little excessive, but I think overall it's a nice edit. I like it!!! Fun fact, I completed it on August 26th 2020, but I couldn't find the right moment to post it ahah.

Honorable mention: The Promised Neverland Parallels → (5/?) » 08 // 16

Date: Aug 30th 2020 Time: 2h 52min (Second picture cleaning only; I deleted the first picture art file so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ) I don't have much to say about this one except!! It turned out very nice!!!!! Love the pen lmao.

Top 10 analysis:

Too many analysis,,

#1: Post chapter 181 Emma analysis

Date: Jul 9th 2020 Mmmh a nice analysis. I think it was important for me to put down in words what I think of Emma's characterization and the manga ending, so I'm happy I did it!

#2: A long Oliver analysis because I love him very much

Date: Dec 6th 2020 What can I say I just love Oliver tons 😔😔💕💕 This was very fun to make!!!

#3: TPN s2 previsions

Date: Jan 14th 2021 Really love the effort that went into this + me proving that 11 episodes GP could have possibly worked + it's just a lot of fun to read again after s2 ended pffft

#4: More s2 delusional previsions lmao

Date: Jan 27th 2021 I think the points and previsions I made where pretty neat!! In my defense, it was pretty impossible to predict the anime would have ended with this season. I always feel honoured when friends and Anon ask for my opinion, I'm like "you wanna know what I think? Wow. I'm flattered (◍•ᴗ•◍) " Thank you to anyone who ever sent me an ask!!

#5: Why Emma not wearing pants is 𝕨𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕘

Date: Jan 29th 2021 Really proud of this!!! Pants Emma is important!!!!!

#6: Post episode 5 manga Emma analysis

Date: Feb 4th 2021 A depressed analysis, but a necessary one 😔

#7: Norman analysis

Date: Feb 12th 2021 I love him!!!! And I'm happy I eventually got to put down in words what I love about his character. The day I posted this ww3.readneverland was in maintenance so I couldn't use the volume scans for it- the thought of that post having fan edited and fan translated scans still haunts me

#8: RayDon rambles

Date: May 12th 2021 I had a blast writing this and like. It's likely the post of mine I reread more often of them all. I love this ship tons!!!!! I'm satisfied with how I put down in words what I like about them. I LOVE THIS SHIP

#9: Chapter 58 analysis

Date: May 23th 2021 I've wanted to express this concept since like the first time reading the manga- I'm so happy I finally did!!!! This concept is one of my absolute favorite things about tpn- the feelings that people are good. The concept that kids who got to live in an healthy and supportive environment will always be inclined to kindness and altruism, because humans are just inherently good. From the Three Character Classic: “people at birth are inherently good”. I want to have faith and courage to hold on the goodness in myself, and to hold on the goodness in the world, no matter how difficult it to do that (Chloé Zhao).

#10: Norman and Lambda squad relationship analysis

Date: May 24th 2021 I think this was a pretty sharp analysis and I like what I did with it!!

Other stuff:

#1: Krone birthday edit

Date: Jul 15th 2020 This edit is so good ;; Like not perfect since it was my first attempt at coloring gifs but still I believe it turned out so good ;;;;;; The time and effort that went unto this is crazy, but... Maybe I'm happy to have dedicated time to something I like for a satisfying result.

#2: Get to know my ship- Wolfpack Trio

Date: Aug 24th 2020 Uuuh a good post. A good ship.

#3: Gilda + blank glasses

Date: Aug 27th 2020 This is such a cute nice compilation!!! I love looking at it. A few panels are missing but still :')

#4: Apollo Ray AU

Date: Sep 7th 2020 (Though it was written Sep 2nd 2019 lmao) I'm so happy I finally gathered the courage to post this 😭😭 I really enjoy what I did with this AU, so this one and its other installments are all posts I have a lot of fun rereading. More than everything, I was astounded and overjoyed by the positive response it got: that gave me tons of confidence to put my ideas out there, no matter how unique they sound!!! Here's to hoping I will be able to post my RayEmma Hadestown AU, by other big AU from late summer 2019 :')

#5: TPN timeline project

Date: Dec 2nd 2020 This is like. I don't know it's a lot ahah. Arguably the project I'm the most proud of ever making. I'm just so happy of all the months long hard work and of the final result!! The post didn't receive much response (though the ones I got were extremely kind and sweethearted so that totally makes up for it), but in the end I don't really mind? I'm just so proud I accomplished that idea :')

#6: TPN calendar

Date: Jan 4th 2021 A nice sum of the tpn timeline + everyone's birth dates!!! I really like how it turned out visually. It's a cute little tpn calendar!!!

#7: Ray smiles compilation

Date: Jan 17th 2021 Ray's smile. That's it that's the post :')

#8: Trans Oliver headcanons

Date: Jan 24th 2021 MMMH really like this headcanon I think about it a lot

#9: Thoma and Lani theory

Date: Jan 28th 2021 I really don't want to brag but this is the best joke I've ever made :')

#10: My TPN AUs

Date: May 10th 2021 Ok you gotta admit those are very good AUs, I'm glad to have made a list out of them!!!

#11: Ranking Emma promotional art outfits

Date: May 16th 2021 This is one people seem to have liked a lot which makes me happy ahah. I'm glad to know we can all agree Emma deserves more pants outfits!! Please stop it with the gendered clothing :') This is the post I want to be remembered for

#12: TPN musicals AU part 2

Date: May 20th 2021 A GREAT POST I can't stretch enough how happy I am with those character-song associations. I hope I have time to make a part 3 in the future!!

#13: TPN Drive folder

Date: May 30th 2021 This was born as a way for me to have all the tpn extra contents easily accessible, but I'm happy to have shared it with people- I hope it will turn out to be useful to others too!

#14: TPN s2 recolorings

Date: Jun 12th 2021 A more diverse children cast is good for the soul :')

That's it, this year was really fun!! Thank you to everyone who supported me through it, I can't express how grateful I am for all the kindness and validation I received. Here's to many more months in the fandom!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

#mine #tpn #the promised neverland #tpn manga spoilers #Tumblr: *literally refuses to let me open the post*#Me: *Turns on my computer* B*TCH YOU THOUGHT I'M POSTING THIS TODAY AND NOTHING IS GOING TO STOP ME #Been working on this for four hours now.. I'm literally dead...#Also thank you Tutu for deleting the other post you're the sweetest :')#Once again this is just a personal report you don't have to read all (or any) of it unless you want to :)#Ok to reblog btw #I'll click the post button now I don't want to hear anyrhing else

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