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tycarstairs · 3 months

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ok i need to talk about alastair for a (long) moment bc i love him.

this got a lot longer than i expected it to btw so ig it’s just for the alastair stans bc it’s basically just a character study lmao

first of all, there’s obviously this:

“I wanted you to have a childhood, a thing I never had. I wanted you to be able to love and respect your father as I never could. Every time he made a mess, who do you think had to clean it up? Who told you Father was ill or sleeping when he was drunk? Who went out and fetched him when he passed out in a gin palace and smuggled him in through the back door? Who learned at ten years old to refill the brandy bottles with water each morning so no one would notice the levels had sunk—?”

like he put so much energy into making sure cordelia could grow up loving and adoring her father in a way he was never able to. from age ten he was hiding his father’s alcoholism, even before he started at the academy.

“Alastair never acknowledging any of it, laughing it off, turning her attention in some other direction, always, so she did not dwell. So she would not have to.”

and then he got to the academy and had bullying and beatings added on top of all that.

“They … let’s just say that by the end of the first week, I had been made to understand my place in the hierarchy, and I had the bruises to remind me should I ever forget.”

like… does this excuse bullying? no, it doesn’t, but it does explain it, especially after he had taken all that for a year:

“After about a year of being knocked around,” Alastair went on, “I realized I could either become one of the bullies, or suffer for the rest of my school days.”

and as he says himself no, he didn’t beat anyone, didn’t get his hands bloody, but yes, he was a bully to save himself from the beatings.

and again, this does not excuse the bullying because of course that’s still bad. i just feel like a lot of people really fucking underestimate how much growing up with an alcoholic parent can affect you. especially when 1) you actually know about it, and 2) you’re the one who has to deal with it from age ten, and 3) they verbally attack you when they’re drunk (as we also saw when elias talked to james)

and then we get to this:

“Then you lot arrived, a bunch of boys from famous families, too well brought up to understand at first what went on far from home. Expecting the world would embrace you. That you would be treated well. As I never had been.” Alastair pushed back a lock of hair with a shaking hand. “I suppose I hated you because you were happy. Because you had each other—friends you could like and admire—and I had nothing like that. You had parents who loved each other.”

and does this excuse the way he treated them? again, no. but once again, it does explain it. alastair had dealt with so damn much since he was a kid so of course he’s gonna feel jealousy. alastair isn’t white, he’s never been able to go anywhere and expected that the world would embrace him as he put it, so that’s yet another thing he was more than likely jealous about.

and he knows what he did was wrong. he knows there’s no excuse, he knows they would all be well within their right to hate him for the rest of their lives if they wanted to, and i feel like so many people forget that?? alastair never expected to be forgiven for any of this.

and then we get to his sexuality and charles.

if i did the math right, alastair would’ve been either 16 or freshly 17 when he started dating a 23-year-old charles and to quote cc:

“it was a bad and unhealthy relationship, and i think the age gap is part of that.”

anyway, there’s one quote i’ve had in my mind ever since chog, and it’s when alastair asks charles, “If this is not what you came for, then why are you here?”

this implies that charles is only ever there for one thing. like, alastair is in love with this man and he wants to show that but charles isn’t letting him.

not to mention that charles is also dismissing alastair’s wishes:

“And I thought that you would agree to marry too.”

“That I would marry?” Alastair sprang to his feet. “I have told you over and over, Charles, even if I did not have you, I would never marry some poor woman and deceive her as to my love and regard.”

alastair having to tell charles over and over again that he’s not marrying a woman and charles still assuming that he will like… sir 🤨 he said no 🤨

anyway. then there’s to how he felt about his sexuality:

“Father’s weakness is not your weakness.”

The fire in the grate had nearly burned down. Alastair’s eyes were luminous in the dark. “I have my own weaknesses, as you well know.”

and after this when cordelia tells him that love isn’t a weakness, he responds with “isn’t it?”

like this man is comparing his own sexuality to the way his father treated him. you cannot tell me he was always okay with being gay because he so clearly was not, especially not with charles trying to keep him hidden and trying to make him marry a woman.

and after elias dies:

“I can’t mourn,” he said in a choked voice. “I cannot mourn my own father. What does that say about me?”

his relationship with his father was so ruined to the point where he couldn’t mourn him because he wasn’t able to love him in the way cordelia was, likely because he mourned his father already when he was 10.

and there’s also some of cordelia’s observations in choi:

Some months ago Cordelia had learned the emotional cost of Alastair’s interventions, the invisible scars he worked so diligently to conceal.”

the emotional costs being this:

“She knew Alastair was not always like this—she knew he could be kind, sweet, vulnerable even. She knew her father had broken his son’s heart a dozen different ways, and Alastair was doing the best he could with the pieces.”

like. elias has been breaking alastair’s heart over and over basically in every possible way since he was at least 10 so he’s really just doing what he can to stitch himself together at this point, the exact reason he put up walls.

“But it didn’t help for Alastair to behave like this, to retreat behind a cold facade as cutting as glass.

The way James retreated behind the Mask.”

alastair is basically just one big defense mechanism.

we also have thomas’ observations about alastair:

“There was only one other person Thomas had known with eyes like that. Not golden eyes, but dark, and so sad—he had always been drawn to that dichotomy, he thought, of the cruelty of Alastair’s words, and the sadness with which he said them. Sorrowful eyes and a vicious tongue. Tell me, he had always wanted to say, what broke your heart, and let such bitterness spill out?”

the answer to his question: elias.

elias broke alastair’s heart and left him to respond to everything with defense mechanisms.

alastair is such a complex character and he’s also one of my absolute favorites because of that. his relationship with his father is so realistic, and him distancing himself from everyone else because of his father is also so realistic. i just love this character with my whole heart ok

this is so long but istg i could write a whole essay about this man and ykw? maybe i will.

#putting my english degree to good use once again #when people ask me in the future ‘so what do u do with your english degree?’#i will simply say ‘i write long ass tumblr posts about my fav characters’#alastair carstairs #cordelia carstairs #elias carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomastair #the last hours #tlh #shadowhunters #chain of gold #chain of iron #chain of thorns

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fuck-customers · 4 months

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I figured I'd talk about it anyways since I'm here, hey, it's the person who went on the big long rant with housekeeping and the supervisor drama with D and all that shit. I'm here to talk about the borderline p*do we have on staff that no one is doing jack shit about :)

so first thing, Blondie has been caught staring at people's asses all the time. again, specifically the group of housekeepers who are 18-21. I don't know Blondie's actual age, but he's like. in his 40s via his appearance. not the kind of man who should be staring at recent high school graduates. he does this to a lot of people.

(side note: we have two housekeepers with the same name, so I call one Tiny and one Weekend to keep them straight in my head) (same reason i'm calling him Blondie. also because i need some fake thing to call them here)

so Tiny T was running too. Running, i didn't get into in my other ask, is basically taking those big blue carts, and grabbing trash and linen from the hallways, and taking them where they need to go, either laundry or the dumpster outside. So Tiny T was doing a run of linen, and Blondie was like, oh i'll help, because, as i'm sure you can assume by the nickname i'm calling her, she doesn't look strong, and she really isn't. she BEGRUDGINGLY accepts, because what else are you gonna do, and two incidents come from this.

One, Tiny T heard him using voice-to-text to text someone on the phone. whatever, it happens, weird to do at work, but rolls my eyes gets over it. except, what he said, and she quoted it to me, so i'm quoting it here, was "I'm so happy we're together, but you can't tell your mom."

uhm. if you know anything about grooming, that gives you MAJOR pause, because that's some textbook shit right there. voms in my mouth. shudders. but. it's technically out of work, out of our hands, we don't even know who he was talking to, maybe it is a fully grown woman with a shitty mom, who knows, we don't, major side eye and we move on.

then, when they take the linen down and sort it into the tubs for washing, they find a used condom at the bottom of the blue cart. gross, but not uncommon in hotels. he looks at this, then looks at Tiny T (an adult women with a boyfriend, who he KNOWS) and says 'that's for men to use... did you know that? ... haven't used one in ten years...'

fucking EXCUSE ME ??? EX-FUCKING-CUSE ME ???? i'm so fucking sick thinking about it and it didn't even happen to me, it happened to my work friend, i'm SICK. but the next thing here is Worse in my opinion.

A thing about runners that is important to know is that they don't generally go into the rooms, they just grab what's in the halls. when I ran, I would pop into rooms to ask if they needed help stripping a room, but other than that, I wouldn't. they also don't take those blue carts into any room. there's no reason to, it gets in the way, and just. no.

housekeepers also need to keep their doors open, at the VERY least with the latch to the door (forgot the name, the weird thing at the top, secondary lock thing) keeping the door open.

so my coworker P is like, digging under the couch since she saw some trash under there when she hears a noise. So, she sits up to look over the counter of the kitchen to see what that noise was. And it is Blondie. In her room. with the blue cart. and the door SHUT. all the way shut.

nothing came of this, but imagine if she hadn't heard that click. if her music was any louder. it makes me fucking SICK to think about that.

so what does she do ? she goes to Manager, who is both Housekeeping Manager, and part of HR now. she should help right ??

except nothing has been done. he still works here. he still runs. he still has access to the girls. and NOTHING has been done.

i'm encouraging P to come with me to get her the HELL out of this environment, as she's really the main one who he focuses all his gross attention on, but. you can see why we feel uncomfortable with talking to this manager without J by our side, when she literally hasn't done anything to help with something this serious.

i'm so sick of this job tbh. i'm so sick of it. so glad i'm leaving relatively soon honestly :/

Posted by admin Rodney.

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rancidpancakebatter · 1 year

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tasm!peter parker

like honestly i’m not sure how to exactly set this up, but like a mini series of like a friends to lovers but the reader already has been in a relationship for like three years or something and she finally realizes that her partner isn’t really fulfilling the role of her partner in the relationship and seeks out help from peter and gwen ? idk i just thought this quote from my favorite movie would fit that, like she should try to make her relationship work or just end it ? idk you know i love you so we’ll see what happens next, i’ll love any direction you’d want to approach it with ! 😊💗🫶🏼🫶🏼

🎥: before we go

brooke dalton: it’s possible, isn't it? it’s possible that you could meet somebody who's perfect for you even though you're committed to somebody else.

nick vaughan: no, no, see, i think if you're committed to somebody, you don't allow yourself to find perfection in someone else.

Another Way to Fly-[P.P.] | Chapter One

Pairing: TASM!college!Peter Parker x female!college!reader

Summary: You've been dating Harry Osborne for three years. You love him...but maybe not as much as you once did. Maybe not enough.

AU Where Norman isn’t as sick- he’s just an asshole- and Gwen doesn’t go to Oxford. Harry is functioning as an apprentice at Oscorp (He graduated with a master's in two years because of his studying abroad). You, Peter, and Gwen are all seniors at ESU. Because Norman isn’t dying the whole “Goblin” thing is scratched from the record so Peter and Harry are besties.

Word Count: 3.8k

Content Warnings: Swearing, Drinking (Of age), Skeezy men, Blatant objectification of reader, Norman Osborne (I dunno if that's really a warning but like he's gross and a terrible father so I'm listing it)

Previous | | Next

A/N: So sorry this took so long @scorpiolystoned! I got caught up in a lot of stuff and it took a second but the first chapter is FINALLY HERE! I'm having fun with this one :))

You were at yet another fundraiser in yet another gown that cost more than your monthly rent, talking to yet another stuffy old man who felt the need to make his opinion known. You smiled politely as he continued to tell you how your generation's greatest issue was a lack of work ethic, which was rich coming from a man who inherited his ten-million-dollar mansion upstate. You were on your third glass of champagne and considering getting a brandy instead. Anything that might make this conversation less painful.

Normally you would have no issue telling him off- rattling off about the lies sold to the working class by the privileged elite- but alas, you were here with your boyfriend, and you couldn’t taint his reputation. Harry would be inheriting Oscorp one day and would need these men to like him to keep it running. So you bit your tongue and plastered on a fake smile.

You said nothing about how insane they all sounded. You said nothing about the racist comments they made about their housekeepers. You said nothing about the skeezy comments they would make about you. You said nothing, because here: women are trophies, not people.

You hated going to these events but you loved Harry. You knew he didn’t like them much either, constantly having to defend his capability and intelligence to men who claim he’s just an idiot boy with a well-respected father.

He asked you to come to keep him sane. However, he was nowhere to be seen. There was no one to save you from this creepy man asking if college was really the right move because it would be better to settle down, “it would be a shame to waste all that beauty.”

You politely excused yourself and made your way to the bar. One benefit of snobby, elitist parties: open bars. You ordered something top-shelf and strong while you fished your phone from your clutch. You sent out a text to Harry letting him know where you were and asking him to come back to your side. You sat there for an hour, nursing your second drink, until he came back.

“Hey babe, sorry about that. My dad reintroduced me to some shareholders and I couldn’t get away.” He gave you a peck on the lips and he sat down next to you.

You rested your head on his shoulder and his arm draped over the back of your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure you’re more than ready to leave.” You told him you were and he nodded.

As he looked at his watch he sucked his teeth. “If we leave now it’ll be too soon. Can you hang in another hour?”

You pouted at him and he leaned into you, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You shivered as he kissed just below your ear. He placed his hands in yours as his kisses started trailing lower.

“Okay, okay. You win.” A smile stretched across his face and you swatched his chest. “But you better not abandon me again. I mean it, Osborn.”

He playfully winces as he stands from his chair, “Ooh, last name. She’s serious.”

He gave you another peck on the lips, “I promise.”

And with that, you let him lead you back into the horde.

You made small talk and you played the role of a doting, hype man. To be fair, you didn’t really have to fake that. You loved Harry. It wasn’t hard to gush about his accomplishments, you were immensely proud of him. However you had to format your adoration differently for this crowd, and you hated that.

An hour turned into two, which turned into three. Eventually, you pulled him aside and told him you were ready to go. You felt gross and emotionally exhausted. Harry said he still couldn’t leave but looking at your face he knew you were done.

He called you a cab and told you he would see you later. You hated leaving without him but understood. After a shower, you got ready for bed. You tried to stay up for him but the drinks you had made your eyes heavy and soon you were drifting off to sleep.

You woke up the next morning in an empty bed. You checked your phone to see Harry had texted you.

“I went home with my father last night. Have a good day of classes.” You pushed away the sadness you felt and sent him a text saying you would, asking if you would see him today.

You got up and ready and made your way to a cafe just off campus. Every Monday, you went to Cafè Luna and met up with your friends before class. It was a lovely tradition that began about a year ago when you all discussed how abhorrent you found Mondays. This was a good way to make sure everyone started off on a good note.

You pulled at the glass door and were greeted by the smell of cocoa, butter, sugar, bread, and coffee. A mix that always made you happy. You got in line, pondering what kind of breakfast you wanted today. You could go for the classic breakfast sandwich, or possibly a sweet treat would brighten your mood more. You decided on both, knowing Gwen would split whatever confectionary you got.

As you got to the counter, you gave the cashier your order and handed her Harry’s card. You grabbed a table while you waited for your order to be called out. Just then, two of your three favourite people walked in. You smiled as Gwen waved, rushing towards you to wrap you in a hug. She kissed you on the cheek before separating. Peter beamed at you as well and enveloped you in a firm hug.

You would never tell anyone, but he was the best hugger in the group by far. He always hugged with just enough strength to make you feel warm and safe but not enough to hurt or feel trapped.

Once in your unofficial seating chart, Peter looks around the shop. “Where’s Harry?”

You force a smile, trying not to let your own disappointment show. “He’s at his dad’s. I’m not sure he’s gonna make it today.”

Peter huffed, letting his lips flap together at the end. “Bummer, I was hoping to see ole Harr-Harr.”

You nodded in understanding, wishing for the same. You couldn’t get too lost in your thoughts as you heard your name called from across the cafe.

You stood from your chair, “Sorry guys, I already ordered. I was pretty hungry.”

They both reassured you that it was fine. Peter stood from the table as well. “I’ll go get in line.”

He kissed Gwen on the forehead before walking across the store with you. You grabbed your food and headed back to the table. You placed your cinnamon roll between you and Gwen and passed her a fork.

She feigned innocence, claiming she couldn’t possibly take your food, but eventually gave in when you pointed out how big it was. This was a local shop, and they made all their baked goods in huge sizes. The cinnamon roll between you was almost as big as your hand.

Peter soon returned with his and Gwen’s orders. Gwen thanked him with a kiss on the cheek as Peter casually draped his arm around her. You smiled at the couple and the domesticity they displayed. It was sweet.

“So,” Gwen asked pulling you from your thoughts, “How was your weekend?”

You told her about how you spent most of it preparing for Oscorp's last fundraiser. Norman did a fundraiser once a month, cycling through different organizations and causes.

Last night was for Cerebral Palsy. There was a giant check for a cool million dollars on display in the Osborn name. You hated that charity was thrown around in this way, as a power grab, but you guess there are worst things they could do with their money.

Because of Harry’s absence this morning your friends could sympathise with you openly.

“Yikes, I don’t miss those.”

“How many guys commented on your dress?”

You chuckled, “Yeah Pete, you’re real lucky and only two men commented on my dress. However, three commented on my hips, and six on how beautiful I was.”

Gwen grimaced while Peter looked between the two of you, confused. “I don’t understand. Being called beautiful is bad?” He looked directly at Gwen, “Should I not call you that anymore?”

She chuckles and places a hand over his heart. You watch Peter physically calm at the act. “No, but there’s a certain way in which some men say that doesn’t really mean ‘you’re beautiful.’”

“It means, ‘I see you as a sex object and I am imagining having sex with you right now as we are talking.’” You helpfully supplied.

Gwen raised a finger and pointed it at you with a look of “she’s right.” Peter scrunched up his face in disgust.

“Ew, men are pigs.” You both hummed in agreeance as you tore into your breakfast sandwich.

They told you of their weekend: Dinner at Mays and a nice night in. You tried not to be jealous. You wished that you could do that sort of stuff with Harry. He always wanted to go out, spend money, be seen. You wished that your attention was enough.

You almost got lost in your conversation about work when you caught a glimpse of your phone on the table. You usually kept it in your purse, but you were hoping to get a message from Harry.

“Oh shit! Sorry, I gotta run or I’ll be late for class.” You gathered your stuff and hugged your friends goodbye.

This was a nice tradition, you thought. Your Monday definitely felt a lot better.

You walked out of your last class and sent another text to Harry. He still hadn’t replied to your earlier one from this morning.

“Hey! Missed you at Luna’s today. I’m on my way home.”

You didn’t officially live with Harry, but you might as well. For the past four months, you spent almost every night there. He had made space for you and your things. You had your products in the bathroom and your snacks in the cupboard. Really you only went home for more clothes or if he was busy with work. You knew he appreciated his space when he was working.

As you sat on the subway, you tapped your foot to the beat of the music pumping in your headphones while considering what you would make for dinner tonight, what Harry would want to eat. You scrolled through Pinterest to form ideas.

When you got to the lobby, the doorman greeted you as always. You had given Harry a key to your place ages ago, and in return, he added you to his “list”.

Harr lived in a very expensive Manhatten penthouse, and with its security and staff, you couldn’t enter without him. He didn’t really use a key because he had a private elevator. So instead, he registered you with the building so you could come and go as you please.

When you exited the elevator you called out for him, but it seemed he wasn’t home. You dropped off your stuff and took shower. You loved his shower. The water pressure was amazing and the water never got cold.

As you stepped out you wrapped yourself in his robe and reapplied your makeup in the mirror. Your hair was still wrapped in product, being shaped just right, when you started getting dressed.

Harry still hadn’t texted you back but that wasn’t unheard of. He often got caught up in his work. You knew it could be stressful for him though and you wanted him to come back home to no worries. You put on his favourite lingerie set and one of his dress shirts. You twirled and posed in the mirror, feeling quite good about yourself.

He would be home in about three hours which gave you time to make something for dessert too. You rummage around the fridge and decide on homemade gnocchi, served with a white cheese sauce, asparagus, and buttered scallops. For dessert, you think, a simple fruit tart.

You get to work juggling various doughs and many burners. When you had a minute, you set the table and picked out a red wine that you thought would pair well with the dish. You wanted to arrange flowers for the table, but unfortunately, you didn’t have any, and you didn’t want to risk losing time getting dressed and running down the block.

The penthouse smelled fantastic, and you were proud of your work. You had been dancing around a playlist comprised of “American Standards”. Your hips swayed to the likes of Etta James, Nat King Cole, Bobby Darin, and Doris Day as you made sure everything looked perfect. You missed Harry today and hoped this would put him in a good mood.

You heard your name being called into the space and your feet carried you to the source. Your smile was grand as you jumped onto your toes to throw your arms around his neck. You buried your face into him, conscious of your makeup.

“Hey, Harr-Bear! I missed you!” His arms slowly wrapped around you, but the hold felt foreign.

“Uh, yeah, me too.” He stepped away from you, and his brow furrowed as he looked you over.

“What are you wearing?” Your fingers fiddled with the hem of the shirt, suddenly feeling small.

“I…I know you like it when I wear your clothes, and I- I just thought that maybe you had a hard day, so I wanted to- to surprise you.” Harry looked more than stressed, he looked scared.

He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. His hand came up to his hair as he looked around.

“(Y/n), I need you to-”

The elevator door opened, and it was too late. The warning he tried to give you was futile as you saw an all too familiar face walk into the room.

Oh shit.

His dad.

He wore a smile you hesitate to call forced. To force a smile, you must put effort into it, but in Norman’s endless quest to evade age- death, really- he had gotten a lot of work done. This resulted in a permanent crooked smile, and brows that looked just a little too high. You had no issue with people getting cosmetic surgery; whatever makes you feel more comfortable, ya know?

But you did have a problem with Norman Osborn. And you had a huge issue with him seeing you in your current state. Panic. Full blown panic. All you can think is “hide!” So you do.

“The scallops!” You ran back to the kitchen as the smell of them roasting wafted through the air.

As you hastily flip them, you look down at your “outfit”. The shirt you picked was thin, almost sheer, making the black set you wore underneath entirely obvious. You might as well be running around naked.

The only way to get to Harry’s room is to cross the living room and run up the stairs, but that means you would have to pass Norman, who is no doubt, doing his surveillance of Harry’s space- being sure to throw in as many passive aggressive comments about his son’s life and design choices.

“Smells delicious in here. Did you cook, Harold?” You hate when he calls him that, and so does Harry. It’s just another reminder that he will never be his own achievements, only his name.

You look across the stove. There isn’t enough there for three. You wished Harry had mentioned bringing his father back with him. You would have prepared better.

You considered, for a moment, ducking into the pantry and just waiting for him to leave. He would never need to know you were here. But he probably heard your exclamation and saw you run. Hiding wasn’t much of an option.

“Oh, well hello (L/n).” You felt your blood run cold.

Slowly you turned to see Norman just in the threshold of the kitchen. His forced smile is now a smirk that makes you nauseous as his eyes trail over your body.

“Dr Osborn.” You try to sound respectful, but it comes out curter than you intended.

Harry is standing behind him, always in his shadow. His eyes were wide, full of shock and horror.

“Is that what you’re planning to wear for dinner?” He still had yet to make eye contact, and it took all of your strength not to curl up in a ball and hide from his gaze.

“I-No, I uh. I’m sorry I wasn’t expecting you. I was just about to change, but I didn’t want anything to burn.” You try to smile as you start pulling things off the burners.

“Harrold, man the stove so your girlfriend can change into something that doesn’t look like it was made for a costume in an adult film.”

Only then does Harry jump into action to save you. He awkwardly enters behind his father, who doesn’t move to let him by, and grabs the tongs from your hand.

Your feet carry you quickly across the polished hardwood, and once on the stairs, you can feel Norman’s eyes on you. You pull the shirt down, a feeble attempt to cover your ass, but it doesn’t do much. When you finally close the door behind you, you feel like crying. This was so humiliating.

You hate Norman. He’s so gross and has no problem ogling you (in anything you wear) while talking down to you. He was never much of a fan of yours.

You didn’t come from money, going up poor in Brooklyn. You weren’t a super genius. You weren’t even interested in science. When you first met Harry, you didn’t even know who he was, but obviously, you only liked him for his money. Norman had more than once commented on the idea of a prenup.

The first time Harry introduced you to his father, it felt more like an interrogation. He grilled you on your studies and your prospects, and your past. Any answer you gave left him with his scowl well in place. Harry didn’t offer much comfort, but you quickly realised that Norman also made Harry upset, just in a very different way.

He held a lot of contempt for his father. He told you about how he shipped him off for school and never reached out. He didn’t like him, that was for sure, but he ran the chequebook. He ran the business Harry thought was his birthright, but Norman is a calloused narcissist, and Harry knows if he pisses him off too much, he’ll give the company to someone else, just out of spite.

You put on an agreeable dress Harry had bought for occasions such as these. Dating Harry came with its own culture, in a way. Most of it revolves around a walk-in closet. This was a casual dinner, but in respect for the calibre of the guest you have to dress up a bit. But not too much. Additionally, it's an evening affair, so a certain colour pallet is in order.

This was a black sundress from some Italian import you couldn’t pronounce. Dainty straps rested on your shoulders, and the hem fell just above your knees. It had a modest V cut, and Harry had instructed you to always wear it with jewellery lest you look bare. You selected a thin gold chain with a small heart pendant, a gift for your first anniversary, and subtle hoops to match. You threw half of your hair up in a clip, and slipped on some black heels to go with it, the stark red on the tread peeking out with every step you took.

As you made your way back downstairs, they were deep in conversation. You nervously joined Harry’s side, and he wrapped an arm around your waist. Norman commented on how you “clean up nice,” and you had to swallow the bile creeping up your throat to thank him.

Norman made a comment in regards to what a terrible host you were, “I’ve been here nearly thirty minutes, and no one’s offered me a drink.”

While he said “no one”, which could be either you or Harry, you knew he meant you. You hadn’t served him yet. Harry tenses at the comment, and you quickly try to correct the mistake. You step away to the bar cart to fix Norman a whiskey with one large ice cube and make the same for Harr. Only Harry thanks you as you bring them back.

You all move to the seating area as they continue to talk business. You learned very quickly that you were not allowed to chime in on these discussions. You nodded attentively and sat by Harry. After a bit, you suggested they sit at the table for dinner.

You nervously plate the gnocchi and scallops, deciding you will take significantly less than Norman and Harry. You can’t always make something later. You just have to survive this.

You set the plates in front of them and grabbed the wine, knowing you were served last. As you poured Norman’s glass, he cleared his throat. You looked up, and he pointed at his plate with an unmistakably fake smile.

“Is this pasta?” You slowly nodded your head.

“I have celiac. This will wreak havoc on my body.” Harry immediately started apologising, throwing you under the bus, as Norman “kindly” explained that he couldn’t have gluten.

You gripped the wine bottle dangerously in your hands. “I can have a steak ready for you in ten minutes.”

That seemed to placate the man as you filled Harry’s glass and took his plate back to the kitchen. You turned on the oven and put in your serving of asparagus before pulling a steak out of the fridge.

You practised the breathing exercises your therapist had taught you while the steak seared. Honestly, it could be worse. At least being in the kitchen gave you time away.

You nuked the plate you had taken from Norman and plated the steak, throwing on the asparagus and putting the sauce in a little bowl on the side.

You replaced Harry’s plate with the warm one and presented Norman with his. Then pour yourself a hearty glass of wine, ignoring Norman’s stare, before sitting down with your cold plate of gnocchi.

They talked about their days, occasionally asking for comments from you. You tried your best to answer and pay attention, but all you could think about was how your homemade pasta was cold. About how this was supposed to be a pleasant night with Harry, and now, you were dealing with this.

Taglist: @andrews-lovr, @barbecuetiddy, @cherriescherriesred25, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3

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kivaember · 3 months

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For the AC6 prompts that you asked for: Rusty bringing Raven to Freud’s hobby shop in the Coffee Shop AU?

this will happen in the fic proper but you know what, i wanna do a little drabble of this too SO HERE YOU GO! something short, sweet and silly, as all coffee shop aus should be uwu

The moment they stepped into the hobby shop, Rusty froze when Freud abruptly popped his head up from behind the counter and said: "You."

"Uh," Rusty said.

"No, not you," Freud said, standing up properly and pointing at the little shadow that had been trotting on Rusty's heels. "You."

Raven did not look peturbed at being pointed at so aggressively. He simply waved, like this was a normal, everyday occurance.

"I can't believe you've shown your face here," Freud said, and for once he wasn't smiling. He was, dare Rusty say it, pouting?! "After standing me up last night!"

"Hah?" Rusty said. "What?"

Standing him up?

Last night???

Rusty's jaw dropped slightly, a jolt of betrayal stabbing him right in the heart. He hadn't known... was Raven and Freud...?! But- no. Sure, he and Raven have only been dating for a week at most, but he would've thought Raven would've said if he'd been dating someone else before-

"You promised me an arena fight! A battle of the ages! You promised!" Freud whined. "But instead I had to fight Rokumonseeeeeeeen....!"

...........and just like that, Rusty understood everything.

"Freud," Rusty said flatly. "What have I said about wording things so suggestively..."

'I never promised that,' Raven added, his expression just as unimpressed as Rusty's tone.

"Yes, you did," Freud said, his tone snapping from whiny to sulky. He even crossed his arms, his shoulders hunching. "You said, and I quote: 'I don't have time to deal with you right now, Freud. I'll fight you tomorrow or the day after, or something'."

"..." said Rusty.

"..." said Raven.

"...?" asked Freud.

"I keep forgetting how you're immune to social cues," Rusty said pityingly - then actually processed what Freud was rambling about. "Wait. Why do you want to fight Raven? You're in the Top Ten and Raven isn't even ranked."

Freud looked at Raven.

Raven looked away.

"...he gives off a feral energy," Freud said, his disarming and enigmatic smile flashing to life. "And the feral ones are always interesting to fight, coming up with unpredictable moves and the like... you know?"

"No, I don't know," Rusty said slowly, before deciding to drop the whole thing. He'd long ago realised he'd never understand the strange and incomprehensible mind of Freud. "Anyway, before you got all weird, we came here for a reason..."

Gunpla. Of course.

#armored core #armored core 6 #v.iv rusty #v.iv freud #c4 621 #viv621 #silly dumb coffee shop au nonsense #i love this au i can just focus on fluff and be no thoughts head empty

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rappaccini · 10 months

Text

arachnophobia notes; chapter 2

chapter title:

from 'ivory tower' by nova twins.

preface quote:

from james m. barrie's peter pan. hobie's nickname for her being both a ref to her nickname from peter in the main comics (... a pet name used by her boyfriend. which 👀), and a ref to wendy of peter pan-- also a girl who flees her home to avoid dealing with a difficult situation, who is the only girl among a group of flying mischievous boys, who is connected romantically to a peter who she does not end up with because she's capable of growing up and going home to face her responsibilities and he isn't.

the peter could be peter parker, miles, maybe even miguel. all three, in my book.

it's clear that the movies see miles as her peter pan. makes you wonder if the writers remembered how peter pan ends. or if they think that changing the ending so wendy and peter end up together will improve the story instead of fucking up its purpose.

the quote in question refers to wendy after her return home. it's okay that she outgrew peter, just as it's okay for gwen to have outgrown miles in their time apart.

processing

timeline notes: we've synced up with where gwen is chronologically in atsv. seventeen months after itsv, five-ish months into her stay with the society.

stages of grief: this one's about denial, in both definitions of the word. gwen is in denial about how angry and upset she is, and that she doesn't want to solve her death problem by being miles's girlfriend... then she denies miles when he tries to start that relationship.

it seems like noir and ham don't get invited into the society in atsv, since they don't appear until gwen's assembling her band at the end.

had to make some mention of gwen and peni seemingly having no strong relationship, which i guess follows since peni's a bit young to hang out with her. peni only turns up for miles in both her appearances in atsv.

tiny divergence here: in atsv, gwen isn't actually keeping hobie's shoes, even though external material for the film calls them a gift from him. based on their dialogue in mumbattan it seems like she threw them on in a hurry when she was leaving his place that morning (which has very 👀 implications regarding why exactly she was sleeping over, in need of a quick redress, and why their clothes were mixed up together). in this fic, presumably that still happened, but she just kept them afterwards. the chucks are great and i'm so happy 65b gwen finally gets to have them.

gwen's age is a bit hard to pin down. we know she's fifteen months older than miles in the movies (and 3-5 years older than him in the comics, but the writers are being slippery with both their ages to try and hide that), but since we're not sure how old miles is, we can't pin gwen's age down any further. my best guess was if miles is a little into fourteen in itsv, gwen's about 15 and a half. plus seventeen months is sixteen-and-ten-ish-months (further supported by rio thinking gwen looks old enough to vote, so if she's 16, she's going on 17). and gwen would be counting those months, because birthdays would mean a lot to someone who knows they'll likely die at nineteen.

time did canonically keep moving in gwen's world. so on 65b she was a missing person for months.

ballet academy: idk if 65b gwen's at a formal ballet school or just does it as a hobby, but it felt relevant to include.

in the comics, when gwen goes missing, the mary janes do actually put up missing persons posters for her. however in the comics gwen and the janes are friends. in the movie that doesn't seem to be the case; maybe they wouldn't.

in the comics, gwen's identity is guessed by the janes well before she reveals it. because it is quite obvious. probably even more so in the movies, because on top of the captain stacy connection, she's literally running around wearing a distinctive set of ballet shoes they'd probably see in gwen's bag all the time, and both disappear at the same time.

as in the film, by this point gwen is regularly crashing at hobie's. since hobie lives in a fascist dystopia, is involved in the resistance movement there, and has a history of squatting, he probably doesn't have a reliable address and it isn't always a good idea for him to invite someone to sleep over at his.

also, i needed a reason for gwen to have late nights with miguel. that felt like a good excuse.

gwen's creep-o-meter deja-vu goes off because she has been here before, actually. 65a and 65b gwen both get pressed into joining shadowy organizations led by a conflicted-but-antagonistic older man (with the first initial m) who has a, uh, vibe with her. it's an interesting constant in their narrative.

in case it isn't clear, miguel hit gwen with his mug. if he was throwing shit at her in atsv in full view of hobie and miles and she was unfazed, then 1) he does that a lot and she's used to it. and 2) he probably does worse when they're alone together. (with that in mind, hobie not wanting to leave gwen alone at the society, and specifically hanging around in the background as she speaks to miguel, probably has something to do with that. he knows she's in a situation where physical abuse is likely and wants to get in the way to deter it before it happens, or at least be there to comfort her afterwards.)

for the purposes of this fic, miles had to be able to join the spider-society. trying to skirt canon here by playing up gwen's own anomalous status-- if she's one, yet miguel let her in, he should be willing to do the same for miles.

anyway the moment gwen gets to reunite with miles in the film is roughly what happens in the fic, except she is allowed to see miles, and is here to recruit him.

(maybe the spot exists at this point, maybe he doesn't. idk. he can't be here for this fic due to the timeline so i guess he just fell through a hole in the universe and hasn't found his way back yet.)

miles arrives

gwen knew miles for literally three days. that isn't brought up enough. she knew him for three days, and hung out with him for one of them. then she spent seventeen months apart from him, and five of those months were spent hanging out with other spiders, two of whom she becomes closer with than she ever was with miles in the first place. she and miles don't actually know each other well. if anything, they're more interested in the idea of each other than the actual person.

(so gwen having a crush on him so strong that she risks her life to see him again even after spending far more time with other guys who are her type and clearly interested in her... makes no sense. gwen would not do that. nor would any teenage girl.)

and to gwen, the idea of miles does matter a lot to her: he's the first other spider-person she met, his world's the first other one she explored, and hanging out with him (and peter b) made her want friends again. he opened that door for her.

and she does sincerely respect and admire his abilities as a hero and find his personality appealing. also important to acknowledge.

... she just ultimately does not know him that well, and has more history and bonding experience with pav and hobie. so in this fic, we're actually gonna acknowledge that and explore the implications.

which means when gwen reunites with miles, she's over her crush on him. and her opinions about him throughout this story are going to often be completely wrong: she has no idea what he's actually doing or thinking.

miles morales is spider-man. that's marvel editorial's stance on him, that was his creator's stance on him. he is, unquestionably, a spider-man who is/will be peter parker's equal. he is the next bearer of that mantle and is the friendly neighborhood teen spider-man of anyone under 25. as much as atsv implies that miles is unwanted, that simply isn't entirely true, and has to be taken more as meta about the fandom perception of him, because right from the start, miles had editorial's support and at this point his momentum is undeniable.

... and, gwen has rose-colored glasses about miles fitting in at the society. he DOES have an easier time navigating it than her, being that he's male and not the communal dead girlfriend, but he is not having a good time and his acceptance is full of caveats she is unaware of.

miles and margo's 10-second interaction in atsv was fantastic. in this fic, since he gets to actually join the society, he gets to befriend her. in my mind they get together in the end, but i don't think that'll be mentioned in the fic since gwen and margo barely interact.

gwen being incapable of telling miles important information that could hurt him (that he's an anomaly, that his dad will die, that something's Going On with her and hobie; she even skirts around going into detail about her death) is an aspect of her atsv characterization i like a lot. keeping it here.

and for the purposes of this fic needing miles to remain in the society, he can't flip out and go on his canon-destroying mission yet. ergo, he can't be told his dad will die right away, and he can't be given a specific time for it either. so here, he just finds out after a few weeks, and it's still unclear when it'll occur. ergo, bullshit dead dad math is the excuse to buy us a few extra months of time for the plot to play out before miles flips his shit. that's still coming.

the crush: it makes perfect sense that miles would fixate on gwen for seventeen months. (... just not that she'd be as attached by the time they reunite. she friendzoned him at the end of itsv. maybe she reevaluated her feelings and thought 'well, if it's him or being alone, i pick him,' but after a year that crush would fade. after seventeen months, she would not be hung up on him.)

and if miles is so fixated on gwen, why wouldn't he look her up in his world sometime after itsv? that's the first thing any modern teenage boy would do with a girl he likes: google her.

miles is a smart kid. even if he isn't told the truth early on, like in atsv, he would have figured it out.

another important thing about miles and gwen's connection: he saw her for her. most other spider-men see someone else first.

miles honey, not-like-other-girlsing gwen isn't gonna help

miles is spider-man. spider-man is optimistic, scrappy, and determined to beat the odds. of course he thinks he'll be the exception.

miles is miles. he wants to save his dad. he'd want to save gwen too. this conversation takes place under uncle aaron's memorial wall to give miles an emotional trigger for that promise.

miles is a teenage boy who's never been in a relationship or had his heart broken before. he's gonna go about this in a very earnest, but very flawed way.

and really, how on earth does atsv gwen, who knows that being spider-man's love interest gets her killed, not get worried or nervous when she realizes miles, a spider-man, sees her as his love interest?

(...because she's being written by straight guys who want Being The Male Character's Girlfriend to be such an overwhelming pressing need for gwen that she'd overlook her own life for it. no thanks.)

perfect gwen

earth-803 is the steampunk-inspired world of lady spider.

it's atsv canon that gwen and hobie hang out when not on missions. incorporating that here.

jess is the person handling gwen day-to-day, so miguel being the one calling on her means shit's real.

the vibe with gwen and miguel's relationship i'm going for here is that he's essentially her abusive foster dad. not too far off what's going on in canon-- notice how gwen's dad was redesigned to look a lot like miguel?

i can't imagine that miguel likes hobie, or that gwen is hanging around him. he doesn't respect hobie enough to think he's a threat, but he does regard him as a nuisance with some uses.

and he doesn't fully perceive what's happening between gwen and hobie. he doesn't see anything he doesn't want to. and he does not want gwen fucking around with spider-punk, because that's not the spider-man the society wants her to pair up with.

miguel's reasonings for his fixation on saving gwen will be explored in chapter 4.

earth-8 gwen, in the comics, is 38 years old. if we're assuming she became spider-woman at the same age as 65b gwen, at around 13, then she's been swinging for 25 years.

"the sensation surging through gwen" is a feeling of belonging.

recontextualizing canon is a thing made up for this fic. but it's gotta be in play somehow in atsv; how else do you explain how 'there's only one spider-man' is a rule, yet the insomniac spider duo of miles and peter are literally walking around in the background? how else do you explain gwen's foundational death being her crush instead of a relative? clearly canon can be stretched as needed.

miguel's presumably a single dad, given how his wife is mentioned nowhere in the film. he and gwen share that dynamic in common.

celebubration is the gwen 65a equivalent of instagram.

the challenge for miguel that he's been wrestling with is figuring out if spider-gwen is a spider, or a gwen.

'gwen stacy will always fall in love with spider-man, but can live as long as it's miles' is the conclusion i'm afraid the movies will come to. (which misses the point, probably intentionally, to make sure they get together.)

miguel does want gwen to survive. he's just going about it in a really shitty way.

gwen-8 comes from the comics. specifically, the miles-gwen shipping miniseries of sitting in a tree. my feelings on it are... negative. essentially, miles and gwen go looking for his missing dad in her dimension, and despite barely knowing each other, having an inappropriate age gap (he's in hs, she's in college) they're weirdly touchy-feely. oh, and the watcher/basically god swoops in out of nowhere to inform them that there's a utopian world where everything works out perfect for them, and they just so happen to be a power couple with a nuclear family, and come meet your sweet super-special kids, don't you wanna get together and have them? and that's the context in which those kissing panels exist. it's the worst story spider-gwen's ever been in. it is beyond creepy that a 16yo boy and a 20yo girl who barely know each other and are in a high-stakes stressful situation are being told they can only have a happy ending in a world that loves them if they make out and procreate.

so this entire section is sitting in a tree hate. that issue singlehandedly ruined comic gwiles forever. it doesn't matter if they get together as adults after the age gap problem becomes irrelevant, bc the basis of their relationship will always be 'we feel obligated to be together' and not 'we are acting on feelings we developed without any coercion or entrapment'

and full stop: it's worse for gwen. she's being told, in siat, and in this fic, that she still has to be spider-man's girlfriend (and wife, and babymaker) if she wants to live, and to be accepted by people. it very much feels like an arranged marriage miles's creator sprung on gwen for his character's benefit.

funnily enough, in siat, gwen-8 never actually appears. nor does her miles. their kids do. in the fic, i wanted gwen-8 to actually get to weigh in on the frankly gross situation she's being asked to take part in. (that's coming later.) thus, we meet her.

earth-8 gwen is everything people in-fic and irl want gwen to be. she's gorgeous, she's one half of a power couple with miles, the mother of a son and daughter who are both superheroes, she's the leader of a superteam and a beloved celebrity by her world. all that is from the comics. rant time! it was deeply shitty of the writers to dangle that version of her in front of 65b gwen and say 'this is what we wish you were. don't you want to be that? better get with miles'

earth-8 gwen being an interdimensional genius is a creation for the fic. there had to be a way for her and her miles to have met and settled on earth-8. thus, they did it themselves long before miguel. (which also blasts a hole in his own importance, necessary for later)

"we're the ultimate crossover" is what max and charlotte call themselves. bleeeeeeh. (also, 'ultimate' as in 'ultimate spider-man'-- aka who miles is in the comics)

in the comics, gwen curses a lot. she starts cussing in the fic when she starts following in her 65a self's footsteps. before that point, there are no expletives. after, gwen's got a sailor's mouth.

once more with feeling, it is unbelievably creepy that gwen had her potential future kids thrown at her and was forced to hang out with them. it felt very much like she was being pressured into wanting to have them. which she didn't.

something's wrong: fuck yeah it is.

a "brighter tomorrow" is how earth-8 is referred to. we get it bendis you really think you did something special there.

miles chatting with perfect miles will come back later.

in the comics, earth-8 gwiles aren't around because they're on that second honeymoon. here, they skip it to come meet their alt selves.

just as miles's story can be read as an allegory for how black and brown boys are treated by society and in fiction, the same's true for gwen and (specifically white) girls. comics gwen being lured in with promises of safety and protection from a big terrible outside world, and then told the only way she'll ever be accepted is if she marries the right sort of guy and reproduces with him very much plays into that narrative. that allegory is at play a lot in this fic.

earth-8 gwen can still see gwen clearer than anyone else here. that's coming back.

the unbreakup

jess is a bad mentor, but she's not as bad as miguel. she at least lets them have privacy.

the conversation happens on the clock tower miles takes gwen to in atsv. within the bounds of this fic, they went here when she asked him to join the society.

"they streamed their wedding to 300 billion people" literally happened in earth-8. ridiculous. and shady as hell: why would anyone do that, unless the wedding's more about attention than love?

when drafting this fic i debated if i was going to go with gwen being trans. i like the coding, but it's also not the same as clear representation, and i knew i wanted to explore the earth-8 situation; which, for a girl who can get pregnant, is a much more visceral and immediate kind of horror, because it feels possible. trans gwen can't get pregnant, so the horror had to be different. the angle i went with instead is 'she instantly knows that this isn't her' and we spin the anxiety from there.

('even if i could i wouldn't' needed to be here. spider-gwen is an ambiguously-queer punk drummer with no interest in domesticity. having kids is deeply out of step with her personality and her wants for her life.)

the more important test for a spider-person seeing gwen stacy isn't actually 'do they see her for her.' it's 'can they change their behavior so they can appreciate her as her own person even if they DO know.' miles didn't pass the test-- he never took it in the first place.

gwen being drawn to visions, now that we know that the gwen stacy death curse is in effect, is kinda horrifying. she literally cannot get away from the spider-man who's going to swallow up her life, even when they aren't on the same plane of existence. a 'soulmate' can be a terrifying thing.

"the universe is bringing them together. It’s cupping the backs of their heads and mashing their mouths together like dolls" .... did i mention i hate sitting in a tree?

in the comics, even the best case scenario for gwen means her homeworld rejects her and she gives up on ever returning to it.

for this portion of the conversation, miles is distracted by how excited he is about that future. he's a teenage boy with a crush who just had that crush validated by everyone, and he's a boy in love with a girl he's afraid might die, who knows it's possible to save her.

he is also a boy who has spent as of this fic, one whole month hanging out with this girl (and again, three days in canon). he doesn't know her well enough to be able to tell she's unhappy.

he is capable of picking up on it. just not quite fast enough.

important to note that even though miles is a sweet kid who wants gwen to be safe, his crush is entitled. he does want things from her that she doesn't want to give him.

refs to 65a: gwen's dad sleeps through his favorite show, dadcop. the mary janes are constantly bickering. the art style has a watercolor shine to it (... but only on the covers. not so much in the actual page art). the yancy street gang like to cause minor trouble with gwen. vulture kicked her ass and threw her on a trash boat once. and there are billboards everywhere advocating for her arrest and deifying peter parker.

even the crappier parts of gwen's world are worth missing, because they belong to her.

at this point gwen wants agency so badly that she's looking back at peter's death as a positive, because at least she was able to make that happen.

what's wrong, what's been plaguing gwen this chapter, what she's been in denial about, is that she doesn't want a relationship with miles. she likes him, but not enough to be with him romantically. and never enough to give up her personhood.

to reiterate: miles is a good kid who wants gwen to be happy. he just hasn't considered that to be happy, she can't be with him.

gwenandmiles: fandom salt. i hate how overnight, the gwen discourse shifted from 'i hope she gets her solo series back! can't wait for her to travel the multiverse and meet other gwens, or have more sexual tension with em jay, or play with her band, or fight jackal or man-wolf. how are harry and her dad? is the bodega bandit okay? when's cindy moon coming back, would love for them to face off! how's she going to defeat the storm siblings and be able to come home from exile again?' to 'gwen is soooo in love with miles! look at her pining after miles! sure do love how her arc in atsv is all about falling for miles and becoming worthy of him! miles miles miles! all gwen thinks about is miles!'

thanks i hate it! the fandom proved all my fears right! if gwen and miles get together, she'll never be her own person!

'gwen's going to end up in miles's world' is my big fear for the comics. if gwiles get together there, because he's vastly more popular than her, she's gonna be the one who has to move to his world and join his supporting cast, and abandon her own stories where she's the lead, to be a side character in his. it doesn't matter how sweet miles is to her; the imbalance is impossible to avoid.

(it's that kataang flavoring: it doesn't matter how sweet the boy is; the relationship will still unravel her because the writers pulling their strings will never treat her as anything more than his girlfriend. and the audience will follow suit.)

(plus some makorra: they look good together, and the concept of them is great, but in practice this relationship brings out the worst in them)

the arrangement also sucks for miles. i can't imagine a kid as kind as him being okay with her losing that much of herself to be with him, or being treated as an extension of him.

(but it is worse for gwen. unquestionably.)

however he also doesn't realize those are the consequences yet. he doesn't realize that gwen doesn't want those things for her life. and he's afraid that if they don't get together, she will die.

gwen stacy hated spider-man. but because she loved peter, that's what everyone remembers. which means she can never hate him for how he fails her. isn't that horrifying?

'miles cares so much' -- this is the gwiles ship assassination chapter. i didn't want it to be the miles character assassination chapter. gwiles is bad for gwen, but miles isn't.

however, there's no way she realizes that yet.

'break his heart'-- a motif from the comics. that's how harry refers to gwen killing peter. physically, and metaphorically.

hobie. naturally, miles is gonna jump to that conclusion. it's easier to assume a girl is rejecting you because she's with someone else than because she just doesn't want you. and he's still considering another guy's feelings over the autonomy of the girl in question.

also to be clear, she and hobie do have an intimate relationship at this point in the fic. we'll get into that more later.

in the amazing spider-man movies, gwen dies when she falls from a clock tower. very eerie that gwen and miles's convo in atsv is at one too.

miles did catch gwen. but that's not the point. the point is he never should have needed to.

it does not matter if miles isn't peter parker. he's still spider-man. even if she lives and is his girlfriend, she's still His Girlfriend. she still isn't her own person.

the seventeen month gap. again, so much happens in that time, especially for teens. miles and gwen do not know each other that well. they're more attached to the idea of the other, instead of the actual person.

the autonomy issue isn't just exclusive to miles. it's everyone. gwen gets her first taste of that realization here, but she's a teenager trying to dump a boy; she's kinda busy. she'll get there though.

end quote

from the 'sitting in a tree' miniseries of jason latour's radioactive spider-gwen. specifically, this is the moment gwen rejects a relationship with miles. sideeyeing the atsv writers hard for borrowing so heavily from siat, but seemingly missing the point: that this relationship is shallow and forced and should not happen.

#fanfic #arachnophobia fic

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buzzcutbulldyke · 1 year

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I posted 9,137 times in 2022

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My Top Posts in 2022:

Anyone pro-prostitution needs to read this book to understand what it is they're supporting. Anyone anti-prostitution needs to read this book to strengthen their position. Anyone undecided on prostitution needs to read this book for a deeper understanding of the topic. Part-memoir, part-sociological study, part-philosophy, this should be considered one of THE feminist texts on prostitution. She clearly did her research over the ten years it took her to write, weaving in quotes from other feminists (both formerly-prostituted and not) as well as statistics, which I always love. Her writing was engaging, the chapters were well-organized, the book had so many amazing quotes—I was constantly stopping to highlight a paragraph that perfectly encapsulated something that many would struggle to put into words. Even as someone who has been staunchly anti-prostitution for a while now, she brought up many things I hadn't known, or hadn't considered, or thought but didn't know for sure, or knew but couldn't summarize my thoughts on the matter. I can't recommend this book more. and it's only 320 pages, not particularly hefty.

605 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

u know ur all jealous of my physical copy of right wing women

See the full post

640 notes - Posted August 27, 2022

straight up I think little boys (I don’t care how young) should get in trouble for the ridiculous porn noises they make at school. it’s sexual harassment, of both their teachers and their fellow students, and I don’t give a shit that they’re children. letting it slide at 7 is just teaching them they’ll get away with it, that sexual harassment isn’t that serious, and then you get them continuing to do it as they age. every single time, they should be punished. my fiancee (elementary teacher) tells me the stories of the shit these boys do and it makes me SO fucking mad, but she isn’t allowed to do anything other than tell them to stop! knowing her, I imagine her demeanor is discouraging to them, but not enough. straight up if I had a daughter in school rn I would be making THE biggest stink about it to the school.

669 notes - Posted September 4, 2022

???????? Again WHO IS THIS MAN he’s just a fucking TIK TOKKER

1,427 notes - Posted October 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

You know what was the craziest thing I learned from being married to a teacher? Not that the kids are watching porn and sexually harassing teachers and other students, though that's definitely bad. It's the fact that children cannot read anymore. And it's not like, some of them. 90% of her FIFTH GRADERS cannot read. She writes shit on the board but they can't fucking read it. They don't teach PHONICS anymore, they do this bullshit whole-word reading, and the result is that kids can't sound things out. They literally don't know how to read. This is horrifying to me. They also have no critical thinking abilities and don't even try to do any tasks before deciding they don't know how and it's too hard, like on a level incomprehensible to me. Like she tells me these things and it makes me think like, there's no way the general public is aware of this, right? If you aren't a teacher or a parent you must not know about this. So I am telling you. Watch some teacher tik toks. Read the teachers subreddit. Be aware. Because I'm genuinely very scared of what is going to happen over the next few years. This is fr not good.

This article is from 2019 but it talks about the issue, and touches on the two teaching methodologies

1,657 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#These are so funny #my most common tags other than generic ones were. hotd sims and marvel #the fact I am one of my most reblogged..... that's insane and a little cringe #i guess bc i always reblog to reply to people but like. still #also amazed my paid for post is up there! it's quite recent #my posts

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blurglesmurfklaine · 1 year

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top 5 childhood movies

OMG YES THANK YOU FOR THIS!!!!!

Going in reverse order bc ✨drama✨

5) White Chicks

Did this movie age poorly? Probably. Is it hella cringey looking back? Heck yeah. Can I still quote half of it from memory? You bet your ass I can!

Idk why but me and my brothers/cousins used to LOOOOOOOOVE this movie and we probably watched it at least once a week, and whenever it was on cable for sure

But also terry crew singing a thousand miles??? Everyone needs that in their life

4) Elf

I could watch this movie day or night, summer, spring, fall, or winter literally WHENEVER and I will always cry because the power of love and Christmas bringing people together????

I remember when this movie first came out I actually HURT MY STOMACH from laughing so hard, it’s just truly a classic 💞💞💞

Also I am gay for Zoe Deschanel

3) The Princess Bride

I don’t think I discovered this movie until I was like 12 or 13?? I saw the cover in a $5 dvd bin at Walmart but it was the cover that was an ambigram and I was like WOAH WORDS and asked my mom if we could take it and she was like HELL YEAH WE CAN bc she knew the movie.

I almost didn’t finish watching it once I started it bc it looked Old and Boring but then my dad walked in and was like “YOURE WATCHING THIS MOVIE??” And lost his shit and kept telling me how badass it was and I was like aight I’ll keep watching

So yeah I judged it by its cover BUT LOOK AT THIS COVER

CAN YOU BLAME ME???

2) High School Musical 2

I’m putting HSM2 bc personally I like it better but let it be known that the original still has all my love and respect 💞💞

I beg to differ, but my dad SWEARS that I would literally watch this movie as SOON as we got home from school EVERY SINGLE DAY. I don’t think it was eeeeeeevery day but. I know I did have the entire script memorized at one point so that when I got bored in school or at church I would just hit “play” in my head until something interesting came along and that’s why I’m bad at math

I also had. SOOOOOO much merch from this. A backpack, pants, a night gown, an alarm clock, a jewelry box, a blanket… bc for YEARS every birthday and Christmas I just got HSM shit because everyone Knew that was My Thing. And it was FANTASTIC. I was living my best life tbh thanks Zac Effron

1) 13 Going On 30

The year is 2004. I am seven years old. My mom takes me to the movies, just me and her, no stinky brothers allowed. Jennifer Garner. Mark Ruffalo. Tons of 80s music. Romance. Best friends to lovers. Reconciliation. Existential Crisis. Vienna by Billy Joel. The obsession begins.

This is the first movie I remember seeing in the theaters even though I am TOLD we also saw finding Nemo??? The good ole hippocampus hadn’t developed long term memory yet tho so 🤷🏽‍♀️ the chokehold this movie had and still had on me…. When it was released on DVD oh lord. Oh LORD I never stopped watching it. I would play the bonus feature game, watch bts, go to scene selection and watch the razzles scene over and over.

And you know what? IT STILL HOLDS UP! ITS A GOOD FUCKING MOVIE AND THEY DONT MAKE ROMCOMS LIKE THAT ANYMORE WHERE DID THEY GO???

Also I’m incredibly bisexual for Mark Ruffalo and Jennifer Garner it only took me ten years to figure it out 👉🏽😎👉🏽

Thanks so much for this ask! It was incredibly entertaining!

Send me Top 5 Anything

#ask #asks #autistichummel

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bookoformon · 1 month

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Mormon, Chapter 6, Part 3. "The One."

At the top of the Hill called Cumhora, the Wake Up Call, a war of numbers and rhetoric begins between Mormon the Balm for the Oppressed and Moroni, "the Blood of the Grape" and the Lamanites, who were obviously the oppressors. The total for the Army of Light is 20,000 men in front and in back of the army of the enemy.

To go to the top of the mountain serves to provide a vantage point but it also means one draws conclusions. Moses went up the Mountain to bring down the law as free people need the law in order to remain free. Freedom is not a freak accident, it certainly does not remain concurrent without the binding power of the law. To go up the Mountain to wake up because freedom is threatened is one of the ways people and their governments maintain the essence of their free lifestyles.

Americans do not like to go up the mountain and face the music that their politicians and governors are violating human rights laws guaranteed by the Constitution and the Treaties we have ratified. and This keeps us all trapped in a perennial political rinse cycle. The reason we write and enforce these laws is for the purposes of a permanent escape from oppression and as soon as President Biden realizes this and does not hold back, we can reasonably expect to be free of oppression in America forever.

Once again, we have agreed to laws that protect a woman's right to choose, freedom of religion, the right to marry an adult of legal age of your choice, the right to the gender that suits you, and freedom from recrimination or descrimination based on race, ethic origin, etc. These laws are inviolate, there are self-enforcing, no amount of complaining or picketing can legally be used to challenge the sacrosanctuary provided by these laws.

Politicians, organizations, legislators, and judges that challenge civil rights laws can be arrested for Crimes Against Humanity and apartheid, and this needs to be done.

The entire section is filled with Hebrew Gematria which will follow the verses.

8 And it came to pass that they came to battle against us, and every soul was filled with terror because of the greatness of their numbers.

9 And it came to pass that they did fall upon my people with the sword, and with the bow, and with the arrow, and with the ax, and with all manner of weapons of war.

10 And it came to pass that my men were hewn down, yea, even my ten thousand who were with me, and I fell wounded in the midst; and they passed by me that they did not put an end to my life.

11 And when they had gone through and hewn down all my people save it were twenty and four of us, (among whom was my son Moroni) and we having survived the dead of our people, did behold on the morrow, when the Lamanites had returned unto their camps, from the top of the hill Cumorah, the ten thousand of my people who were hewn down, being led in the front by me.

12 And we also beheld the ten thousand of my people who were led by my son Moroni.

13 And behold, the ten thousand of Gidgiddonah had fallen, and he also in the midst.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 8: Every soul was filled with terror. The Value in Gematria is 7921, זט‎‎בא‎ , zetba, "the olive bloom, hidden."

Surely niether the Lamanites named by the Prophet nor the modern Republican Party and the Evangelicals plan to publish the peace and have a state county fair to celebrate humanity. They are too belligerant towards the Gospels for this. Their Numbers are all wrong.

v. 9: They fell upon my people with all manners of weapons of war. Have you ever heard a Republican quoting scripture about God's love for charity, the relief of poverty, care for the sick, lonely, imprisoned, or those who mourn? You will not. They are a diseased group of people.

Use of scripture to encourage misanthropy, the minting of weapons, to criminalize the poor, or deny needy persons refuge is a sin. This is what it means to use weapons of war against the people.

That little fake fuck Mike Johnson who is actually very wealthy is going to hell for what he did to the people of Ukraine this past Christmas time, and he needn't look forward to the trip.

The wee cunt then went to the Museum of the Bible and called himself Moses.

The Value in Gematria is 14031, ידאֶפֶסג‎א‎, yahidapesga, the peak "the summit will stop."

At the top of the Mountain is the Sermon on the Mount. Everyone needs to read it and the people who live in America, including its politicians need to understand it. This should put an end to the bullshit that permeates our lives.

From Matthew 5-7: Introduction to the Sermon on the Mount

5 Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, 2 and he began to teach them.

The Beatitudes

He said:

3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 4 Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 5 Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. 7 Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. 8 Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. 9 Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. 10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

11 “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. 12 Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Salt and Light

13 “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.

14 “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.

The Fulfillment of the Law

17 “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. 18 For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished. 19 Therefore anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. 20 For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.

Murder

21 “You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘You shall not murder,[a] and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’ 22 But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister[b][c] will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, ‘Raca,’[d] is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell.

23 “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, 24 leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift.

25 “Settle matters quickly with your adversary who is taking you to court. Do it while you are still together on the way, or your adversary may hand you over to the judge, and the judge may hand you over to the officer, and you may be thrown into prison. 26 Truly I tell you, you will not get out until you have paid the last penny.

Adultery

27 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’[e] 28 But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. 29 If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. 30 And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell.

Divorce

31 “It has been said, ‘Anyone who divorces his wife must give her a certificate of divorce.’[f] 32 But I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, makes her the victim of adultery, and anyone who marries a divorced woman commits adultery.

Oaths

33 “Again, you have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘Do not break your oath, but fulfill to the Lord the vows you have made.’ 34 But I tell you, do not swear an oath at all: either by heaven, for it is God’s throne; 35 or by the earth, for it is his footstool; or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the Great King. 36 And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make even one hair white or black. 37 All you need to say is simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’; anything beyond this comes from the evil one.[g]

Eye for Eye

38 “You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’[h] 39 But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. 40 And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. 41 If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. 42 Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.

Love for Enemies

43 “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor[i] and hate your enemy.’ 44 But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45 that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. 46 If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? 47 And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? 48 Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Giving to the Needy

6 “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.

2 “So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 3 But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

Prayer

5 “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 6 But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. 7 And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. 8 Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.

9 “This, then, is how you should pray:

“‘Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, 10 your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. 11 Give us today our daily bread. 12 And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. 13 And lead us not into temptation,[j] but deliver us from the evil one.[k]’

14 For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. 15 But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.

Fasting

16 “When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 17 But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, 18 so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

Treasures in Heaven

19 “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. 20 But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

22 “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy,[l] your whole body will be full of light. 23 But if your eyes are unhealthy,[m] your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!

24 “No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.

Do Not Worry

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[n]?

28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Judging Others

7 “Do not judge, or you too will be judged. 2 For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

3 “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? 4 How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? 5 You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.

6 “Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs. If you do, they may trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you to pieces.

Ask, Seek, Knock

7 “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. 8 For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.

9 “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? 10 Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? 11 If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! 12 So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.

The Narrow and Wide Gates

13 “Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. 14 But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.

True and False Prophets

15 “Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves. 16 By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? 17 Likewise, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. 18 A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. 19 Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 20 Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them.

True and False Disciples

21 “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. 22 Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name and in your name drive out demons and in your name perform many miracles?’ 23 Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’

The Wise and Foolish Builders

24 “Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. 25 The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. 26 But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. 27 The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.”

28 When Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were amazed at his teaching, 29 because he taught as one who had authority, and not as their teachers of the law.

v. 10: And it came to pass my men were hewn down. The Value in Gematria is 14406, ידדאֶפֶסו‎ ‎yaddaepso, "the zero hand," "they understood nothing."

v. 11a: And when they had gone through and hewn down all my people save it were twenty and four of us, (among whom was my son Moroni) and we having survived the dead of our people, did behold on the morrow...The Value in Gematria is 17600, יז‎ואֶפֶסאֶפֶס‎, "Jezu Ephesus," "Josephus", AKA "Jesus is the Fruit of the Coming Era."

v. 11b: When the Lamanites had returned unto their camps, from the top of the hill Cumorah, the ten thousand of my people who were hewn down, being led in the front by me. The Value in Gematria is 10051, יאֶפֶסה‎א, yepesa, "Learn how to reset. Take a step."

v. 12: And we also beheld the ten thousand of my people who were led by my son Moroni. The Value in Gematria is 5840, הח‎ד אֶפֶס‎, "the One is Zero." There is One Infinite Gracious and Good Holy Spirit, there is no other. The Christ is the Blood of the Fruit of His Actions here on this plane, in this life.""

v. 13: And behold, the ten thousand of Gidgiddonah "the tickler" [ to cut away with strength of a judge passing a sentence] had fallen, and he also in the midst. The Value in Gematria is 1803, א‎חאֶפֶסג, achafesg, "I will set at liberty through the passage."

There are a few passages named above. As for the rest of this section, it needs little explanation.

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martianbugsbunny · 1 year

Text

OUAT Thoughts Pt.66--Episodes 3-4

I have watched through S7E4; spoilers DNI. Also, spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—What is Ella’s problem? She stands in front of Tiana, looking a full ten years older than her, and basically blames her for not saving her father’s life? From the looks of it, Tiana was probably, Idk, a chilD?!!!?! How was she supposed to do anything?

—I don’t really like Ella too much. She’s a bit abrasive.

—I kinda like Lucy, but the actress is *no offense, cause I realize she’s just a kid* not very good. She over-delivers most of her lines.

—Okay I loved seeing Rumple happy and domestic, but the tradeoff sucked. Did they really have to make us and Rumple watch her age and die while he stayed the same age?

—*But* it is nice to see that Gideon is doing well. He’s a scholar and you know what, I bet his wearing white now is on purpose. He’s a good man and they want us to know it.

—Also, he’s a good kind of unassumingly handsome. He’s cute, but not ostentatiously so. Idk, I think I forgot the word I thought was spot-on, but it was a good-ass word. Anyway, Gideon’s been handsome since he first showed up, and he’s still handsome now.

—I could go in-depth-ish about how Naveen is one of the two best Disney princes/adjacent, and how much I love his relationship with Tiana, but I haven’t seen a hide nor a hair of him, so I’m going to assume he won’t show up unless he does. Going forward with that knowledge, I think Tiana and Hook would go nicely together. They could go along with the best part of Tiana/Naveen, which is the way they both shape each other into better versions of themselves.

—Also, I’m now 89% sure Alice is Hook’s daughter. Which makes them playing chess together in the hospital waiting room excredibly sad.

—I’m a bit confused about the timeline of that stuff from the tail end of season 6 where Lucy and Henry were in the Enchanted Forest? If that was before Hyperion Heights, Lucy knowing the town is cursed doesn’t make sense, unless maybe Tiger Lily enchanted her to keep her awake. If it’s after Hyperion Heights, it still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, because Tiger Lily said she would be reunited with her family again in an ominous way that sounds like “sorry, kid, but you only get to see your dad when your family is cursed.” So…*shrugs*

—ALICE IS A LESBIAN!!!! Y’all I am just over the moon! She is a plaid-wearing, earring-having, ripped-tights-owning, Wonderland-quoting, completely batsh*t crazy lesbian and that is a solid YES.

—Also, her comment to Rumple when he appeared in the Cinderella world was quite amusing. Yeah, sweetheart, I also get the 💖💜💙 vibe from him, but that prince is way too young. And come on, Rumple would score a king.

—Speaking of the vibe, I love the clothes he wears in Hyperion Heights for only solidifying it. And yes, this is just an excuse for me to point out that, at least once within these two episodes, Rumple has low-key cuffed his jeans again. (Bi-cuffing almost makes me want to own a pair of jeans, but even Rumple isn’t quite enough to convince me. My skin can’t breathe under those things.)

—OOOO, and he wore camo! Iconic!

—Wait, what was Alice doing in the Cinderella world to begin with? Was she looking for Henry for some malicious purpose, or was she looking for Hook?

—Who’s that weird-ass lady locked in the tower? I have no cause to take her seriously, because A) I know nothing about her that should make me take her seriously, and B) she has shown no efforts in the present towards the same. Just some weird cryptic nonsense.

—I need some backstory for Tiana. I do not understand how her original story translates to being in a resistance group against Lady Tremaine. It makes zero sense, and it’s bothering me. If they’re just slapping her name on some lady who has no narrative or spiritual resemblance to Tiana, I’m gonna be annoyed.

—Can’t wait for Dr. Facilier to show up! Top three animated Disney villains for sure.

—Unfortunately, all signs point to Rumple dying at the end of the show. I’m grumpy about it. Hey, maybe they’ll up the ante and the the last scene will be all my beloved characters chilling in the afterlife together. (If they all die together, yes it’s sad, but it’s better than just some of them dying.)

—Alice was chasing a white bunny! Gosh, I hope she wasn’t chasing it for nefarious purposes, because I love her but bunny peril is the line.

—Regina dispensing motherly advice to Henry without even knowing who he is stings me. Also, she’s still v pretty.

—Really I am not getting over Alice. I refuse. This is the best thing to happen to me ever. Alice in Wonderland is among my favoritest books and just. Her. Being a lesbian. If nothing else comes of this season, that alone is enough.

—I wonder if who her mom is will ever be important. The limb I’m climbing out on here is that her mother was from Wonderland, because it doesn’t make much sense for her to be *Alice* if she isn’t connected to Wonderland somehow.

—It’s pretty out of character for Henry to be a coward. And yk, he has the Heart of the Truest Believer, so him being so fricking stubborn about believing in the curse.

—Rumple’s good-guy fairytale clothes were so pretty. 10/10.

—Ew, a spooky spooky cemetery! Fake graves!

—It took four episodes but he said it! Rumple said “dearie!” And it was so worth the wait. I’m glad he’s awake now, because it’s much more fun when he is.

#once upon a time #ouat #tiana #cinderella #Lucy #rumplestiltskin #belle #Gideon #Henry mills-swan #Alice #LESBIAN Alice #regina mills #Captain Hook #dearie #martianbugsbunny reviews

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harrison-abbott · 2 years

Text

TICKTOCKING

He had to go in. Was just what he had to do, for money. There was a familiar depression throughout the short subway ride in. He could’ve been in another city and on a metro train, in a different temperature and language: but he wasn’t: he was here and this was his own fault.

In the shadowy clash of static light he beheld his face in the window reflections … ticktocking back and forth within the black and white patches of the tunnels. And when he saw this man he didn’t know who that was. He used to think he did. Not anymore. It was somebody else. Far too old, and diseased.

His sore throat had been going on for six weeks. Maybe longer. Was sure that sore throats weren’t supposed to last this long and he worried that it was something way worse and it probably was.

“Sscrrummm bumm mummmm bo, sir,” a person said behind him.

This flipped him out of his reverie. A person was speaking to him from behind. A man. Older gentleman, who was pointing at the floor.

“Sorry?” he said, colouring.

“You dropped your wallet, sir.” the man said.

Other people were looking at him too.

Indeed, when he looked down, his wallet was lain at his shoes. He didn’t know how he’d dropped it or how it’d gotten out of his pocket – didn’t normally do things like that – mistreat essential items.

“Oh, thank you, sir,” he said and he was still blushing as he picked the wallet up and everybody was still watching him and he thanked the stranger three extra times.

Then his stop arrived.

Or the train arrived at his stop, rather, and he was in the airy befuddlement of the station and going up some stairs and he took these two flights every weekday and somehow this time he was fearful he might trip up on them, his shoes seemed slippery.

So he diminished his pace. In order not to fall over and injure himself. And this annoyed the other commuters, who were all in their whizzing quick tempered morning moods as well.

Went through the barriers at the top and was out in the air. This was late July. Was much cooler than last week, when all kinds of records were broken, but not that much easy on the skin. He wiped his forehead off when he got to his building.

He wondered whether other people were as sensitive as he was or whether he belonged on medication or in some asylum or whether these were pointless questions, because he’d never spoken about them to other people. Asked them, to others: he was embarrassed to talk about his emotions. He’d tried this a few times when he was little, with his parents, and their answers were curt and disinterested. Which only made his humiliation bloom.

Through the atrium of his workplace building. Into the elevator. He met one of his colleagues. Smalltalk. The score of the football team they both supported.

Both relieved when they got off at the right part. Then could leave each other be.

Coffee.

He didn’t even like the taste. Drank it anyway. His throat panged with pain with each swallow. Maybe it really was cancer. Hadn’t contacted the doctor. They were all fucked up in the aftermath of the pandemic. They were already pumped into disorder way before that, and had been for years.

Can you imagine what it’s like to be a Doctor? Totally overworked, seeing fifty, one hundred people a day, in ten minute slots … You don’t even know how hard the workload is.

Coffee, cancer, carcinogenic thoughts … Meh. Who was he anyway?

Would it matter if he died? He had the regular occasions like birthdays … Birthdays reminded him how unpopular he was. When he was wee he used to know he would be famous and prosperous at this age, that he would be a renowned artist, quoted, photographed, everything … It just never happened.

His art was below-average. It was all right. Friends say they like it because they are your friends.

He had scars on his wrists from previous examples of self harm. He used to enjoy doing that – cutting himself. But hadn’t done it in a long time for some reason. These days he wore shirts so not many people knew about his violent past.

They didn’t know about how many times he got beat up when he was a boy either.

But, everybody loves violence, right? That’s what we go to the movies for.

He finished up a clump of work and had done a pretty cool job of it. Up he stood. He passed down the square of the office and he passed the nicelookin girl who had started a few months back. She wasn’t a girl – a woman – and he was fifteen years her senior and he’d long ago given up with females in general. What was the point in trying?

She had red hair as well and these wide expanding lips.

Into the toilet and the end of the corridor. He locked the door behind him and pissed. And he hated his life. And he stood up again and saw this gargoyle in the mirror and he wanted to slash it all up and end himself, wanted to leave the workplace right then and head home. Get drunk. One last binge. Then buy some rope from the hardware store.

And go out to the woods behind his house and just do it. He wouldn’t be able to think anymore. Wouldn’t have to be a failed talent. Or a dream which was never available, a hoax, a degenerate, and addict. He would not be a noun. Only a hanged man. He saw the image of his body dangling beautifully from a tree bough.

But who would want to see the photo? What would be the caption be?

He washed his hands.

The soap had an apricot smell reminding him of childhood, somewhere in the annals of dazed memory.

#short story

0 notes

formenis · 3 years

Note

Can you do a oneshot of L Lawliet where he is in a secret relationship with Light's twin sister and she finds out she is pregnant so she shows up at Task Force to tell L and just announces it to the whole task force but its L who announces he is the father.

OML I'm so sorry for the delay, Anon-san 😭😭

Lately I'm feeling so overwhelmed and in the dumps that I lost any sort of inspiration. I hope you like it thou.

TITLE: NEWS

pairing: L x Yagami!fem!pregnant!reader

warning: none.

«See you later mom»

«Be careful dear. You too Light»

«Yeah bye mom»

And the door was softly closed after that answer. The two Yagami twins, Y/N and Light, always left home earlier than their sister Sayu. Light had to take the train for the Daikoku Private Academy while Y/N was a last year high school student at the Gamou Prep Academy, where her twin brother attended supplemental classes in the afternoon. Actually, it was what her family knew. The reality was a lot different.

Despite the two twins had the same age, the same skills and the same perfect school report, Y/N had that extra oomph that Light hadn't. It was thanks to this oomph that ensured her a special, secret job. She was noticed by no less than the greatest detective in the world, L.

Y/N Yagami had everything L needed: intellect, slyness, excellent rhetoric. At first, they had a simple working relationship made of mutual respect and esteem. But as time passed those feelings changed.

Initially Y/N felt strange: L was this mysterious detective with an extraordinary mind and skills, she never saw him in person. She had the impression that what she felt for him was wrong: what if L didn't exist? Y/N was so curious about him that one of their online meetings, she couldn’t wait to ask him thatquestion.

«L, can I ask you something?»

« 𝚈𝚎𝚜»

«Why did you decide not to show yourself? Can you describe yourself to me, please?»

A long pause followed her question. Y/N didn’t know what to say (or to do). She had the feeling she crossed the threshold.

«𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝙻 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙻 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛»

Such an arrogant person. Y/N expected an answer like that. So she gave up with her wish to see her crush' face.

Sometime later, however, the Yagami girl met someone. A pale, tall young man with a simple white shirt and faded jeans; his hair was moved by the wind and they seemed messy yet rather silky. He was standing there, at the top of the Tokyo Train Station's stairs, staring intensely at her, few steps higher than the girl. This man was blocking the way and Y/N was in a rush.

«Excuse me, I have to-»

«You're Y/N Yagami?» he immediately interrupted her and in the meantime he hid his hands in the pockets of that faded jeans.

«Who wants to know it?» Y/N replied defensive. Unlike Light, Y/N had good skills in many martial arts and she was ready to kick his ass, just in case.

«Me»

Y/N hadn’t the idea that in front of her there was L himself. He introduced himself as Ryuzaki but, for some reason, she couldn’t believe him. For her, it was like he had a good answer for everything as if he planned every single (and possible) question from the Yagami girl. That reminded her of…L. Everything about him reminded her of the detective.

Day after day this Ryuzaki started to appear more and more often in her life: at the train station, on her way home or after school. He told her he was studying for the entrance exam at the To-Oh University, that was why the two of them were seeing each other that often.

«I see, what do you want to study?»

«Criminology»

Y/N and Ryuzaki created a strange bond between them. The Yagami twin felt so at ease with him despite his particular (and rather unique) behaviour: she didn’t mind about the large amount of sugar he ate or the sitting position he took. He was so smart and brilliant…once again she thought about L.

It seemed like that Ryuzaki appreciated Y/N's presence too. He loved listening to her or analyse every single feature of her figure. She would find him staring at her such intensity that she would look away.

Y/N, however, had so much in her mind. She was so convinced that Ryuzaki and L were the same person that she felt so anxious around him. She had to know the truth.

«Ryuzaki, can you tell me something?»

«What is it, Y/N-san?»

«Are you L?»

The two of them were waiting for the train and Ryuzaki was standing (or "slouching" actually) right beside her. His dark hair covered the face and Y/N couldn’t tell what he was feeling or thinking. She was afraid that she crossed the threshold.

Ryuzaki smirked and sighed through the nose as if he laughed silently. Then he turned to look at her. «Yes»

He kept staring at her while Y/N got pale and returned the stare with wide E/C eyes. So she was right…he was L. The real L. She couldn’t believe that this man…with faded jeans and a simple white shirt…was L. The same L she started to love.

That was how their story began.

───────◇───────

Now Light was going to finish his last year of school together with his twin sister Y/N but something else what happening outside the Yagami household: Kira.

This person took the role of judge, jury and executioner of the criminal world not only in Japan. Kira was such a disgusting, immoral human being, Y/N hated him. Nobody had the right to play with other's life regardless of their police record. Light, however, didn't agree with his sister.

«I don't understand your point, N/N. The world would be a better place without criminals, you have to realise that»

«Of course it would be a better place without them, Light. But it's not the right method!»

«And what would be "the right method"?» Light asked her making air quotes with his fingers.

«Uhh…I don't know maybe putting them before a judge?» Y/N simply replied. «Kira is not the solution, Light»

Her brother was so different lately. Since this Kira appeared Light started to act strange, Y/N was the first to notice it. Not even her mother, father and Sayu perceived it.

Y/N was feeling strange too actually. After Ryuzaki's "confession" about his identity the two of them admitted their respective feelings. Y/N was so happy that Ryuzaki felt the same as her, she was so happy. Sachiko noticed it and asked her if her happiness was due to a boy but Y/N didn’t give her a proper answer.

Ryuzaki was investigating about Kira and he booked a suite at the Imperial Hotel and Y/N would pay him a visit from time to time. They talked, played, ate and even made love in that room. And it was since one of those times that Y/N started to feel weird.

«Let's not talk about it, alright Light?»

«Fine» her twin shrugged and kept walking home together. After a while they crossed a konbini, a Japanese convenience store.

«Wait Light, I have to buy something»

«Alright, I'll wait you here»

And Y/N ran inside the shop while Light started to read a book outside. She had to buy few things: a new set of pencils, chips and…a pregnancy test. Yes, a pregnancy test.

She had all the symptoms: swollen breasts, nausea, fatigue. And the fact that she missed the last period was a sort of final proof. But she wanted to be sure.

Once she payed everything Y/N left the shop and kept walking home with Light. He was looking suspiciously at her but he said nothing.

> TIME SKIP <

«Positive…it's positive» Y/N repeated in a whisper while looking at her pregnancy test. Her E/C eyes were still glued to the test when she heard someone knocking at the door.

«Y/N! I need the bathroom!»

«Me too!»

Light and Sayu were staying right outside the door, Y/N hoped they didn’t hear what she said before. She hid the test in the pockets of her jeans and left the bathroom.

«Sorry» and she ran downstairs. Light, once again, looked at her with clear suspicious and raised an eyebrow. Sayu took advantage of this moment to lock herself in the bathroom.

«Sayu! I have to go with dad, leave the bathroom!»

In the meantime, Y/N already left the house and was literally running towards the Imperial Hotel, where Ryuzaki had his room (and where the Task-force met L for the first time). He had to know it.

About ten minutes later Y/N arrived at the hotel and quickly went to Ryuzaki's suite. She was bouncing off the walls for the excitement.

«Ryuzaki!» she spread the door open and ran inside. She quickly reached him and made him turn towards her.

«What is it Y/N-chan?» he asked calmly.

«I have to tell you something!»

«And what would it be?»

«I'm pregnant!» she said smiling. It, however, faded quickly when she saw Ryuzaki's lack of reaction to that news. Was he…disappointe-

«What?! Are you serious Miss Y/N?» the young voice of Matsuda echoed in the room making Y/N distract from the man in front of her.

The Yagami girl noticed that her father's entire Task-Force was working in the same room as L and she didn’t notice them when she entered the suite. Excitement was replaced by fear.

«Uhm…well…»

«Congratulations!» Matsuda got up and walked closer to her with a kind smile on his young face. That smile cheered her up a little.

«Thank you Matsuda-san»

The rest of the Task-force congratulated to her too, they were all so happy about that news. The only one who didn’t say anything was L, the father.

Aizawa started to give Y/N some "parental" advices when L's suite room opened again revealing Soichiro and Light at the doorstep. Y/N didn’t notice it immediately and she couldn’t stop Matsuda from rushing towards his boss to give him that important announcement.

«Boss, did you know it?»

«What is it Matsuda?»

«Miss Y/N is pregnant!»

Silence.

Silence of a grave, to be precise.

Nobody dared to speak, to move, to breathe. It seemed only Matsuda wasn’t feeling that heavy atmosphere.

At those words Soichiro walked towards his daughter and placed his strong hands on her shoulders.

«Y/N, is it true?»

She gulped and swallowed hard. «Yes dad, Matsuda-san is right» her voice showed no fear, no embarrassment, no shame. Even if her family didn’t agree, she wasn’t going to give up that easily.

«Who is the father? Someone assaulted you?» he immediately asked sounding rather worried and serious. Y/N was going to answer when she heard some sort of mumbling from behind, where L was sitting.

«Did you say something, Ryuzaki?» asked Soichiro.

«I said, Yagami-san…» he took an ice-cream sandwich and divided it in two. «I am the proud father» he turned towards the policeman and licked the vanilla cream without looking away from the man.

Soichiro couldn’t see her but Y/N was smiling widely at Ryuzaki who smiled back for a mere second before

#death note #death note l #l x reader #l lawilet #female reader #l x you #l x y/n #yagami reader #ryuzaki #ryuzaki x reader #ryuzaki death note #ryuzaki lawliet #pregnant reader

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ninjnerd-anaklusmos · 2 years

Text

My last incorrect quotes post got a nice bit of notes, so I decided to make another! Once again, these are all from my head!

***

Lucifer: I can't get it to work!

Mammon: Did you try turning it on and off again?

Beelzebub: Rebooting it might work?

Lucifer: I've tried both of those!

Leviathan, walking in: What's happening?

Beelzebub: Thank God!

Mammon, dragging Leviathan over: Fix it, O Mighty One!

Lucifer, gesturing at the router: I can't get it to work.

Leviathan: Seriously?

***

Satan, reading: *sighs happily*

Asmodeus, bursting in: You will not believe what I'm about to tell you!

Satan, closing his book: You will not believe it when your mangled corpse ends up on the news!

***

Beelzebub, at 4 in the morning: Belphie? Do you ever wonder if we're growing apart?

Belphegor, currently cuddling Beelzebub and laying on top of him: No.

Beelzebub: I do.

Belphegor, staring: Really?

Beelzebub: *nods sadly*

Belphegor: Are- You're serious??

***

Asmodeus, turning on the TV: Oh, come on Levi! It'll be fun!

Leviathan, huffing: It's just some weird fashion show. I don't get why I'm watching it with you.

*ten minutes later*

Asmodeus, crying on the floor with laughter: I CAN'T- IT'S TOO MUCH-

Leviathan, enraged: What am I looking at? A reject Batman?! Get off the runway, you middle-aged single-parent of twelve!!

***

Belphegor: Hey, I made a song.

Leviathan: Really? Cool! Let's have a listen...

Belphegor:

Leviathan:

Belphegor: ... Is it good?

The song: *deranged screaming and racoons fighting*

Leviathan: Inspirational.

***

Lucifer: And... done.

Mammon: With what?

Lucifer: My To-Do List.

Mammon: Can I see?

Mammon: Let's see... laundry, grocery shopping, chores, mopping...

Mammon: Hey, what's that last one?

Lucifer: Hm?

Mammon: It's real small...

Lucifer: Oh, that. It says MC.

Mammon: Why's MC on your To-Do- NO!!

***

Leviathan: That's crazy fam, gtg ttyl #bornfree!

Mammon: ...

Mammon: What the hell?

***

Beelzebub: Don't worry, I've got you. You're safe here with me.

Beelzebub: Holding you in my arms really makes me think about how much I like you... it's embarrassing.

Lucifer, flipping the lights on: Beelzebub, for the last time, get out of the kitchen!

Beelzebub, hugging the refrigerator: BUT IT NEEDS ME!!

***

Mammon: 'Til death do us part...

Satan: Oh, gross. Is he talking about Goldie again?

Asmodeus: No, surprisingly.

Mammon, sliding a paper ring onto Leviathan's finger: May you be mine for evermore.

Leviathan: *press 'A' to scream in horror*

Satan: This- this is worse.

Asmodeus: Oh, for sure.

Satan: Why is he even-

Asmodeus: He's practicing so he can propose to Goldie.

***

Leviathan: Are you sure this will work?

Mammon: Oh, yeah. 100% sure.

Leviathan: X.

Mammon: Wha-

Leviathan: I'm doubting you. X.

***

Satan, furiously: All my scars are bleeding; my heart has been ripped into ribbons on the floor-

Asmodeus: A poem?

Satan, bleeding out: No! Do you think this is ketchup?!

***

Belphegor: I am menacing. Not adorable, not precious, not 'uwu'.

Beelzebub: Are you absolutely positive?

Belphegor, currently surrounded by stuffies and kittens: I don't like your tone.

***

That's all I got right now, thanks for reading!

#obey me #shall we date obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #obey me funny #source: my brain #i made these #i made myself laugh #obey me mc #clump incorrect quotes

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kiridarling · 3 years

Text

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒

izuku midoriya | ft. ceo!au + praise + exhibitionism + breaking and entering + body worship + f!reader + more! minors dni.

— 3.8k words

“When I saw you this evening, in that ballgown, I knew I just had to have you. But I can't be a gentleman for much longer, as much as I'd like to."

You’ve always hated Chopin.

“L’œuf mimosa, Madame?”

After turning down the poor waiter whose arms quiver under the weight of the plates, you turn back to your red wine and people-watching. The ballroom is full of golds and reds, the amber lighting illuminating the intricately decorated walls. And you sit in the middle of it all—you and your 147 billion net-worth, with a ball gown that’s caught at least half the aristocratic asshole’s attention, not that they were very loyal to their wives in the first place.

You're not here for their attention, though. You’re strictly here for business—and frankly, you want to do nothing more than sock these fat business moguls in their chubby faces until their teeth fall out and demand they pay their taxes. But, seeing as you’re the only woman here who isn’t a gold-digging wife, you bite your tongue.

You’ve always dreaded black tie events, but as you’ve said, duty calls.

A whine filters through the speakers, followed by two amplified taps and a clear of a throat. The murmur down as the auction's owner takes the center of the stage, stilling in front of the next piece of art—hidden behind a black veil—before adjusting the tie to his business suit.

“I’m glad that you all could be with us tonight. I have both a great privilege and honor to host this event,” he announces, bulbous head already growing damp under the heat of the stage lights. “Now that we're almost at the end, I'm sure you won't be disappointed. Saving the best for last, as one does."

He includes a casual wave to his comment and the audience erupts in a flurry of chuckles, though not for long. As he walks over to the piece, hand raised and ready to reveal, silence seizes the room by the neck.

"Well. Shall we?”

The audience balances on the edges of their seats, with millions of wide eyes and thrumming chests in anticipation. A smooth flick of a hand and the black sheet is removed, and there sits the only piece you’ve had your eyes on all night. She’s even more beautiful up close.

“El Bacio, The Kiss. Francesco Hayez, 1859.”

The grip around your glass tightens. The brilliant blue from the woman’s dress in the oil painting may as well burn your eyes, and the surrounding murmurs peak with your interest. You know it's yours without question, though—you can outbid almost anyone in this room. Anyone that matters, anyway.

“This is the original version, originally commissioned by Count Alfonso Maria Visconti of Saliceto. It was donated to the Pinacoteca di Brera in 1886 and went missing in 1937. Starting at ten million.”

You try not to scowl. The fucker jacked up the price by two million.

“Twelve million,” the man says as he recognizes whoever lifted a hand. You sit tight, your hands throbbing in your lap for the right moment as you survey the room for anyone who could possibly pose a threat. You find none.

The bidding continues. The price elevates from twelve million to fifteen to thirty to fifty. You raise a hand, finally, fingers splayed wide and confident to signify a five.

“Fifty-five million.”

The room falls silent; you try not to smile. You know for a fact no one wants this painting more than you do, and you’re determined to have it.

“No one else?”

His eyes scan the room but no one makes a motion. It’s yours.

Until there’s movement from your peripheral.

“Sixty million!”

You eye whoever had the audacity to raise their hand, only to be met with a rather peculiar sight—a man, roughly your age, with slicked-back green hair and a hand twice the size of yours, lifted lazily in the air.

With a huff, you find yourself thrusting another five into the air.

“Sixty-five millio—Seventy million!”

You know that green-haired (probably) trust fund baby has got to be doing this for fun because the poorly hidden smirk hidden behind the hand he rests his chin on is more than obvious.

You dislike him already, immediately categorizing him with the rest—another sleazeball.

“Seventy-five million!”

“Eighty million!”

“One hundred million!”

In your defense, you were getting frustrated.

Either way, the green-haired stranger backs off with a nonchalant shrug, and it makes you burn this discontent. The business mogul-turned-auctioneer steps off the stage for another twenty-minute intermission and folks turn to one another for conversation. You sigh, simply satisfied that you’ve gotten what you came for.

You find yourself faintly puzzled by the boy with the green hair, and you're sure it's solely due to his age. Frankly, you've been the only one under thirty in the Top 100 Richest People since you achieved such a feat, and the fact that you haven't heard of him is...puzzling. But it doesn't matter. Clearly, he’s just another fellow looking to put another pretty thing in his foyer—you doubt he knows a thing about art, and definitely not an appreciation for it. You find solace in the fact that it's the new addition to your precious art collection instead, and will be owned and taken care of by someone who actually enjoys it.

“Good evening.”

You jump. Wrapped up in all of your inner turmoil (complemented by inner bragging, naturally) you fail to notice the greenette cross the expanse of the ballroom and make himself comfortable in the open seat next to you, despite your lack of approval.

“Hello,” you say, unsure of why he's here. He offers a hand to shake, Rolex glinting under the golden lighting.

“Izuku Midoriya,” he introduces, and you suppose shaking his hand won’t hurt.

“Your name?” He snorts, raising a cocky eyebrow. You scowl.

“Does it matter?”

“Not particularly.” Izuku rests his forearms on the table as his evergreen eyes rake your figure up and down. “But if you prefer to remain nameless, be my guest.”

“[Y/N].”

“Hmm?”

“My name,” you clarify. “It’s [Y/N].”

You’re not exactly sure what possessed you to tell him your name so easily. Maybe the fact that most already know who you are, and the fact that this man—this stranger—doesn’t know who you are, irks you a bit.

Okay. It irks you a lot.

“Well, Miss [Y/N],” Izuku tilts his head sideways. “I think that’s a very pretty name.”

Your body betrays you with a light gasp. Stupid thing.

“Well. I’m bored,” Izuku announces childishly, relaxing against the chair. “Lets go somewhere.”

You roll your eyes at his asserted dominance—in no way does he expect you to go with him, does he? You raise an eyebrow.

“No.”

Izuku clicks his tongue as if it were a buzzer, and more importantly, as if you were wrong. “Why?”

That has you scoffing. “I don’t know you.”

Izuku’s eyes flash with a challenge and it’s gone just as quickly. He leans forwards, crowding your personal space yet again.

“I told you my name, no?”

“You did,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your back. You feel too small. “But I know nothing about you.“

“Well,” Izuku places an inquisitive finger on his lips, and it’s almost mocking, the way he takes a moment to think about it. “My name is Izuku Midoriya. I like...katsudon and hero movies. I’m here because I have too much time and money on my hands, and I’m, most importantly, bored.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you do for a living?”

Izuku’s lip curls, and it’s downright sinister, “I'll tell you if you come with me."

You roll your eyes, and he takes both your hands in his. You don’t pull away, but you don’t reciprocate it either.

“Where?”

Izuku shrugs, “Wherever the wind takes us.”

Your stomach growls loudly, interrupting your fairly intimate conversation and dying your cheeks pink. Izuku raises an eyebrow.

“I heard they’re feeding us escargo for dinner.”

“Ugh,” you sigh, shoulder sagging. “Looks like I’m not eating, then.”

But there’s a glint in his eyes, and you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t one in your own. There's an ebb in the discourse, a beat, before Izuku's nodding towards the exit.

“Fast food?”

Wendy’s hits different during a Parisian midnight.

“—and so I had to be like: No Kacchan, you can’t hotwire his car to blow just because your food was, and I quote, lukewarm.”

You snicker behind a fist, digging your fancy heels into the grimy cement sidewalk, Wendy’s frostee in hand. Izuku hasn’t let go of your hand since you two left the fast-food joint, and for some reason, you haven’t pulled away.

"Violence seems to be a reoccurring theme with your friend," you say, laughing when Izuku nods in agreement, eyes stuck on the full moon hanging high in the air.

"You remind me of him, actually."

You raise an eyebrow, unable to see the correlation at all, "Because I'm a loud and angry and I like to blow things up."

"Or, because you're strong—independent. The type of woman to make men turn tail and run, you know?" Izuku turns to you with a lopsided grin.

You hum, averting your eyes to the moon. It's a stupid question, one that's all too loaded yet empty at the same time, and you hate that you hesitate to ask it.

"Why haven't you ran, then?"

"Easy." Izuku lets a smooth shrug roll off his shoulders, "I like strong women."

He continues to pull you to an undisclosed destination, the two of you stumbling through the heart of Paris with his suit jacket around your goosebump-ridden shoulders. People stare, but for the first time in forever, you find that you don't care much.

Finally, you two reach Izuku's "big reveal." You gaze at the magnificently lit french building in confusion, the golden under lights contrasting both of your beings against the navy blue sky.

"The Louvre?"

"Mhm," Izuku says, and he looks more than giddy. "Have you been?"

"Once," your voice is weary and you're sure he senses it, his grip tightening around your own. "For a fundraiser...but it's midnight Izuku, ho—"

But he's already tugging you to the right, dipping between columns and arches until you reach the back of the building. Izuku turns to you and whispers:

"Watch this."

It's hard to tell what he did exactly, especially with no light—it's just a bunch of jingles and ticks. Though, the moment you can't escape the sense that this is beyond sketchy, a lock clicks, and a door whines open.

"Hurry. And take your heels off," Izuku whispers, tilting his head towards the entrance. You hear the crunch of a leaf and see the beginning of a white flashlight curl around the building and fuck, this place has to be crawling with security guards, doesn't it?

"Don't tell me what to do," you grumble...as you take off your shoes. (Because you were going to do it anyway.) You enter and he closes the door behind the two of you, submerging you both in complete darkness.

"Security's only on the outside," Izuku grins. "They don't expect us to get inside, so as long as we're quiet, it should be fine."

"Until we have to get back out again," you say, huffing. Your heart pounds from the adrenaline because frankly, you've never been one for adventures, and breaking into a historical french museum is miles out of your comfort zone. "Seriously, did you think this through at all? What happens when we get caught?"

Izuku sighs, turning to you with a pout before grabbing your free hand again. "Women worry too much. C'mon—I wanna explore."

"You—let go, you misogynistic assho—"

You're cut off by a finger to your lips. Izuku bends down so he’s looking at you straight on, eyes dark as he sternly whispers, "Do you want us to get caught?"

It's not the prospect of getting caught that makes you falter, though—it's the way his stare pins you in place, voice swollen with that air of dominance you claim to hate. You have to tighten your grip on your heels to ensure they don't hit the ground.

"Now," Izuku‘s strangely childish manner returns, tugging your hand once your panicked whisper-yelling ceases, "Shall we?"

You roll your eyes, but your bare feet patter against the cold Louvre tile anyway. And you've got to say, the museum is much nicer when it isn't crawling with people.

"Mona Lisa's forehead is bigger than I thought," Izuku observes with a finger on his lip. He's on the wrong side of the railing, his nose close to kissing the glass protecting the piece. You snort, dropping your head to pinch the bridge. He turns to give you a weird look.

"What?"

"Nothing, just," you shake your head, the cool wood of the railing digging into your forearms. "Did you actually want that painting?"

Izuku frowns. "Which one?"

"El Bacio."

"Mm," the greenette hums as he thinks, blinking to the corner of the room."I suppose. You seemed like you wanted it more, though."

You roll your eyes, "So you cap at eighty million?"

Izuku shrugs, hopping the railing. Seems like he's finally done insulting poor Lisa, "I capped when you started to sweat."

You huff, but stomping instead of walking isn't so intimidating when you're barefoot. "I wasn't sweating."

You see a hidden smirk on Izuku's face once you catch up to him, and it's frustrating and insulting, to say the least. Both of you proceed down a hall of statues. "You're much easier to read than you think, Miss [Y/N]."

"And you're not as perceptive as you think, Mister Midoriya."

Izuku chuckles at that, shaking his head. "Well played, Miss [Y/N]. Well played."

You're not sure why your chest swells, but it does, and it takes both you and your limited lung capacity off guard. But you don't have much time to sort it out—Izuku's grabbing your hand again, and redirecting your attention to the last statue in the hall. You recognize it and frown.

“Cupid and Psyche?”

The silver moonlight pours in through the window, spilling down Cupid’s tipped wings and the softest points of the Psyche’s curves. Izuku hums in confirmation, hands sliding to encompass your hips as his chin hooks on your shoulder.

"Well done, Miss [Y/N]."

His voice deepens—it's coarse and heady, and gets your blood rushing in a way breaking and entering never could have.

"Amore e Psiche, Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss. Antonio Canova, 1793."

You fail to understand why this statue stood out to him compared to all the others, but the circles Izuku’s thumb presses into your hips signifies that you’ll find out soon.

"Cupid represents desire, and Psyche, the human soul," Izuku says, running his hands up your sides. "Together, they make the perfect union."

Dipping his nose into your neck, Izuku inhales, and the hands around your waist tighten, if the smallest bit. "Psyche was the prettiest woman in the world; so pretty she rivaled Venus' beauty with her own. It didn't matter if it broke rules—Cupid knew he had to have her."

The gentle nudge of a neck evolves into a set of butterfly kisses, tracing the column of your neck until his mouth reaches your ear. A hand slides to gently cup your breast, and the other to your thigh.

"Miss [Y/N], when I saw you this evening, in that ballgown, I knew I just had to have you. But I can't be a gentleman for much longer, as much as I'd like to." Izuku groans into your neck, hips gently grinding forwards. "So, it's up to you what we do next—I could drop you off at your home to probably never see you again, or...”

Izuku shifts, and you can feel his hardening cock against your back. “I can bend you over right here. Your choice.”

You hesitate, determined to think this through—but Izuku's wandering hands and rutting hips prove to be too much of a distraction.

"Fine," is all you say, before whirling around, grabbing the greenette by his dress shirt, and slamming your lips onto his.

Izuku kisses back with a grin—like he knew you were going to say yes—and places his hands around your waist yet again, backing you up against the marble statue.

"Sit on the platform," he breathes into your mouth. You frown.

"Like, the platform to the statue? Caus—"

"Yes on the statue, now sit," Izuku demands, but he doesn't give you much room to protest, forcing you onto the marble platform. Hiking your dress to your waist, Izuku's calloused palms slide up your inner thighs, spreading them apart to make room for himself in between. He pauses.

"No panties?"

You flush red—from the exposure or the comment, you aren't sure—but you huff in defiance nevertheless, determined to stand your ground and keep some of your dignity. (Though you're positive Izuku can feel you shaking already.)

"I'm wearing a dress," you defend weakly.

Izuku hums behind a bitten lip, lying a heavy thumb on your clit. It's enough pressure to make your thighs tense but not much else, until it flicks downwards.

"I wanna taste you," Izuku growls with dilated pupils once he finally tears his gaze from your exposed body. "Can I?"

Heat surges through your veins, and you let him pry your thighs apart as you respond with an unsteady, "Yeah—yeah, that's fine."

Izuku's chest rumbles with a growl as he closes in on your pussy, hands gripping underneath your thighs. You whimper when he trails butterfly kisses down your inner legs, the grip you have around the skirt of your dress tightening.

"So pretty," Izuku groans, chuckling when you shiver as he flattens his tongue against your slit, "My Goddess."

With that he dives in, almost sending you toppling with the force. The moonlight dyes his green locks a navy blue, and you can't resist seizing them into a fist when he pushes a finger in.

"Feel good, Gorgeous?" Izuku says with a knowing smirk on his sinfully glossed lips. Another digit enters and it has your toes curling as you nod. “Shit, you’re tight.”

Izuku spits on your pussy and it’s downright dirty, before looks at you under forest green eyelashes, the other hand finally letting go of your thigh in favor for pulling at the top of your dress.

“Izuku, wha—“

“I wanna see your tits,” he huffs. You’d laugh at his enthusiasm if you weren’t so aroused, and you find your hands joining in the flurry. The moment they’re free, Izuku’s mouth latches onto your breast in an instant.

“F-Fuck, ‘Zuku—“

“You sound so good when you moan my name, sweetheart,” Izuku groans, and you jolt as he tweaks a bud.

“Say it again.”

He pinches your nipple and clit at the same time, and it has your legs kicking as you squeal his name again.

The Izuku growls and it's nothing but feral, and another yelp of his name has him pulling you to your feet to the point where your noses almost touch. Aggravated from being so close before the greenette ripped his fingers away has you scowling.

"Wha—"

"Can I fuck you?" His breath ghosts your lips. You hide your shock by a roll of your eyes.

"Do you always ask stupid questions?"

Izuku hums in contemplation before grabbing you harshly by the jaw, to the point where your cheeks squish into your eyes and your lips pucker. "Say it, Bunny."

"I just sa—"

"Say 'I want you to fuck me, Izuku,'" he says with a cruel snarl. "’Hard.’"

Your eyes dart from his heavy gaze to the statue, and you can't help but feel more fragile than glass. "I litera—"

"Say it, brat."

"I—" you try but nothing comes out, and you blame that darkened stare of his, "I w-want you to fuck me. Izuku."

Izuku inhales sharply, the fingers cradling your face tightening before he speaks again.

"Good girl."

He spins you so your hands lay on the statue's base, yanking your hips back and flipping your dress so your bare ass is exposed to the cool air.

Izuku's palms caress your behind, kneading both globes before he pulls you against his bare cock. (When he took off his pants is beyond you.) He slaps his cock against your clit until you huff in frustration, turning around to shoot him an angry glare.

"Today, Izuku."

The greenette blinks out of his absorbed gaze on your behind in favor of glowering you down. You waver under his glare despite your best efforts.

His cock kisses your entrance and then all of it is in you at once, and his size is enough to make your inner thighs ache from the stretch. You bite your lip in an attempt to muffle a moan, but that crashes and burns fairly quickly.

"O-Oh shi—"

"You said today, didn't you?" Izuku rasps, before pulling out and stuffing you full at a quick and steady pace. Your hands scramble for proper purchase against the statue—without breaking it, for gods sake—but the harder he fucks you into it, the harder it is to stay upright. "Quiet, baby. We're not supposed to be here, remember?"

You nod frantically, teeth digging into your bottom lip. The thought of getting caught, you, of all people, while being railed against a marble statue—

Izuku moans in your ear, a hand moving between your thighs to rub at your clit. "Oh, you tightened when I said that—you like the idea of getting caught, Bunny?"

You respond with a choked moan, thighs quivering with an impending orgasm. Izuku groans as you tighten around him again, but they quickly turn into shushes.

"Bu—"

"I-I know," your voice cracks and it's absolutely pathetic. "But I can't—"

Izuku's hand wraps around your mouth to the point where his fingertips just barely brush your ears. You whine, eyes fluttering as the new grip adjusts the angle ever so slightly, and pushes him so much deeper.

"You're gonna kill me," Izuku says, wheezing out a laugh. "I—fuck Bunny, I'm close."

You whimper behind his hand and nod as if to say me too, and you're sure Izuku understands from the way he groans before he speeds up in all aspects. "Good. G-Good—cum for me baby, I know you can—"

Your toes curl into the marble floor as the coil in your gut snaps, knocking the wind out of you and sending you thrashing in Izuku's arms. You hear the greenette curse and shudder behind you, stuttering hips slowing to an eventual stop. Both of you stand there for a moment, comfortable interrupting the silence with nothing but your heaving breaths.

"You okay?"

You chuckle. It's dry and scratchy, and your lip throbs from biting it so hard, but it isn’t...aggravating, per-se. "You sound worse than me."

Izuku laughs at that, though it waters down as he pulls out with a hiss. "I don't think worse is the correct adjective here, Miss [Y/N].”

You snort. Back to “Miss [Y/N]” it is, then.

Your ears catch the distinct wail of ever-increasing sirens, but you don't think much of it until the side of Izuku's face starts flashing blue and red. Both you and the greenette falter, sharing a look.

"Police! Hands in the air!"

i wrote this while watching a hysterectomy in physio aah (also yes, the french police speak in english leave me alone skjdhfgk) — sun

#— 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 #izuku midoriya #deku x reader #deku smut #izuku smut #midoriya smut #bnha smut #mha smut

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shycoconutt · 3 years

Text

I Found My Light (Kakashi x Reader)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

A/n: Sound the alarms! It’s my first ever writing post! I’ve had this written for a while tbh, and I feel like I’m ready to start getting into this.

Summary: A late-night walk turns into a rekindled friendship.

Word Count: 2300

Warnings: fem!reader, SFW (but might not be later lol)

You opened your eyes for what seemed like the thousandth time tonight. Staring at the white ceiling, you sighed. Sleep seemed to evade you recently, a side effect of the recent dreariness of your life. You found yourself living the same days over and over again. Because of this, the line between day and night started to fade.

The moon was full tonight, you noticed as it shined brightly through your open window. It was the perfect temperature out, warm but chilly enough to feel comfortable wrapped in your blankets. You love listening to the occasional sounds that occurred outside, the noise of leaves rustling in the wind being your favorite.

Your gaze left the moon and landed back on your ceiling. Why is something as simple as sleeping so hard? Gods, all you wanted was an escape. With a huff, you pushed the covers off of you and sat up from your lying position. Trying to force yourself to sleep would do more harm than good right now.

You make your way to your dresser and pull out your favorite pair of black joggers. You love them because they are tight on your ankles, loose on your legs, and have a cinched band at the waist. They are perfect for any lazy day. You slip them on over your underwear, you never go to bed with pants on, and exchange your sleep shirt for a cropped black hoodie made from the same soft, elastic material as your pants.

You turn to face your large standing mirror in the corner of the room to assess your appearance. The all-black look was your favorite, especially since it will help you blend into the night. Your hair was a mess, so you decided to put it up in a loose bun on the top of your head and pull out some strands to frame your face. It felt good to not look so polished and put together. Your jonin uniform was not the most comfortable piece of clothing, especially with the way it hit your figure.

You walked out of your bedroom and across the kitchen to the front door of your apartment. One foot after the other, you slide into your sandals and grab the key to your apartment hanging on the hook next to you. With that, you leave your apartment and head out into the night.

You walked the streets of Konoha at a gingerly pace. It was probably around 3 a.m. at this point, and there wasn’t a single soul on the street with you. You make your way past the line of shops on the main street, including your favorite bakery where you'd treat yourself to a lemon square after coming back from a long mission. You thought about that lemon square a lot when you were out risking your life, embarrassingly enough.

A couple of turns later and you found yourself heading towards your favorite place in all of Konoha, a little area of woods towards the perimeter that contained this amazing koi pond. Although it was nighttime and the fish wouldn’t be as active, you still want to check to see if you can watch any. To your surprise, your favorite koi, who you nicknamed “Nishi'', was out and swimming around by himself. You sit criss-cross in the grass and watch as he glides through the calm water, almost putting you in trance. Nishi didn’t look or act like the others; He was black with white, almost silver-looking spots and he was less frantic in nature. You sway from side to side as you watch him, thinking to yourself about how you would like to be more like Nishi.

“You look cute watching the koi.” You heard a soft, yet unwavering voice declare behind you.

“Holy sh-” You almost jump out of your pants at the unexpected presence. Surprised, you quickly turn your head around to see who’s voice that could possibly be. To your disbelief, there lies a figure perched up by a tree a couple yards away from you. Their feet were crossed, legs extended, one hand in the pocket of their pants, the other holding up what looks like a copy of Icha-Icha, head turned towards you, and wild hair moving with each passing breeze. How did I not notice him?

“Oh I’m sorry (y/n), I didn’t mean to startle you. I figured you knew I was here because you walked right past me.” He brought his hand up to scratch the back of his head and let out a small chuckle. “Guess I should have made my presence known right away.”

Still in disbelief, you get up and slowly make your way towards the figure, stepping into the shadow of the tree to see him more clearly. As you approached you immediately recognized the silver-haired jonin.

“Kakashi?” You say confused. “What are you doing out here? It’s late.”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He states, closing his book and setting it down next to him on the grass. He looked different. He looked… quite hot actually. The jonin uniform you usually saw him in was traded for a pair of comfortable-looking grey sweatpants and a tight, black tank top that connected to his mask. He wasn’t wearing his headband either, just keeping his left sharingan eye shut in a permanent wink. As you observed him, you couldn’t help but notice that he was doing the same to you.

“I suppose you're right.” You smirk and let out a small chuckle. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured that if I was up I should take a walk around the village to clear my head. This is my favorite spot, so I guess I just naturally ended up here.” You exclaimed, still standing in front of him.

“It looks like you and I are having the same issue,” he states plainly, “I came out here a little while ago after tossing in my bed for an hour. I hate trying to force myself to sleep; It’s a battle I never seem to win.” His eyes averted your gaze and moved to his now empty hands in his lap. You couldn’t help but notice a hint of pain in his voice and it tugged at your heartstrings.

You know about the things Kakashi has been through, as it was pretty common knowledge to all jonin in your mutual age group. You were pretty close with his friends, Gai, Kurenai, and Asuma, but Kakashi always seemed to keep everyone at an arm’s length. He also was an Anbu for ten years, which didn’t help the disconnect either. Fortunately, he was relieved from his Anbu position a couple weeks ago, and gradually you have been seeing him a bit more here and there. Though, this is the first time you are able to have a conversation with him in what seems like forever.

“Well,” you sighed, “I guess we have lost the battle together. We must be pretty shitty jonin.” You stated flatly.

Kakashi squinted his eyes and you both laughed. You couldn’t help but take a mental picture of his face at this moment. You really enjoy seeing him happy, as it makes you happy too.

You can’t kid yourself, having a chance to talk with Kakashi alone feels like such a treat. Little genin (y/n) would be ecstatic right now. Of course you had a crush on him back then, who didn’t?

“You’ve always had a natural talent for connecting with people,” Kakashi mused, “I haven’t talked to you since we were teenagers, and here I am laughing with you like we’re long-time friends.”

You could feel your eyebrows furrow at that statement. Yeah sure, you weren’t at his apartment every week for Sunday brunch, but you did have a history.

“Kakashi,” you started, “You are my long-time friend. Just because we drifted apart doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. To be honest, I was relieved when I found out you were no longer going to be a member of the Anbu. It wasn’t good for you.” You stepped closer and sat down next to him, leaning back on the tree stump. The grass felt cool under you, sending a small shiver up your body.

“I suppose you’re right,” Kakashi stated, quoting your words from earlier. “It amazes me that none of you gave up on me. I feel like I am undeserving of everyone’s effort.” You were baffled by his honesty; Kakashi wasn’t known to be much of an open book. It upsets you so much that he feels this way as you couldn’t imagine not caring about him or any of your other comrades in the village. The faces of your closest friends flashed through your mind and you grimaced at the thought of losing them.

Not knowing if you should, you felt compelled to reach over and hold Kakashi’s hand in yours. It's cold compared to the warmth spreading from your fingertips. Hmm, I wonder how long he has been out here. Giving his hand a small squeeze, you look at him in his onyx eye. “Trust me, Kakashi. You are deserving. You are deserving of a great life and people who care about you. I know the world may seem dark, but I promise that a light is always glowing. No matter how small or dim, it’s there.”

You stare at each other in silence for a moment before he changes the position of his hand and intertwines his fingers in yours. The change was small, but it ignites a feeling in your stomach you couldn’t describe. Slowly, you felt your cheeks flush and you turned your face to look towards the sky in hopes he wouldn’t notice. You knew this action was him telling you that he accepts your words, and thanks you for them.

You spent the next hour sitting under the tree together, you looking up at the stars and him looking at you. Your intertwined hands fell between your bodies, resting on the cool grass. You felt him start to graze the back of your hand with his thumb, sending a tingling sensation up your arm. It felt so good to be touched by him, even in such an innocent manner.

A strong breeze ran through the air and hit you suddenly. You began to shiver at the quick change in temperature, realizing that you should have dressed warmer if you were going to be out this long. Yet, you couldn’t have anticipated the situation you are currently in.

“Are you cold?” Kakashi questioned with a hint of concern.

“Yeah a little bit,” you answered honestly, “but I don’t want to go back home. I’m not really tired yet.” Truthfully, you didn’t want this little moment of shared bliss to end. You started to feel like you found your escape, and you refused to be torn away from it so soon.

“Neither do I,” he confessed, “Come here.” He released his hand from yours and slid his position higher up on the side of the tree. He then spread his legs and patted the ground in between, inviting you to sit.

You felt your face get hot again, as the position he was offering you was a very intimate gesture. There was absolutely no way you could refuse his offer. One, because you were freezing and, two, young (y/n) would never forgive you.

You got up and sat down carefully between his thighs, leaning until your back met his chest. He then wrapped both of his arms around you, one around your shoulders and the other around your waist with his hand resting on your stomach. The outsides of your legs met the insides of his and you felt an immediate warmth there. Lastly, your head tilted back and rested upon his left shoulder, with his face nuzzled against your temple. You both fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, no part of you feeling any discomfort against his strong body. Engulfed in his smell and warmth, for the first time in a while you felt completely relaxed.

“Thank you, Kakashi.” You looked up at him with a warm smile.

“Anytime.” He breathed, voice muffled by your hair. You wondered if he truly meant that. I mean, after all, this is the first time you have interacted in a while. Yet, the connection you felt towards him was unquestionable.

Does he feel the way I feel?

“Hey,” you began, “are you tired at all?”

He flexed his arms and held you closer to his chest. “Not really,” he answered, “I’m enjoying this moment too much to be tired.” You smiled, and there was a pause.

“Isn’t this odd?” you questioned again.

“What? You and I snuggled under a tree in a random corner of the village alone at 4 a.m. after we haven’t interacted with each other in years?” he questioned sarcastically, “Not at all.”

“Kakashi!,” you laughed, gently nudging your elbow into his ribs as he laughed along with you.

“Yeah it’s a little odd,” he answered honestly, “but I’m not going to question it. I found my light, and now I’m enjoying it.” He nuzzled his face into your hair and breathed deeply.

Completely and utterly relaxed, you let yourself succumb to the heaviness of your eyelids. Truthfully, this has felt like the longest day in the world and you are happy to end it this way. The sound of Kakashi’s breathing and the rise and fall of his chest acted as your personal sleep machine. It’s priceless.

Before you completely drift off, you swear you could feel the soft, pillowiness of Kakashi’s lips graze the skin of your temple, a soft hum escaping from them.

“Goodnight, (y/n)”

~~~

Queue Hilary Duff’s “What Dreams Are Made Of”. This kind of feels like the beginning of something. Should I continue? Idk if my writing is even good. If you read this, PLEASE let me know if you have any feedback. Again, this is my first story and I would greatly appreciate any feedback, advice, suggestions, etc.! I can’t believe I’m uploading, ah! - Klara

#kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi fanfic #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi x reader #hatake kakashi #kakashi fluff #kakashi imagine #naruto fanfiction #kakashi x you #kakashi x y/n #kakashi one shot #kakashi x yn #kakashi sensei #i found my light

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spxllcxstxr · 3 years

Text

Cold to Cozy • R.L

(Gif not mine)

Request: oshdskdhkshs what about Remus being really patient, loving and gentle with the reader who’s insecure and anxious to open up to sb and be with someone after she had just got out of the toxic relationship? Sorry for my English. Love you so much. — anon

Summary: After a rough break up, you wind up at the top of the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night. Remus joins you.

Warnings: toxic relationship mention (not with Remus), more along the lines of emotional abuse, not physical, crying, but it’s mentioned and Remus comes to comfort you, but please stay safe

Word Count: 1.1k

A.N: Relationships are hard to write when you’ve never been in one. I hope I did this request justice! Could be read as platonic since it’s more focused on like comfort and not really a relationship, but who knows? Read how you’d like to! I think gn!reader. I also still don’t know how to end these things oops. Hope you enjoy, and I love you all ❤️

****

You don’t remember why you even started dating William Mulciber in the first place.

It was a well known fact that he was a bigoted asshole, and anyone with a brain wouldn’t even touch him with a ten foot pole. The only friends he had were Avery, Rosier, and Snape, and even those three needed a break from him sometimes.

But he made you feel wanted in some twisted way—at least at first.

He would flirt with you in class and stare at you across the room instead of getting assignments done. Mulciber would comment on your figure, mostly lewd remarks that had your eyes widen in shock. But he assured you that these were compliments, and who were you to say otherwise, especially in public when all eyes were focused on you?

You’d get embarrassed and duck your head towards the ground as he and his little group laughed at whatever crude joke your little admirer thought of this time.

But he was the only boy to ever outwardly express any sort of interest in you so you felt obligated to accompany him to Hogsmede. And after your little date, even though you realized that the two of you didn’t really have anything in common and he did enough talking for the both of you, you felt obligated to kiss him in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

And your relationship with him was fine for about a whole two seconds before it became damaging to your entire being.

So that’s why after only a few months of being berated and judged by someone who persuaded you that it was all out of love, your relationship, if that’s what you would call it, ended after hours of shouting and flinging insults at each other.

It’s also the reason you’re crying into your house scarf at the top of the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the cold night.

The wind bites harshly at your exposed flesh, your fingers frozen and the tips of your ears completely numb.

Your legs dangle over the side, arms looped securely around the brass banister as your tears drip into your scarf.

The striped fabric is useful in muffling any rogue sobs that manage to escape.

“Rough night?”

The soft questioning voice coming from behind you has you furiously wiping your face in an attempt to look somewhat composed.

“You could say that.” Your voice cracks as the person sits next to you.

Glancing over you can tell it’s Remus, the sleeves of his thick blue jumper bunched up around his hands. He’s shivering very slightly, but is otherwise unbothered by the weather.

He nods silently, and you can hear your teeth chatter. Shyly, you bite your lip in an attempt to stop.

“I heard about you and Mulciber.” Remus speaks up, glancing at you before quickly looking back up at the cloudy sky.

“Oh yeah?” You snort, staring at his scarred face. “And what exactly did you hear?”

Remus looks back at you, the whites of his eyes illuminated in the blue glow coming from the tip of his wand.

“That you’re, and I quote, ‘a cheating bitch.’” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh yeah, because talking to Davey Gudgeon about our upcoming Herbology project is categorized as cheating, and him snogging that sixth year behind the Quidditch shed isn’t.” You scoff, balling your fists around your scarf in anger.

Of course he was spreading lies about you to make himself look like the victim. He was never in the wrong and you always were.

“That’s terrible.” You hear him shift closer to you.

“Yeah, well, that isn’t even the worst of it.” You mumble under your breath, a frown tugging at your lips.

“You don’t deserve that, (Y/n).” He tells you softly.

“But—“

“No, no one deserves the utter shit he put you through, alright?” Remus insists fiercely.

Your throat tightens as you turn your gaze down to your fingers. Nervously, you rub them together, trying to defrost them in order to find feeling again.

“You do know that, don’t you? That what he made you deal with wasn’t love?” Remus continues to press.

Noncommittally, you offer him a shrug, still avoiding those warm honey brown eyes of his.

“I’m sorry, I’m being a little too forward, aren’t I?” Remus sputters at your lack of response. “I just get so frustrated thinking about how he treated you, but if I’m overstepping—“

“No, no, it’s fine, Remus, really.” Finally, you look up, waving away his unnecessary panic. “Just...he was my first...everything, y’know? I think he’s ruined love for me.”

Remus’ face falls at your meek response. His sandy curls wave in the wind and you watch as he tries and fails to tame them behind his ears.

“Love isn’t whatever rubbish he gave you, (Y/n). Love is this warm and cozy feeling that makes you want to wake up in the morning. And makes you want to run around laughing in the pouring rain.” He rambles, marred hands waving around as he talks. “It’s a breath of fresh air and a million little kisses in the middle of the night. Honestly, I wish I could be a little more poetic, but it’s almost midnight and my brain is fried after that Potions exam.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No Remus, that was—that was beautiful. It certainly wasn’t what we had.” You smile at him, something you haven’t done in ages at this point.

Truthfully, his little rant had a warmth blossoming in your chest, something you can’t exactly explain. You felt comfortable with him, nothing like you’d ever felt with Mulciber.

With him, it was nothing but ice, sure the occasional dull spark was ignited when his arm was slung securely over your shoulders, but that was rare.

All Remus had to do was look you in the eye and you were a melting mess.

You liked this new feeling.

“You know, you should’ve brought gloves.” He gestures to your numb fingers, shivering in the wind.

“Well I wasn’t exactly planning on going through a break up tonight, Remus.” You sarcastically retort, trying once again to bundle up your hands.

“Here, let me help.” Remus’s large hands lay atop your own, warm palms pressing against your chilled fingers.

You study your joined hands before slowly lifting your gaze back to his eyes. Your hands start to thaw.

“This is nice.” You tell him, just above a whisper.

His face is a bit closer to your own, and you can see the pink blush rising on his cheeks and tinting the tips of his ears. His nose adopts a redder hue from the brutal wind.

“Yeah.” Remus agrees at a similar volume. “It really is.”

•

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