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itsclydebitches · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel: Let's Talk About Cursing!

Trigger warning for lots of cursing in this post (obviously) and discussion of canon abuse scenes

As I delve further into the Hazbin Hotel fandom, I’ve inevitably come across a variety of people who dislike the show for an equal variety of reasons. One criticism I’ve seen with some consistency is in regards to the cursing and yeah, I get it. That’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. However, the repeated claim that the cursing is only there as a—failed—attempt at bad, lazy humor got me thinking about why I personally liked the cursing, and why I think it serves a greater purpose in the show.

Now yes, some of the cursing does function as an arguably simplistic joke. The most common setup I’ve noticed is one that leans into a contrast in tone/personalities. We see this a lot with the polite, comparatively timid Charlie as she navigates her distinctly vulgar domain.

Charlie: “Hi, mister!” Demon: “Go fuck yourself!”

The entirety of “Happy Day in Hell” plays with this contrast, setting up Charlie’s slightly skewed, but significantly optimistic perspective of Hell. We are shown again and again how her lyrics are contradicted or twisted into something less innocent through the visuals: a “revealing” street where it’s “hard not to stare” has BDSM going on in a nearby window, Charlie will “open the door” for her people and then literally does so... for a guy who’s already dead. (Or, you know, temporarily out of commission until he heals, or whatever demons do when they’re ‘killed’ by things other than angelic steel.) The entire point here is to contrast the happy, skipping girl claiming that there’s a “warm, fuzzy feeling” in the air with the actual environment of unchecked fires and decaying limbs. And yes, that can be amusing. Not necessarily for everyone as humor is highly subjective and dependent on context, but distilling this contrast down to the shock of a polite greeting getting a “Go fuck yourself!” in response is a kind of entertainment. Especially when Charlie’s reaction adds another layer: for me that’s a very funny—and currently relatable—expression.

We can potentially make the case that this humor format overstays its welcome, but I personally think the show does a good job of keeping Charlie’s cursing both simple and comparatively rare, so that when she is put into these contrast situations the humor lands better. The best example I can think of in the latter half of the show is Susan. There we get the whiplash of polite, trying-to-get-these-people-to-like-her Charlie reaching a breaking point to become “FUCK YOU, YOU OLD BITCH” Charlie. It’s a moment that builds off of the earlier surprise of the courteous Alastor calling someone an “Ornery old bitch”—while Rosie is trying (and failing) to find a nicer way to phrase this.

However, as stated above I think the cursing serves more of a purpose than to just be funny for (some) viewers. Beyond those who simply find cursing distasteful, I’ve seen a fair bit of, “This is so stupid. No one even talks like that!” going around.

Except... I do? I talk like that.

See, I like cursing. I was born to former hippie parents and grew up playing MMOs, so cursing was something I became pretty acclimated to. Personally, I’m glad I was because I’m fascinated by language and cursing—for better or worse—is an integral way that many people communicate. I was taught to see cursing not as the Bad Forbidden Thing You Must Never Ever Do, but rather as just another form of expression, something to be used in moderation and under specific circumstances. Once I became an adult I already understood how I wanted to curse and when it was appropriate to do so. People at work are often shocked when I tell them I curse a lot because no, of course I’m not doing that at my job. That isn't considered professional in this space. Among my friends though?

We can sound a lot like the Hazbin crew.

Undoubtedly the most common curse in the show is “fuck” and its variations, which very much tracks with my personal experience among other people who curse. In fact, it’s so ubiquitous that it barely counts as a curse at all in some groups. It’s more of an easy, accepted way to add emphasis. Vaggie’s “What the fuck was that?” about Alastor’s commercial is a perfect example. She’s pissed and simply saying “What was that?” doesn’t carry the same weight, no matter how angry she may sound when she says it. Vox’s long “Fuuuuuuuck” at the end of “Stayed Gone” conveys an emotion you just can’t capture any other way. No dialogue at all would create a fundamentally different experience of Vox’s feelings and another non-cursing response is just gonna hit different. Not necessarily bad, just different.

“I don’t want to go to the party!” “I don’t want to go to the freaking party!” “I don’t want to go to the fucking party!”

The above represents three distinct characters to me and I think Hazbin Hotel gets that. Cursing isn’t thrown around randomly because something something cursing supposedly sells; it’s all linguistically logical. Characters curse when something surprising or bad happens, or when something unexpectedly good happens, when they’re angry, trying to be sexy, or they want to add that emphasis. That’s a lot of different situations where cursing can be useful and when you use “fuck” in your daily life a lot you become pretty desensitized to it. As said, for many it’s barely a curse at all. Which means that when you really want to curse you’ve got to up the ante. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that the two uses of “cunt” I can recall—a word that is generally considered far worse than “fuck” and makes a lot of people understandably uncomfortable—is used by two of the worst characters in moments that are meant to horrify the viewer:

Adam: “Can’t wait a whole year to slaughter those little cunts / I know it’s just been a week, but we’ll be back in six months!” Valentino: “When I say you’d better get that fucking cunt out of my studio, you say...?”

This horror is especially emphasized in Valentino’s scene. The creators know this word is coming up and deliberately build towards it. Angel is currently being abused and has been reminded that Valentino “owns” him. The above question is a part of a trio that Valentino asks (a standard structure in writing), wherein the third option is the outlier/most shocking of the three. The animation leans into that shock, with the music building and Valentino grabbing Angel to pull him close right on the word “cunt.” Perez even puts emphasis there because he knows that this is a significant word that will change our understanding of Valentino.

Despite having hit Angel multiple times and taunting him with the contract, this is the moment Valentino stops playing the ‘nice’ employer. This is the real him. No more fake compliments and endearments aimed at Charlie, no more fake comfort/intimacy aimed at Angel. That “cunt” conveys a hell of a lot about how Valentino really sees them and when you have a cast of characters who are already cursing on the regular, it takes a word on that level to do that kind of work. If Valentino had said, “get that fucking bitch out of my studio” it wouldn’t have had nearly the same impact because he’s the kind of guy who uses "bitch" even when playing ‘nice.’

Adam’s line from “Hell is Forever” does very similar work. The scene needs a word to align with the horrific reveal that another extermination is just six months away, that conveys Adam’s deep disgust for Charlie’s people, and that still catches the viewer’s attention even though he’s the character (I believe) who curses the most. Here the music drops and Adam is a little closer to speaking than singing; there's this shift because, like with Valentino, our perception of him is shifting. This isn’t just some egotistical idiot who wants to be called “Dick Master,” he’s the leader of an army coming to gleefully kill them. Framing a whole world of people—people Charlie loves—as “cunts” while treating their murder as a holiday that can’t come soon enough creates an, 'Oh shit. This guy is actually a threat' understanding that you can’t quite get with anything else.

On a smaller scale, cursing does other character work throughout the whole show. I watched a number of cursing compilation vids for this meta (that was a trip lol) and again, cursing is not thrown in randomly. Each character has a unique way of cursing that aligns with their personality and motivations:

As said, Adam curses the most in the show which helps sell his truly over-the-top, irreverent personality. Linguistically, the amount he curses also allows for some fun grammatical play. Lines like, “Fucking love putting my name on shit, shit’s the best!” help convey the versatility of cursing.

Also as said, Charlie curses a fair bit but she’s comparatively polite and her cursing tends to be a result of genuinely big emotions—like saying “Crap” when she’s shocked and falls, or “Shit!” when Adam locks her out of the room—rather than sprinkled into her conversations as a modifier. That leaves space to create those moments of amused surprise when Charlie really let’s loose.

Sr Pentious curses even less than Charlie which fits his secretly gooey center. He talks a big game at the start of the show, but he’s actually quite bad at being, well, bad (especially the Amazon version compared to pilot!Pentious). His idea of getting one over on Alastor is ripping a bit of his coat. He loves his Egg Bois and “doesn’t want to live” without them. He has no desire to go into battle without minions/a big machine to hide behind and, of course, he’s the first to be redeemed. He's too much of a secret sweetheart to curse a lot.

Interestingly, Niffty doesn’t seem to curse at all. At least, not enough for me to think of examples off the top of my head. Right now I’m inclined to read that as an extension of her lived experiences/design—the cute 1950’s housewife archetype who is obsessed with keeping things clean doesn’t [gasp!] curse—as well as a way to maintain her legitimate creep factor. As said, cursing is common among the hotel residents and is a way for them to linguistically fit in. Niffty, however, is positioned more as an outsider (despite how much they all obviously love her): she’s actually scary in a way most demons aren’t and despite how weird this whole world is, she stands out as someone no one else can make sense of (even Alastor). If cursing is normal, Niffty is a character who is decidedly positioned as not normal.

Angel curses a fair bit, though his irreverence is conveyed more through innuendos. Angel is great at verbally twisting others’ words (especially Husk’s) to give himself a conversational advantage:

Husk: “Go fuck yourself” Angel: “Only if you watch me~”

Husk: “You’ve come—” Angel: [very loud orgasm noise] Husk: “...to the right place.”

Meanwhile, Husk uses “fuck” plenty, but he’s also one of the few characters who use “bullshit" too. I wouldn’t say there’s anything particularly revealing about that choice, but just giving him a go-to curse that’s otherwise used infrequently helps make his character distinct in a cast of other cursing characters.

Vaggie occasionally curses in Spanish, showing us her heritage if she used to be human, or a distinct knowledge/verbal preference if she’s always been an angel.

Heaven, as the ‘good’ side, doesn’t curse as a general rule, which leaves room for cursing to do more of that silent character work. We’re reminded of the stuffy, overly critical beings she’s dealing with when Charlie receives the combined judgement of the court for saying, “Fuck yeah!” In contrast, we understand just how shocked St. Peter is to see a Morningstar when he lets out an unintentional “Fuck!” The angry vindication of Charlie’s “That’s what the fuck I’ve been saying!” lands harder after multiple scenes of very little cursing, and Lute’s “Some crack-whore who fucked up already? / He blew his shot like the cocks in his mouth—” helps set her apart as an exorcist + Adam's second in command: her shocking violence comes through in her word choice too; words that supposedly don't belong in Heaven.

In what’s arguably the funniest line in the whole show, Lucifer undermines his dramatic standoff with Adam by going, “You mess with my daughter and now I’m going to fuck you.” Beyond just cutting the tension, that fits his bumbling, oblivious personality perfectly. Lucifer is crazy powerful and can absolutely wreck Adam. He also has none of the classy intimidation that, say, Alastor displays when he tries to convey that. This is a depressed himbo who makes ducks in his free time and settles on, “Hey, bitch!” when greeting his estranged daughter. Of course he’s going to accidentally turn a threat into a promise of sex.

Which finally brings me to Alastor, someone whose cursing is already understood well by the fandom. He’s characterized as manipulatively courteous, using manners to both hide his true nature and draw attention to his power—’You’re so beneath me I’ll just calmly sip my coffee and politely ask who you are, despite the fact that we've fought multiple times.’ This is a guy who calls people “My dear” and unironically insults them with the phrase “wacky nonsense.” So when he curses you can BET it’s gonna have an impact. It sure did for me. I had to pause the episode after Alastor’s first “Fuck you” because it was so shocking to hear that language from him. And that’s the point! The scene wants that reaction from the audience. The "Fuck you"s visceral anger contrasting the fake laughs he and Lucifer have been giving, the quick-fire exchange that’s suddenly cut short by Alastor’s choice of a direct insult, the fact that he’s officially dropping the polite veneer they’ve both been indulging in and raising the stakes before Charlie intervenes, the loss of the radio filter that otherwise demonstrates his control over a situation... all of it screams, ‘THIS IS AN IMPORTANT CHARACTER MOMENT.’

"Fuck you” reveals that, for the first time in the show, Alastor is legitimately threatened by someone. Which makes sense given that, you know, Lucifer is the King of Hell. Cursing for Alastor isn’t normal, so when he does curse it’s going to reveal something about a guy who otherwise is obsessed with being unknowable. Having the King of Hell dismiss him is actually infuriating in a way Sir Pentious’ threats could never be and the exchange kicks off a rivalry that rattles Alastor in ways Vox’s never has. (Side note: is it any wonder people ship them? Character A making control freak Character B feel vulnerable is classic!) It’s no surprise to me than that the one other true curse we get from Alastor is, “I’m about to end your fucking life,” delivered to Adam who, like Lucifer, poses a legitimate threat and does end up beating him. I say “true” curse because calling Susan a “bitch” does similar work for him, but the takeaway is humorous rather than dramatic. It’s funny that the only people who can piss Alastor off enough to curse are the First Man/a powerful exorcist angel threatening his life, the literal King of Hell... and Susan.

So there’s a lot going on here, more than what many viewers might assume if they approach the show as just “stupid,” needlessly vulgar entertainment. As shown above, I don’t think the cursing is needless, especially given that, well... they’re in Hell. They’re sinners, supposedly the worst that humanity has to offer, so of course they're going to curse a lot. Does cursing mean you’re a bad person? No. Can you craft a hellish world that doesn't rely on cursing to convey a group's immoral nature? Sure.

Does it make sense that a writer would equate a sinful, irreverent cast with linguistic rebellion and would want to convey a certain vibe that, frankly, you just can’t get without dropping an F bomb?

Yeah, I think so. No one has to like that kind of creative decision, but it’s worth acknowledging it as a deliberate choice.

That’s all! Thanks for reading this fucking long post ✌️

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel meta #mymetas #tw cursing #cw cursing #tw abuse #cw abuse

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seelestia · 2 years

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— 𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐘.

❝𝐈𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥.❞

SUMMARY. refers to a behaviour or way of thought peculiar to an individual; but in this case, it's something that they do around you and only you.

CHARACTERS. tighnari, alhaitham, cyno.

GENRE. fluff, a moderate amount of crack, established relationship.

CW. mentions of cute aggression and affectionate bullying (in tighnari's part), the reader is down bad for alhaitham and he knows it, one dad joke about cryo slimes (in cyno's part).

THOUGHTS. finally managed to finish this draft while i was on my mini vacay >:) this is my first time writing sumeru men, so feel free to lmk what you think! <3

✰ masterlist.

TIGHNARI . . . likes to knock you on the head, very softly and lovingly.

No, no, don't you go around thinking that you can escape his long and stern lectures just because the two of you are an item. Others may think that you're the only one that has a privilege they don't, but they can't be more wrong.

Asking dumb questions? Flirting with him shamelessly? Want a kiss? You'd get a soft bonk to the head personally delivered by Tighnari himself first, if that even counts as a privilege.

Rest assured that Tighnari's intent is never to hurt you, nor does it actually hurt when he does so. To him, it's an effective way of hushing you nonverbally and it also, may or may not, be his extremely unique love language. Why?

Well, Tighnari kind of... and he stresses, just kind of likes how you scrunch your nose every time he flicks your forehead, how you would complain so adorably and how you would— ahem. Actually, he has some work to do right now, bye.

Sitting down beside Tighnari under the shade beneath the trees of Avidya Forest, you lean towards your partner who is busy scribbling away in his notebook. Curious, you raise an eyebrow at him, "Which plant are you writing about today?"

"Mmm," Tighnari only hums in response. Yet, that can barely be considered an answer to your question. "Nari," you huff, asking for a small dime of his attention.

His hand continues to glide over the pages in his book and his voice is firm as he tells you, "Hold on, I have to jot this down first."

There is no interrupting his focus for even a brief moment, is there?

"Yes, sir," you shake your head. A heavy sigh of resignation is the only thing you can afford to let out. While you do so, Tighnari's pen doesn't halt — well, until it actually does and your forehead suddenly becomes its new destination for no reason at all.

Thunk!

You immediately wince back, resting a hand over the slightly aching spot at the exact center of your forehead. Why is his aim so darn good!? It's an ironic thought since your boyfriend is an archer, but your brain has no time for that right now.

"Wait, what did I do?!" The way you express your confusion so hurriedly comes out in a high-pitched whisper. Hah, he can hear the sulkiness in your voice, how cute.

"Existing," Tighnari smiles.

He smiles and it is now your turn to give him the most incredulous look ever. So, you can't even exist peacefully now? Shouldn't this be considered as affectionate bullying?!

Little do you know how difficult it is for Tighnari to hold in the bark of laughter at the back of his throat upon seeing your reaction.

What? He has done nothing wrong.

Your sulky side is just so cute so of course, he'd have to retaliate with... some form of cute aggression, yeah. Quite funny for someone with fluffy ears and a tail to talk about that topic — but hey, he just calls you cute and that's a compliment, alright?

ALHAITHAM . . . willingly indulges in small talk with you, something he never does with other people.

Most people with a conscious mind don't approach Alhaitham unless they really, really have to. There is just something so piercing about his gaze that scares them to the bone, an electric jolt that instantly sends chills down their spines. He scrutinizes people as if he is breaking them down piece by piece inside his mysterious mind.

As a man who runs on pure rationality, he doesn't spend his time listening to useless information from people who don't matter to him. However, that is exactly it; he doesn't participate in small talk because those people don't matter to him, that's why you are different.

Even to you, it still feels so weird— no, oddly flustering, actually. To see a man so notoriously known for his disregard of others listening to you and something that is even more bizarre? The fact that he is yours.

"Ah, speaking of, I borrowed this particular book from House of Daena—"

It has always been this way; a routine where you'd speak and he'd listen.

The matters you talk about are nothing of utmost significance, nothing that would aid him in his research for knowledge, nothing that would've been useful for his gain.

Small talk is what people call it, yes? How trivial, that mindset of his stays. Yet, when you talk about your day, when you ask him about his day, when you show true interest in his research — Alhaitham doesn't mind, he has gradually learnt not to.

The man is used to being alone; he doesn't want to be involved in people's lives nor does he want them to be involved in his. But the moment he agrees to enter a relationship with you, small talk is a change that he approaches skeptically but he treads closer to it, nonetheless.

Alhaitham tries for you and you acknowledge that all too well.

The way he'd place his hand on his chin as he listens to you speak, the way his tone grows softer around you (whether he realizes or not), how he'd cross his arms against his chest when he is relaxed.

Those little things about him? They make your heart flutter.

He is doing it again today too — and all of a sudden, you find yourself getting distracted halfway through your speech, an abrupt halt that earns you a look of astonishment from the very man who lingers on your mind.

"Hm, what's wrong? Continue," he gestures to you with a raised eyebrow. Ah, you can see it; the gentlest sliver of concern behind that firm expression on his face and your heart does its silly flip once more.

"R-right," you stammer, a flustered croak that triggers the sudden need to bury your face in your hands.

This is so strange, it's not like you're stuck at the crushing phase. Archons, the both of you are officially together now — so, why are you still so easily flustered around him? It seems your feelings for him haven't lessened, even by a small margin.

With a clear of your throat, you try to gather pieces of composure you have left, "Ahem, as I was saying..." But in the corner of your eyes, you can see hints of a fond smile appearing on Alhaitham's lips.

He knows exactly what you're thinking about, doesn't he?

CYNO . . . searches your eyes eagerly for affirmation after he makes a joke.

The General Mahamatra isn't a man of many words. Whenever he speaks, it is concise and straightforward but that is just the way Cyno tries to exude his usual aura of coolness which, more often than not, actually works.

Yet, you know him better than that. As his lover, that intimidating exterior of his can't fool you — after all, you've been a witness to a certain special side to him that many people don't know.

That includes jokes and puns, and lots and lots of them. Who would've thought the oh-so scary General Mahamatra tells puns that makes you want to rethink life for fun?

Listening to his laughter filling the awkward silence after he drops a pun or when he tries to actually explain the point of his joke is truly an experience you wish you can showcase to those who are so afraid of him. (You won't, though since it'll hurt his pride.)

Did you sign up for this? No, but you're not complaining. You may not be a higher-up from the Akademiya, but for Cyno? You'd give his adorably terrible jokes and puns an A+ any day and anytime.

“Which creature has the worst personal hygiene in all of Teyvat?"

Ah, such an interesting grin does the General Mahamatra harbor on his face. An expectant one too, at that — recognizing when Cyno is about to say another joke that he likely grabs from the inventory in his brain is basically your job, at this point.

Mentally preparing for the worst, you eye him suspiciously, "...Which one?"

"Cryo Slimes, because they always bounce on top of the water and never go in for a bath.”

His grin totally widens by two centimetres as he says that, you swear. Now, that's sheer pride if you've ever seen it on someone's face before.

Cyno's enthusiasm doesn't even falter one bit; in fact, it seems like it may have just doubled more than anything. You stay silent for a moment, feeling more endeared with that look on his face than the joke.

When he tells jokes around other people, he does so as a little parade to showcase his witiness — but with you, he does it with the sole intentions to impress. So, when you reciprocate with a moment of silence in order to contemplate his joke, Cyno mistakes it for something else.

He mumbles with a hint of bashfulness in his voice, "...Was it bad?" His hand immediately shoots up to tug his headpiece lower as an attempt to hide his face from view.

Cyno's red-orange eyes begin to scan your expression almost sheepishly, "It can't be that bad, right?"

He's so adorable, you muse to yourself.

You tap your chin with an amused hum, "I'll give it an A+ for effort."

The way he hurriedly tugs his headpiece further down from burning embarrassment makes you realize that you do rejoice being the only one to witness this awkward side of the General Mahamatra.

You truly do.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

✰ TAGLIST: @meimeimeirin @tsuk4sa-yug1 @hcikazu @catcze — [ bolded names are unable to be tagged + fill this form to be a part of my taglist! ]

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin hcs #genshin drabbles #tighnari x reader #tighnari x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #cyno x reader #cyno x you #seelestial.inks

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doberbutts · 1 year

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Your post abt how male victim sa is treated as a joke in media really resonates w/ me. like i dont watch drama tv shows, i watch like sitcom/comedy stuff and so its extra apparent to me in a way?

Because while in a drama tv show you can have both male and female sa victims, sitcoms will rarely if ever try to make jokes about female sa (or at least now anyway, i dont watch older sitcoms) they absolutely do make male sa jokes.

For example, in Parks and Rec theres this episode where April and Andy make a lot of doctors appointments in one day and in one part Andy is listing out all the doctors they've seen and Andy says like "One guy looked at my weiner, touched it, that was weird" and April says "And that guy wasn't even a doctor" and Andy says "...What" with an uncomfortable look on his face and then it just moves on.

And its supposed to be a funny haha moment but everytime I see that clip I get really uncomfortable bc like its never clarified if she was kidding or not but also why would you joke abt your husband being sa'd???

And thats just one example, theres plenty of others. (The whole thing with Barney and Rhonda French in HIMYM makes me super uncomfortable even tho its played as consensual, it gives me bad vibes)

But it feels like no one ever really cares to talk abt it, so it was nice to see someone bring it up. Sorry for the long ask 😅

The comedy I watch is normally yes about equal to Parks and Rec or Brooklyn 99 and yes, there's a lot of jokes that fly under the radar because they victimize one group or another that isn't seen as "in danger". The amount of prison rape and prostate exam (hinthint wink wink not performed by a doctor though teehee) jokes really stand out the more you pay attention to it. And maybe it IS time to pay attention to it, because clearly this is a symptom of a bigger issue, one that endangers everyone.

Going back to stuff I watch more of because I haven't seen more than a clip or two of HIMYM, but I remember when I was watching Buffy with my ex [then boyfriend] and he pointed out that Xander had a really good reason not to like Faith and it's because Faith rapes him (forced to penetrate) and how Xander really... never seemed to forgive her for it and always seemed uncomfortable around her after. And while I was not part of the fandom during the show's heyday, being that I am a relatively recent watcher only maybe about 6 or 7 years ago, he told me it was very frustrating to him that the fandom seemed to focus more on the wrongdoing of Spike's *attempt* to rape Buffy, than the *actual rape* Faith did to Xander.

Even with my Witcher example, I'm seeing people shipping Yennefer and Jaskier because they had a moderately improved friendship in season two, while not at ALL touching on the fact that Jaskier's first memory of her is a blatant sexual assault and maybe that's why he's increasingly aggressive to her every time they see each other for the remainder of season one and when seeing her again in season two. It's more than "he's somewhat jealous of her closeness with Geralt" when I know for a fact she pinned and grabbed him by the penis and I wouldn't fault anyone for not liking someone who grabbed their genitals without consent. I'm not yucking anyone's yum but it's really frustrating to me to see people skate right by that.

(again, books/games fans who follow/reblog, your faves are not immune, I present to you one Triss Merigold who rapes *Geralt himself* by means of a love potion in the books and who does it *again* in the games if you let her manipulate Geralt into sleeping with her when he has amnesia, do not even start with 'wehweh this is why the show sucks' when your favorite adaption did it too and Triss/Geralt is a possible romance path in the third game, AND Yennefer is mad at Geralt for... letting Triss rape him while they were together, because she considers it cheating, if you talk to her about it in the third game she dumps you in the lake to punish you for defending yourself)

Big sigh.

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elysiuminfra · 2 years

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This is your excuse to talk about Utterson. I agree, he deserves more content. 😌

YES YIPPEE THANK YOU

i think when you look into his character he makes a perfect foil to jekyll. he has a strong will, he's resourceful, and moreso, he's active. he's the kind of man to indulge himself within moderation, and not regret it afterwards. he also plays an active role in the story, while jekyll simply lets things happen to him throughout.

i portray him as a direct foil bc i find it particularly interesting. my take on gabriel is that he's gay, DOES have relationships but keeps them relatively quiet (as its frowned upon in victorian society) while jekyll is ashamed of his homosexuality. and him being a lawyer, he has a drive to "win" or "solve" cases, which is sort of how he navigates his relationships as well. gabriel isnt perfect- he cares too much, puts too much of himself into others, and doesn't know when to let go- that's why his relationship with jekyll is so complex, and at the end, it leaves him deeply broken. he feels as if he's "failed." he couldn't save him from himself. he can be overly ruthless when it comes to solving other people's problems- comes with the profession. he can cross boundaries sometimes, and will do anything to "help" jekyll, even if it means digging into things that otherwise shouldn't be dug into (hyde's activities, for example, which i personally like elaborating on)

i think he's also deadpan but funny. the kind of guy to deliver jokes in such a flat tone that it makes you cackle. quiet, reserved, but a good conversationalist. ppl think he's boring but i think he's just like.... not that emotive. he just has a hard time expressing his feelings beyond words. he just grew up in a household where feelings weren't expressed, and in his professional life it only reinforced it. you're supposed to be objective!

i also hc him to be mixed chinese/white which i think im like one of the only ppl that portray him as mixed chinese. i like other ppl's headcanons but im like all alone over here...... also i associate a lot of symbolism with him, jekyll, and hyde. they represent different body parts. jekyll is the brain (thinking, the conscious self) hyde is the hands (active, kinetic, manipulating) and utterson is the eyes (observant, reflective). the color i associate with him the most is blue and grey :) like a pigeon

i think he's an overlooked and underappreciated character because when you really read into it he can be quite interesting. you think about the circumstances that shaped him into the person he is. like him being a lawyer, him being reserved and quiet but amicable- what shaped him to become that? what led him to this point? what is his history with jekyll- beyond just being his lawyer, but being personally invested in his wellbeing? theres so many things you can extrapolate on :)! which is what i like to do. but i mean my personal interpretations are not the same as everyone else's. i just have a lot of personal thoughts about this character and what i enjoy focusing on.

long story short is i like him he's more interesting than ppl think he is and i think more ppl should like him :)

#answers #gabriel john utterson #gabriel utterson #jekyll and hyde #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #amphimal #ty so much btw for asking this ive been itching to talk about him

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holistic-alcoholic · 2 years

Text

It’s All About Love

my stony 2012 fic :D

rating T, humor and pining, minor Sam/Nat, Steve's a disaster, Tony's oblivious, and Sam's the only one with a braincell. For stb-bingo prompts prompts Verbal Bondage, Frenemies to Lovers, Coulson Lives, Roommates, and Dog Park.

read here or on AO3

Steve knocks at Sam’s door, feeling exhausted. He’s an image of a dried seal who hasn’t seen the water in weeks, only more pathetic.

Sam opens after a couple of knocks and doesn’t even judge him too much. He mostly looks amused, to be honest.

“Rough day?”

“Yes. Sorry to barge in, but—”

“It’s okay, man. We had plans, you knew I was home, I told you — many times — that it’s fine. Mi casa su casa.”

Steve smiles, a wave of gratitude for Sam’s existence hitting him in the chest. Sam’s great. And the day was rough.

He hadn’t got much time to rest since the end of the mission, and the sleep always has troubles coming to him; he barely got an hour of shut-eye before the press conference. And he hates those ones. Even the easy ones like today, when SHIELD parades them — mostly him, but Natasha and Clint are recognizable, too, after the battle of New York — showing that they have the world’s safety under control. The politics of it makes Steve’s skin crawl.

They asked all types of questions, today, and it seemed that the reporters cared more about his personal life than the recollection of actual events they were supposed to talk about. Natasha said to him, after, voice gentle, that it’s just how they are now. He was pretty annoyed. He knows it’s how they are. But it doesn’t make it right. Logical. Doesn’t make any sense.

The end of it was... interesting. A young guy — he sounded nervous, but they all usually did in the face of the uniform, or maybe just more polite, more reserved — asked what he thought of transgender rights. Not so blunt, of course, the question was veiled, but Steve perked up, ready to answer — he wanted to answer that. He had a lot of thoughts on the matter.

His awe in the early days of learning about the bright new future matched the resentment that came later. How he despised the fact that people were still hurt, still marginalized, that there was still an argument about the right to exist. How he despised that argument because, honestly, do not change your God-given body? They didn’t say that about him, did they? It was nothing about faith and all about bigotry. He was Catholic, he fucking knew that.

Yes, Steve had a lot to say. He started, mournfully, with his disappointment over the fact that in seven decades there has been not enough progress — not enough acceptance. He said that he found the whole argument so ridiculous, so undeserving of thought: there shouldn’t be any doubt about a person’s life, person’s decisions, identity, freedom. He talked about his body issues and the hypocrisy of men who praised him but drew the line at more misfortunate.

Steve was about to finish with an accentuated ”Fuck transphobes” when Natasha cut him off.

She sounded in agreement with him, and she made the transition flawless, but it still felt like she undermined him a little.

Steve’s tired of it.

Natasha keeps doing it — changing the narrative of his conversations with the press whenever she feels the need. It began after the time when Steve was asked whether he had troubles with technology — for a millionth bloody time — so he told in his best deadpan voice about the mortal dangers of email. It was supposed to be funny.

Nobody got the joke. Not when he was dressed in red, white and blue — not when he was wearing a symbol, a hero, a story atop himself. Captain America doesn’t joke. Captain America doesn’t know what email is.

They only mocked SHIELD about its tech support for a week, so since then, Natasha plays the moderator. Steve doesn’t really know whether she gets his jokes — or honest opinions that have too much of Steve Rogers in them, not Captain America. Natasha is hard to read, but he hopes she understands at least part of it. She’s a friend. Friendly. Closer to him than anybody else at SHIELD, more informal to him. Even if that mostly shows in her futile attempts to set him up (although, always with women). That’s probably the reason he lets her: Steve genuinely likes her.

And he has a bit of a habit to yield to strong women in his life.

But, well. It’s fine. It’s ridiculous, to be bothered by a friendly gesture. Steve doesn’t let himself be bothered.

He comes to Sam, Sam doesn’t ask more than that first question, and they play video games for a little while — until Sam swears at him and tells him to go away and stop preventing him from doing some real-life adulting.

“Maybe one last match?” Steve asks, his face a picture of innocence. “You haven’t won once today.”

“Fuck you, Rogers,” Sam grumbles and goes to his paperwork, but at least he doesn’t kick Steve out of his apartment.

Sam’s great.

Steve stays on his couch. It’s peaceful. Steve likes it way more than his own house — provided by SHIELD, furnitured by SHIELD with all the discomfort of his past but none of the real memories. Sam is the first real friend Steve made in the future, a first one who isn’t a work friend (who doesn’t know about Captain America, only Steve Rogers, a bit of a dork and a little shit who works in something incredibly confidential). Sam’s place is a safe haven.

In a while Steve grows bored watching Sam being a responsible adult, and since Sam forbade him both from helping around the flat (stop it, don’t touch my stuff! You don’t live here, man, you’re a guest, no house duties for you) and from cooking (Steve, look, I love you and I value your friendship, but if you boil anything in my kitchen ever again—), Steve gives up himself to the horrors of the internet.

He checks Twitter first and spends a peaceful minute checking out the new pieces from several artists he follows — it’s really beautiful, and he’s amazed still that it’s so much easier now to learn, to show your work, to be part of a community that transcends the physical distance, with people all over the world. Then, not wanting to delay the inevitable, he checks what’s trending. Captain America is in third place. Several first popular tweets say “Cap accidentally supports trans rights”.

Accidentally.

Steve looks at his phone with despair. He wants to throw it at the wall. He wants to throw himself at the wall. He wants to put on the uniform back and go to the Times Square and yell I fucking support every fucking human right at people, but at this point, everyone would probably think him to be a fake Cap or something.

Steve grimaces at one of the most annoying tweets and can’t stop himself from replying with a sarcastic “or, maybe, a person whose whole deal is punching injustice in the face wants to punch injustice in the face”. Then he closes the tag. Online fights are draining and pointless.

Should he punch some senator in the face? That might help. At least help him to feel better.

Steve slumps at his coach. The world’s very sad. He grows restless soon and opens his feed again, but nothing catches his attention. He needs something else to raise his spirits. Something...

With a face heating a little like it always did whenever he felt guilty as a kid, he taps a search bar and types Captain America Iron Man in it. Glancing at Sam, as if Sam would care what he does on his phone. Steve scrolls, pausing at pictures. Most of them are photos from the battle of New York — reporter photos, blurry amateur ones, and the actual art of them — of him and Tony. Sometimes with others, too. The captions always use the codenames, even for Tony — the only one of them known to the world. Some photos are from the press conferences they had together: everyone clean and presentable, Tony without the suit — or, well, in the other kind of suit — rolling his eyes at something or in the middle of saying something probably sarcastic or genius.

The amount of time Steve spends staring at those ones is strictly between him and his phone.

80% of the art is recapturing moments from the battle or comics about daily superhero life. Captions proclaim them frenemies. That word comes from some of the interviews when they had to play the opposite roles, of sorts, Steve realizes, and has nothing to do with their actual team dynamics, unknown to the public, but he still feels the discomfort, remembers the way Tony and he clashed at the first meeting, the way they were awkward and distant after. He scrolls down.

The other 20% of art is, well, porn.

Steve’s still getting used to the whole concept.

(He saves a couple of well-drawn pictures.)

In twenty minutes he gets a reply to his what if Captain America actually meant what he said tweet. It reads: “and I care about your fucking opinion so much user tonystarkstan1918”.

Steve frowns at it.

He thought he figured out the typical pattern of choosing a nickname.

Sam turns to him.

“You okay? You’ve been sighing at your phone for a while now.”

Steve grimaces. He doesn’t want to complain — his problems are pretty stupid. It’s nothing big. He tells Sam so.

“Is it about your guy?” Sam asks in a second, voice gentle.

When Steve came out to him — not that far ago — he said he liked someone, but nothing more. It’s still odd, still scary and nerve-wracking to talk about it. To know he’s allowed to talk about it. But it’s also pretty amazing.

And, well. He was staring at Tony’s face and feeling sad for himself and his (non-existent) chances.

“Partly, yes,” Steve admits.

Sam lifts his head, inviting him to speak.

“He’s just... so great,” Steve says and blushes, and then doesn’t know where to put his arms. He’s bad at this. “But he’s so out of my league, it’s not even funny.”

“Come on. Steve. You’re great. And objectively very attractive.”

Steve scoffs.

“But it’s not really what matters, is it?” He shrugs. “And we had a bad start.”

“Uh-huh?”

Steve sighs, frustrated, not sure how to explain the endless distance between him and Tony without giving out their identities.

“Look. Imagine you have a, a celebrity crush. And it’s someone big, I don’t know, a princess or something. And they’re not only famous but genuinely an amazing person. Using the status that they have to actively change the world. Succeed in it.”

“Okay, I’m crushing on Princess Diana, sure.”

“I guess. And you can’t even — can’t compare to them in any way, so you could only watch them from a distance. But you actually know this person — meet this person regularly.” Steve winces and looks directly into Sam’s eyes to continue. “And they fucking hate your guts.”

Sam stares at him for a while.

“Right. Firstly, I think you’re being a little overdramatic — I said a little, I believe it’s a serious problem, but the amount of spectacle in that last delivery was too much — and secondly, Steve. He might be great, and you guys might have a strained relationship now, but it’s not the reason to diminish yourself that way, okay? Not the reason to compare anything. You’re an amazing person. Love yourself. And while you do that, I can give your a shoulder to cry about the greatness of Mr. Right or some advice or whatever, but don’t forget step one.”

Steve nods, a little bit choked. Then he takes on the invitation and gushes about Tony. After a while, Sam looks like he regrets his suggestion, but he doesn’t say anything. Sam’s great.

It’s 9am on a Monday, and they have the Avengers meeting. It’s pretty boring. Clint doesn’t hide that he’s sleeping. Natasha had the same blank expression for 15 minutes at least; Steve thinks she’s asleep, too. Thor didn’t show up on account of not being on the planet, and so did Bruce — on account of nobody willing to make him.

Tony sauntered in twenty minutes late. He hasn’t stopped complaining about the ordeal since.

His tie has little Iron Mans on it. It’s very cute.

Steve told him “hello”, and “nice tie”, and managed not to blush or stumble over himself. He’s counting it as a win, even though the tie comment got him a frown.

Suddenly the room freezes. It happens like this: Tony stops talking, his face changing into a shocked expression, there is a sound of something falling from Clint’s direction, Maria Hill — standing in front of them — tenses in the corner of Steve’s eye, Steve turns, Steve sees it.

Agent Coulson walks inside the room.

He looks exactly like the last time Steve saw him. A non-descriptive suit, polite smile, a tablet in hand.

Alive.

“What the fuck?” Tony says in the silence.

“I second that,” Clint echoes faintly.

Natasha just looks murderous.

“Third,” Steve adds.

“Hello,” Coulson says. “Excuse me for interrupting, I have news for all of you about the future structure of this team.”

He waves a hand with the tablet.

“What the fuck is going on,” Clint says, voice slightly hysterical. “How the fuck. You were dead. I saw your body.”

“Are you a shape-shifting alien? Are we sure he’s not a shape-shifting alien?”

“You have received the instructions on your emails about the changes.” Coulson continues. Steve feels a little dizzy. “The main problem, however, is the housing. For the most effectiveness of the team, you should have a common headquarters. Preferably, live near each other. Mr. Stark, if your offer to allocate several floors of your Tower to it is still on the table, this conversation is finished.”

He pauses and waits for a nod from Tony.

(Floors of the Tower?...)

“Great. Any more questions?”

They’re all silent. It’s the shock.

“All right. Then the meeting adjourned,” Coulson nods to Hill, who turns off the presentation.

They are still all staring. Steve feels like he has a concussion. He’s probably not the only one.

“It’s great to see you again,” Coulson says after a second. It’s quiet, soft, with more emotion than he let on before.

It’s a mix of a greeting, an apology, and a dismissal. Then he leaves.

Later Steve’s at VA — Sam needed some brawn to help carry around furniture — and he’s still reeling with shock. Sam finished telling him all his job-related anecdotes and now looks at him with suspicion. It’s justified: Steve usually talks more. Recently, since Sam is okay with talking about his feelings for Tony, Steve talks a lot.

Now, well, now it’s harder. A person I knew and admired was thought to be murdered by an insane alien, which was a pivotal moment for me and other people starting a superhero team, and today we found out he’s alive.

Way too complicated.

In the end, Steve just says there have been big changes at work, and that he will soon move to a place that’s being organized for them — to live around each other.

“Does this living with each other thing include your crush?” Sam asks immediately, astute as always.

“Yes,” Steve admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it’s not really— it’s just the same building.”

“Oh no, don’t give me that. You’re gonna be roommates,” Sam sing-songs, obnoxious.

Steve swears at him.

He repeats the word afterward, alone: roommates. Says aloud, trying it out: they’re going to be roommates. It sounds pretty happy to him.

Also: really fucking nervous.

The living arrangements are these: Tony made them apartments in the Tower. Everyone gets a floor.

(A literal fucking floor, Steve’s so not okay with this.)

Moving is a process. Tony gets them all to come together so he can show them around at once. He doesn’t explain beforehand why, so both Steve and Clint show up in uniform (they look ridiculous). Several floors (several fucking floors) are common: gym, kitchen, all the strange equipment (Steve’s pretty good at SHIELD-level tech, not Tony-level tech). Up from that come the personal ones. Tony herds them into the elevator and kicks out one person on each floor. The last one is Steve’s. Tony walks out with him.

Steve is being so normal about it.

It takes him a second to distract himself from thoughts of Tony and actually look around. He stops.

“Is that...” Steve knows these things.

An old radio Bucky found and fixed to bring it home. A stack of journals, old snd battered and familiar. The bag that contained clothes too small to fit him the last time he saw it. Oh. His mother’s photograph.

”Tony,” he says, strangled.

“Uh, yeah. That, I think, is everything yours that was stolen by the government. They were very annoyed about giving it back, mind you. But honestly, what are they — the British museum?”

”Thank you.” Steve thinks he is going to cry right here.

Tony looks very uncomfortable and avoids Steve’s eyes. Fuck, of course, he does — Steve is on the verge of — Steve needs to calm down.

“Eh. Wasn’t a hardship. I needed to have something here, considering I barely made anything for you.”

Only then Steve’s attention, so thoroughly zeroed on his things, widens: the rest of the room is half-empty.

“There’s a gym fitted for your needs, the kitchen is fully stocked, bathroom, etcetera, but I need your input for the actual living space. Draw something you like, show JARVIS, and it will be done.” Tony points to a red light on the ceiling, probably meaning a camera, then turns and finally looks at Steve.

Steve feels a little light-headed under the full weight of his attention.

“Didn’t know what you’d like best.”

It’s said like a concession. A suggestion to move forward, to advance: Tony Stark showing he didn’t know something. Showing vulnerability with a smile. A clear step toward.

“Am I a hard man to understand?” Steve answers with a similar smile on his face. Trying to match Tony’s move. “Everyone seems to know more about my life than I.”

“Captain America — maybe not so hard. But that,” Tony waves at the room, “is the place for Steve Rogers. Him, I don’t know yet.”

If Steve hasn’t been in love before.

It’s a little bit awkward after that. Mostly because Steve’s touched about his things, part of his life, and the yearning for Tony inside of him grows and grows and becomes too much, and he can’t do anything but stare at the man’s face wordlessly and try not to cry. It’s ridiculous. Tony fidgets under his eyes.

He probably waits for the moment to go. He doesn’t want to spend time with Steve.

But he gave me this, Steve thinks. It has to mean something. And he doesn’t want to let go yet, wants to bask in Tony’s presence some more, to look at him here, so close, with defenses brought down. He wears a simple T-shirt and ratty jeans, so unlike those pristine suits he wears at his interviews (that Steve spends a normal amount of time watching). Tony looks approachable, for once. Steve doesn’t want to lose it.

But he doesn’t know what to do to make Tony stay.

“Alright,” Tony says at last, a crooked smile on his face, “that’s more or less it. Ask JARVIS for anything you might need. And, oh, come here—”

Suddenly Tony is so close, and his arm is around Steve’s shoulders, and there’s a sound of a camera clicking.

“Great. Very patriotic. I would ask for an autograph, but I don’t have a pen with me. Send it to Coulson, J, make him know we’re all happy roomies now.”

“Me too, um, JARVIS.”

Tony lifts his eyebrow at that, but doesn’t say anything, waves his hand in goodbye, and goes away.

Steve needs to lie down for a while.

Steve goes to Sam’s place the same day. They were planning to catch a movie.

(Looking at his schedule, Steve begins to realize he doesn’t have many friends.)

Steve barges in with a huge smile on his face.

“Sam,” he says with feeling, “Sam, he doesn’t hate me.”

“Uh-huh. Told you so. How’s being roommates going?”

“It’s great. I guess. Don’t know, haven’t really moved in yet. But Sam. He found my lost things. He made me an apartment. He thinks— he took a selfie with me, look! He was so close, and he smelled so nice, it's the best day of my life.”

Steve shows Sam the picture, then faceplants on his couch. He’s overcome.

Sam doesn’t say anything for a while, which is pretty weird for him. Steve doesn’t care.

“It was so great.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s so amazing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you think it means something that he showed only me my place? Not anybody from the others?”

“Sure.”

Sam’s voice sounds farther away. Steve stands up and follows him to the kitchen.

Sam has a glass on the table, and he’s pouring pure vodka in it. It’s 5pm. His face shows great focus.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. Great. Peachy.”

His voice sounds a little off.

“Are you sure?”

“Just currently rethinking all the choices I’ve made in my life. Especially concerning choosing childhood idols. Nothing serious.”

Steve stares at him.

What.

“Are you—?”

“It’s fine, Steve,” Sam continues in a normal voice. “I just wanted a drink. Go on.”

He still looks a bit disturbed, but clearly doesn’t want to discuss it more. Steve lets him drop it.

He goes on.

Sam quickly returns to his normal state, so Steve doesn’t worry about it.

In a while, though, when Steve has a little break in his gushing-about-Tony, Sam makes an awkward face and says:

“Look, Steve, can I say something?”

He sounds uneasy. Steve nods.

“It’s just — I fully support you, and your love life is very amusing, I mean it, it’s basically your regular soap opera, only with more twists. But sometimes it’s just — I’m not your therapist, okay? And I say that in the most loving way possible. I just don’t have the strength to be a good listener sometimes. And maybe, you know, let’s talk about my love life sometimes, or I’m starting to feel like one black guy in a rom-com.”

Steve’s immediately horrified. He spends the rest of the evening ashamed and apologetic. But they talk about it, and Sam’s very right to begin this talk. They agree to communicate better. They watch a movie they were planning to.

Steve asks about Sam’s love life, but it hasn’t changed since Sam’s last date, which Steve remembers the horrifying story of, but Sam talks more about the fear of opening up to the new people and not meeting anyone new. Steve listens.

(Steve also strategizes. But doesn’t say anything yet.)

It’s a good evening, still, a great day. For the following week Steve stops himself from venting to Sam about anything and gets an exasperated text about it after.

In the end, they find their balance.

Steve moves to the Tower.

He finds out — to his own surprise — that he likes the new apartment, even if it feels too big sometimes. It’s so much better than the SHIELD’s one.

He works. He makes friends with JARVIS. He sees the others, sometimes. Life finds its routine.

There’s Bruce making coffee and offering to share. There’s Clint, inexplicably jumping from the ceiling vent.

There’s Natasha, who shows up at the common kitchen at weird times, and sometimes knocks at Steve’s door and spends time on his floor.

She still holds herself close to the chest, but Steve calls them friends now. She doesn’t try to set him up anymore. It may be connected to the fact that the last time she did it, he said only if you agree to go out with my friend.

Steve thinks she agreed mostly out of surprise. Or curiosity.

He asked Sam later that night, more seriously, of course, and told him he has this great friend, that they could find some common interests, get on well, and it doesn’t have to be romantic.

They’re dating now. Sam doesn’t shut up about her.

Steve fucking won this matchmaking thing.

And, of course, there’s Tony. Steve almost got used to his presence, or so he says himself.

He’s still nervous around the man sometimes. Clammy hands, fast heartbeat. It’s ridiculous. But also pretty great.

There are nights like this. Steve can’t sleep — sleep problems are something everyone in this Tower has in spades — and he reads, lying on the couch of the common floor. He tends to gravitate here whenever he feels too lonely, to the place where his teammates spend more time, where he feels the connection to him. Tony appears at the doorstep. He looks tired, but slightly manic.

“Hey,” Steve calls out quietly, something about the night not letting him speak in full voice. “can’t sleep?”

Tony jumps as if he hasn’t noticed him before.

“Cap. Hi. Yep, no sleep for the wicked. You too?”

Steve nods. Waves for Tony to sit with him, and he complies, which is a gift in itself.

They’re silent and tired, not used to conversations away from the field.

“How’s the book?”

“Eh. Pretty boring.”

“But you’re still reading it.”

“Thought it could lull me to sleep.”

They both laugh at it. Then it’s silence again, but less awkward, now.

It’s strange, Steve ponders, the reason for them to lack a conversation topic is that all is well. It’s unfamiliar. Pleasantly so.

They talk about SHIELD’s latest idiosyncrasies, Clint’s hijinks, and the mean curry Bruce made last week and shared with everybody.

“A perfect roommates experience,” Tony snorts. “Are we to have a cooking schedule? Friday movie nights? God, it’s been a while for me. I graduated — what, twenty years ago? More, actually.”

“Not sure I’d trust you with the cooking. I can see you blowing up everything.”

“You wound me, Spangles. Cooking is just chemistry, I’m great at it. And all my explosions are deliberate.”

“It’s settled then, you’re on kitchen duty for the movie night,” Steve says in his team leader voice, then can’t stop himself and smirks at Tony’s dumbfounded expression.

It’s great.

At some point, Tony has Steve reminiscing about his childhood, even — something he tries not to do, as a rule. But it’s different, now. The pain’s not too loud, and he smiles, telling a particularly ridiculous story about him, a yard dog, and an angry baker left without his meat pie.

“I wanted to bring her home, you know. So much. I was nine, I think, the perfect time for dragging every cute animal home. But I had an allergy, and my ma’d never let me. Even if I wasn’t allergic — another mouth was hard to feed. It did well, though. The dog. I’ve seen it around the place years later. People were kind, everyone in our neighborhood was. Looked for each other. For the dog, too.”

Tony’s answering smile looks bittersweet. Steve feels like his is too, as well.

“Did you have a pet as a kid?” He asks.

“A robot one,” Tony says, and of course he did. But he doesn’t elaborate.

There’s no robot pet of any kind living with them now. Steve feels like it wouldn’t be by Tony’s own decision.

They almost fall asleep like that, on the couch.

Steve spends the next day with the widest smile on his face.

Three days later Steve comes home after his morning run, and Tony’s sitting in his living room with a dog on his lap.

Steve stops. The back of his brain says that he looks laughable in his sweaty t-shirt and shorts, but the insecurities are silenced by the main thought: dog!

A real, alive dog. In his living room. Looking at him, its tails moving.

Steve stares at the dog. The dog stares at Steve. Tony also stares at Steve, but somewhere below the head (does he have dirt on his shirt?).

The dog is the first one to break the silence.

“What?” Steve asks after it barks.

“I brought you a dog?” Somehow it sounds like a question.

“You brought me a dog.”

“Yep. From the dog shelter. She’s very nice, they say, and trained, although she has anxiety.”

Steve keeps looking at the dog. She seems glad to meet him, not anxious, or at least not visible.

Holy fuck, Tony got him a dog.

“I feel like I have to point out,” Steve begins slowly, “that when I mentioned the other night that I liked dogs, and wanted one as a kid, I didn’t mean— that I wanted you to get one.”

Tony starts to look sad, and Steve curses himself. Backtrack!

“I love the dog!” He adds hastily. “Don’t get me wrong, the dog’s amazing. But. Please don’t get me anything I ever happen to mention?”

Tony snorts, schools his face, and nods solemnly.

“I can’t promise you anything, but I will try.”

After giving him all the details on the dog — her name’s Daisy, she needs special food and meds and walks — Tony tries to shuffle toward the exit.

“Wait,” Steve says, an opportunity arising in his mind. “We’re roommates, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you got me a dog.”

“True, yes.”

“And we’re co-leaders of the team, and you’re technically the landlord—”

“What are you saying?”

“That means Daisy’s our dog.”

“Um, Steve—”

“Oh no, you don’t get to get out of it after bringing me her without a warning. And look at her! You wouldn’t leave her in an incomplete family, would you? Daisy needs both her dads.”

Both Steve and Daisy make puppy eyes at Tony. Steve sees the moment when he breaks.

“Fine, but—”

“See you at the dog park tomorrow!”

The dog park is great. They got one not far from the Tower, so it’s convenient. Daisy loves it.

The first few days leave a trail of paparazzi photos — Steve looking happy, Daisy cautious, Tony uncomfortable. After that they seek more secluded spots in the park, come at odder times — to help Daisy feel more at peace. At least they both have a horrible enough sleep schedule for it not to be a hardship.

Daisy falls into the routine pretty soon. Tony — not so much. He looks like he wants to be somewhere far, far away in the first two weeks — even though when Steve asks if he’s good with coming with them, he frowns and says he won’t miss it for the world.

After these weeks he makes a 180. Daisy gets a new collar and leash, insane robot toys, a playroom, and several clothes that are both perfectly safe for a dog and can probably withstand a bullet. Tony himself suddenly throws himself into playing. It’s amazing to see him like that. He smiles more, at Daisy, at the world, at other dogs.

At Steve.

It’s a happy smile, a real one, a bit crooked and mischievous and beautiful, and Steve’s heart aches looking at it. It’s a privilege to be looked at like that.

Sometimes Steve feels like he’s living on borrowed time, has these moments of happiness, bliss, Tony. Undeserving and precious. But sometimes, sometimes, when Tony grins at him while petting Daisy, both of them playful and full of joy, Steve feels hope.

Recently, the latter starts to win.

Natasha’s lying on Steve’s couch, snuggling with Daisy. She looks effortlessly elegant for someone who just traded kisses with a dog. Steve doesn’t know when she got here.

“You should ask him out,” she says out of the blue.

Steve chokes.

Out of surprise to hear her voice behind him, not the words — that’s nothing new. Natasha is dating Sam, of course, and since Sam is Steve’s number one go-to about all things connected to Tony, it was hard to keep it from her.

Natasha’s insistence to see Steve happy in a relationship came back, enlarged, since then. But now, instead of trying to find a partner for him, she pokes him unexpectedly and says stuff like that. Like a matchmaking ghost in a horror movie.

(Steve’s pretty sure Natasha mostly does it to get back at him for successfully setting her up on the first try. Sam says that they are weird fucking people, and he’s worried about the safety of the world.)

“Go away,” he tells Natasha.

She pokes him again. Daisy sees an unknown game and imitates Nat by jumping on Steve’s leg.

“I just need a perfect moment,” Steve whines at them after a while, when it becomes clear the two of them have more patience than he does. “What am I supposed to do, barge in the workshop and say Tony, want to go out with me?”

He’s coming around to the fact that he’s doing it in general. It’s just. It’s scary, still. And too important.

“Great plan, let’s go with it,” Natasha says and kicks him out of his own apartment.

“You’re bullying me!” Steve yells at the closing door.

“I know!”

Well. Nat doesn’t seem like she wants to let him back. He goes to the workshop. Maybe Tony isn’t there.

Tony is inside. Tony turns around, noticing Steve, and grins at him. Steve automatically grins back. Then stops.

Tony’s wearing a tank top.

Steve doesn’t say anything.

Natasha throws a dog toy in his face.

“Why the fuck didn’t you do it?”

Steve hides his heated face in his hands.

“Biceps,” he says with feeling.

Natasha calls him a useless dumbass. She may be right.

Tony wanders into Steve's living room when Steve and Sam are playing Mario Kart.

It’s a little bit embarrassing. Steve hurries to get up (and subsequently loses, to Sam’s unholy glee) and manages to introduce them. They make awkward three-way conversation until Daisy comes to say hello to Tony. Tony bends to her level and scratches her head, telling her soft endearments. Steve tells himself he isn’t jealous of his dog. Sam looks at Steve with a smirk that says he knows exactly what Steve’s thinking.

Tony stands back up, oblivious to their hijinks.

“Right. Well, that was my daily dog time. I probably should go. Leave you kids to your own... thing. Nice to meet your, uh, friend here, Cap.”

He sounds weird. Uneasy. His face is unreadable, no matter the smile, and his eyes are focused on Daisy, who lies down at Sam’s feet.

Steve is about to ask him what’s wrong, but Sam gets ahead of him.

“I’m dating Nat, by the way. And I’m straight.” Steve looks at him with surprise — what the fuck is this about. Does he want Steve to come out or something? “Just providing the information. Also, speaking of my girlfriend, I need to go see her. We had plans— hey, Steve, don’t you get that thing you wanted to ask Tony? The one you and Nat were talking about.”

All those times when Steve thought Sam was a great friend? Lies. He’s going to strangle him.

And he and Nat didn’t have any plans. Bastard.

But before Steve can kill Sam with his eyes, he goes away. At least Tony looks more cheerful, and even says his goodbyes in a much more sincere voice, telling Sam to relay something to Natasha.

“So, what was it?”

“Hm?”

“The thing you wanted to ask me?”

Oh. Steve freezes.

It’s not a perfect moment by far. It’s not romantic, it’s daylight, Daisy makes ridiculous noises in the background, and Steve doesn’t look in the least presentable (it’s not that important, he knows, but there’s still this idea in his head, this image of how it should be: a nice suit, flowers, perfect manners). But. He looks at Tony, and Tony looks back, open and at ease and here. It doesn’t matter.

And Steve’s not a coward. He’s not going to lose his chance.

“Do you want to have dinner sometime?”

(It comes out so sure. Soft, but confident. Steve’s surprised at himself.)

“Oh. Okay. Do you mean like a, a team thing or—?”

“I mean as a date. A romantic one.”

The moment stops. It’s nerve-wracking, but also calm. Steve doesn’t freak out. He knows in his heart that even if Tony doesn’t— even if it’s a no, they’re going to be alright in the end. His heart doesn’t believe Tony can ever truly hurt him.

He watches as Tony’s eyes widen, and he’s — he didn’t expect that, sure. But it’s not necessarily a bad thing.

“Um,” Tony says, and fidgets, and oh. He’s flustered. Steve’s heart starts beating faster. “Okay. Um. Yes. Let’s do this. Sure.”

“Friday?”

“Uh-huh. Friday’s great. After seven?”

Steve nods. He grins so hard his cheeks hurt.

Tony nods too, and he still looks like he’s not sure what’s happening, eyes wide and astounded and beautiful. But he smiles back. It’s a bit shy. Steve’s in love, in love, in love.

After Tony’s gone he has to lie down for a while. He sends a text to a group chat with Sam and Nat, telling them the news. They sent a lot of emojis back. It’s ridiculous how happy he is.

Their first date’s a little awkward. The knowledge of it being a date hangs over their heads, making them both unsure of how to proceed.

They meet at the Tower, of course, what with the both of them already living here, and the ride to the restaurant is silent and giddy. Steve steals little glances at Tony, who’s wearing a very him combo of jeans, a t-shirt and a suit jacket. The jeans are very fitting. Steve blushes thinking about it.

(Steve himself spent a better part of his day suffering in front of the mirror with Natasha mercilessly bullying him. Her efforts are not for nothing, though: he thinks he looks alright.)

Happy — he’s driving — kicks them out at the restaurant door and tells them have fun, kids in an obnoxious voice, to which Tony protests, but Steve just laughs, and it’s a start of a conversation. It runs more or less smoothly from that moment on, after they remember that they are friends, too, and actually enjoy talking to each other. There are some bumps in this smoothness, of course, attached to their new status, but they’re mostly enjoyable.

While Tony shares some SI anecdotes, lively and hilarious, Steve can only think how beautiful he is, so engrossed in the story, and he realizes, suddenly, that he can actually say that aloud. So he does.

Tony drops his fork and loses his train of thought, then sits there for a second, staring at Steve with a see what you did expression, but comes back at him without abandon, making Steve blush so hard he wants to hide under the table. He doesn’t hide, but he does keep silent for a while, overwhelmed, hands covering his very red face.

“Steve? I’m sorry, was that too much?” Tony does sound genuinely sorry.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. You’re just so— give me a second,” Steve takes a breath. “That’s why it was so intimidating to ask you out, you know. You, with your... verbal bondage thing.””

“Verbal— oh my god, Steve. How the fuck do you even know this phrase?”

“Oh, it’s this site — urban dictionary!” Steve perks up, embarrassment forgotten in the face of a more comfortable topic. “Such a great resource, all the modern slang I didn’t know. Really helpful. Especially with all the sex stuff.”

“Wow.”

“I’m not that comfortable with the concept, I think — outside of joking. Of verbal bondage, I mean. It’s complicated, and sounds too close to manipulation... very different from the usual type of bondage — so much more straightforward. And the whole concept of a safeword? It’s great. Just — it’s wonderful, how people try so seriously to mind the boundaries, consent, be more ethical, you know?”

“Uh-huh. No, yes, I agree with you, I’m just still processing your whole— saying those words in that order.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, Rogers, you’re the one casually bringing bondage in conversation. And you say the compliments are too much.”

“Just because I lost a battle doesn’t mean I’m not winning the war,” Steve says, Tony laughs, surprised, and it’s on.

Competitive flirting is not your typical first date activity, maybe, but it’s very them. And it’s great.

They walk back home. It’s already dark, quiet and warm. Tony’s hand finds Steve’s, and they lock up until the Tower. Steve walks Tony to his floor — he is a gentleman, after all, and it’s just manners, which he tells Tony in his best serious voice.

“And here I thought you were aiming for a goodnight kiss,” Tony teases in answer.

“Those are not mutually exclusive.”

Tony snorts but then reaches for him. His hand finds itself on Steve’s face, and he’s so close. Steve’s brain captures the moment, never to forget. The kiss is short and chaste and tender, but Steve has to stand there, afterward, eyes closed, for a second to come back to himself. When he opens his eyes, Tony smiles, wide and happy and like everything’s right with the world.

Hours later Steve can’t fall asleep.

It’s nothing new, but today instead of worries and loneliness his mind focuses on the memories of the evening. He’s still giddy, happy. It’s a good change.

After a while he gives up and wanders to the common floor — a place for the sleepless, a trove of good memories. He threads silently but stops at the doorstep as he sees Tony on the couch with a tablet in hand.

“Hey there,” Tony lifts up his head, “can’t sleep, huh?”

Steve hums his yes and sits near him.

“What’s keeping you up?”

He loves this version of Tony: relaxed, homey, voice tender and the look so soft when he asks his question.

“Pent up energy, I think. It’s been an eventful day.”

“In a good way, I hope?”

“The best. Had a great date.”

Tony smiles.

“Me too.”

It’s easier, feels more right like that. Together.

The next day Steve comes to Tony’s office to give him a giant bouquet of flowers. They are red and gold. Steve saw them at the flower booth by accident and couldn’t help himself. Tony stares at him for a second, at the flowers, dumbfounded, then yanks them from Steve’s hand and tells him to go away, because he’s a serious businessman and has work to do.

“Uh-huh,” Steve replies. “See you in the dog park this evening.”

Pepper snickers at them in the background.

When Steve leaves, he hears — superhearing — how behind the closed door Tony says:

“He can’t do that. That’s not allowed. Seriously. Stop laughing. I can’t deal with it. This is unfair,” but he sounds like he grins all the same, so Steve doesn’t worry about it.

In yet another SHIELD press conference, Steve and Natasha at its front, decked in uniform, a rather unpleasant-looking reporter asks Captain America about his previous statement that can be read as the support of transgender privilege.

“I don’t know how else it can be read as,” Steve answers. “And since when are we calling basic human rights a privilege?”

The reporter scoffs. He produces some ridiculous hateful rhetoric that he finishes, cheeky, with the question “Would you sleep with a so-called woman if she had a dick, Captain?”.

Steve looks at him for a while, feeling oh so tired of this bullshit.

“Your silence is an answer in its—” the reporter starts.

“My silence is contributed by the fact that it’s an incredibly stupid question,” Steve says. The room grows silent as a graveyard. “But if you insist. I do not, in fact, choose my romantic partners by the look of their genitals. And, hypothetically, were I to have romantic for a woman who happened to be not cis, I wouldn’t mind. However, practically I am in a committed relationship at the moment that I don’t see ending, so your question isn’t relevant here. I also have no desire to disclose what’s in my boyfriend’s pants.”

There’s silence. Then:

”He would, though,” Natasha says in her mildly amused voice.

“Yes, he has no qualms about taking his clothes off to make a statement,” Steve grins. “I love him so much.”

That last bit is said with a decidedly Steve Rogers voice, not Captain America one, happy and giddy and awkward.

The room breaks. Natasha declares the event to be over, not even trying to placate the crowd. She looks very proud of Steve.

At home, Tony greets him with a hug and a kiss.

“Besmirching my honor on live TV. Am I a bad influence on you, darling?”

“You’re proud of me, really,” Steve tells him, unrepentant.

It gets him another kiss.

They turn off the news and social media for the evening, all the speculation and gossip and uproar banned from their little world. Daisy, so grown already, falls asleep on both their laps.

#stony #stevetony #tony stark #steve rogers #my fic #writing #fanfic #mine #pining #humor #2012 tower fic #sam wilson #natasha romanova #stb bingo #let steve rogers say fuck transphobes 2k12

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runawayballista · 1 year

Text

some moderately spoilery mp100 s3 thoughts

im reserving final judgment until ive seen the rest of the season but i do feel like s3's direction isn't quite as good as s1/2. like really good in places but on the whole i think i liked tachikawa's direction more and it also felt more consistent. i know he's still on the directing team but there's a visible difference to me in how he and hasui have approached the adaptation. some of the line cut choices are odd, and i think maybe it's because hasui is going for more "show, don't tell", but like, as baffling as i find the "tsubomi & mob can exist without distorting each other" line, its definitely an important moment and i'm not sure what was gained by cutting it. in fact it makes things feel a bit more vague if anything? overall some of the pacing of this arc feels a bit weird despite there being more breathing room (or maybe because of that), like, these aren't great lines that needed to be cut for time (rip "hey old man, have you ever been tortured before?").

in particular the cutting of ???'s "i knew i would be needed" line feels weird. it makes it less immediately apparent to the viewer what's happening, whereas the manga makes it extremely clear. not like a smart viewer can't figure it out, just, u know? it also feels like a weird choice because this is the first appearance of ??? in this season. maybe that was the reason to cut the line in the first place! HOWEVER im hoping the reason it was cut is because they are planning to do something unexpected for ???'s voice or something. who knows. it just doesn't feel quite as seamless as s1/2 which is a tall order. like it felt like the bits with koyama+sakurai and joseph+toichiro were unnecessarily abridged (altho i do appreciate the "fuck it, why not" decision to include hatori, which only makes the fact that toichiro was the only claw guy to get arrested so much fucking funnier. its only terrorism if you were in charge) and i think they should have been allowed to play out a bit more! they feel more like footnotes when i feel like theyre there for a reason. yes im biased i think koyama and sakurai working at a conbini is funny as shit and we didnt get time to marinate in the joke!!!

to be clear: im still loving the shit out of s3 just u know. thoughts. i got em sometimes

#esplosions

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shoutogepi · 3 years

Text

Best Friends

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𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.7k

[ ☁︎ ] angst

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : unrequited feelings :’( really brief mention of sex (not nsfw tho!) & also (underage?????) alcohol consumption!

𝐛𝐢𝐨 : On your last night in the dorms, Shouto realizes he has feelings for you, his best friend.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : idk honestly i started writing this last night and was gonna abandon it... but then val tagged me in an angst ficrec and i was like ok well! this is a sign to post bc then i will have at least one sho angst on my masterlist lolll oops :o

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─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅃onight was the last night in the dorms. Three long years had come and went, and now everyone’s belongings were cleaned out and secured away with cardboard and tape, leaving an empty wing that was currently filled with bodies, neon lights, and red solo cups. Music was pounding through the hallways, reaching every room and allowing no one total escape from the celebration.

You had been occupying the dance floor with Mina and Tsuyu for the last half hour, and now that you had sweat off the latest drink of the night, it was time for you to set off and find your more moderate-tempered companion. The pink-skinned girl wiggled her eyebrows at you when you alerted them of where you were heading off to, Tsuyu planting a love tap on your ass as you made your way from the swarm of people. The frog girl wasn’t usually so loose, but the alcohol that pumped through everyone’s veins had left only a select few unaffected. Tsu, just like you, was one of the ones that was happily allowing the weight of daily student life slip from her shoulders.

There were plenties of warm bodies swaying with the heavy bass rattling the hallways, shadows of couples and interested singles leaning against the walls, whispers and rowdy laughs echoing as the entire graduating class of UA partied the night away. Skimming by the line outside the bathroom, your feet found their way toward the end of the hall easily enough, taking the path you had so many times before.

A creak sounded as you pushed the cracked door open, the sight of the open shoji screen allowing moonlight to stream onto the bamboo mat floor which crunched quietly underneath your tentative steps.

“Shouto?” you whispered his name, eyes taking in the silhouettes of the packed boxes against the walls before you turned and saw a shadow sitting on the mattress beside the door.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Your voice jolted Shouto from his wandering thoughts, his attention turning to you right away. He seemed surprised to see you standing there, and he peered up at you from his slightly hunched position on the couch. He acknowledged you with your name, his voice low and steady. By the sound of it, you wondered briefly if he had even had a drop to drink tonight.

Blinking at him a few times, you tried to adjust your eyes to the contrast between the bright moonlight and dark shadows. When you could finally see the planes of his handsome, somber face, you spoke, trying your best not to slur. “What are you doing over here all by yourself?”

He paused, lagging for a second before the corners of his mouth curled and his eyes crinkled at the sight of you. “Just thinking,” he answered, examining you in that intrigued way he always did. After a moment he must have reached the conclusion that you were some level of smashed, for he patted the empty space next to him on the bed with a smirk and said, “Come sit with me.”

For a moment you wondered why he was alone, but then your brain caught up with you, and you realized that his other friends were probably busy with their own issues or endeavors. Ever since Midoriya finally grew a pair and asked Uraraka out, the two had been going at it like rabbits every spare second they had. And you could only imagine how busy Iida was as class rep, trying to keep the party at least a little bit under control. Momo was definitely helping him, and you had seen Bakugou begrudgingly holding Kaminari up with Kirishima under his other arm when you’d passed by them in the hall… Leaving only you to come and rouse the half and half hero from his solitude.

“Well that’s not allowed tonight!” You exclaimed, fist slapping against the side of your thigh. You would’ve used both hands for emphasis had the other not been occupied with a half-full plastic cup. Your legs felt like jello as you moved toward him, his cool hand wrapping around your arm to offer his support and steer you into the spot beside him. You almost fell but he held you up with the one arm, chuckling as your butt finally met the safety of the duvet.

“Thinking’s forbidden?” he laughed at your insistence, the sound rich and deep as his hand lingered on your wrist.

“Yes,” you nodded vehemently, pulling your hand away from his to cradle your precious cup and shooting him a playful, sideways glare. “Brain turned off for the night. It’s in the fine print of the party rules, of course.”

Shouto gave you a funny look, eying you from the side. He repositioned himself, sitting upright and closing his eyes. It was hard for him to remain stoic when the quiet sound of your amused giggles tickled his ears, but he managed a nod before his eyes settled on you again. “Okay, I think it’s off.”

Conversation was always natural between the two of you, he never had to struggle to keep it flowing. And he liked talking with you, being in your presence. Which was the only reason why he was still entertaining this ridiculous charade.

“How do you feel?” you inquired, a goofy grin on your lips.

There was a twinkle in your eyes as you teased him, but Shouto held no qualms with your playfulness. Most people were still afraid to joke with him, believing that he was too obtuse to understand humor. Sure, he had struggled with the transition to school life in the beginning of their first year, but after you had transferred into their class second year, he found himself opening up even more than he already had.

“I feel… the same.” The grin on his lips remained, his eyes settled on your drunken form. His gaze flicked to your smile, shining in the moonlight and making something twinge in his stomach. He cleared his throat, pushing down the feeling that haunted him every time he looked at you too long. “This doesn’t really work, does it?”

You pretended to entertain the thought for a moment, eyes rolling as you considered it animatedly before your lips broke into a beautiful smile again. “No,” you giggled, shoulders shrugging in your cute, drunken fit. “But it’s easier when you’re not sober!”

He turned, faux surprise hung from his brow. “You’re drunk?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice and splashed onto you where his jean-clad thigh brushed against yours.

“Shut up!” You punched at his shoulder and pushed him away from you, shuffling yourself in the process.

Your hair swished with the movement and suddenly the soft, sweet scent of you was crashing over him. He breathed it in shamelessly, allowing himself to indulge in the warm feeling that suddenly emanated through his chest.

“You could try it, if you wanted. It really does help,” you offered your cup to him, shrugging.

Shouto eyed the red plastic cup, hesitant. He really wasn’t one to drink, but then again, neither were you. Tonight was about celebrating your graduation from UA, opening the next chapter of your lives. The thing was, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to move on when it meant leaving all his relationships either behind him or pushed to the side. Okay, maybe he was kidding himself… there was only one person he would miss having in his daily life, and that person was sitting right beside him— the same one who was the source of his conflicted feelings.

“Or not!” your hand retreated and you took a little sip, the sweet jungle juice washing down your throat easily. “No pressure. It’s your choice, Sho.”

He nearly groaned at the nickname, the one he only allowed you to call him. Grabbing the cup from you, his calloused fingers brushed over your soft knuckles. He smirked at the excitement that surfaced in your gaze as he brought the lip of the cup to his mouth, emptying the contents in one long go. The liquid was sickly sweet, masking the bitter poison that entered his body alongside it.

“That was… truly disgusting.”

“Whaaat?” You balked, grabbing for the cup in dismay. He kept it out of reach, even though it was empty, setting it on the far table instead. “It’s good, I dunno what you’re on. It’s really, really good. Heheh, just like me…”

Shouto blushed at the innocent innuendo, looking at you as you closed your eyes and let out a noise between a sigh and a laugh. He gulped, realizing that the alcohol was already taking effect and he was beginning to slip under its influence. Your method of “turning your brain off” was proving to be much more effective with the alcohol’s aid, but that was a whole other issue which he failed to foresee.

He usually preferred to keep his brain on and fully functioning, especially when he was alone, with you. That way, when you roused the butterflies in his stomach and pulled on his heartstrings, he could tell himself to just ignore it and focus on how important your friendship was to him. But now, his defenses were failing him, and there was nothing he could do to stop his heart from beating faster, palms getting clammier.

“You’re good?” he reiterated quietly, watching the way your tongue swiped across your lips, enchanted by it.

You chortled, finding the thought entertaining, apparently. “Yes! I feel really good right now.”

“Ah,” he murmured, sitting back and allowing the pillow he had propped up to sink around his form. “I feel... kinda good, too.”

A mix between a laugh and a scoff escaped you at his confession. “You feel something already, Sho? Wow, that’s so efficient.”

Shouto didn’t really know what you meant by that, but he only smiled softly at the happy look on your face. He closed his eyes and listened to the fast rush of blood in his ears, the feeling of warmth prickling at his skin. He wasn’t drunk, per se, but he felt a little lighter than usual.

You had said that drinking would turn his brain off, but it seemed only part of it wasn’t functioning. The other side of his mind was working overtime, much to his chagrin.

He was suddenly aware that this would be one of his last moments with you before everything would change. You were going to an internship not too far from his, only an hour away by train. But seeing you wouldn’t be nearly as easy as walking down the hallway… and it could only happen if the both of you found a time that worked and had the motivation to travel the distance to meet one another. He wasn’t sure if you wanted to do all that, just to see him.The realization hit him hard.

No more sneaking to one another’s room and having whispered, midnight conversations. No more studying together and simply being in your presence. No more opportunities to let his gaze linger on you longingly, nor chances for him to grab your hand when your knuckles brushed against his in the middle of your walks.

He felt sick at the thought of living without you. Maybe… maybe it was time for him to face his feelings head on. He had spent so long denying the recognition of them, the acceptance of them. The loss of you was imminent, unless he could finally force himself to say something, and it had to be soon.

As if you had picked up on his distress, you hummed quietly and shuffled closer to his side. His quirk spiked at the sudden proximity, heat flaring up as your head came to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m a sappy drunk, so I apologize for what I’m about to say,” you mumbled into his t-shirt, his skin prickling as your warm breath wandered through the seams and onto his skin.

He huffed out a laugh to ease your worries, but he stayed absolutely still, unwilling to move a muscle in case it would somehow scare your body off of his.

Then you whispered, “M’so lucky to have met you, Sho.”

Shouto choked on thin air, subtly wiping the moisture on his palms across the tops of his denim-covered thighs. Your scent surrounded him, and he couldn’t resist resting his head on top of yours, slowly breathing between your locks. “I… I feel the same, Y/n…”

It was quiet for another moment, his mind playing out a hundred ways to confess, trying to find the right words. Meanwhile, you were simply enjoying his reciprocation and the peacefulness of the quiet away from the party, completely unaware of his inner turmoil.

You sighed and he shivered as your breath scattered across his collarbone again, almost jumping when your fingers landed softly over his. How you remained so soft with their vigorous training, he had no clue. But your fingers felt so warm, so right lacing with his. His throat was thick with apprehension, a lump forming there as the seconds ticked by. It wasn’t often the two of you were sitting so close together, and he wondered if he was a piece of shit for thanking whatever God there was out there for you being kind of inebriated and so touchy right now.

Slowly, he turned to look at you, eyes wide and conflicted, taking in how truly astonishing your beauty was up close. You lifted your head from your perch on his shoulder, gaze locking with his before your lips curled into a meek smile. Digits tightening around his, you squeezed his hand and rubbed your thumb across his knuckles.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, screaming at him to do something— anything— whatever it took for him to just form the words and tell you that he was in love with—

“Thank you for being my best friend.”

—you… He blinked, the words registering.

You continued. “I know we’re moving away from each other, but I never wanna lose you. I cherish our friendship too much for that to happen, Shouto.”

Your words cut him.

Friends. Friendship.

His blood felt like it had frozen in his veins and he had become a statue, stock still as you carried on thoughtlessly, eyes now flickering over to the moon hung low in the indigo night sky.

“Please promise me that we'll never change. We might grow as people, but… our friendship will stay intact, right? I don’t wanna grow apart.”

It hurt.

Time had stopped and his lungs shriveled up, his body aching as if you had just lodged your knee straight into his ribs. His tongue tasted bitter suddenly, and he could almost hear the sound of his heart cracking.

But Shouto was good at hiding his emotions, years of compartmentalizing them giving him an edge that no one else he knew had. He kept his face neutral, even if it felt like he was withering and dying inside.

“I just… don’t ever wanna lose you.”

It was almost impossible to force his lips into a thin, hollow smile. But he managed, even if it felt like prying iron with a crowbar. He looked into your eyes and nodded.

He understood. To some extent, he truly understood.

“I don’t want to lose you either, Y/n... Don’t worry,” he took a deep breath, forcing the next words out even if he felt like he was about to be sick.

He cherished his bond with you too much to risk chancing it, confessing to you, and throwing it all away after your certain rejection. He loved you too much to ever hurt you, and he was too selfish to let go of you, too. The only one that would suffer from this was him, and he was alarmingly alright with that.

If it meant that he got to hold onto you, even for just a little bit longer.

If it meant that you would be happy... Even if he wasn’t.

“We’ll always be friends... I promise.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

˚‧º·(˃̣̣̥∩˂̣̣̥)‧º·˚ ˚‧º·(˃̣̣̥∩˂̣̣̥)‧º·˚ ˚‧º·(˃̣̣̥∩˂̣̣̥)‧º·˚

afJSNKJKDKJ WRITING ANGST FOR MY BABY IS SO HARD AHH I LOVE U SHO PLS... reader is so dumb to see u only as a friend i hate that dumb bitch ughhh (TдT)

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏 . 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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tigerkirby215 · 3 years

Text

5e Aphelios, the Weapon of the Faithful build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Pan Chengwei. Made for Riot Games.)

(Shit meme by yours truly.)

Yes I hate Irelia so much I’m genuinely making an Aphelios build before her.

But I really don’t get the “Aphelios too confusing 200 years” memes. Don’t get me wrong his kit’s weird and certainly overtuned but it doesn’t take that long to figure out what his guns do. Calibrum has long range and fires a skill shot, Severum has lifesteal and attacks fast, Gravitum slows and roots, Infernum attacks in a cone for AoE damage, and Crescendum attacks very fast and creates a turret.

Just because I understand this does it mean I can play Aphelios? Fuck no. Did I learn all this from Legends of Runeterra by playing Labs with Aphelios? Yeah kinda. But all I’m saying is that if my stupid support-main ass can do midway decently as Aphelios on free-to-play rotation I really think the hype around him is overblown.

That’s enough hot takes from me. He’s the point where I list 5 goals for this build instead of 3 and make 200 years jokes.

GOALS

Calibrum - We’ll need a long-ranged weapon to harass our foes and pick them off when they try to run.

Severum - If enemies get too close or we get too low we’ll need a way to keep ourselves alive in a 1v1.

Gravitum - We’ll need to control our foes to always stay in an advantageous position.

Infernum - AoE damage is always useful to deal with crowds.

Crescendum - To take down the toughest of foes we’ll need to unleash all our firepower and even get our weapons to fir themselves.

Basically we need literally everything, all packed within 20 levels of D&D and 200 years of game design.

RACE

Aphelios is a human... but ellipsis means that another race makes more sense. Aphelios has his sister advising him wherever he goes in life, so to play two spirits in one a Kalashtar is a good choice! Your Wisdom score increases by 2 and your Charisma increases by 1. Alune’s Dual Mind grants you Advantage on Wisdom saving throws, and her Mental Discipline lets you resist Psychic damage. Alune also keeps you Severed from Dreams, meaning that you’re immune to spells that require you to dream (like the Dream spell) but not spells that require you to sleep (like Sleep.)

Aphelios doesn’t talk (unless you want him to) but Alune can make a Mind Link to speak telepathically with others! You can speak telepathically to any creature you can see that’s within a number of feet of you equal to 10 times your level. You don’t need to share a language with them, but they must be able to understand at least one language. You can also use your action to give that creature the ability to speak telepathically with you for 1 hour or until you end this effect as an action. To use this ability, the creature must be able to see you and must be within this trait’s range. You can only give this ability to only one person at a time however, as it ends when you give it to someone else. Oh and speaking of languages you know Common, Quori (which no one is going to have outside of Eberron lol), and one other language of your choice: Celestial probably makes the most sense but you can pick whatever you fancy.

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - You’re a kpop pretty boy, because Aphelios has more guns than body types in League of Legends.

14; WISDOM - I mean you get advantage in Wisdom saves anyways: may as well make the skill good too?

13; DEXTERITY - You are a marksman but we aren’t really using DEX for combat. So in other words: something something Medium Armor.

12; CONSTITUTION - You are one of the squishiest ADCs in the game but you do have enough sustain to keep yourself alive.

10; INTELLIGENCE - You were trained spiritually, as opposed to academically. That being said Religion is an Intelligence skill for some reason.

8; STRENGTH - I mean look at Aphelios’ arms; kid’s a freaking twink.

BACKGROUND

Aphelios fights for him and his sister’s faith in the Lunari... bit unorthodox, but you’re certainly quite the devoted Acolyte. As an acolyte you get proficiency in Religion but I’d replace your proficiency in Insight with Medicine, which you’re probably used to after drinking so much poison. You also learn two languages that you won’t use because Aphelios is mute. (But yeah pick whatever you think will be useful and if you want to feel free to swap your languages for tools or something. A Herbalism Kit or Poisoner’s Kit actually works rather well given your favorite drink to keep close to your sister.)

Alune may be in the Shelter of the Faithful but you can return to the temple from time to time for solace. You and your adventuring companions can expect free healing and care at a temple, shrine, or other established location of Lunari faith (you have to provide any material components for spells though.) The Lunari will support you (but only you) at a modest lifestyle in the temples.

If you’re near your sister’s shrine you can ask the chosen Lunari priests for assistance, provided the assistance you ask for is not hazardous and you remain in good standing with your temple and your sister.

(Artwork by SixMoreVodka Studios. Made for Legends of Runeterra by Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - SORCERER 1

Starting off as a Sorcerer for proficiency in CON saving throws lol, but also for proficiency in Arcana and the Insight skill we skipped from our background. But Sorcerers get to choose their subclass at level 1 and to get closer to the Aspects grab a touch of the Divine Soul. As a Weapon of the Faithful you are Favored by the Gods, letting you add 2d4 to a missed attack roll or saving throw once per Short or Long Rest for a touch of Alune’s guidance. I’m going to mention now that a death saving throw is technically a saving throw, and I mention it because your AC is 11 and your health is 7. Level 1 ADCs, am I right?

Anyways: Divine Souls get Divine Magic for one extra spell from the Cleric spell list: technically you’re supposed to take one of the ones they suggest to you but I’d recommend Guiding Bolt for Calibrum’s Q: a long ranged shot that lets you shoot the target more easily afterwards.

And of course being able to cast spells implies that you have Spellcasting! You can learn four cantrips from the Sorcerer or Cleric list which means you can grab Guidance for a bit more of your sister’s help. You can also grab Word of Radiance to attack everyone near you with Severum’s Q, Acid Splash for some AoE damage from Infernum (should it be doing fire damage? Yeah probably), and Light to see with your dumb Kalashtar eyes. You can also learn two leveled spells like Sanctuary to protect yourself or your allies as long as they act peacefully, and Ice Knife for a more ranged AoE blast from Infernum.

If you want you can grab Mage Armor or something because your AC and HP are kinda uhhhhhhhhhh... trash?

LEVEL 2 - WARLOCK 1

Hopefully you didn’t die as a level 1 Aphelios with 7 HP and 11 AC; we didn’t even get 200 years of damage yet! Warlocks get to choose their subclass at level 1 as well which means you can shape yourself as the Fiend the Solari see you as. Dark One’s Blessing grants you temporary hitpoints equal to your Charisma modifier plus your Warlock level whenever you slay a foe for Severum’s lifesteal and passive shield.

You also get Pact Magic, which is like regular Spellcasting but your spell slots are funny! You can learn two cantrips from the Warlock list like Eldritch Blast to blast while you eldritch, and Chill Touch for some Grievous Wounds. You can also learn two Warlock spells like Burning Hands from the Fiendlock list to blast your foes with Infernum, and Hex to mark your foe for death under the moon.

LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get access to Eldritch Invocations like Agonizing Blast to agonize your blasts, and Lance of Lethargy to slow your foes with Gravitum. You can also learn another Warlock spell like Unseen Servant for some extra sisterly help. I mean, you’re probably going to replace these all next level anyways.

LEVEL 4 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks can choose their Pact Boon and truthfully? Just about any of them work. Pact of the Blade would be the most “in-character” but your Strength and Dexterity are both kind of bad and you don’t need to use weapons. Pact of the Chain will let you personify Alune on your person and get a shitty version of Crescendum’s turret but Aphelios doesn’t have a pet. Pact of the Tome lets you get Aspect of the Moon which is funny in its own right and more cantrips are universally useful. And hell: even Pact of the Talisman is useful for your sister to lend her aid to someone else in the party. Basically this is an elaborate way for me to say that your Pact Boon doesn’t matter much for this build, as we won’t be using any of the abilities or invocations from your Pact Boon much. So pick what you think will be useful and fun and make your own Aphelios!

With that being said: you can also learn second level Warlock spells now! Shadow Blade will serve as Crescendum’s blade that you can throw at the enemy, but it is based on your DEX which is kind of... bad? Well at least you can replace Unseen Servant with Misty Step, because a summoner’s Flash is more useful than your sister’s unseen help.

LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 4

Man isn’t it fun to wait until level 5 to not die when the enemy support breathes on you? That uneven Dexterity score was done so you could grab the Moderately Armored feat for +1 to your Dexterity and proficiency in Medium Armor and Shields. Grab both to get hit less, basically!

You can also learn another spell like Hold Person for Gravitum’s root. And another cantrip like Minor Illusion for your sister to summon some props that you can hide behind.

(Artwork by Jennifer Wuestling. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 5

Hey that Medium Armor doesn’t really fit your outfit: how about the Mask of Many Faces invocation to put on some skins?

Third level spells are also useful! Vampiric Touch will let you heal in close range by damaging your foes with Severum.

LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 6

6th level Fiend Warlocks get more guidance from Alune. The Solari may call it the Dark One’s Own Luck but all it lets you do is add a d10 to an ability check or saving throw once per Short or Long Rest. I mean hey: if you want a load of saving throw insurance this plus Favored by the Gods basically means you’re adding +10 to a saving throw!

You can also learn another spell but the only ones I’d want have very expensive components. Basically I want a Tasha’s summoning spell for Crescendum’s turret, but you’re going to be replacing it with...

LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 7

4th level Warlocks can learn Summon Aberration which is a little more than just a turret! You can choose between a Beholderkin turret, Slaad tank, or Star Spawned Aspect! I’m not going to go too deep into this spell as you can read up on it for yourself but the point is you’ve got some backup now!

Alternatively if you want I think your sis could use some friends: Banishment will send them up to the temple where they’ll have to sit around and chat peacefully with Alune. Or if they’re not from the plane you’re in they’ll just be sent home.

Oh and you can also get another Eldritch Invocation like Eldritch Spear to keep your range with Calibrum.

LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 8

8th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement: you should probably increase your Charisma for more damage and accuracy with your weapons.

Speaking of weapons Dimension Door will let you head back to fountain to buy more weapons, or get out of danger and in range to use your weapons.

(Artwork by SixMoreVodka Studios. Made for Legends of Runeterra by Riot Games.)

LEVEL 10 - SORCERER 2

We’ve gotten all of out basic auto attacks: now I want some of Aphelios’ finer abilities. Second level Sorcerers get a Font of Magic for Sorcery Points which currently do nothing other than let you get more spell slots. You can melt down your Warlock slots however to get more Sorcery points, which will be useful later.

And of course you can learn more spells, but we’re going to wait for...

LEVEL 11 - SORCERER 3

Third level Sorcerers can finally learn Metamagic to empower their spells! You can take Quickened Spell for some Attack Speed, or Seeking Spell for some armor penetration to deal with higher AC enemies.

You can also learn second level spells like Icingdeath’s Frost (UA soon to be in Fizban’s hopefully) to blast foes with Infernum then Gravitum, or Dragon’s Breath to blast Infernum all throughout the fight.

LEVEL 12 - SORCERER 4

Would be good to cap off that Charisma, so go ahead and do so with your ASI.

You can also learn another spell like Spiritual Weapon for a turret you can move around a bit, and a new cantrip like Mage Hand for your sister’s help reaching the top shelf.

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - SORCERER 5

5th level Sorcerers can get some Magical Guidance from their sister to reroll ability checks, because she’s been reading up on Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything.

You can also learn a new spell like Fireball... I mean I really shouldn’t need to justify this. It’s Fireball. Blast them with Moonlight Vigil for a burst of Infernum’s fire!

LEVEL 14 - SORCERER 6

6th level Divine Soul Sorcerers can use their Sorcery Points for Empowered Healing... wait you have healing? Well whenever you or an ally within 5 feet of you rolls dice to heal from a spell, you can spend 1 sorcery point to reroll any number of those dice once, as long as you’re not incapacitated. This technically doesn’t work with Vampiric Touch (since that spell does damage and then heals you based on how much damage it deals) but if your support heals you or a nearby ally there’s no reason not to give them an extra pick-me-up!

You can also learn another spell but I’m going to hop back to second level real quick for Mirror Image. It perhaps doesn’t fit as well (which is why I didn’t take it until now) but it’s very good to keep yourself alive, and as a squishy Lunari boy it’ll be very helpful to make it harder for the enemy to hit you.

LEVEL 15 - SORCERER 7

7th level Sorcerers can learn 4th level spells like Guardian of Faith for a turret that actually stands still! It shoots at anyone who comes close, and when it runs out of ammo it disappears. But what’s cool about this spell is that it lasts for 8 hours, which is plenty of time to rest through the night while your sister watches over you.

LEVEL 16 - SORCERER 8

8th level Sorcerers get another Ability Score Improvement or Feat: seeing as you’re mostly casting War Caster would be a good pickup to keep your Concentration with your bad Constitution and also hit those who come too close with magic. Or you could just get better Constitution maybe since it’s a bit late for War Caster tbh...

You can also learn another spell like Death Ward, for a Guardian Angel that you’re probably going to need seeing as you still have less than a hundred health.

(Artwork by Francis Tneh and West Studios. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 17 - SORCERER 9

9th level Sorcerers can learn 5th level spells like Teleportation Circle to recall back to base or to your sister’s temple. If you know the sequence of sigils to go back to a teleportation circle you can use this spell to link yourself back to it. You can also create a new circle over the course of a year. (And by spending a lot of gold.)

Basically this is my way of saying that we got all we wanted after level 16 tbh and I’m kinda just going through the motions of grabbing your last few levels.

LEVEL 18 - SORCERER 10

10th level Sorcerers get their third Metamagic option! Hurrah! By this point you have enough spells that force saving throws that Heightened Spell is a good option to make it a lot harder for your opponents to resist 200 years of magic!

You can also learn another 5th level spell like Hold Monster for Gravitum’s root against a ganking Fiddlesticks. And another cantrip: I somehow didn’t take Prestidigitation until now, so grab it for all sorts of basic Lunari magic.

LEVEL 19 - SORCERER 11

11th level Sorcerers can learn a 6th level spell! This is going to be your final, highest level spell; your ultimate ability! And I’d consider an ultimate from a fed Aphelios to be a Circle of Death. It’s a huge AoE that does a lot of damage: a simple nuke for a simple ADC that isn’t remotely confusing.

LEVEL 20 - SORCERER 12

12th level Sorcerers get one last Ability Score Improvement or Feat... I’m going to be honest: this doesn’t fit Aphelios but you likely have around 100 HP. Do yourself a favor and grab the Tough feat for 40 extra health.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

For every phase, a weapon - Wow who would’ve guessed building for versatility makes you versatile? You have a huge variety of spells for just about any occasion: AoEs to deal with crowds, single-target spells to take down big foes, crowd control to keep enemies in place, summons to keep enemies targeting them instead of your allies, and of course more than enough damage to shake a stick at.

In your hand; from my heart - Sorcery points also give you plenty of flexibility, notably in your ability to greatly increase damage output thanks to Quickened Spell on Eldritch Blasts and Seeking Spell to reroll missed Eldritch Blasts. But being able to turn your Warlock slots into ammo for your more useful guns is extremely useful and allows you to better adapt to various situations.

I am with you... shining above - Medium armor goes quite a long way! A Breastplate and Shield gives you a solid 18 AC, and if you’re willing to have Stealth Disadvantage upgrading to Half Plate gives you a respectable 19 AC!

CONS

You make yourself a weapon, so you do not have to feel - Skill proficiencies are reserved for those who don’t spend 200 years on damage. You have two skills from your background and two from your class and none of them are particularly great. Sure your Insight and Medicine skills are fine enough but you’re going to be beaten in Arcana by a Wizard and Religion by a Cleric also a Wizard, because Religion is an Intelligence skill for some reason.

Your life upon the altar, brother... - Even with the Tough feat your health is extremely poor. d6 hit die hurt and anyone with Power Word Kill can easily execute you. While I did give you good Wisdom for roleplay’s sake you could (and probably should) opt for Constitution instead.

An omen in your grasp - Your low health is kind of a problem when a lot of your spells force you into close range. There are ways to use spells like Burning Hands, Dragon’s Breath, Shadow Blade, and Vampiric Touch without getting too close (those methods being the Distant Spell Metamagic which we didn’t take; you could totally replace Seeking Spell if you wanted though) but Severum and Infernum are balanced around their low range. There’s no reason you can’t throw balance out the window to take spells that will likely be more useful.

But you are a weapon, sworn to carry your faith and show the world the light in the darkness. Your task is to slay those that deny the right of your people before they even know you are there... Sure confusing them as to what you are even doing is also effective, and I guess it doesn’t matter if your abilities make sense if they’re all dead. They’ll have 200 years to figure out how you killed them: I’m sure that’s plenty of time to read your ability descriptions.

(Artwork by @NAOMM29 on Twitter.)

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galadhremmin · 3 years

Note

since it sounds like you got some hostile anons, just wanted to say - 1000% agree on your A/A analysis and it puts in words a niggling dread that I had always felt abt them! Yes, it’s the danger of falling in love w the idea of an echo of something grander: several steps removed from what is realized. her death always seemed framed as genuinely awful to me; it only does Tolkien a service to acknowledge ambivalence towards mortality in his narratives. [1/2]

[2/2] also. Completely unironically would love to read anything you write for arwen/Daeron, Arwen/glorfindel, Arwen/Gildor :D spitefic is extremely satisfying to write; most fic I write is just “these are my Hot Takes about this character” but in a prettied up narrative form LOL. (On that note - cannot stand the ubiquitousness of airhead slutty twink finrod. literally it’s just bc he’s diplomatic and likes jewelry ….. it’s fun in moderation but when that is the dominant fandom take ????)

(this ask is about this and this post)

So I'm really, really behind on my inbox--- but this was such a sweet message, I appreciate it! ♥

I'm not really the right person for these pairings lolol-- though I might do unrequited/stalker Daeron/Arwen. Unless you count some old Athrabeth reaction fics that are really just about mortality I have never written het romance, so it would be a new experience at least.

I feel like there is a lot more to Tolkien's attitude to mortality than just unambiguous 'death is a gift' yes-- even aside from the fact that you can see his ideas change over time (including those about death and how he wanted to represent it in his Secondary World)-- but also Arwen and Aragorn's story is just fascinating because it's not B&L-- how plays out in a world that is simultaneously retrieving/healing fragments of its ancient past and losing them forever

love in the ruins, in echoes of an old song full of half-remembered names, seeing spectres of ancestors in each others' faces...

Uhm anyway Finrod! I don't know how that became such a widespread fanon either. I suppose people associate a love for jewelry with femininity, femininity with being an airhead (yikes)? But he's not a character in a modern western setting, and I guess I just associate his love for jewelry with how a lot of high-status men wore jewelry in various ancient cultures.

In Athrabeth he seems friendly but pious and not very encouraging of horniness, to Andreth's deep regret ('for one day of the flame' like... girl we get it. you had the hots for Aegnor. but oh my god don't talk about daydreaming of a one-night stand or his brother or will just invite himself to your shared afterlife 'my brother -- and me;) ')(ok I'm joking but yeah-- it can really work in some fanfics but that's just because some people are good writers!).

(okay admittedly I have joked about the suspiciously blond Beorian village near Nargothrond due to mortal LaCE loophole jokepost and written Tom/Finrod myself-- i think adventurous in every single way Finrod is very funny... but that's in part funny to me because it's not the impression I got from Athrabeth at all, and because parts of LaCE sounds like a faintly nightmarish catholic fantasy to me).

#i get my share of weird anons and don't worry it doesn't make me anxious!#occasionally i do get annoyed but that's normal i think and very temporary #still i appreciate this lots

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neworderscans · 3 years

Text

Electronic - AOL Webchat, 07/30/96 (Bernard and Johnny answering fan questions in a chat using the same handle, I've made minor edits for clarity purposes - archive link in full here)

Max Warner [AOL Webchat host/moderator] : We'll be starting in just a few minutes. We are having some minor technical difficulties.

Max Warner: Johnny and Bernard will be using the screen name Elctrnic.

Max Warner: Just a couple more minutes.... we swear!

Max Warner: We're here with Johnny Marr and Bernard Sumner of ELECTRONIC.

Elctrnic: Hello From Bernard & Johnny

Max Warner: Here we go! after a few of those [Online host] Bringing together mainstays of two of the most influential bands of the last 15 years Bernard Sumner of New Order and Johnny Marr of The Smiths. The music of Electronic has exceeded even the high expectations that such a creative partnership undoubtedly engenders.

Max Warner: From Nexland: Question: Barney, Johnny Can U tell me the Story with George Michael. Where Did U meet Him???? it's funny because i saw a picture of Peter Hook with Barry White. That is Cool

Elctrnic: He was cutting his new record at the same studio we were in, hes a nice guy actually

Max Warner: From Embody123: Question: Bernie, what's the nicest thing about working with Marr (Marr: Vice Versa)?

Elctrnic: Johnny never calls me Bernie

Max Warner: From NewOrder3: Question: I would like to know whether any concerts will be scheduled in 1996 and who is the author of the paragraphs in the CD of "raise the pressure"

Elctrnic: At the moment were looking for the right musicians,we'd like to see everybody.

Elctrnic: Bernard wrote the text inside the album$

Max Warner: From SeanJorda: Question: Will either of you be doing any production work in the near future? Barney: I just listened to your SHARK VEGAS, TECHNOTRONIC, and BEAT CLUB tracks today.

Elctrnic: You really know your stuff. I would like to concentrate on Electronic $

Max Warner: From BigBoy666: Question: What do _you_ listen to?

Elctrnic: We mostly listen to European dance music and older good rock stuff, Stones 2000 Light Years, Bowie/Eno Be My Wife$

Max Warner: From APinto65: Question: How did it happen that Neil Tennant did not join up with you on this CD? It's still is fabulous, but I was just curious?

Elctrnic: Electronic is Johnny and Benard.Neil is a guest artist,Johnny is on the new P.S.Bs album

Elctrnic: On this album Karl Bartos from Kraftwek is the guest

Max Warner: From Nexland: Question: Barney, Johnny How are u Tonight???

Elctrnic: Really Groovy

Max Warner: From SeanJorda: Question: How did you guys like TRAINSPOTTING, and Barney- did you like the use of TEMPTATION in the film?

Elctrnic: Its a great film, it opens friday in the U.S. I was proud to be associated with it

Max Warner: From AJ Wells: Question: Hey Barney... how is the jogging coming along? Any Olympic hopes?

Elctrnic: Im meeting up with Ben Johnsons dealer tonight so I should be o.k

Max Warner: From Embody123: Question: Marr: what do you think of MOJO magazine's listing you in the top 25 greatest guitar players of all time?

Elctrnic: Whos this Hendrix bloke ?

Max Warner: From LLabo2909: Question: Johnny, will you ever be joining Morrissey for a reunion tour with the Smiths. Please say yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Elctrnic: Sure Boris, do you see any quiffs about?

Max Warner : From AJ Wells: Question: Barney... what ever happened to Section 25? Or Shark Vegas? Or Stexx? Or 52 Street?

Elctrnic: All in mental institutions I think, honestly!

Max Warner: From BBMountai: Question: I've heard that Johnny's been websurfing lately and was wondering if Bernard has also? And what do you both think of the web sites fans create about you?

Elctrnic: Johnny's quite into the web.We intend to make our sites more personal and as informative as possible.we're into it

Max Warner: From Jester000: Question: Johnny I was wondering what gave you hte idea for the whales used in "last night I dreamt...." thanks, glenn

Elctrnic: Bernards getting his browser together when he gets back to U.K

Max Warner: From Embody123: Question: How long did the new album take?

Elctrnic: The sound is actually a protest march sound effect slowed right down.Angry unemplyed.

Max Warner: From PULPTALEN: Question: What is the most succesful song in your career?

Elctrnic: The new album took two years to make but it only feels like one year and eleven months

Max Warner: From Annabel50: Question: hows life in the fast world?

Elctrnic: Slow

Elctrnic: How soon is Monday

Max Warner: From CADS1: Question: are you guys in nyc

Elctrnic: Yes

Max Warner: From Cphel: Question: Bernard- Is New Order no more? Johnny and Bernard-Why no PSB involvement?

Elctrnic: Not quite suree abot that one. P.S.Bs were guests.

Max Warner: From NEXLAND: Question: Do u feel any pressure with an new album??????

Elctrnic: I hope thats not a joke ,

Max Warner: From Femboheme: Question: I love, actually worship the new album. I also love the b-sides, do you have any good instrumentals on any upcomming singles for us?

Elctrnic: Were gonna do some new stuff soon. Were really glad you like the new Album,Thanks.

Max Warner : From CanadaBil: Question: You guys have had awesome careers!! I've been a fan of both since day one. Bernie, is it true that you (New Order) own a bar on one of the islands off the coast of Spain? I'd like to go. Thanks!!

Elctrnic: We dont own a bar in Spain, well not that I know of anyway.We recorded Technique in Ibiza/Spain

Max Warner: From Jcorker: Question: Bernard-Any relation to Sting?

Elctrnic: Hes my great Grandfather actually!

Max Warner: From KCleary: Question: Your music style is not necessarily the most accessible or popular in today's music scene when compared with what's on the charts - i.e. grunge, hard rock. Do you see that as a positive Question or negative when you go into the studio and/or when you tour?

Elctrnic: There should always be a place for someone who is different

Max Warner: From CADS1: Question: at the end of get the message what are you saying

Elctrnic: I am saying "Living on peanuts ain't my scene,shame that word rhymes with mean"

Max Warner: From FBrowniii: Question: do you guys care what radio thinks of your eclectic mix of styles? (we won't tell the record company execs :)

Elctrnic: No

Max Warner: From Femboheme: Question: Who writes the lyrics, who music? Is it a mix or is there a majority-one does more of one thing than the other?

Elctrnic: We both write the music and Bernard writes the Lyrics

Max Warner: From NewOrder3: Question: to Bernard: what do you think of the compilation: Tribute to Joy Division ? are you flattered ?

Elctrnic: I was touched by the gesture

Max Warner : From LLabo2909: Question: Johnny as usual you have great taste in music. is it true that you went guitar shopping with Noel from Oasis? the best band in the world!

Elctrnic: Yeah I did,but in future Noel can take his cheque book

Max Warner: From Lucozade: Question: heard you're both insatiable gossips. any new dish?

Elctrnic: O.K , Prince Charles is Ice T,s lover!, it's true!

Max Warner: From Bridge bo: Question: would you guys consider yourselves closer to christians or zen budhists??

Elctrnic: Were from The Church Of The "Not To Bothered"

Max Warner: We're running out of time... 2 more Questions.

Max Warner : From HammoFam: Question: How do you compare the bands of the 90's w/the bands of the 80's? Honestly, do you miss the 80's?

Elctrnic: We both really miss Flok Of Seagulls and Wang Chung! it's really sad

Max Warner: AND here's the last Question, from SJacobs62: Question: what is your favorite band?

Elctrnic: We dont really have one favourite band.Were going now,thanks to everybody whos supported us in the past and hopefully well be in touch one way or other soon. Take care

Elctrnic: from Johnny and Bernard

Max Warner: Bernard and Johnny, thanks for coming.

Elctrnic: Cheers!

#electronic #bernard sumner #johnny marr #text #misc #1996 #web

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breanne-says-boo · 4 years

Text

October 2020 NYCC - What We Do in The Shadows panel

We did learn a little bit more about the upcoming Season 3 in this panel! Things bolded are relevant to S3 (**potential spoilers ahead under the cut!**)

Video can be found here [ X ]

Kathryn VanArendonk (a critic for Vulture) was the moderator for the panel and was joined by Mark (Colin Robinson), Kayvan (Nandor), Harvey (Guillermo), Matt (Laszlo), Natasia (Nadja), as well as showwriter Stefani Robinson and producer/writer Paul Simms. Kathryn wrote this article about the show if you would like to read it.

Details below under the cut --->

Kathryn asked what each of their character would be doing in quarantine and how they would be handling COVID-19:

Kayvan: He immediately says there would be a strain between Nandor and Guillermo, especially with there being a lack of victims for him to eat. Nandor would make Guillermo order LOTS of delivery and eat the delivery workers.

Harvey: it would be very awkward in the house for Guillermo particularly after the events of the season 2 finale.

Paul: Guillermo would be the only one in the house to wear a mask because he’s really the only one who cares/pays attention. The vampires would be confused/irritated by it and ask him to take off his “stupid costume”

Natasia: The vamps would probably be like the people who wear the masks under their noses if they wear them at all. They might be sort of unsympathetic and say “Oh, here we go again” having lived through many pandemics. The vamps might take advantage of everyone being at home but Guillermo might be stressed having to worry which of their victims have COVID and touching the bodies to throw them out. Harvey adds on and imagines that maybe it’s revealed that one of the vampires in the house is responsible for a different pandemic like the Spanish Flu or something to that effect.

Mark: Colin is a no-masker (for the purpose of irritating others) and getting into arguments about his constitutional rights inside stores. He’d probably be pretty hungry since he mostly feeds at the office and his coworkers would have to work at home.

Matt: They’d probably have no idea because they don’t watch the news or pay attention to current events at all

Kathryn immediately then asks about the Nandermo relationship- she asks Harvey and Kayvan if their characters love each other and how that relationship is developing.

Harvey: he started playing Guillermo with this infatuation with Nandor and that there were “blurred lines” in how he sees Nandor. He then explains that it seems kind of curious to the audience why Guillermo would continue to serve Nandor and help the vamps they continue to treat him so badly, and in Harvey’s mind, Guillermo is just driven by love and driven by emotion. He’s just very human and wants to do the right thing. (Harvey then “steals” Kayvan’s question about if Nandor is in love with Guillermo and Kayvan goes into Nandor-mode and begins to chastise Guillermo for being rude. Nandor: “Do you see what I have to put up with?”)

Kayvan: Nandor needs Guillermo and is “wrestling with his feelings” towards Guillermo. It is “heading towards a dangerous” territory for him because he “can’t be falling again after all [his] marriages”...he’s excited to see what happens next, but things are pretty “rocky” for them as of where we left them off.

My thoughts: seems like this is indicating a role-reversal of sorts in season 3, with Guillermo falling out of his infatuation with Nandor and Nandor falling in love with Guillermo?

Kathryn asks Matt about what it’s like doing the “musical” epsiode for Laszlo since he has legitimate music experience (Matt sort of laughs about her use of “legit” in regards to his music).

Matt says its essentially demo song work. It’s good fun doing short ideas for pitching these 30 second songs in the space with ‘Tasia (Natasia)

Natasia: says it was a dream to do the songs with Matt and “plant seeds” in the work space because of Matt’s musical background. She mentions that Mark had an improv moment where Colin goes on stage to join Nadja and Laszlo and begin singing/rapping. Mark says that Colin begins jokingly doing it but then we see him get more into the song and enjoying it.

Paul says that if we like the prospective idea of Colin singing, we should be excited because Colin gets a singing/song moment in season 3. Paul then says something along the lines of that he’s happy they get to do these sort of bits and that all the casts members go along with it because “We are all dedicated to being silly...and stupid in a clever way.”

Kathryn then asks the whole group what kind of scenes do they look forward to doing for their characters and which scenes they like to watch their co-stars taken on

Harvey: likes doing action stuff and getting the change to play almost like these two different personalities in Guillermo- his quieter side and his badass side! He has a fun time with all his cast mates doing scenes and watching them. He has a hard time doing some scenes with Kayvan because he makes Harvey laugh and takes him out of character.

Kayvan: he likes doing scenes with Karvey because of the “tenderness.” He also like the house meeting scenes because they spin out into something outrageous or hilarious that happens after the fact.

Natasia: she likes doing Talking Heads scenes (when the scene is just of their characters speaking to the audience and to each other like in an interview) with Matt. She also likes doing the Fancy Room scenes, scenes with other women, and scenes with Shaun/Sean the neighbor. She likes scenes where Nandor is “saying thick stuff” because of the contrast of Nandor being this fearless warrior but also really stupid. She likes scenes where Matt has to do stuff really fast or has to run because it makes her laugh.

Matt: likes doing “loose” scenes where they can do anything that they want to do with a scene. He also likes doing the Talking Heads scenes with Natasia and watching the stuntmen do stuff he’s supposed to be doing. Apparently Kayvan let out somehow that Matt is afraid of heights. Kayvan: “Did I?...you’re getting better though...”

Mark: likes opportunities to play off of what the others say. He likes watching scenes where “Matt deal with Kayvan” because Laszlo can’t stand fools even though [Nandor] is one of the biggest fools (he says Laszlo but I think he meant Nandor with the mention of Kayvan). Scenes where they belittle Guillermo and scenes with Natasia are also fun.

Then Paul said he had a special guest who could also answer this question and in popped Nadja doll into the chat in her own separate video box. They were teasing her for being “on mute” and had her answer yes/no questions by nodding her head.

Kathryn asks Stefani about debates in the writer’s room regarding vampire biology and life. She asks Stefani about what’s fun about bringing in new creatures to the show and developing the lore about the vampires.

Stefani: it’s fun but it’s also hard in the writer’s room making decisions about these sort of things. The ability to pick and choose parts of the lore, but there can be contradictions they have to deal with. She wants the lore and the aspects of their nature to come together and be grounded so that it’s fun but isn’t too ridiculous. She considers how these elements/creatures can be “show-pieces” for the characters to interact with and how they contribute to the story and how they are funny.

Stefani then notes that Jermaine was very anti-leprechaun but Paul said he tried to reason with him. They try to decide among themselves what “fits” within their world and what doesn’t but there really isn’t a specific reason for what they go with.

Paul says there will be 3-4 new kinds of creatures in season 3. But no aliens, he notes.

Natasia asks if somehow Sesame Street/Muppets would exist within their world and could make a cameo (I’m guessing because of the Count connection?) Paul jokes and says “Stefani, I don’t know what you’re doing tomorrow...but if we can schedule another meeting we could spend 6 hours making this happen.” Natasia then says she would love to see Miss Piggy and Nadja have some great chats. Same with Kermit and Nandor. Matt says he thinks Guillermo should find R2D2 buried in the garden but none of their characters recognize it.

All of season 3 is currently written. Kathryn asks about anything else they can tease for us:

Paul says there is in fact a bit of dialogue (3/4 of a page) about Kermit the frog that Natasia “accidentally came upon” (I don’t know how serious he is about this).

The vampires will go on a roadtrip! They will be traveling someplace they don’t normally go to, and the issue of having to bring soil from their homeland will be brought up

There is a birthday! It’s a big important birthday...for Colin! (maybe Colin’s song moment is him singing Happy Birthday?)

Nandor is looking for love and decides that it is time for him to find a partner

Some characters will be coming back, including Shaun/Sean the neighbor who will appear in two episodes

#wwdits fx #What We Do in the Shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #nycc #wwdits tv #wwdits

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geirskogull · 3 years

Text

Moments of Calm - Part 2

+ Notes: 5.5 Spoilers Present in This Fic, Warrior of Light Danica Voss takes a moment to herself to perfect that strong silent type look by letting her brain get the better of her.

Archive Link

Warnings: This is DIRECTLY The Mega Horny Part so uh NSFW But Beyond that, warning for praise kink i guess? I need to relearn how to tag things

Word Count: 6.5k

He had almost forgotten about how fast she walked. Like wind almost. Moving with a grace and speed she lacked while dancing but made her one of the most formidable combatants he had ever had the luck to spare with. Maybe that was where his softness originated. The times she kicked his ass. The thought made him chuckle and painted confusion on her own face.

“Something Funny ‘Stinien?” She asked her voice low now not out of sadness, but concern for those already sleeping. Though she had to guess the workaholics that were Riol and Thancred were already up.

“No, no, just reflecting.” The look she gave him in turn was one filled with doubt. But she didn’t raise the question again. He was a bit thankful for that. Instead focusing on opening the heavy wooden door of her large room with only moderate creaking.

Her room was some kind of strangely organized mess. Like A dragon’s horde in a way, really, if he was to go about and make poetic comparisons. Though he imagined a Dragon’s Horde was less plush stuffed animals scattered about and more golden coins and rare magical arms and armor, but if there was such a thing as a Danica Dragon well this would be a wonderful horde to suit them just fine.

Danica wove her way through the hazardous maze of assorted fluffy friends towards her bed. Her Movements he could only describe as sluggish and exhausted. He followed behind, though unsure of any particular reason why. Perhaps to make sure she actually lay in her bed and rest? Perhaps because her hands still held one of his captive? Either way, he found himself uniquely aware of when she stopped and turned towards the large window that overlooked the now stirring streets of the town.

"Hells, and here I was hoping to get a reasonable amount of sleep for once." She whispered, probably more to herself than to him. A weak chuckle shaking her form all the while. He felt some sort of relief knowing that it was a real one and she did actually seem to be doing better.

"You're turning into me, Voss." He added in his own whisper, causing her to look from the window to him in surprise. She hadn't forgotten he was there, no, but perhaps she let herself get too lost among thoughts again. This time she was swiftly dragged back to consciousness though, the fragile little smile that sat upon his face proved thus.

"Oh what a crime, I'll be too handsome" She joked in turn, scrunching up her nose in mock disgust. Yes she would be ok. Even if more of these bouts of melancholy and deep fear hit her, she would still be ok. Good. He would raise blades against the star itself if otherwise, for what else caused her such pains. He reached out for the hand he didn't yet hold, which she gladly gave to his grasp.

"Oh stop it you." He huffed, a look of total exasperation taking his face. None of it true of course. He pulled at their joined hands, pulling her closer towards him, his smile losing any hint of exhaustion as her form ran into his chest.

"Fine, fine." She laughed in turn, looking up at him with sleepy eyes filled with such gentle fondness it caused him to pause. Perhaps someday he’d get use to that look. A potential someday where they would get their rest and perhaps in that someday he’d get to wake up to such it in her eyes every morning.

"I can tell them to leave you be if you want, let you sleep in." He offered, his voice a gentle whisper as he let go of her hands only to wrap his newly freed ones around her tight. She shook her head no vigorously.

"You need your rest too. I've kept you up all night." Ah, there was her normal gentle chastising he knew her for. The amount of times even early into their travels together that she sent such worried mother henning towards Alphinaud, himself, and others was countless. It was a static familiar thing and it felt like home.

"Believe me, Dee, I don't mind." The nickname so omnipresent upon lips that felt uniquely intimate between them. Something he never called her in front of others. It was always Voss. Or Danica if he was feeling particularly testy. But never Dee, never in front of others. He couldn’t tell you why.

"Then would you mind...staying?" Her request was simple and honestly should have been expected. He’d been gone for some time and he couldn’t imagine how much longer it felt when she was worlds away. Sure she wasn’t there for years like the others but - He shook his head and the look in her eyes told him she took that as a no and that was far from his answer.

“I don’t see why not.” He whispered, holding her tight so she wouldn’t step back in some sort of miscommunicated hurt. “Get comfortable, I’ll join you soon. It’s not like they’ve got a room ready for me yet anyway.” The smile on her face was one filled with relief and she nodded. Slipping from his arms with that same ferocious grace she was known for and dipping behind a screen to finally relieve herself of the days grime, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“I love you...” He whispered to empty air, like he had back in Azys Lla what felt like years ago now. And like all those years ago, his hands closed around empty air and he felt...lonely. Even if she was only a washroom away.

But he couldn’t sit there wallowing in strange loneliness. Not while she was off doing whatever she needed to do to sleep and he was still there in thankfully cleaner than they had been traveling clothes. He couldn’t say the same for his armor. The ancient artifact he’d yet to have a chance to service since Ul’dah. He had doffed it and went to find her almost immediately, given she had disappeared so readily after the scions split ways in the main hall and it had concerned him. Not that he’d say that to any of the others. The looks some of them, especially her cousin, gave him told him they probably well enough knew why.

He pulled at his top, yanking it roughly above his head and throwing it in some distance corner. Knocking over a strange cat-like plushie that once toppled over seemed to judge him with large beady eyes, its tiny golden crown slightly off kilter.

“What something to say?” He hissed at the inanimate object, like somehow its plastic eyes were judging him. It, of course, did not respond. And could not be judging him. He sighed loudly, kicking off boot after boot towards the same corner, knocking over the doll and covering the judgemental plastic.

“Oh gods, I’m losing my damn mind.” He shook his head meandering towards the mountain of blankets and pillows Voss called a bed and almost throwing himself upon it. Good, she still had a love for very soft things. He’d fall asleep in no time.

“And still dressed. Here I was thinking I was taking too long.” Her voice from a distant doorway drew his eye, and to her form in but a large shirt that he was about 90% sure was his own. Seemingly lost long ago but actually just owned by a new soul. Not that he minded. It look good on her, slipping gently off her left shoulder as she navigated the wasteland of stuffed animals. He chuckled.

“Got distracted by all the prying eyes.” He motioned wide with one of his hands while untying the offending garment with the other. She scoffed, taking a seat next to him upon the bed and drawing her legs up to her chest. Almost like she was nesting among the fabric.

“Oh please.” She chimed, throwing her legs over his lap as soon as he was undressed and bed ready. “They’re just stuffed animals after all.” Laughter lit her voice and he found himself once more enchanted by his fellow Dragoon, much the same as he was when they first met. When she looked at him, staff in hand, with mostly confusion and probably a bit offense on her face, given that his first words to her were something akin to threats.

Gingerly he reached out for her waist, to shift their position and pull her upon his lap.She did not resist, nor pull him down upon the bed to actually rest like was the goal but smiled at him. Wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace that brought a smile to his dour face once more. She had this unique skill really, to get him to smile so easily.

“Well, perhaps they are to you. But to me they are terribly judgy little eyes that I want no part of.” In a burst of confidence, he continued. “ At the moment the only eyes I want on me are yours.” He hummed, watching and enjoying the gentle flush that took to her cheeks moments after. She yawned, a loud over dramatic thing that had her removing her arms from him in some cruel bit of acting. She was relatively good at acting, all things considered.

“And they are, though they want to be closed.” Recovering from the yawn, she tapped his nose gently, all the while scrunching up her own and before hiding another yawn he wasn’t sure was true or not. Either way she was beautiful, present and most importantly in his arms.

“Hm... I find myself not too sleepy anymore.” He whispered, his voice lowering to that place between a growl and a purr that he knew would draw her attention and wake her right up. The smirk that took her face told him it was successful. Her hands dropped from his face to cradle first the sides of his face, and then down to rest upon his open chest.

“Oh really?” She asked, raising a brow. It was her turn to be exasperated. “I thought after how long I’ve kept you up and how busy a day we’ve had you’d be dead exhausted.” Though her words said otherwise, the gentle swirling patterns she now drew upon her chest said she didn’t mind staying up a bit longer if it meant this closeness.

“Aye, tis’ not every day one can say they’ve a Warrior of Light in their lap.” Almost on queue she adjusted herself there, so she was looking directly at him without having to turn her head. So she was straddling his lap with a growing cheshire grin upon her face. He smiled, his own hands taken to cradling her rear, pulling her closer. Their chests sat plastered against each other now, and this was a closeness he had missed.

“Yes but you can say you’ve got a Danica Voss in yours whenever you want.” she chimed in, her smile losing its edge only to have it replaced with warmth she showed very few others. In response he brought up a single hand to her face and brushed some of the errant strands of her hair behind the slight point of her ear.

“Well then, I would very much like her to stay there a while at least.” He leaned forward, making the already small gap between the two infinitesimally smaller, their lips but breaths away from one anothers.

“She’ll -” A laugh shook her form, here she was talking like she was some other person recalling vague information about herself. “I’ll be sure to try,” It was her turn to brush unruly strands of white from his face, fingers lingering longer than they need be upon his cheek.

“You say that like you’ve a choice, my lady.” And gone was the purr, leaving but the growl. His hands dug in hard to where he held her, and he couldn’t help himself but enjoy the faint near imperceivable gasp that escaped her lips. It morphed quickly into a chuckle that tickled his cheeks.

“Oh, are you going to try to stop me, Wyrmblood?” She whispered in turn, ever so slightly tilting her head, and stopping those idle little circles upon his exposed chest. Punctuating really, her words with but one final poke square where his heart was.

“Not unless you want me to.” He warned, and asked, in equal measure, as scarred hands moved up her back and lost themselves among her hair to keep her eyes locked on his.

“I’d love to see you try.” Affirmation that opened a thousand flood gates, bursting at the seams with months of distance, closed finally with those words and a lean to both their heads. Lips interlocking with a ferocity behind them, and not a gentleness. A desperation that spoke of their time on the road.

Her lips were chapped, and coarse, bit by the sandy winds they had experienced that day. His own were not much better, but yet neither seemed to truly mind. His mouth opened faintly against hers as air grew thin, though he felt no need to part yet. His tongue ran across the rough flesh, and when she would not grant him entrance he brought his teeth to bear.

Teeth biting down hard enough to draw blood to the surface, but not spill it. Swelling her lips under affectionate abuse and causing her to gasp just enough through gritted teeth that his tongue could slip in. A grumbling laugh echoed in his chest, it was like the Churning Mists all over again. At least this time they had walls about them.

Before air forced them apart, and allowed her to make any little snips about his manhandling, he pulled her close and flipped upon the bed. Dropping her with an unceremonious Ooph upon the mound of blankets. A giggle shook her form, as she looked up at him with wide mismatched eyes and smiled very much like a cat that had gotten into some cream.

She opened her mouth to tease. He did not give her such a chance, slamming his lips roughly against hers again to silence her fiery tongue. Her spine curved up at the touch, hungering for yet more of his rough manhandling, she was notoriously impatient. He wasn’t surprised once more, given their months apart that must have felt so much longer for her. But he would have his fun, and her impatience wouldn’t stop his teasing.

Payback for many a time before.

His hands wandered up her form, catching on the stolen oversized shirt with ease and slipping beneath its ragged body. His scarred palms chartered familiar terrain, divots where blades fell, rivers of ink, the rise and fall of her hips and chest like a sailor looking over a beloved map.

She whined against his lips, twisted beneath his touch, like a storm raging on open seas, and he once more the sailor gripping hard to his beloved ship with rough bruising hands. Her legs wrapped tight around his hips in turn, trying to drag him under. But he wouldn’t give up so easily. No matter how part of him wished to drown.

Air once more drove them apart, but not very far as his lips crashed like lazy waves against her face, drawing back further and further till he dropped down to her neck. Eyes warry in watching the impetuous storm of a woman he called a lover as she twisted under his touch. When it looked like she might open her mouth to complain that he was taking too long, he’d allow his kisses to grow less gentle upon their slow trek down her form. Teeth once more would join the equation, first dragging down the flesh and then biting hard when she grew bold. Hard enough to leave marks. Hard enough to draw blood, metallic in his mouth.

Her gasps were music to his ears. As were the growing sharp pains in his back, as her nails dug into his bare flesh. Digging deep pathways into his flesh that would rise red in her absence. Marks he’d gladly bear, of course. They urged him on, really, like her heels digging into his ass in turn and though he was sure she’d love if he gave heed to the growing inferno around his heart that demanded he rip and tear and take her as his own, he wanted to savor this.

And he did so by dragging his lips further down her chest, slowly undoing the string upon his former shirt and pulling it over her head to make that beloved swath of skin he had mapped so well visible in the residual darkness of the waning hours of night. Something akin to a purr echoed out of his chest, but was cut short the moment he felt her hands bunch around his undergarments.

“Oh no you don’t.” He growled, hands snapping from her hips and grabbing her wrists roughly. Her desire to move things along he had to admit was understandable. They’d been apart for quite some time, but this was to be savored and he was going to take his time. She’d challenge him there, but for once he would not bow to her precious whims. If he could maintain the strength. She squirmed, trying to wring her hands free but to no avail. He held them fast.

She pouted, the kind of wide overdramatic pout that she did when she’d didn’t get her way that would pluck at his heart strings and had won her many a stuffed animal or other little gift she so desired. Though he held the command here...she held command over his heart. Either way, they wouldn’t win her a victory here today.

Slowly he forced her arms up above her head, before collecting both wrists in one hand and holding them there. Restraining her, and painting a proud smirk on his face. “Patience, Dee, Patience.” He chastised, using his free hand to gently touch her face, enjoying the draw of her eyes when she could not match it with a caress of her own.

“I don’t want to be patient, ‘Stinien.” She whined, once more trying to free herself from his grasp. He could do naught but chuckle at the act, truely. If he was a cruel man he’d sit there and just watch her try time and again to take what she so well wanted, only to steal it away from her with this simple little grasp upon her wrists. But he wasn’t, and she would get her reward in time but first -

“You don’t have to be patient long,” He purred, leaning down right near the slight point of her left ear. “Just keep your arms right there, allow me to taste what I missed and then you’ll be rewarded, Dee.” He leaned back a bit, tilting his head and raising a brow. “Can you do that for me?”

He smiled when her eyes zeroed in on him and his words with laser like precision as she felt her heart pound in her chest. A war seemed be raging behind her eyes, knowing what words waited on the tip of his tongue but were not said. Words she wanted to hear just so badly. Her pride lost, and he waited till she gave the faintest nod of her head before releasing her hands which remained held above her towards the head of the bed of her own volition.

“ Good Girl.”

She froze, stock still, barely breathing now as he returned to his languid teasing pace. Dragging his lips back down his minefield of marks upon her gently, reminding them with faint little nips that they were there to stay a while. In case they were apart again for any extended period of time.

When his lips dragged over her breasts, and his languid tongue traced circles over her raised nipple she made her first sound since he released her arms. A sharp intake of breath as the cold bitter night air was replaced by the warmth of his mouth. His eyes flicked up, and a smile grew upon his face when he saw the palm of one of her hands digging into the others. A self inflicted point of pain to keep her focused on where they must remain.

He’d have to test her resolve.

When he removed his lips from one raised mound, she exhaled a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. He was being cruel, she had decided, cruel and mean and making her wait as he was torturing her by taking his sweet time, and not just bending her over upon the bed and having her preferred way. Her shoulders relaxed, and she stopped digging her nails into the palm of her hand as he stalled, oh so tyrannous, only to regret it immediately as he took the other in his mouth and grabbed the first between two strong fingers and pinched.

“Ah- AAH” A gasp into the air that was much louder than intended. Poor Thancred next door, she prayed he was a really REALLY early riser and not currently in his room. Though... perhaps this would be pay back for all the times in the Waking Sands.

Yet, she did not move. Nails once more digging hard into her palm, leaving deep gashes upon the flesh that would bruise on the morrow. She held her breath now, as he bit down and pinched in equal measure, just enough to hurt and just enough for her nerves to feel on edge and alive.

When he raised his head, eyes lidded with some amount of pride, and released his hold upon her chest he let out a low chuckle. “Hm, seems you’ve passed the first test.” He gave the raised nubs one final flick before dropping his head below them, slowly continuing his brutally languid and sharp toothed descent.

“I didn’t sign up for Exams Estinien.” She whined, twisting under his touch as if trying to actively avoid it but still not moving her hands. He leaned down towards her head once more, and left a lingering kiss on her swollen lips and smiled when he looked into her eyes once again and saw them red and cloudy.

“Are you afraid to lose Voss?” He purred into her ear, before once more descending, tongue now tracing lazy circles down her toned stomach, enjoying the faint twitch of her every movement.

“We both know I can out last you.” False bravado rang through her tone as each word was a struggle against her desires and her pride and he knew this well. It’s like he knew exactly where to poke holes to make her deflate into something manageable. The purr in his next words confirmed it.

“So sure, so proud.” His free hand wandered and walked spider like up her torso and across her chest towards her chin, gripping it tight and forcing it up. “Very good. Now don’t distract me Dee, I’ve work to do. So look away.” He didn’t need to apply much force to get her to look at the ceiling and away from him. Damn him to all the hells.

She took to biting at her lip to maintain some focus, to draw the nervous feeling away from the slow angel light touch of his lips upon her hips. He was being gentle. It was a heartless cold gentleness that had her parched for more violent and vibrant touch. It was calculated, as was his slow descent from the outside of her tattooed form towards the core of pulsing need that sat soaking the top most layer of her mound of blankets she called a bed.

And she hoped to save laundry for another day.

And he planned on making sure it had to be done tomorrow. Or whenever the two of them roused from bed, the world could deal without it’s heroes for a bit.

As his lips danced around the edge of her old and frayed undergarments he stopped, fingers hooking around its hemline and pulling hard, but not off. His grey eyes lingered and examined the growing wet stain upon its dull fabric and found pride once more welling in his chest. She hungered and it was his fault. Good.

"Gorgeous...” He whispered, and her resolve faltered at the sound of his words,drawing her eyes just barely to him without moving her head. “Look at you, so ready and I’ve only just begun.” She whined, drawing his ire and attention in equal measure as her small movement no longer went unnoticed.

“Hm, what did I say?” She stuck her tongue out in one vain hopeful act of defiance that she immediately regretted as the touch upon her jaw grew harsh, dragging her face back to look into his cool grey eyes.

“Look.” He growled his voice dropping at least an octave. “Away.” She could not stop her eyes from widened, nor how instantaneously she looked out the window, noting the sky growing light and the sound of souls milling the streets setting up their stalls. She hoped they couldn’t hear either of them.

“F-Fine.” She would not beg. She would NOT beg. She was too proud to ever beg but she could hunger like a primal summoned off the lifesblood of it’s followers and he the sickly sweet aether that would keep her material.

“Patience, patience.” A virtue neither had, as illustrated when he removed his hands from her form and returned them to the pathetic fabric that dared separate the two of them. She had plenty, and could mend whatever he broke. Right?

He didn’t voice the question so he didn’t get an answer, forgoing his fingers to dig his hungry teeth into the fabric and yank his head back, animalistic joy welling in his chest and mixing with that pride at the loud screeching sound of ripping fabric.

Air stung her sopping core and she gasped, the slips of fabric that survived his onslaught did not to help save tickle her skin. The gashes in her hand grew deeper as she tried to restrain herself yet that resolve to follow his command, to be that so called good girl that deserved the reward that had been kept from them both for months now remained.

He chuckled darkly, seeing the pink glow to her battered form. All the way from her cheeks to his prize. A smirk to his lips as he considered his options. Torment her more, or claim their prize?

He decided he would do both.

He lowered his head once more, kissing along where fabric had once hid. Slowly but surely driving inward towards the pleasant sopping mess that was her core. She squirmed, the sensation too much even with the sharp bites of pain to anchor her. A short whine escaped her lips as the fraying strings of her resolve began to break into splintered ends.

The entire rope shattered the moment he reached his goal, a loud moan punctuating it’s brutal end the moment his lips first pressed upon his prize. The taste of her viscous fluids coating his tongue instantly, sweet as a honey made just for him.

"That feels good doesn't it?" He asked, raising his head after his first assault, “but you want more” He paused, a wild grin taking his face as he considered very carefully whether it was worth the fun she’d poke at him later for his next words. “But you want to ride the Dragon.”

If she poked fun at him, he could always shoot back that her nod of yes was near instant.

“Just a bit longer then.” He cooed, before laughing at her whimper of frustration, using the act to hide his second attack. He rubbed a hand down the length of her slit, fingers growing slick with the same essence that now dripped from his face, her spin arched at the pressure and once more one of those magnificent melodic screeches of pleasure hit his ears. He smirked then, not giving her a second to recover before sliding a single one of those coated digits into her fiery core.

Her legs grew taunt and her back remained arched off the blankets surface like she was a living breathing cathedral. He didn’t hold enough fervor in his ishgardian body to be above sacking it though. And soon the plunder would be his.

His finger was immediately greeted by the warm tightening embrace of her insides that only pulsed faster with a fiery life as he curled it at the knuckle. She gasped, throwing her head back at the sensation, snapping her final bits of pride into broken little shards of self.

“P-please!” Her voice was an echoy ghost of what it normally was, weakened by the dryness at the back of her throat, and the thirst that rested within. He answered her with a knowing smirk and the addition of another of his thin fingers to her core. She nearly threw herself upward off the bed, the dragoons' well trained legs a danger here.

“Please what?” He whispered, rubbing his thumb in lazy circles around the bundle of nerves that would drive her mad. She bit at her lip until she feared it might start to bleed. The corpse of pride still trying to save itself like some vain dying god.

“P-p-lease.” She whispered this time, shaking faintly, using the last of her resolve to still yet comply with his demands. Yet how she wanted to look him in the eyes and plead with their mismatched colors, saving what little pride she had left by silencing her words.

“Please.” He paused his movements, stilling the constant pulsing action of his fingers. “What?” He asked again, leaning forward and watching now how her entire body twisted against the stillness now. Starved with twitching euphoria just out of reach. His free hand rested upon her hips now, to prevent her from actually manging to reach that, from actually managing to fuck herself upon his hand.

Though admittedly he would have been impressed, it was he who was growing impatient now. The ever growing strain against his undergarments was a pointed reminder of that. He could see her tremble slightly, bite her lip and fight against her will still. Part of him was proud, that will power of hers was legendary in all things it seemed but -

He released his grip upon her hip and grasped her chin firmly again, drawing their eyes together. Leaving nothing in the air save the loud beating of her heart and the shallow breaths they both mustered.

“Please...” She whispered again, he met her words with the faint trace of his fingers down her parched lips. “Please, I’m yours just -” The words were almost there, perhaps it he just flexed his hand slightly they would -

“Stop! Stop Teasing me!” She squirmed, the inside of her growing tight around his two fingers. “Just Please!” She exhaled, her words more a strangled gasp than a proper moan. Tears now edged at the rim of her eyes now, and his smirk faltered. No matter what she managed to stutter out, she was at her limits and he would not push her beyond them.

“Take me, Estinien! I-i can stand this no longer!” And this time, she’d admit it too. Good, good. He had been worried for a spell, that she was too proud to admit when something was too much but then again, she hadn’t been earlier under different circumstances.

He removed his fingers, tips dripping with her essence staining the top covers a deeper color then they started. She exhaled, and then whined for the absence and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Do you want my spear or not?” He raised a brow, she responded with nothing but heavy eyed silence as her body relaxed from the precipice it had been upon. The cliff she had been so close to crossing. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out but a gasp for air.

He took a step back, unhooking her feet from around him to shimmy out of the one remaining bit of clothing stopping her reward. That which she so nicely asked for, that which they both hungered for in equal measure now as he was sprung free.

“Are you ready?” He returned to her form, gently running his hands down her warm body as he wrapped her legs back around him. It wasn’t that she wasn’t helping, but her attention was elsewhere now, eyes lingering upon what pressed hard into her thigh, mouth slightly agape in expectation.

He’d never get tired of that look. Nor of the one he knew awaited them both at the end of this brutal joining.

She nodded faintly, though, to answer his question as words now were beyond her hazy eyes. He voiced the question again, raising a hand to move some of the hair from her face, and then unwind her hands from above her head. Placing each palm gently upon his shoulder, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way they relaxed at his touch. Melted upon his skin till they almost became as one.

She exhaled a shuddering breath as her eyes cleared and but one tear escaped them, one he quickly wiped away. Cradling her cheek in his hand with a reverence he did not even afford the divine. Leaning down, their lips met once again but it lacked any of the ferocity their earlier joinings held. Only pure gentleness, a reassurance to both their souls that they knew their bonds and boundaries.

And then, still with his lips just hovering above hers, he closed that final gap and connected them. The sign of their joining the arch of her back into his chest and the low groan that left his own lips. Why had he kept her waiting all this? Why had he kept either of them waiting?

Perhaps it was the sweetness of this exact moment, the jolt of electric sensation through both their bodies that was made more wondrous by the wait. But he could philosophise about this meeting later, when he wasn’t so focused on the shock of his starting pace.

Slow, but increasing at a speed that could only be described as breakneck. Or perhaps, he would chuckle later, spine shattering. The resounding slap of their bodies together and the creak of the rickety frame holding up the mountain of blankets muffled the thought however, and the low frantic gasps of his name drowned it outright.

Her fingers lost their way among the tangles of his white hair, grasping at anything to ground herself from the onslaught she had dreamed of. Wrapped in the knots, she inadvertently pulled, snapping his head back and issuing a deep growl from his lips that set her already sensitive nerves alight.

“Again.” His voice was all rough edges, a husky depth with no end, but she wasn’t about to leave a request like that unanswered. She wrapped a strand around a set of fingers when she could and gave it a firm tug, once more drawing a sharp inhale from her lover and a noticeable increase to his speed. And to think she thought he had reached his peak, she gasped, near yelped in surprise, but she would not complain.

If anything she’d keep her hands wound right where they were, tugging upon his white wisps he called hair every time he pulled from her even slightly. He grinned, teeth barred in rabid devotion, though she could not see it, as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. It was his turn to beg.

“Harder.” He urged her, lips pleading against his pathways along her neck. She gladly complied, grasping a full handful and tugging his head from its hidden perch, eyes heavy and hazy with a new found feral lust that had been hidden for but moments too long.

What passed through his lips then wasn't the common tongue, of this Voss was sure, but even more sure was she of the meaning behind the strange moaned guttural sounds.

"Good girl,"

Those sounds alone would have left her mewling, but in addition to the punishing pace he had set, one she kept egging on with ever faint tug it set her dangerously close to an edge she knew she'd quickly topple over. Red hot coils building into blinding infernos in her gut, breaths becoming ragged and short and constant, the outline of him, her fellow dragoon nothing but stars. She knew the snap would come soon and she'd be nothing but faintly twitching putty in his hands, at his mercy.

"Mine. My Girl."

Sounds she hadn't expected to be the final push beyond electric oblivion. Panted words of ownership punctuated by frantic thrusts and growls, as he himself was not too far behind. She couldn't tell how far, of course, as her eyes grew blinded by the stars of euphoric absolution that took her senses far and told the world through one final moan of but a single conformation.

"Yes!"

Her mind was alive in sensations, too many for her to comprehend. The press of his body, the erratic pulsing of her core, the blooming bruises upon her skin, the stuttering irregularity of his brutal pace that stalled and near stopped with a low wheeze and whispered echoing of her name as well as a plastering of her inner walls with a material reminder of the joining and its cataclysmic end.

Perception spun out of control, and as she felt his form near collapse on top of her in one final wheezing flurry of friction, the only sound remaining in the cool room their ragged breaths frantically trying to catch up, and the pounding of their hearts in their ears. Before he crushed her, he rolled across the bed eyes focusing finally upon the crisscrossing beams that made up the ceiling. He didn’t doubt that she could realistically hold the weight of one adult elezen man, but that felt somewhat rude and at least here, he actually cared about that.

Long moments passed in silence, words and language long beyond either of them. The sky grew brighter as night slowly passed into day. Slowly, as sentience returned to them both, and a dull ache across all of their bodies, Voss crawled close to him. Slinging a leg over his own and nuzzling her face into his side with lazy exhaustion.

“Love you...” She whispered, shivering faintly as the thin layer of sweat the two of them had acquired during their act cooled them in the Mor Dhona morning chill. He reached far, pulling one of the hundreds of blankets she kept there over the two of them, fighting off the worst of it.

“I love you too, Dee.” He whispered back, noting that even now her eyes fluttered shut. Soon, he yawned, his would follow and then.

Well, they could face their morning later.

#ffxiv #ff14 #estinien x wol #estinien wyrmblood #Danica Voss

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quirofiliac · 3 years

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usfv asked: Today is an important day for America. I do believe I should show you why it’s such an important day. You may be from a different country but I want to show you why Independence Day is so important.

@usfv ／ unprompted ／ always accepting.

This... had to be a joke, right? There was no way that Valentine was being serious. Oh, well, come to think of it-- this actually wasn’t the worst Kira was subjected to when it came to the so-called “president”. He’s never thought to do any sort of heavy research into the subject but maybe all Americans were just... like this, for lack of better word.

That didn’t make it any easier to swallow, however. If anything, it actually seemed to serve to enlarge the metaphorical pill. Instead of downing it in one gulp with a big swig of water, Kira found himself staring down at it wondering if he should even bother. A pill as big as this wasn’t meant for human consumption. Hell, he wasn’t sure if it would have been appropriate to give it to a horse or even an elephant.

He felt the clench in his jaw, and it’s all so familiar. It’s akin to receiving a hug from an in-law without consent.

This was why he knew that letting foreigners into this country was a bad idea. All of the so-called positives of allowing them (them and their grubby, little mitts... it’s like letting a dog wipe its ass on your floor after it’s finished shitting on the lawn.) hardly mattered when all of the negatives greatly outweighed them all. He didn’t understand how so many of his fellow residents could be okay with this-- let alone tolerant of it. Didn’t it bother them, being forced to witness in real-time just how ignorant the human condition could actually prove to be?

Evidently not.

It’s all turned around on him, leading to him to feel like he’s the one with the problem. Why should they moderate the behavior of a group (those of whom laid claim to far less rights than he?) when it’s so much easier -- and less time-consuming, honestly -- to simply “correct” him on his “bad manners”, instead? It’s all about how much effort was involved and, in fact, barely revolved around the intent nor on the cause and effect.

How impertinent. Kira’s remembering how much he actually hates being around others and how it’s always so close to driving him to the very brink. Though, it’s not like his feelings actually mattered, considering how small he was in the grand scheme of things.

Funny-- no, that’s a poor word choice... Ironic? Yes. Ironic, perhaps, how all of this was cultivated purely because he decided to agree to join one Funny Valentine on a stroll around Morioh.

It’s why he doesn’t say much, even as he’s grinding his teeth (obviously he wasn’t tricked into leaving the privacy and comfort of his home. but he did feel as if he couldn’t say “no”... not when valentine had shown up without warning, and he couldn’t lean on his housemate for support because, of course, he was out. meeting with that shit-faced editor, no doubt.) and keeping both arms stiff as boards at his sides. He kept his eyes straight ahead, not bothering even once to spare a sideway glances towards his all-too willing companion.

This must’ve been some sort of cruel joke, and Kira’s only just now arriving at the punchline. Clearly a joke of this caliber -- and he’s being generous in how he uses that word -- was completely out of his realm and suited one person and one person only: Funny Valentine. He doesn’t know if the presumed knowledge of this should enrage him or simply annoy him.

Although... what’s stopping him from feeling both ways? Absolutely nothing. So, from now on, that is precisely what Kira’s going to be feeling.

“... Thank you,” he all but said through clenched teeth and tight lips. “I... appreciate you thinking about me.”

He’s halfway wondering if Valentine could hear the stretching of skin (it’s taut to his knuckles, close enough to draining into a stark white. sounds like leather to a pair of trained ears, but maybe that’s just him.) from the ever tightening of his fists. He’s careful in disengaging, purposefully keeping his involvement in this conversation as minimal as possible. And it’s mainly because he tells himself that he doesn’t necessarily care if Valentine caught onto his ire (it’s a tension that’s so thick that one could cut it with a knife.) and cares even less so if it made him uncomfortable.

He started this, not Kira! It’s only appropriate that he be the one to end it.

God, if only Rohan were around when he had answered the door... The mangaka would have made the perfect excuse (something along the lines of wanting to spend time with his “friend” on this otherwise lonely sunday night.) and-- ah, come to think of it, what about him made his presence so crucial and not the likes of Maggie or, hell, even his fucking wife?

Kira’s gaze panned over briefly, tossing Valentine one last glare (he doesn’t notice, because he’s too busy blabbering about independence day or whatever the fuck it is. and even if he did notice? kira doesn’t give a shit.) before returning to stare dead straight ahead. A madness mantra (just grin and bear it. for the love of god, just grin and bear it.) began to form in the back of his skull, creeping itself towards the forefront via clawing itself a path.

It leaves behind marks. They’re deep.

Just grin and bear it.

#usfv #help.#＊ 💥 持味：in character.#＊ 💥 返事：answered.

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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Top 20 BEST Animated Series of the 2010s-5th Place

Up until now, I’ve been pretty iffy on which show went where on this list. However, from here on out, there is no doubt in my mind the ranking is almost perfect (or, at least, to me it is).

Just keep in mind, this next pick isn’t as cute and innocent as it might look.

#5-Camp Camp (2016-)

The Plot: Camp Campbell is a place where kids can go to do anything! Like space camp, theater camp, art camp, magic camp, and also other magic camp! It’s a dream come true...except for a little rapscallion named Max, who was forced to go there by his crappy parents. With the help of his two new friends, Neil and Nikki, the three of them will make it their life's mission to make life a living hell for their two camp counselors. Or, at least, it’s their life’s mission until the end of the summer.

This is the first and only web series on this list, and it is made by the (in)famous production company called Rooster Teeth. And trust me when I say that Camp Camp is the best show Rooster Teeth created ever since they started working on Red vs. Blue. And I can think of a couple reasons why.

Reason number one is the show’s comedy. Just like Rick and Morty, Camp Camp relies on being absurd and dark to get a laugh out of audiences. However, there is one thing Camp Camp has that gives it an advantage: The fact that it’s a show on the internet. There’s a lot of jokes that writers are not allowed to get away with on television. But on the internet, it’s all free game, baby! You want to make jokes about Hitler and the holocaust? Go ahead. You want a young cis boy to ask when he’s going to get his period? Go ahead. You want four kids to get scarred for life after catching old people having sex? Go right the f**k ahead. Because this is the internet. A place that is impossible to make kid-friendly, no matter how hard certain websites try! (And in case you’re wondering: Yes, all of those examples I just listed are actual jokes within the show. So have fun.)

With the benefit of having little to no filter, Camp Camp’s sense of humor allows it to go further with its jokes while having competent enough writers knowing the definition of “too far.” Because believe it or not, there is a limit that this show has with how far it’ll take its humor, and rarely does it feel like it crosses it (and it’s usually Kerry Shawcross’ episodes that crosses the line, oddly enough). Now, as I’ve established in my Rick and Morty review, not everyone is going to find these types of jokes funny. But for the most part, I personally think Camp Camp is hilarious. In fact, out of a fifty-nine episode line up, there is a total of ONE episode that I felt was low on the laughs. And like most good comedies, the best jokes come from who’s saying them and not what's being said. People need to remember that humor comes from the characters. Otherwise, when the gag goes to the wrong cast member, you’ll end up having people respond with, “but that’s not what this character would do or say.” In fact, the only time when a joke falls short in the show is when the wrong character says what is already a funny line that’s just misplaced.

And seeing as how we’re already talking about the cast, now might be a great time to mention that Camp Camp has the best group of characters Rooster Teeth made since the first thirteen seasons of Red vs. Blue. Like I said with Rick and Morty, I prefer to have a series with a moderately large cast of characters, as it offers writers enough room to work with so the series doesn’t become stale. And boy, does this show have a lot to work with. Everybody starts off with a personality that’s simple and serves the purpose of making a joke. But as the Camp Camp goes on, the more that these personalities grow and the audience gets to learn more about them. Even characters who seem like they’re only useful for the same comedic bit eventually become more complex as the series progresses. The best example is Dolph, who starts off as a source for Hitler jokes. But in the episode “The Candy Kingpin," we see that he’s also a little kid who’s just lonely and naive...while also still being the source of Hilter jokes. Now, at a glance, it might seem like there are too many characters, and it can certainly feel like it at times. Luckily the writers are smart enough to know which characters need more focus and which ones can be used for comedy. For instance, Space Kid doesn’t seem that complex in the slightest, but he’s a source for comedy, so he doesn’t need to be. Besides, the writers can develop any characters it wants whenever they want to. Because if Max and David are of any indication, this show has the best character development in any Rooster Teeth series.

I’m not kidding when I say that the relationship between Max and David is the best thing about the series. They start off with a simple dynamic: David is the happy go lucky optimist who gets in the way of Max’s pessimistic schemes. There’s nothing too noteworthy at first, and the majority of the episodes are just Max screwing over David and David keeping Max in check. However, the showrunners found a way to make their relationship more intriguing with each season. (Kinda spoilers ahead) Not only does Max learn that David understands how rough life can be, but, realizes why David has the determination to stay optimistic in the first place. And once David learns why Max is so jaded, he begins to work with Max through a new angle. In fact, the second they’re both on even ground, the two of them stop working against each other and learn how to work with each other (kinda spoilers over). Now don’t get me wrong. David still gets on Max’s nerves and vice versa, but there’s still a small amount of respect shared between the two. This is what I loved about their dynamic: Their development isn't blatant, but it still exists. In Red vs. Blue, it feels like Tucker’s development seems to take a step backward and forwards with every other season. And in RWBY, it feels like Yang is a different character after experiencing a traumatic event. This is understandable given what happened to her. But seeing how her having a sense of humor, which is everything likable about her personality, left after this one moment, it can be a bit disappointing (especially since Yang seemed like a person who hid her trauma through comedy). As for Max and David, everything that is likable about their personalities is still there, only now seen through a different light. This may not seem that impressive, but considering how Rooster Teeth has handled character development in the past, it’s pretty great.

Here’s another thing that may not seem as impressive as it really is: The show’s animation. I am amazed at how this series manages to have a television-quality of effort. Now, that may not sound like a compliment, but considering that this is a web series, it’s pretty darn impressive. Most online animated shows barely stick to a weekly schedule and the ones that do only manage to have episodes lasting for 3-5 minutes. So, seeing as how Camp Camp can have 12-24 minute long episodes once a week AND still managing to look good is a testament to how far internet animation has come. There’s also a surprisingly large amount of detail added into the show. I’m not talking about the characters themselves, as they have pretty simple designs. What I am talking about are the little things that the animators added in. If you pay attention to the props, backgrounds, and even things they wrote in, you’ll notice a whole lot of things that would have flown over your head otherwise, such as great jokes, continuity nods, and even sublime foreshadowing when it comes to season three.

So as you can tell, there’s a lot to like about this series. So you’re wondering why it’s only #5. Well, my reasons are more pitiful if I’m being honest. You see, Camp Camp is aimed at adults, but it doesn’t feel like that at times. Like I said with my Final Space review, most writers think that for a series to be considered for adults, you have to use sex, drugs, violence, and cursing. Now, in all fairness, those aren’t really meant for kids. And understandably so. However, if you take all of that stuff out, then what’s stopping this show from becoming kid-friendly? Not a whole lot, especially since there’s a handful of episodes that have plots I’ve seen in other kids' shows (“Jermey Fartz,” “Eggs Benefits,” and “Night of the Living Ill,” to name a few). Personally, I believe that for a show to be for adults, it requires two things. One is to have writing that may seem boring to kids but interesting for adults. It's also important to have stories/plots that kids are not ready to fully understand yet. If you fail to do both, then there’s nothing stopping a twelve-year-old from watching your show and enjoying it just the same. And I should know because I was twelve when I started watching Rooster Teeth’s content in the first place.

Also (and this next complaint is less pitiful and more problematic), it's not good with how whitewashed the voice cast is. I get it. A voice is a voice, and the color of the actor's skin shouldn't matter...except that it does. Because if you're going to go the route of having a diverse cast of characters, then you might as well go all the way by having their voice actors be people of color as well. And don't get me wrong, these actors do a perfect job for their respective roles, both for the dramatic and comedic moments. But, as this series started coming out in 2016, long before current events, it still bothered me that a character like Nerris--

--was voiced by a woman like Barbara Dunkleman:

Yeah...That’s a big yikes.

So while it may not exactly be the best example of an adult series and definitely needs some recasting, Camp Camp is still one of the best shows in the 2010s. It has impressive animation for an online series, has hilarious comedy, and even better characters to enjoy. And seeing as how this is only #5, that can only mean that the shows can only get better from here.

(Side note, is it bad that two seasons of this show made me connect to the characters much better than the first six seasons of RWBY? Because I certainly think so.)

#top 20 of 2010s #camp camp #rooster teeth #what i thought about #screw rwby

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bleedinghearthalstead · 4 years

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SWAT!Jay / Upstead AU

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH everyone for your lovely comments to my first fic, I’ve been overwhelmed by your positive feedback. That said, it has inspired me to write another one-shot. I will also crosspost these on AO3. Enjoy!

When his wandering eyes land on the front desk, he sees that the desk sergeant is giving him a look. A look that says, "don't you dare give me any trouble". Walking up to the desk, he gives her a friendly smile that slowly but surely morphs into a frown. She's squinting at him, looking him up and down, and granted, it doesn't look great.

With both of their schedules being terribly unpredictable, Hailey and Jay can go a whole week without seeing each other outside of their marital bed, one or the other having to sneak into their home in the middle of the night. So when Jay is given the afternoon off because his commanding officer is planning on adding a new sniper to their rotation and Hailey texts him that they just wrapped the case they have been working on for the last week or so, he decides to pick up his wife from the district.

Stepping inside the big double doors and walking up the front stairs, he takes a look around. You wouldn't really call it a beautiful building, but it sure feels like home. Most districts have been modernized and feel sterile and cold – hell, the SWAT base at Homan Square looks like a rundown storage facility–, but the 21st district has its own personality and you can practically feel the history within its walls. When his wandering eyes land on the front desk, he sees that the desk sergeant is giving him a look. A look that says, "don't you dare give me any trouble".

Walking up to the desk, he gives her a friendly smile that slowly but surely morphs into a frown. She's squinting at him, looking him up and down, and granted, it doesn't look great. Not really thinking about where he was going to go (well, technically, he is on his way home), he had changed into black basketball shorts and a Tool band t-shirt, his baseball cap on backwards. Looking down at his shirt, he realizes he does look like a bit of a tool.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"You must be Sergeant Platt." The minute eye twitch is the only tell that she is surprised he knows her name. She remains visibly unimpressed otherwise – she is wearing a name tag, so that wasn't very hard to figure out.

"Do I know you?"

"No, but I've heard stories about you," he says, conspiratorially leaning in closer.

"Oh is that so?" She narrows her eyes at him. "And who did you hear those stories from?"

"My cell mate at Stateville only had lovely things to say about you." He winks at her. There's that eye twitch again, which Jay counts as a personal victory. Just when he thinks that the woman is going to leap over the desk and/or shoot him, there's a buzzing sound to his right and Hailey is standing at the top of the stairs that go up to Intelligence, looking surprised to see Jay.

"What are you doing here?"

When he sees the sergeant's hand moving towards her hip, Jay throws his hands up. "Hey, babe!" Platt's eyebrows shoot up. His voice comes out slightly higher than usual. "I'm here to pick you up, didn't you see my text?"

Hailey glances between Jay and Trudy, Jay with his hands up and Trudy's hand hovering over her holster, and her eyes widen. "Jay, honey," she says, putting great emphasis on the endearment, "you should've called."

Slowly turning his head from his wife back to the sergeant, Jay carefully lowers his hands while maintaining eye contact, watching Trudy do the same. Ceasefire accomplished. Hailey comes down the rest of the way and goes right up to Jay, standing up on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips.

"Hey, babe," he repeats, this time softer – definitely less panicky and high-pitched.

"Hey, babe," Hailey parrots and gives him a coy smile, then turns to Trudy. "Trudy, this is my husband Jay." Trudy is still glaring at him, but at least she has taken a mental step back from shooting this man on the spot.

She raises an eyebrow at Hailey. "So Mr. Upton here is quite the comedian, huh?" Hailey in turn raises her eyes at the ceiling, asking whatever deity is willing to listen what the hell her husband has done this time.

"It's Halstead, actually," Jay interjects, "and yeah, it runs in the family, my brother's a total clown." Trudy waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn't.

Hailey rolls her eyes at him, ignoring the last part of his answer. "We were both too stubborn to change our names."

"And there were so many forms." Her husband shakes his head.

Trudy only nods. "Well, I hope you were joking about prison." Jay snorts and Hailey cusses him out under her breath.

"Sorry about that, I couldn't resist." He gives her a bashful smile. "Hailey said you were solid, so no hard feelings, right?" He reaches out his hand and after a second's hesitation Trudy reluctantly shakes it.

"Good to finally meet you, Mr. Halstead," Trudy says while pointedly looking at Hailey.

"Same here." He nudges Hailey in the side. "Shall we?"

"Let me just grab my stuff from upstairs." Hailey hesitates though, seemingly reluctant to leave her husband with Trudy, thinking of the absolutely idiotic things he could and probably would say if left to his own devices.

"Go on then." He shoos her away, then winks at her. "I'll be just fine here with Trudy." Hailey gives him a look telling him to behave himself, then excuses herself and hurries off, trying to give them as little time as possible to rip each others' throats out.

Once the metal gate closes behind Hailey with a clank, Jay leans his elbows on the front desk and gives Trudy a mischievous smile. "So what's the hot goss at the 21st?" Before Trudy is tempted to crack him over the head with the wooden clipboard she is currently holding, a voice next to them startles them both. Not that anyone would've noticed, both of their poker faces immaculate.

"Hey man, what are you doing here?" A patrol officer who has just walked up to the desk is beaming at Jay.

"What's up, buddy?" They shake hands, then Jay points his thumb over his shoulder to the gate that Hailey disappeared through a minute ago. "Just picking up Hails."

The officer hands a bunch of keys over to Trudy, who makes him sign a sheet. "Well, good to see you. I'll see you at the next game?"

"Yeah, man. Say hi to Jenny and the kids for me."

"Will do. See ya, man."

As the two men say their goodbyes, Jay has his back turned to Trudy, who catches a glimpse of the patch on Jay's baseball cap. "SWAT, huh?"

Jay swivels back to Trudy, a confused look on his face. Talk about an unexpected change of topic. At his reaction, Trudy motions at the top of Jay's head, whose mouth forms an 'oh' in realization. He reaches up and turns the visor of the cap to the front, the olive green SWAT patch now on full display. "Oh yeah," he chuckles. "Cat's outta the bag, I guess."

"So it's Officer Halstead, to be correct." It's not even a question, the way Trudy says it.

"Yes, ma'am." And if Jay stands up a little straighter, then that's a total coincidence.

Now that Trudy thinks about it, she does know the man standing before her. Well, knowing him is a bit of a stretch, but a long time ago she heard a story from an old friend of hers at the police academy, how a baby-faced recruit named Halstead tore through basic recruit training like it was a fun day at a children's playground, even showing up the instructors at firearms training. When SWAT got wind of the ex-army sniper, they started grooming him for an assignment with them before he was even out of the academy and even though he still had to go through his probationary period and had to serve three years before he could be officially considered for SWAT. If Trudy remembers correctly, he was occasionally allowed to join SWAT training cycles before he was permanently assigned.

Combining his track record with Hailey's meritorious promotion to detective, they are one hell of a force to reckon with. Trudy is actually impressed. She has to admit that she did misjudge him based on his albeit sloppy attire. Guess you really shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

Before long, Hailey comes bounding down the stairs again, carrying a large gym bag that Jay wordlessly takes from her as soon as she stops next to him, slinging the bright purple bag over his shoulder. "All good?" She skeptically looks between Trudy and Jay.

"Yeah, we're good." Jay smirks. "Right, Trudy?"

Trudy hums. "Quit while you're ahead, Officer Halstead." With that, Trudy goes back to the report she was working on before Jay waltzed into the district.

Glad that no heads started rolling while she was away, Hailey waves goodbye at Trudy before Jay has the chance to make another retort. Jay takes Hailey's hand in his and they walk to the doors.

"Oh, one more thing," Trudy calls after them, not even looking up, "approved."

Hailey frowns at Jay, who is sporting a suspiciously smug grin on his face. He doesn't say anything though, just tries to lead his wife outside. The corner of Trudy's mouth turns up in a half-smile when she watches the younger woman slap her husband's arm and hisses "what!?" at him. The older woman can only wonder what juggling married life between those two elite units looks like, when even she and Mouch barely see each other with their more moderate schedules.

* * * * *

They are driving home in Jay's jeep and heavy metal is blaring over the speakers, but Hailey's detective side needs know what happened. She turns down the volume and turns to Jay who is drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "What did you say to her?" Hailey looks at her husband, who still has the biggest grin on his face.

"Nothing, I swear."

"Did you bribe her!?" Hailey exclaims.

"What!?"

"What did she mean 'approved'? You made some deal with her?" Jay just bursts out laughing. "This isn't funny! Sergeant Trudy Platt doesn't just say 'approved'."

He purses his lips, trying to suppress his laugh. "She figured out I was SWAT, but she didn't really say anything else and then you were back already."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, you're still the only one with the childhood connection to her…" He pauses, then scrunches up his nose. "Unless I missed something." Hailey swears her husband isn't usually this obtuse.

"Alright, fine," she huffs.

When they stop at a red light, he turns to her, his expression solemn. "Babe." He lays his hand on her knee and rubs his thumb over it. "You're cute when you freak out."

"Shut up." Jay's grin is back at full force and Hailey can't help but grin back. He leans over to kiss her on the cheek before the light turns green.

"I'll try to be less embarrassing next time," he promises, then adds, "love you."

Hailey takes the hand on her knee and entwines their fingers. "Love you, too."

#upstead #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #swat!jay au #in case anyone was wondering #i like to believe married!jay is way more chill and goofy and less angsty than the version we know #don't get me wrong he still is a total killer badass but he also has killer jokes ba dum tss #also that is an actual tool shirt and i am laughing way too hard at this #bhhfic #watch me never write any swat action

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