#I do not know why I went so hard rendering on this comic but it is good practice. Also the pain trying to recreate a newspaper. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cindymoon · 3 years

Note

Did it ever occur to anyone that Wanda’s Roma background in the comics was BUILT on racist stereotypes? Similarly to M’Baku but also several others. And maybe that’s why the show runners stepped away from that..?

okay, so i think what we have here is someone who skimmed the original post in question (paragraph 2) and likely didn’t ready any of the links attached because that first message has been addressed already... but for anyone else in the same boat:

from gavia baker-whitelaw’s article:

Wanda and Pietro's Romani heritage was canon for decades (including in their non-mutant backstory), although this depiction often had problematic undertones. Wanda is literally a mysterious foreign witch, a damaging stereotype that acquired more nuance in later comics. But instead of updating Wanda and Pietro as modern Jewish/Romani superheroes (much like how Black Panther's charismatic M'Baku started out as a villain named "Man-Ape"), Disney whitewashed them. This casting choice was divisive in 2013, when The Atlantic highlighted the negative connotations of casting a white blonde actress as Scarlet Witch. Roma people are a marginalized ethnic minority, and Disney chose to erase their presence from the MCU.

...This rewrite was rather tone-deaf, because it involved Wanda and Pietro volunteering for neo-Nazi experiments. In the comics, their original parents were Holocaust survivors. Whedon also ignored the most obvious solution to Wanda and Pietro's non-mutant backstory: Django and Marya Maximoff, their Romani parents from the comics.

white washing characters is never the best solution. it doesn’t address the issue in so much as it just sweeps it under the rug. as well as perpetuating the idea that white is some unproblematic neutral that ppl can just default to. like can you imagine if in an attempt to “fix” how m’baku is portrayed in the comics, they just...put a white guy in the role? you can’t just remove a characters racial or ethnic background. no one is saying that her comic background hasn’t been problematic, but this isn’t the way to remedy that.

@scarlet--wiccan has an amazing post about the erasure of this whole family’s ethnic identity in the fox x-men films (x).

@villyns also has a good post outlining some examples of the mcu white washing rather than actually fixing the problem (x).

and here’s a decent article on white washing in media and why it’s a problem (x), quote from this article below:

Making a movie is not an easy feat; there are many things to take into account and even more people that you have to please, but there are also standards and morals to uphold. Whitewashing, blackface, brownface or yellowface is not just about denying jobs to minority actors, appropriating the stories of these groups, perpetuating stereotypes or keeping them invisible, it is about undermining their value as human beings and turning them into stepping stones, props, for white artists.

as for the second part. i think that’s entirely possible, actually. it’s done a lot to characters, where they won’t explicitly state their ethnicity but give them attributes from one (often stereotypes) and make them a caricature without making it, like i said, explicit. take the concept of jewish-coded villains in media. no one from disney has ever said that mother gothel in tangled is jewish, but it’s been pointed out by everyone that she’s jewish coded through stereotypes, ones specifically often used for “evil” witch-type characters, which is no coincidence: large, hooked nose, curly hair, greedy, etc. edit: hollywood uses coding like this often for racial/ethnic groups and the lgbtq+ community.

the maximoffs in the mcu and xmcu have never been explicitly made romani, with disney going so far as to change their parents romani names (django and marya) to oleg and irina. the name changes were unnecessary, except to distance the maximoffs from their original romani identity. the mcu changed their origins stories and cast non-romani actors to portray the maximoffs, and considering they went as far as to remove their jewish heritage as i mentioned before, it’s not a stretch that this is all an attempt to veil their romani background too. while they often joke about stealing and fortune tellers and poverty (the wv halloween episode really put it all in one place, but they’ve been doing it forever in the xmcu and mcu), i wouldn’t say this is an attempt to make them romani as much as it is to use a romani-esque caricature, to use it as a sort of “aesthetic” for the twins without acknowledging that it’s an ethnicity. the aspects they choose to keep are often either negative or painted in a negative light. i think the fact that el*zabeth ols*en continuously uses the g-slur to talk about wanda and costume design, speaks to that.

and even if the mcu came out and said, “oh, our wanda is romani,” that wouldn’t change the fact that she’s played by a non-romani actress (who continues to use anti-romani slurs, despite knowing she shouldn’t) and that so far, they have not explicitly stated in the mcu that she is.

from gavia baker-whitelaw’s article:

Wanda and Pietro's whitewashing feels like an attempt to "neutralize" them. It frames their ethnicity as a problem to be avoided, rather than an opportunity to celebrate an under-represented group. This also meant that Marvel could cast famous white actors instead of sourcing an unknown Romani actor, during a period when the MCU was visibly uninterested in racial diversity.

But Marvel Studios wanted to have its cake and eat it, too. While Wanda is now white and Sokovian, her role isn't completely divorced from its Romani origins. It can't be, because everything in the MCU is informed by the comics. That's how we end up with El*zabeth Ols*n describing her Age of Ultron costume as "kind of this g*psy, vagabond feel"—terms that usually wouldn't come to mind for a simple black minidress and maroon jacket. Wanda's Romani heritage remains visible through veiled references and superficial costume choices, sidestepping any hint of meaningful representation.

from jessica reidy’s article:

Today, some Roma do call themselves witches, and serve as healers and spell-casters in a community, but make no mistake, being a witch is a job like any other. I was trained by my grandmother, I studied hard, I started a business, and I take bookings in my Google calendar. This is the context that most people miss when creating (or, in this case, adapting) Romani witch characters like Wanda Maximoff, and while the Scarlet Witch has plenty of magic, she does not need to fall into the stereotype, nor have her identity erased.

Representation matters. Wanda’s Romani ethnicity has been well-stated in the comic books, sometimes capturing the discrimination and violence that Roma face, and other times falling flat and stereotypical. Marvel also owes us, as Roma are often rendered as mentally unstable thieves, such as Dr. Doom, Wanda and Pietro’s community, and Wanda herself, and the entertainment giant capitalizes off of these stereotypes, reinforcing them all the while.

Every opportunity we get for accurate and positive representation is essential to us because it shapes the way people understand us.

linking the post i made again, because it has a list of articles and posts i’d recommend really taking the time to look through and engaging with them, as well as following folks like jessica reidy and @scarlet--wiccan on social media for more info from romani folks.

#anon #b.inbox #hope this clears some things up for u #anti wandavision

675 notes · View notes

givemethatgold · 3 years

Text

Fix’er Upper Pt. 4

Pairing: Eventual Frankie Morales x Reader Warnings: Injury, swearing, mentions of ptsd and drug use Length: 2k Notes: Hello my Freaky Darlings! I was watching The Martian while writing this and didn’t edit so bear with me and forgive errors!

Part One, Two, Three

Damn your stubborn pride. Damn it, and your swollen wrist, all to hell. Now that you were back at home, nursing your previously ignored injury, it was easy to forget why you had felt the need to work through the pain. Prime harvesting season was ending and all the old farmers in town were predicting an early frost. Knowing how this would destroy any unpicked apples, you had worked hard all day.

Frankie had grumbled at you once, an hour into the workday when he saw you emptying your half-full basket into one of the tractor-pulled bins. You didn't feel like explaining your stupid injury, or risk drawing his memory to when you eye-fucked him, so you just grumbled back an assurance that your total count would be the same.

He was slightly more attentive than usual, and you were worried he had read more into your glances than you had meant. Because, you still hated the guy, right? His... what was it again? Arrogance? Yes! That was it.

Not wanting to encourage any more misconceptions, and still trying to hide your damn swollen wrist, you worked through your breaks and barely stopped for lunch.

Frankie had finally put his foot down when Jacquie had arrived with stew and biscuits for dinner, forcing you off the ladder and stashing it away to make sure you didn’t get the idea to head up again that day.

You had successfully hidden your swollen wrist from him but knew that Jacquie had a much keener eye. So while you were remiss to leave the company of your friend you begged off dinner, citing exhaustion, and went home.

Now though, with a meal that paled in comparison to Jacquie’s cooking, and your bound wrist on ice, you wished you had stayed.

That is until you remember the moment when you had stared at your boss's lips for an inappropriately long time. With a groan, you decided to leave the dishes for tomorrow, just wanting to bury your head under your blankets and try to bury your embarrassment as well.

The sound of rain pelting against the window woke you a few short hours later. You would have just gone back to sleep but the memory of leaving a few windows open forced you out of bed. By the time you made it downstairs, the gentle rain had turned to a downpour of sleet and you could feel the cold air blowing through the house.

Your mind immediately went to the orchard. If this storm got any worse, a sizeable section of un-picked trees would be rendered worthless. Grabbing your boots and discarded coat off the floor, you rushed to your truck with freezing rain stinging your face. It wasn't until you were near the end of the driveway that you realized you hadn't closed any of the windows.

That wasn't what caused you to slam on the brakes, though. Frankie's truck had just turned down your driveway, fishtailing around the bend as he barely slowed down in his hurry. Seeing you at the last minute, he braked hard but the slush already accumulating on the ground caused him to skid. The impact wasn't hard but your smaller truck wouldn't be road-worthy any longer.

Wrenching your doors open and coming around the assess the damage Frankie was swearing while you were trying to decide whether to laugh or cry.

"What the hell are you doing?" Frankie called to you from across your crumpled hood.

"Me? ME?!" You countered, voice becoming shrill from panic and stress. "What the hell are YOU doing?!"

"Coming you help you and save your damn house from this storm!" He yelled back, giving a little jump and waving his arms out of frustration. It would have been comical under different circumstances. "This is gonna flood your fuckin' house!"

"Your orchard!" You were hollering now "This is going to ruin the rest of the apples!"

Jerking his head back Frankie looked at you with confusion, "What the hell are you worried about them for?"

His query forced you to stop and wonder that for yourself.

"I-" you stuttered, feeling a little silly "I don't know? Are you really going to argue with me though?! We've wasted enough time..."

Heaving a sigh, Frankie jerked his head towards his truck and growled, "Get in."

In a desperate bid to save as much of the fruit as possible, you and Frankie laid tarps down under as many trees as you could. Shaking the branches caused the ripened fruit to fall and you just prayed the rest would survive the sudden storm which had now turned to snow.

Working together you dragged each tarp towards the tractor and took turns driving the filled bins into the barn. It wasn’t a heated cab but still a nice respite from the blizzard.

By five a.m. you had done as much as possible and the adrenaline that had once been surging through the both of you had long faded. The snow had now slowed to a light drizzle but the ground was a slippery, muddy mess, as so were the both of you. Once Frankie noticed the shivers that wracked your body he ushered you into the barn and up the side stairs into his loft.

“It’s not much but it’s enough.” was his way of welcoming you into the space. It was cozy but lacking in luxuries or personal touches.

While Frankie got busy making tea and warming soup in the kitchen you explored the loft. It was one large room broken into three basic areas: his bed in one corner with a small bathroom just off the side, a kitchenette along the opposite wall, and a couch flanked by rocking chairs faced a fireplace at the end. Making your way over to the fireplace you intended on getting a fire going but were distracted by the photos decorating the mantel.

“You served?” Your voice came out sounding loud and strained, not at all the casual way you had intended. Frankie had been gruff with you but never unkind, however, seeing photos of him in uniform instantly raised your hackles. It was an automatic response from being reminded of your husband and you hated it.

Shaking the thought of Brad from your mind, you realized Frankie hadn’t answered and was just standing next to you, staring at the photos with a blank look on his face.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried” you spoke softly, not wanting to spook him from his reverie.

You had seen that far-off look on your husband’s face when he had been home between tours. It had always been best to stay quiet and out of sight when he had gotten like that.

Frankie took a sudden step in your direction. That movement, mixed with the current memories swirling in the forefront of your brain, caused you to reflexively throw your arms up to cover your face. Hot tea spilled out of the mug Frankie had been passing to you and immediately burned the skin on your hands and arm.

“I’m sorry!” you cry out, immediately, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Tears were spilling down your cheeks and you had instantly curled up, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“Shhhhhh, no, nononono, shhhhhh” Frankie was frantically trying to reassure you while simultaneously trying to get close enough to assess how bad the damage to your skin was. He seemed to know that you were feeling unsafe so he made himself small and lowered himself to the floor. “That was completely my fault, right? Can I see?”

Taking a deep, shuddering breath you calmed yourself enough to see the warmth and worry in his eyes. Your heart immediately constricted for an entirely new reason when you noticed his posturing, how he had made himself smaller than you and had his hands out wide where you could see them, waiting for you to show him the severity of the burns.

This man had dealt with PTSD before.

Nodding, you reached out both hands for Frankie to take and tried to swallow the embarrassment you felt from your little breakdown. That emotion was quickly forgotten, however, when Frankie finally got a look at you and noticed, for the first time, just how swollen your wrist was.

“What happened here?” he asked, sternly “Were you working all day like this?”

“It’s nothing,” you assured him, trying to pull your hands out of his firm but gentle grip, “just a little mishap from this morning. Don’t worry, though, I was able to work just fine.”

He let out of huff of frustration. “You think I’m worried about how many apples you picked? Jesus Christ, you must think I’m the biggest asshole around.”

“No,” you said quietly, still trying to calm down but also wanting to relieve the tension, “that title belonged to my husband. You,” you continued, ignoring the way his head snapped up to your face then back down to check your bare ring finger, “are just the biggest grump around and it’s intimidating.”

Frankie was silent again and watched his jaw tic as he digested this new information. He was still staring at your hands, cradled in his. The bright red hue of your skin must have jarred him from his thoughts because he quickly but carefully stood up, pulling you up with him, and ushered you towards the kitchen. As you sat on the counter with cold tap water flowing over your burning skin, Frankie flitted about searching for salves and gauze to protect the skin once it had been sufficiently cooled. You tried to reassure him that you would be fine but he wasn't hearing it.

He was talking now, hadn't stopped rambling, but of nothing consequential. You had a feeling there were a lot of secrets stored in his heart but knew you weren't in a position to be trusted with them. You found yourself wishing that you were. You hadn't realized you were nodding off, the strain of the past 24 hours finally catching up on you, until Frankie had called your name for the fourth time. He was, respectfully, keeping his distance not wanting to startle you again, but hovering close enough by to catch you if you slumped over in your doze.

"Come on," he murmured sleepily, "let me take you home. We're not getting any more work done here for a while so take a few days to rest."

"Oh Christ," you guffawed in a very unladylike manner, "how did I forget?"

"It looks worse in the light of day." Frankie chimed in, ruefully.

The two of you sat in the idling truck staring at the crumpled hood of your poor truck, which was inconveniently blocking your driveway.

"I'll call for a tow."

While he was on the phone he climbed out of the cab, assessing the damage and trying to figure out how much this was going to cost him. A few minutes later he made his way back into the warmth of his truck, "He won't be here till tomor-". Frankie let the sentence trail off once he noticed you'd fallen asleep, bundled up in the fleece jacket he had lent you. Sitting back in his seat, watching the sunrise dance across your face, Frank took a moment to think about everything that had transpired in such a short amount of time.

Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the seat, he figured he'd let you sleep for a few more minutes before making you wake and have to walk the rest of the way to your house.

"As I live and breath..."

Jacquie's jubilant voice woke the both of you with a start. It was evening and Frankie's truck had been idling in your driveway for nearly 8 hours with the two of you passed out cold in the cab. At some point, you had shifted and were resting against Frankie's chest, his body turned toward yours and his arms wrapped tightly around you.

"Mark!" She continued to yell, "You owe me fifty bucks!"

PART FIVE

#Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #Frankie morales x you #catfish x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #catfish x you

227 notes · View notes

avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

Text

Phantom Children [DP x Batman Crossover] Ch. 1

Disclaimer: It's been a while since I watched DP and the only Batman/DC stuff I've interacted with are B:TAS, the JL cartoons, and what I got from fandom osmosis so don't expect any sort of canon compliance.

In Which: the author takes advantage of the passage of time in Nanda Parbat being wonky and Danny doesn't give up, per se, but is sort of resigned to being stuck with the League of Assassins until further notice.

AO3 | Prologue | [ 1 ] | 2 |

CW for descriptions of non-consensual drug use (if there's anything you guys would like me to tag, please tell me)

-----

WHEN SOMETHING WENT WRONG WITH DANNY’S LIFE, it was usually because of one or two things: Ghosts or Vlad. And considering their truce and how even Vlad wouldn’t go this far (at least, Danny hoped), Danny was kidnapped because of ghosts. Or his association with ghosts.

Though how an organization of ninja-assassins got wind of his ‘unique’ circumstance was beyond him. The shackles they slapped on his wrists were more a formality than anything after the second time he tried to escape them with intangibility. The only reason they managed to get him contained the entire trip from Amity Park to wherever the fuck Nanda Parbat lay was because of the cocktail of drugs they pumped into his system spiked with blood blossoms.

Danny had to give it to them. The League of Assassins might not have any anti-ecto weaponry, but they did their homework.

He barely remembered the trip. He catches flashes—blurry figures and words he couldn’t comprehend. A warm hand holding his, a thumb rubbing smooth circles on the back of his palm and calloused fingers running through his hair.

When he awoke, it was in a room bigger than his bedroom. His ankle was shackled to a bedpost, and the only door leading out was locked. There was a separate room for the bathroom off to the side and a shelf stacked with books decorating the otherwise bare walls, but other than that there wasn’t much else. Not even windows.

Intangibility, he learned, wasn’t an option. The blood blossoms in his bloodstream were still in circulation, rendering his transformation useless. If his nose was right, his captors were pumping blood blossoms from the vents. The sickly sweet of the flower was faint in the cool air, but the slight red haze that persisted in the room was unmistakable.

He tried, regardless. The rings barely made it half-way before his knees buckled and he started retching all over the floor. At least his stomach was empty.

-------

Danny doesn’t know how long he’s been in Nanda Parbat. Time moved differently here. Faster, he thought. He doesn’t really understand how or why, though sometimes he wondered what Clockwork thought of all of this.

(There are times, in the darkness and solitude of his cell, when Danny would call for Clockwork to rescue him. Quietly, so quietly, it was barely even a whisper. But Clockwork would hear it—Danny was sure he would. Clockwork helped him out before, so this time shouldn’t be all that different. But at the end of the night, nothingness would answer him. And Danny had to learn over and over again that even the Ghost of Time had his own rules to follow.)

It had taken a few days and Talia nearly biting the head off of the League’s physician for them to realize that blood blossoms would be an awful way to contain him. Effective at immobilizing him, yes, but the flowers left him about as helpless as Superman in a kryptonite cave.

“It all works out in the end,” Talia would say. “The blossoms were never going to become a long-term solution; you might end up developing an immunity to them given enough exposure.”

Though knowing now what Talia’s ‘long-term plan’ was for making sure Danny didn’t slip through the walls of the headquarters and fly across the ocean, Danny would rather take his chances with the blood blossoms.

Danny might not have been as smart as Vlad, but he was tricky and creative when he needed to be. He knows he’s powerful. And sure, he might forget some of his own abilities every now and then, but that doesn’t mean he can’t use them. In the time he’s been stuck in the Leage’s lair (and coherent), Danny had thought of a dozen escape plans, each one with a high chance of success. If he made an attempt, he could guarantee the League wouldn’t notice until he was a quarter-way across the globe.

Escaping wasn’t the problem. That would be the easy part.

His core burned at the thought of it. And it hurt—as if his entire being was dunked in a vat of dry ice and left to freeze. He hated how he was here and everything that he was protecting was far. Away.

Danny wanted to go home. Wanted to read comic books in his bed, play Doom with Tucker and Sam, sleep in class and make fun of the Box Ghost. He wants to eat his mom’s food, even if there’s a fifty-fifty chance that it would come alive and try to eat him instead. He wants to listen to Jazz try to psychoanalyze his problems. Wants to go fishing with his dad and eat his famous chocolate fudge. Wants to fly above the skies of Amity Park and touch what little he can of the universe before he’s called down again.

Amity Park is his haunt. His Home. The soft hum of the Ghost Portal in the basement a lullaby he’s listened to for so long that sleeping without it was next to impossible. Every fiber of his being craved to go back because how is he supposed to protect Amity if he isn’t there?

But to go back meant sacrificing everyone.

Danny doesn’t risk it.

(The—the last time was an accident. If Danny isn’t—if he isn’t careful, this time it may be an assassination. He refused to have his family’s death on his hands again.)

He has faith in Sam, Tucker, and Jazz to hold down the fort until he could find a way to escape. They’re smart. Smarter than him. They’ll work something out and—in a worst-case scenario, they’ll find a way to shut down the Ghost Portal to stop the ghosts from coming through.

Logic meant nothing to his ghost core, though. The next best thing to do was to drown out his worries with the League’s rigorous education.

Hand-to-hand and weapons combat. Geography. History. Dozens of foreign languages. Poisons and herbology and basic first-aid. His days are packed with new things to learn and to repeat until it’s drilled into his skull so deep he could recite the information in his sleep. (Hyosycamus niger, aka Henbane. Every part is highly toxic and can cause dizziness, stupor, insanity, and eventual death. It’s medicinal uses range from--)

The League demanded perfection. The Demon’s Head demanded even more than that.

Talia oversaw his education. Sometimes, there would be another, older, man by her side, observing his regimen with cold calculation. Whenever that man arrived, Danny’s instructors were always stricter.

His teachers made little effort to interact with him outside of their set schedule, and during his lessons they only ever answer pertinent questions. He supposed there would be other students of the League in Nanda Parbat, but he’s seen neither hide nor hair of them. His rooms (a bedroom + bathroom combo that led out into a large indoor space for training) are separate from everything else.

Danny slept alone, ate alone, and trained alone. And for a boy who has had his two best friends stuck to his side like glue for as long as he could remember, it’s a terribly lonely experience.

His shadow guards don’t count. They might as well be another piece of furniture. Another stone in the wall.

-------

Talia was the only one that broke his new mundane routine, as much as she was the cause of it. She was his only source of companionship in this hell hole; the only one who would really speak to him. And yeah, he knew why that was. Jazz had rambled on enough about Stockholm syndrome to know that this ‘arrangement’ was Talia’s attempts at forging a bond between them. But godit’s just so hard to be stuck inside your own mind all day when. It made him think too much. Worry. (Whatifwhatifwhatifwhatif).

And then—

And then.

Danny had asked Talia a multitude of questions, but only two did she ever answer. Both asked when he was still trying to flush the drug cocktail and the blood blossoms from his system.

The first was when he asked, “Why am I here?” She answered that it was because Ra’s al Ghul, her father, wanted him. He had knowledge the Demon’s Head wanted; powers that Ra’s could only ever dream of. The man was curious—though Talia assured him over and over again that Danny wouldn’t be vivisected and studied for science.

The second answer came right after when Danny asked her “How could you be so sure?”

Talia smiled. Lacquered fingers coming up to brush away the dark strands that fell over his face. Her hands traced the curve of his jaw, cupping his cheeks to raise his eyes to hers. “Because you are my son,” she said, voice honey sweet.

He jerked from her hold.

Burned by it.

“You’re lying,” he spat. “I’m already someone else’s son. Try again.”

Talia let her hands drop to her sides. “You are my son.” She took a step closer towards him. Steady. Firm. “That is why you are here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

A pitying smile. “Be that as it may, you cannot change the truth.” She approached him, slowly backing him against the wall before she reached out to tilt his chin upwards. Some traitorous part of Danny’s mind catalogued her features. Made connections that shouldn’t exist. “I have carried you in my womb, Daniel. You were a part of me for so very long and I loved you more with each passing day. You are of my body and of my blood—not matter how much you may deny it.”

“No.” He pushed her hands away and raked his hands over his hair. “You’re lying.” She must be. They don’t look alike. Not at all. Everyone always said he was his dad’s—Jack Fenton’s—exact copy. Black haired and blue eyed and sharp-jawed. Awkward but well-meaning and with a heart of gold, his mother said. It was once of the facts of life; Danny took after his dad, and Jazz took after their mom. Simple as that.

(There is a memory resurfacing from his early childhood that Danny is desperately trying to repress again. Memories of kids teasing him on the playground, innocently cruel in the way only children can be as they tried to convince him he was adopted. That his skin looked nothing like his parents’. Dusky where his parents and sister were fair. He went home crying to his parents that same day, and they soothed away his worries with hushed words and a well-timed distraction.)

He asked no more questions after that. Talia was lying to him for some reason, and no answer she could give would be trustworthy anyways. What little of him he could see in her was only a figment of his own imagination. His mind playing cruel tricks.

Then his hopes were dashed aside when Talia showed him a picture of his father a day later.

The man in the photo looked like him. Black haired and eyes the same shade of too-bright blue. There were differences, of course. The man in the photograph was fairer, unlike Danny. He was taller and broader where Danny was lean and lanky. But despite this and all the other minute differences, this man who was supposed to be Danny’s biological father looked like him.

The same slant of the brow. The same shape of the eyes. The way the man held himself with this sense of gravitas and power that Danny couldn’t yet do in his awkward teenage years but had seen before. In a monster another man.

Danny’s future self was terrifying in its inhumanity, but it didn’t take that much of an imagination to know that he looked almost exactly like the man in the picture.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #cw; drug use #phantom children.txt

46 notes · View notes

elephart-hi · 3 years

Text

The Mortal Maiden: Witch!Jude

Chapter 2: A Secret Sealed with a Kiss

set during The Cruel Prince.

(another sneek peek at my wip for this fic)

summary: Oh, he was making a show of himself for her she realized noting the way the light caught on the definition of his stomach. He wanted her to look at him. His lidded eyes seemed to say ‘aren’t I lovely’ and damn it if he wasn’t.

Rating: Mature but not explicitly till later chapters!

AN: I contemplated having this chapter be Cardan reading harry potter and Jude just spoiling the whole series and telling him everyone who dies just to spite him.... sighhhhh i had to make the hard decision and actually write the plot

also no beta for this chapter tee hee

Ao3 Chapter 1 you are at chapter 2 chapter 3

Cardan blinked at the vision before him. Once, twice. Then glanced at the goblet in his hand with a perplexed look on his face. He wasn't sure if he had accidentally poured himself the bottle he had mixed with his hallucinogenic powders. There was no way Jude Duerte would be standing in his room mid-day. She would be asleep in her chambers at the general’s stronghold.

He looked back at the vision in front of him and rubbed his eyes. Then he heard a scoff and saw her sneer at him with fathomless hate burning in her amber eyes. Now that seemed very real. He glanced at her hands and saw that the ring finger of her left hand was missing a digit. He started.

“You’re being rude.”

Cardan wiped his head in the direction of the door as he heard Darnal, the knocker laugh at her from the other side. Her nose crinkled and her brows pinched at the sound. She was cute when she was angry. And she was also definitely in his bedroom. Cardan tried to not let his mind wander to the many inappropriate fantasies he has had of this very scene but he was on his fourth bottle of wine and he was having a hard time reeling it in. He looked her up and down slowly, hoping it would make her mad enough to distract her while he grabbed his damned tail. He needed to get it under control before it made a fool of him.

“Aren’t you going to say something”

“I supposed I should, shouldn’t I?” he didn’t know what to say. He had no idea what she was doing here. He felt a smirk tug at his lips as his nerves continued to spiral out of control. His hand reached behind his back and grappled for his tail “Why are you in my room?”

“Why does your door know my name?” she gritted back, her lips curled into a snarl. She was clearly very annoyed, for what reason Cardan didn’t know. She was the one in his room after all… in the middle of the day no less. Shouldn’t he be the annoyed one? There she was barging in on him when he could have been sleeping for all she knew.

“Care for a glass of wine Jude?” he asked ignoring her question. He stood from his bed and poured more into his goblet; his tail secured within his pants. He had a feeling that he didn’t want to be sober for this conversation, although he had already become a distant stranger to sobriety since classes let out hours before, “You seem wound up, perhaps a drink will help you pull the stick out of your ass. Or, if this isn’t a friendly visit, I could call the guards for you. Though I’m afraid you will find them far less hospitable.”

He has a glass filled for her by the time he finishes talking. She looks more pissed than before, her amber eyes seemed to crackle like embers. She doesn't move to grab the glass from him so he tries a different approach.

“You’re the one who came to my room, Jude, claiming you didn’t want to interrupt me and that you could come back another time. Well let me assure you, you haven’t interrupted anything important, the book will still be there tomorrow to intrigue me, but you are only here right this moment. And I wouldn't want to inconvenience you with having to sneak back in again. So… what can I do for you?”

They seem to be having a staring contest because Jude’s gaze continues to bore into his own. She grinds her teeth refusing to reply, neither one of them willing to break first. She was impossibly cute with her face scrunched up in anger like that. His arm begins to tire from holding a glass out to her for so long. He heaves a sigh and starts lowering his arm when she speaks at last.

“Tell me why your door knows my name. That’s what I’ve come calling about.”

Cardan sighed heavily, his head falling back, annoyance prickling but altogether muddled by the wine. Muddled along with every other emotion he liked to drown in the drink. He takes another long swig from his own goblet, which escalates to him guzzling it down to the dregs. He sighs when he finishes and sets the empty cup on his tray of food. Then he finally goes to address her once more, the alcohol giving him the patience he needs,

“Oh my nightmare nemesis,” his words slurred a bit. He swayed briefly, then collected himself before continuing. “For you to have heard my door use your name, you would’ve had to already be at Hollow Hall, since he is bound to this manor. Yes? So tell me again, without any lies from your mortal tongue, what you brought you to my residence--”

He is interrupted by the ruckus made by the guards outside.

“Any sign of the thief?”

“No! She couldn’t have gotten far!”

Cardan snapped his gaze back to Jude, her face suspiciously neutral. Cardan called out to his door, tilting his head in its direction but keeping his eyes locked on her.

“Darnallll,” the knocker appeared on his door, silently waiting for a command, “find out what the appearance of the thief was from the guards, will you.”

“No need sire, I can tell you right away. The thief was a fairy of short stature, with horns, and yellow eyes. The woman had hair, not unlike your guest here, and was wearing a gown of the same color,” the knocker’s eyes glanced toward Jude, who kept her face decidedly cool. Cardan knows Jude is crafty, she may not be a fairy but she matched the description minus the horns, eyes, and ears. There was a possibility.

Jude pushed her hair behind her ears showing off the round curve of them while opening her eyes comically wide.

“All clear here, though I do envy their horns. It seems like I’m not the only one who snuck into the Manor today,” she nodded towards the door, “some guard he is.”

Darnal laughed at that, mischief glinting on his brass features, and said, “I found her lurking in a stairwell listening against the door trying to see if there was anyone on the other side. She said she was looking for trouble---”

“You asked if I was looking for trouble,” Jude interrupted, her brows pinched together, “I decided to amuse you, Darnallll, so said I was. I wanted to see where it would lead me.”

She had drawled the door’s name out and turned up her chin. That pride of her unwavering. She turned back to Cardan to finish telling him how it happened, “So he led me to your room telling me I could find trouble here… So there, now you know how I met your door and why I’m in your room.”

She came over to him and at last, grabbed the wine from his hand and raised it to him, “To trouble and friendly, although unexpected, visits,” she finished her small toast and took a deep drink.

“But it doesn't explain why you were already in the manor nor how you already knew that this was Cardan’s chamber,” the doorknocker added.

“I seem to recall you saying this would be the fun, kind of trouble, I would hardly call an interrogation fun,” Jude bit back at the door.

“And yet when you announced yourself you immediately began interrogating my prince.”

Cardan watched the two bicker as he poured himself yet another glass. He brought his free hand up and rubbed his temple feeling a headache coming on.

“Enough!” the glamour rippled in waves from his throat, amplified by the amount of fairy wine in his system. It hadn’t taken long for him to discover that fairy wine (and fruit) amplified the strength of his glamour, not with the copious amounts that he consumed each day.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jude and the door stopped bickering at the sound of his glamour. His voice was low and rumbly, it radiated with power. Jude’s heart was racing in her chest. She knew she was doomed. She didn’t see any way to get out of this. Her knees felt weak. Cardan was going to turn her in. Then, he and Balekin would have a field day torturing her together as they tried to carve secrets from her flesh that they would never get. They would keep on carving her up, waiting for her to cave but the geas would render her unable to, even when the pain would make her desperate. Jude drank deeply from the wine he gave her, finishing the glass. If she was to be tortured then she would at least have the wine to dull the pain. She hummed as she felt her head start to swim and laughed to herself; at least she would appear to be able to withstand torture. Oh, trouble indeed.

She held her glass out to him for more wine. His eyebrow quirked at her but he complied instructing her to say when. She had him fill it to the brim.

“Well Jude, how did you know that these were my chambers?” Cardan asked her as she took another drink, his own words still slurring.

Jude laughed the wine making her lightheaded. She turned to look at the annoying door that doomed her and answered truthfully.

“Alice in Wonderland,” she said with her most annoying smile. If she was going to die anyway she might as well piss Cardan off one last time. Her last joy before she went to join her parents.

“I borrowed it from you, hope you don’t mind. It was one of the books my mother read to my sisters and me before we were whisked away to a wonderland of our own. However, Elfhame brings more terror than wonder truthfully,” the alcohol gave her loose lips but her head was light and she didn’t care. Perhaps this is why Cardan drank so much, she did feel quite relaxed. She spared him a glance and laughed.

Cardan had the most peculiar look on his face his mouth hung open and he had one finger poised in the air as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say. Jude decided she wouldn't give him a chance to.

“Darnal, you quite remind me of the talking door from the book. Although I find you more infuriating, perhaps it’s because you are trying to get me killed. I would like it if you were to stop that, I would very much hate to die.”

The door laughed at her words then spoke to Cardan, “looks like the wine did pull the stick out of her ass after all.”

“Oh hush you, don’t make me come over there,” to that the door magicked its face to another door in Cardan’s chambers and waggled his eyes at her as if to say come get me. Jude laughed again, it was such a nice thing to do. She turned to Cardan who still looked bewildered.

“Are you alright you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are ghosts even real?” she rambled to him, a smile on her face. She would enjoy confusing him before he killed her. Her head was spinning from the wine, she took another sip as she waited for his response.

“I was wondering where that went,” his words came out quiet.

Jude scrunched her brows wondering what he meant and then realized he was talking about the book.

“Oh yes! Oak rather likes it,” she takes another sip, “So now you know why I knew it was your room... now you must tell me why your door knows my name. Also, there was a piece of paper with my name scribbled on it over and over again stuffed in the book. I don’t like you much either but my word! I’ve never furiously written out your name till I ripped the paper. That’s a bit much don’t ya think,” she hiccuped out the last word as Cardan’s face turned pink with rage.

“I think you’ve found more than enough trouble tonight, mortal, perhaps you shoul--”

Darnel starts laughing up a storm interrupting Cardan. Cardan turns and grabs the bottle of wine, drinking from the spout.

“Oh I don’t think she found nearly enough trouble,” Darnel said as Cardan guzzled the contents down, “Lady Jude, my prince sighs out your name day after day and scribbles it on parchment in an attempt to rid you of his mind--” Cardan spits the drink out choking on it, the wine ruining his shirt even more.

“Why you!” Cardan snarls out, anger showing on his face; Darnel pays him no mind and plows on.

“It’s why I referred to you as his maiden as well!” the door is laughing as he talks, “I wonder if he fanci----”

“I command you to leave at once!” Cardan’s glamour radiates the room. Immediately Darnel the door knocker vanishes from the room leaving them in silence. All Jude can do is stare as she watches his chest heave up and down.

Then she starts to laugh. Really truly laugh. A bellyaching, body-shaking laugh. She can't help herself. The idea is absolutely ridiculous and the wine makes it that much more fun. Jude bends over holding her stomach as she lets loose a snort. A SNORT! She forgot she even did that when she laughed hard. She hasn’t laughed like this since she was in the mortal world. It was when her dad had snorted up cheese at a Mexican restaurant; a comedian told a particularly funny joke. It had all been so funny that Jude laughed herself silly, till her abs were sore---

The memory sobered her up quickly as her laughs turned to little sobs and then… nothing. Armor locking around her heart once more. She coldly patted away the tears on her face and looked to Cardan who seem miserable and mildly concerned. He was leaning against his bed shifting on his feet, looking anywhere in the room but her. Perhaps his face went pink from embarrassment earlier rather than anger. Perhaps he does fancy her after all. A scheme took form in Jude’s mind.

“I suppose it makes sense… You had your goons strip me to my underwear and ask me who I wanted to kiss the most. Then you ordered me to tell you how much I admired you while I kissed your feet,” Jude referenced the incident with the fairy fruit. His head snapped to her at once.

“I did not tell Valerian to drug you, nor did I tell Niccassia to strip you! They did that of their own volition,” he urged her, eyes flashing with anger at her accusation.

“But you did ask me to kiss your feet and tell you how much I admired you.”

He averted his eyes again, ears drooping and cheeks flushed as he refused to meet her gaze. At least he had the decency to look ashamed.

“I have a deal for you Cardan,” he looked up at her, “I’ll give you a kiss if you promise to never tell anyone that you saw me tonight.”

“Only if you swear to tell no one of the note with your name on it or of anything you heard or saw in this room,” his response had a bite to it, he was angry. Jude supposed it was easier to be angry than embarrassed.

“Then we can both swear to secrecy instead. Forego the kiss altogether,” Jude countered, she put a bite into her own words. She saw something flash across his face that was gone an instant later. Disappointment?

“Aww unless you still want a kiss poor princeling,” she mocked him, the fading alcohol making her bold. He deserved it. ‘Boys are mean to girls they like’ was a stupid saying from the mortal world, if he liked her he should have been kind to her. She would mock him for this until they struck their bargain of secrecy. She would hold this over him. She would shame him for it.

“I didn’t say anything Jude, you’re the one who sounds like you want a kiss now, offering me not once but twice,” his infuriating smirk returned to his lips. She couldn’t stand him.

“Don’t be ridiculous! You are the one who fancies me, Cardan,” she seethed.

“Did you ever consider that I want to revenge Locke?” Cardan sneered, “the door was the one who implied I fancied you. I said no such thing.”

That did make more sense to Jude. Locke had stolen Cardan’s lover and now he wants to do the same to Locke.

“Then what good would swearing to secrecy do. He will never know that you revenged him.”

“I will. I would know of the revenge and you would know of it, and that’s fine by me. He isn’t worth the effort of rubbing it in his face. He can go about thinking he has bested me. I will know that he hasn’t and that he is the one who looks a fool.”

Cardan moved from his spot as he spoke and pulled his wine ruined sleep shirt from his body. He moved to a basin in the corner of the room and dipped a rag into the water, wiping the wine that still stuck to his body. His scars were in clear view of her from where she stood. She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips.

“Once we strike our bargain it won’t matter that you’ve seen them,” he said in reference to his scars, “don’t bother asking.”

Jude didn’t know what to say, the memories of her last mission haunting her. She wondered what he would do if he knew she already knows how he got them. She went to sip her wine but her glass was already empty. She moved to the bed and placed her glass on his tray. When she turned around, she found Cardan an arm’s length away from her, using a new cloth to pat dry his chest. He didn’t look at her as he sat on the bed. He wasn't muscular persay, fairies don’t put on muscles the way mortals do. Even Madoc looked small next to a mortal bodybuilder. Cardan was skinny like all fairies were, but he had muscle Jude thought, eyeing the v-shape that trailed beneath his pants.

“You’re staring.”

Jude felt her face warm and she took a few steps back from the bed, putting space between them. She leered at him.

“Balekin makes me run drills with his guard since I’m so pitiful with a sword. Says I need to at least stay in shape. I hated it at first but then I started gaining even more attention from lovers, so I tolerate it now,” there was a grin pulling at his lips. Oh, he thought she was admiring him, that wouldn’t do.

“I was actually thinking of how you would look like a twig next to a mortal man, even I have more muscle than you do,” Jude said with a smirk.

His face fell into a scowl and she huffed a laugh at it. He probably hated that she just implied a mortal could be more attractive than him. Sure a mortal could be more muscular easily, but Cardan truly was handsome beyond reason, he made her head spin when she looked at him. Maybe it was the wine--- ughh she wished she could say it was the wine.

“Why would I want help you revenge Locke?” she said returning them to their previous conversation. Cardan huffs a laugh at her. His grin lighting up his beautiful face. How he was so perfect she didn’t know. He stretched his arms above his head, Jude tried not to notice the lean muscles there either, and then he leaned his back flat on the bed, his knees bent, feet still on the floor.

“Because he still lies with Niccasia, and he is to be wed to yet another lover. Locke is stringing you along Jude. So why not revenge him? Kiss the person you hate more than any other over him. Do it just because he is so foul and because he will never know that you did it to spite him. Just like you would have never known about either of his lovers till he broke your heart.”

His words stung. Jude didn’t love Locke but it still hurt. He was to be married. And he was still with Niccasia. She felt anger bubble up within her. Easier to feel anger than it was to feel hurt. Jude stood and she walked toward Cardan until she stood between his legs. He leaned up partway on the bed, resting on his forearms. Oh, he was making a show of himself for her she realized noting the way the light caught on the definition of his stomach. He wanted her to look at him. His lidded eyes seemed to say ‘aren’t I lovely’ and damn it if he wasn’t.

“Cardan,” she starts, his midnight eyes gleamed in the fairy light, “I swear to tell no one of your note with my name on it nor of anything I heard or saw in this room tonight if you swear to tell no one you saw or spoke to me,” her voice an arctic whisper as she held her hand out to him. He leaned forward to grasp her hand in his larger one.

“I swear it, Jude,” she could smell the magic as surged bounding him to his vow. She had magic to ensure he was faithful to his promise, but he had to trust her on good faith alone. Her head was spinning but she knew it wasn't because of the wine; it was from what she was about to do. Jude took a deep breath before the magic took its final hold and spoke.

“Then seal it with a kiss”

Next Chapter

#jurdan #jurdan fanfic #tfota fanfic #tfota #jude cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the mortal maiden #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #my writing

32 notes · View notes

sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

Teenage Dream - All I want for Christmas is You. (Part 1)

Summary: Gang-tae gives Mun-yeong the Christmas she deserves.

Author Note: Wow. Writing IOTNBO again feels surreal honestly. This is for anyone who was waiting for me to write them again, hi I hope you like part 1 but this is my Christmas gift to @truccieeboo who regularly tells me that I am awesome and that I can write whenever I want to and I owe no one anything. I already know that of course but it’s so nice to hear that thought echoed by someone else. I’m happy to be back, hi guys!! It has been a busy week but I tried my best to get something out for you to read, there is so much more that I have planned and so I will be breaking it up into parts.

He hadn't realized it but every moment of their miraculous relationship- he'd been holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Mun Yeong to realize that she was dating a complete and utter nerd. But instead he's consistently greeted by a warm smile and her slight body being flung into his arms.

She doesn't get tired of him and months fly by, the happiest months of his life and suddenly it's Christmas week and he's smiling down at her beautiful face as she hangs off him like a limpet, convinced she's his ultimate gift. They should both be in class but he'd went to the bathroom only to run into her in the hallway, she'd walked over immediately her strut filled with confidence and purpose before redirecting him.

He'd almost tripped over his own feet as she bodily shoved him into a closet he'd never noticed in the hall before.

"Woah where are we going?" He asked over his shoulder as she rolled her eyes and shushed him, pinching his butt and then smirking at his affronted squeal.

"I've been walking around forever trying to accidentally run into you. I'm going to take advantage of this." Her eyes twinkle as he stares with a gaped mouth, it has been a while since their last makeout session and he's just as frustrated as Mun Yeong is. Christmas is always busy for his family with his mother decorating every inch of their humble home, not taking no for an answer.

Sang-tae always swindled his way out of working by complaining about fatigue from work while poking out a tongue when their mom wasn't looking. Leaving most of the heavy lifting to Gang-tae himself, literally their box of ornaments and lights made his arms strain.

He reaches out to gently palm Mun Yeong's face, looking deeply into her eyes.

"I missed you." He breathes out, heart growing three times larger as she smiles until her eyes disappear into perfect crescents. He's only ever seen that particular smile directed at him.

"You're such a sap." She snuggles in closer to him, actions contradicting her words. He holds her tighter, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her shampoo.

She gently sways in his arms, fingers swirling aimlessly on his broadening back. She's told him many times how he makes her feel small, contrarily she makes him feel huge. Like he's important and worth her time.

Again those words are on the tip of his tongue. He can feel them right there, bursting to come out. But fear cripples him and he pushes them back down into an abyss, locking them away with a key.

Next time.

"Okay. We've been nice, can we be naughty now?"

"Wha--"

His reply is interrupted by her tongue in his mouth, latching on to his shoulder she tugs him down slanting her head to delve deeper into his mouth. Fire sears through his skin as she twists her fingers into his thick hair, scratching achingly at his scalp. Driven solely by primal desire he snatches her up, his hands cupping the meat under her ass dragging her up the length of his body.

Without preamble she wraps her legs around his waist, her heat sweltering through the thin material of their uniform. When he slides his hands under her skirt he almost drops her when he meets nothing but bare skin. Bare smooth skin.

Ripping their lips apart he stares at her with blown out pupils.

"Where is....what- I. Mun Yeong."

She only smiles at his whine. Dragging his hand back under her skirt.

"I've been a naughty girl huh? What are you going to do about it?" Heat washes over him at her purposeful words, he'd come unexpectedly at her calling herself a bad girl once and that had been it, she was relentless finding every possible way to milk his kink -her words- and torture him.

He surges at her, sliding his tongue into her simultaneously as his fingers sink into her velvety wet heat. He's forced to swallow her loud gasps as she seductively squirms in his arms.

"Gang-tae, more." She demands.

She's already so wet it's obscenely easy to sink another finger alongside the first, stretching her tight walls.

It takes him a few seconds to realize that she's trying to speak to him, twisting away from his lips. Finally he lets her go, panting into her neck as he thrusts into her over and over and over again. Wet noises ringing in his ears and tightening his pants until his cock is painfully pressing into his zipper.

"Gang-tae, I want you to fuck me."

Those inflammatory words engulf him in an inferno of arousal and hormones, his dick hardening so fast that all the remaining blood in his brain rushes to his groin and he sways unsteadily on his feet. He has to tighten his grip as to not drop her and the feline grin she shoots his way coyly informs him that she knows exactly the reaction those words had on him.

“Do you want to, hmm? Right here in the closet? You’ll probably have to cover my mouth I’ll probably scream because it’ll feel so go--”

His hand slams into her mouth cutting off her ability to render him anymore useless. He glares weakly at her, blaming himself for letting himself be caught off guard this way.

“I’m not going to....do that with you in a closet.” He blushes at her raised eyebrow at his hesitance to use the same vulgar words that she did. She giggles at him, rubbing his cheeks like he’s a much younger child. He balks at the treatment, his penis thoroughly confused.

“You can curse Gang-tae, I won’t tell anyone. You won’t fuck me in a closet? What if I want it though? What if I beg you to turn me around and fuck me so hard that my teeth rattle?”

His dick jumps painfully onboard with every word of filth dripping from her mouth and she snatches his hand bringing it back under her skirt pressing his index finger against her sopping wet core and he tenses as his finger slides in and then he hears the worst thing possible, a voice right outside and a familiar one to boot.

“Where the hell did he go now and why did I have to look for him? I’m not his keeper.” Jae-su grumbles sounding far too close to them for his liking and he whips his head to tell Mun-yeong they need to be extremely quiet, to not be caught. Before he can get a word out she lifts herself up and grinds back onto his finger, a loud whimper falling from her bitten lips and echoing in the small room. He holds his breath hoping his meddlesome friend missed that but he hears the grumbling stop and the footsteps lurk back to their hidden location and he waits with bated breath.

A second passes by, Mun-yeong tries the move again but he is holding her hip with an ironclad grip placing her back on her feet much to her disappointment.

He almost releases a sigh of relief.

But then Jae-su calls out, “Moon Gang-tae? Are you in there, what are you doing?”

He has no planning of answering, has no feasible way of explaining his circumstance to his best friend right now. He’d been seduced completely, losing his wit and control, if Jae-su had not appeared there’s no telling what he would be doing.

Fucking Mun-yeong until her teeth rattle, his brain supplies.

He silences the voice.

Despite their lack of response Jae-su does not leave, instead the doorknob begins to rattle and then twist and too little too late he tries to stop the metal from being turned.

Suddenly he’s face to face with his friend of ten years, Jae-su’s eye bulging as he takes in the scene, a glance over to the temptress reveals that she is as calm and cool as a cucumber smiling serenely at being caught red-handed per se.

Jae-su speaks first, “What are.....why are you two in here?”

“I was trying to get Gang-tae to fuc--”

“Mun-yeong!”

He shouts her name looking at her in disbelief, her forwardness is one of the things he lo-likes about her but this level of honesty is not necessary right now. But when he looks over at his best friend the fiery rouge on his cheeks reveals this interruption did very little to conceal what they were doing in the closet. He shrinks in embarrassment his own cheeks pinking in commiseration.

“I don’t wanna know! I’m leaving don’t say anything more, you’re both such perverts!” Jae-su runs away from them looking comically horrified, stopping once down the hallway to glare at them before disappearing completely.

“Well...want to continue where we left off?” Mun-yeong drawls easily, rubbing circles into his arms.

He stares credulously at her, only for her to shrug and reply, “What? I’m horny and we were just getting to the good part.”

He shakes his head in decline, staring at her deep in her eyes.

“I already told you, I’m not doing that with you here. You deserve way more than a quick....fuck in a closet. When we have sex I want to remember everything, I want to take my time and enjoy every second.”

This time she is the only whose eyes glaze over, breath hitching as color explodes across her gorgeous face. He almost ravishes her right then and there, her palpable arousal calling to him like a siren’s call.

“You promise?”

She sticks her little pinky out, wiggling it at him and he wraps his larger pinky around her own weaving their promise.

“Now let’s seal it.” She commands, already tugging him into a kiss. Their lips slap together, the sound of their mooch ringing in his ears.

As she draws away, he halts her with a hand on her hip.

“You only seal promises like that with me right?”

She tilts her head in question first before comprehension washes over her features and a devilish glint flashes in her eyes.

Winking at him and twisting out of his hold, she dances away.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She teases. He hopes she’s teasing. Jealousy sears in his body and it must show on his face because she practically cackles at him and runs away now, laughing all the way.

“See you later Gang-tae, think about me.” She demands, waving at him with her fingers as she disappears around the corner.

As if he has a choice, he stares down at his erection sending a mental apology to it as he actually goes to the bathroom. Today is turning out to be an exhausting day.

There are more heated makeout sessions in various parts of the school, he can no longer look much of the student body in the eyes but when he has Mun-yeong squirming and panting in his arms. all rationale goes out the window. His mother demands that he leave his bedroom door ajar after the last time she caught them “studying”, in his defense he did invite Mun-yeong over to study. Who knows how they ended up lip tangled on the bed with hands in provocative places, claiming possession didn’t seem to win his any favors with his seething mother. Now whenever his girlfriend is over, his mother finds any reason to check on them, even going as far as to send Sang-tae in to supervise them, it is beyond infantilizing.

Sang-tae commonly barges in, exclaiming, “Hey! I’m here to make sure you babies don’t make any new babies.” With a shit-eating grin on his lips as he obnoxiously sits in between them, beaming smile splattered on his face.

So it goes without saying that he too is horny beyond belief.

Which is how he finds himself searching for Mun-yeong in the halls, but to no avail and no replies to his messages.

He hasn’t heard from her all day, he realizes and worry overrides his desire as he pulls out his phone sending her another message.

Are you in school?

He looks at the screen awaiting her response but nothing comes, the message is marked delivered but not yet read.

He sends another message, Are you okay? Just like the first message, his second is felt unread and unanswered and he walks the all too familiar route to her locker, not sure what he is hoping to find.

Unfortunately his missing girlfriend does not magically appear however he finds the next best thing, her closest friend.

Seung-Jae is leaning against the locker in question, concern etched across her expressive face that is mostly eyes. She has her phone pressed to her ears and he can hear the tiny ringing through the phone as the operator recites that the person she is dialing is unable to get to the phone.

She sighs, head falling towards the ground. He clears his throat finally garnering her attention. Her head snaps up and instantly a smile breaks across her face.

“You!” She all but screams and he steps back taken off guard by her intensity.

He blinks owlishly, “Me?”

“Mun-yeong is absent today. She will be absent tomorrow too if we don’t stop her.”

This grabs his attention, he has no intention of not seeing his girlfriend for that long, his heart can’t take it.

“Why? Is she sick, is something wrong with her?” He replies, checking his phone once more and grunting when there is still no reply.

“She’s not going to reply. You have to go see her. Today. She’s going to try to lock you out but you need to be persistent okay? Don’t be your usual nice polite self unless you’ll never get in.”

His head is swimming from the information and her words do nothing to untangle the web of confusion but before he can prod her for more answers she is already ambling off, with a wave over her shoulder.

“I’m counting on you Moon. Don’t mess this up.”

He stands in shock, rubbing the back of his neck. He can’t walk home with Jae-su today.

Getting up to Mun-yeong’s lavish apartment is simple enough with security seeing him enough to register that he is with her. He still has to sign in but the whole ordeal is far less intimidating than it was all those months ago. He almost feels like he belongs. The marble walls of the elevator do a pretty decent job of swatting that feeling down.

The ease of his entrance is squandered by Mun-yeong’s refusal to let him in her apartment.

“Mun-yeong? It’s me Gang-tae”

No response.

“Mun-yeong I know you’re there. I can see the lights, please let me in.” At his evidence of her presence the lights are suddenly shut off.

“Well now I know for a fact that you’re home. Open the door. Mun-yeong, open the door.”

“”It’s that time of the year. It’s impossible to get to her, just leave her alone and she will come out when she wants to. She always like this around Christmas.” He jumps at the sudden voice behind him, whipping around to the sunken face of Mun-yeong’s driver and adoptive father, Sang-in.

“Why? Why does she hate Christmas?”

“Why do you like it?”

Immediately he thinks of his mother and his brother and freshly baked cookies and decorations and then it clicks for him.

Mun-yeong doesn’t have any of that, she’s all alone in her beautiful prison.

“Exactly. Her parents never come, they hire people to decorate and Mun-yeong hides away for a few days until she’s ready to face the world again.”

It shatters his heart that this is her normal. So much so that everyone seems to know about this occurrence, Sang-in explaining it to him as if he’s reading the weather report.

“I can drive you to your house. Don’t worry, I will keep her company. I know how to handle her.”

Gang-tae feels his skin bristle at those words, no one can handle his Mun-yeong. He stands taller, making his decision.

“Call my phone.”

Sang-in looks puzzled at his sudden request looking at him, as if he’s lost his mind and hell, maybe he has but there’s no way he’s leaving Mun-yeong to wallow in her sadness, not alone. She has him now, she never has to be alone ever again.

“Call my phone.” He repeats harder, and finally the man sighs pulling out his phone and following directions.

The all too familiar jingle of his phone rings out loudly and Gang-tae answers it just as loudly, “Oh Ju-ri? You want me to meet you where? What time?

He has to jump back to avoid being hit by the door that bursts open, a seething Mun-yeong on the other side. She snatches the phone from his hand finger set to hang up before she sees the name on the screen, Mun-yeong and a little symbol of a car.

He smiles innocently at the sharp glare she sends first his way and then to her driver who sputters out some nonsense about parking illegally and needing to move his car. Neither one of them acknowledge his departure.

“Go away. I don’t want company right now.”

“That’s too bad. I miss you.” He answers as he pushes his way past her, she attempts to stop him but it is futile and he closes the door behind him.

It takes a second for his sight to adjust to the darkness of her apartment but when it does he sees the destruction that lays around them, broken glasses and tinsel and Christmas decorations littering the floor. It looks like Christmas threw up on the floor.

He ignores that all and takes her hand. She doesn’t fight him, just stares back blankly at him. Looking as small and lost as she did on her birthday, the first time he saw her like this.

“Mun-yeong. Let’s go.”

Then she reacts, “No. I don’t want to go with you. Just leave. This is what I deserve.”

He squeezes her hand tighter, refusing to let those words settle in the air. “No you don’t , you deserve to be loved. You deserve everything Mun-yeong. Don’t shut me out, please.”

She rips her hand viciously from his grip, hissing like a viper.

“No! I let you confuse you, this is what I deserve. I don’t get to be happy, I should be alone. I don’t need anyone. I’ve been alone my whole life. I was an idiot to think that this would work. You’ll never understand me with your perfect family, why would you want to be with someone as broken as me?

Tears pool in his eyes as he listens to her berate herself, the pain is transparent on her face. The wound from her parent’s abandonment raw and throbbing.

“I hate them! I hate them! Why do they hire decorators? Why remind me that it’s Christmas when I’ll spend it alone,? Why give birth to me if they knew that I would be a burden?!” She is a tempest now, rushing to the perfectly decorated tree in the corner by large gleaming glass windows and he watches with tears streaming down his face as she shoves the tree to the ground, the delicate glass bulbs shattering with the impact.

Then she sinks to the ground as well, shoulders shaking up and down rapidly.

It’s not how he planned it but as he watches her fall apart, all his fears and hesitations fall out the window, there are more important things right now.

“I love you.”

She turns to look at him like he has two heads, her eyes large and wet. Tears aching to fall.

“What?”

“I love you Mun-yeong.”

“....And you realized that right now?” She eyes all disaster all around her.

Now she is crying and he can’t decipher her feelings at all. She is glaring at him as she hiccups on the ground.

“I don’t like you. Why can’t you ever do as you’re told?”

He moves closer to her, bending at the knee until they’re eye level.

“Spend Christmas with me?” He pleads and she simply looks at him before collapsing into his chest. She sniffles into his collar, gripping at the lapels of his uniform before whispering her reply, “I’m scared. Gang-tae I’m scared.”

He has never cared for Christmas, it’s a chance to spend time with his family but nothing too serious, nothing he has ever made plans for. He has always been happy to follow his mother’s lead on everything, but as he stares down at Mun-yeong shaking in his arms, the most precious thing that he has ever had. He makes a silent promise that he will make this year different, this will be a Christmas that she never forgets.

I want to make her happy.

#It's okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #moon gang tae #ko mun yeong #they're back with the angst and the smut #tried to just write smut but feelings got in the way #cue family christmas montage #I really should have given MY better parents in this #I'm the worst #It's fine they can share GTs family #and make their own family

79 notes · View notes

thebad---catholic · 4 years

Text

Why I don’t think Azula should’ve gotten a healing/redemption arc

k so I made this meme a couple weeks ago

and I got a lot (a lot? Like 10 but that’s a lot for me) responses disagreeing with my post, which is fair because there’s really only a tiny subset of fans who fit into the “if you stan villains you’re a bad person” category, and Azula’s character (like most other things in atla) is fairly nuanced. I won’t dive into her personal psychology so much, just why I was satisfied with her arc as a viewer.

Note: I’m only speaking within the context of Atla. I haven’t read any of the comics or seen Lok so for the sake of this lil post those don’t exist.

Not enough time

Plain and simple, Azula didn’t have enough time for any sort of healing or redemption. She would’ve needed at least 2 seasons based on what Zuko went through. Adding more seasons for this purpose would feel kind of pointless. Maybe they should’ve explored this in other media but not within atla as the story works best as a tidy three season bit.

Along this same vein, I’m not viewing the show the same way as I would irl. If we’re being realistic, Azula was a horribly abused mentally ill 14 year old who most definitely should’ve gotten treatment. But this is a cartoon, where standards are a little different, which I’ll talk more about in a minute.

Iroh used to be a bad person/If Zuko changed so could she

This one is more complicated for me, but basically I view it like this. In the show, Iroh and Zuko display goodness before their redemption.

We see this with Zuko especially. He is banished for trying to protect the lives of fire nation soldiers from certain death. Twice he spares the life of his rival Zhao, even after that rival tried to kill him. In season two, he saves appa, risks blowing his cover to light lanterns for Jin, saves a town from mercenaries, and even when he’s robbing, he spares certain people (the pregnant woman for example) and mostly targets the wealthy. Zuko, even at his worst, had hard limits on his morality.

Iroh is more subtle. The most clear example comes from the flashback in “Zuko Alone” where Iroh gifts Zuko a dagger from the earth kingdom that he notes is of superior craftsmanship. This, to me, shows where the start of Iroh’s arc comes from: his appreciation of the other nations. It’s been noted before that Iroh has also mastered all four elements, even though he can only firebend. Redirecting lightning comes from waterbenders- likely learned before Iroh “turned good”. Even as their adversary, Iroh respects the people of Ba Sing Se for their resilience. (This again contrasts Zhao, who was so deranged he murdered the fucking moon just to win.) Finally, the dragons. Iroh is known as the dragon of the west even to people from Ba Sing Se- this means that he spared the lives of the final dragons before Lu Tens death. Like Zuko, Iroh shows mercy even when on the wrong side. Lu Ten’s death breaks Iroh because it forces him to finally come to terms with the fact that the fire nation is built on a lie. Fire nation superiority is a lie, and it’s one he’s known for a long time.

Azula doesn’t display any of these traits. The only time in the entire series where she apologizes is after she insults Ty Lee, and I’d argue it was an act of manipulation, as she quickly uses the apology to receive praise from Ty Lee. The beach episode is the only soft side we ever see to Azula, and all of her interactions can still be interpreted like my example. Was the comment about Ursa thinking she was a monster a slip of her mask or an attempt to “perform” like the others? We know Azula is a liar, so was she lying when she said ursa was right, or that it still hurt? Or both? And, mind you, I do love how this episode explores azula more closely, but I don’t believe being a nuanced villain makes you a redeemable one. Even as a child, Azula is cruel and takes pleasure in hurting Zuko, and animals, and her friends. She’s a master manipulator who makes friends through fear and intimidation. Imo, the only reason she doesn’t actually kill someone is because Avatar was technically a kids show, though that sure as fuck didn’t stop her from threatening multiple peoples lives. There is no action of Azula that signifies an ounce of good in her.

She was abused

1) a tragic backstory isn’t the be all end all of whether or not a character’s redeemable, and 2) So was Zuko. And probably Iroh and Ozai, and probably Azulan. The fire nation royal family is fucked up. Even if Azulan was a “good” father to Ozai and Iroh he was still a dictator who was grooming them to take over.

Having Azula be a puppet in her fathers game was an incredibly mature route for atla to take. Once again, it adds depth with a realistic take for Azula’s villainy. Very rarely are individuals born evil (enter nature v nuture debate here). Some of the worst people to ever exist were victims of abuse and neglect to varying degrees. Once again, though, this doesn’t suddenly render Azula open to redemption. And from a storytelling perspective, there’s parallels between Ozai and Iroh and Azula and Zuko.

Ozai continued the cycle of abuse, Iroh broke free from it, Zuko ended it, and Azula was broken by it. These are all things that happen in real life.

She’s 14

Oddly enough this is the argument that baffles me the most. I know I just said a whole lot about real life vs fiction, but I’m gonna pull the fiction card on this one. I can suspend belief with these characters and their ages. I don’t think any 12 year old could function after waking up from a coma and finding out his entire people were slaughtered and that he only had like, six months to save the world, regardless of his upbringing and power set. I also don’t think any 14 year old could lead a trio to infiltrate a city state, outsmart the shadow leader of said city state, and manipulate and entire little army for her favor.

There’s just a point where you have to suspend belief. The characters of avatar are fantastic, but are not realistic portrayals of people in their age group. Azula could be 14 as easily as she could be 25 and nothing about the narrative would change. The same is true for the rest of the main characters- even Aang, as youthful and fun loving as he is, also has more emotional maturity than anyone in the gaang, and more than most adults i know. If you want a realistic example of a child working through trauma, try Lilo from Lilo and Stich. Not anyone from Atla

Not everyone needs a happy ending.

This is ultimately what it comes down to for me. I like Azula as a villain. I like Azula as a villain who stays a villain and who is driven insane by power and paranoia. I like Macbeth. Azula is a tragedy- and that’s what I like.

So there ya have it folks. That’s my take. I’m writing this at five am with very little sleep, so please forgive typos and whatnot. I feel like maybe I haven’t explained everything the way I wanted to, but I can’t stop thinking about this, and the great thing about this show is that it’s fun to keep thinking about.

#avatar #avatar the last airbender #azula meta #azula deserved better #atla azula #avatar zuko #iroh & zuko #uncle iroh #atla #atla spoilers #atla headcanons

436 notes · View notes

bubmyg · 4 years

Text

idcilh (4) - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre/warnings: youtuber!au, sickening fluff, ft guk’s glasses

word count: 1,560

summary: “these have been done before but I don’t care I love her” - a series on gcguk in which jeongguk tackles old, cheesy YouTube couple challenges. episode four: boyfriend does makeup challenge or please stop laughing you’re creasing my masterpiece.

a/n: s/o to the angel that is @gukniverse that inspired me to write this one uwu

“I’m not sitting in your lap.”

“It would be easier.”

“No, it would not.”

“...what if I—”

“Do not touch my legs.”

��Baby!”

“Jeongguk!”

He pouted, ring light reflecting in the wide frame of his glasses and masking a bit of the stars in his irises that normally would render you useless in denying his wagers. It didn’t help that he pressed his cheek into his shoulder, palm on the space between your thighs to lean closer to you.

After a moment, Jeongguk asked gently, “Can you at least come closer?”

A devastating smile overtook his features when you shifted, leaving enough space to turn completely toward him to fold your legs at the ankle. You sighed, do your worst, and you couldn’t keep up the faux annoyance when he excitedly wiggled a bit on the couch cushion before diving for the array of products you’d laid out on the coffee table.

You watched Jeongguk fiddle quietly through the products, making offhanded comments here and there for the blinking camera stationed in front of you. You heard him but you didn’t comprehend him, instead convinced that if someone were to see you, they’d mistaken your features for one giant beam of sunshine, overly endeared with the way he was muttering to himself in between camera friendly comments until he finally settled on a container and a brush.

He blinked, eyes round and lips fished into a little button, demanding, “What? What—” and when you covered your mouth to keep from laughing, he broke into tiny giggles as well, ones that started with his cheeks bunching up underneath his glasses, eyes wrinkling, lips spreading outward last.

“Nothing,” You grit your teeth to keep your grin in place, “Tell everyone why you’ve got your glasses on.”

Jeongguk flushed a bit into dabbing the tip of your widest brush into the pan of powder, narrowing his eyes underneath his fringe, “Because I need to be able to see for this video. Obviously.”

“Noo,” You sang, drawing out syllables and nudging his leg with your foot, “Because I told you that you look cute—”

He silenced you with one sharp jab of the brush against your cheek. The dust went everywhere, falling into your lips and you spluttered while he continued to laugh.

“Oops,” Jeongguk shrugged, teeth capturing his bottom lip when you glared at him. Gentle knuckles brushed across your skin, moving to set his pinky underneath your jaw to tilt your face up for careful brushstrokes, a far cry from the first, “Sit still.”

You waited until he was two taps into your powder foundation to murmur, “You’re starting with this?”

“Is this wrong? Is there something—” He looked over his shoulder at the other products he’d shuffled around before settling into set shoulders, “—you know what, no. Silence from the peanut gallery and let the master work.”

You let your eyes roll up when he rolled the soft black brush underneath your right eyelid. “The beauty community is terrified, truly.”

There was an utter gentleness in the way he went about it, cradling the balance of your face on the feathered end of his fingertips, barely brushing the fibers of the brush to the surface of your skin, using the edge of his thumb to make minor touch ups. Moments of concentration had him zoning out, circled eyes inspecting your features with parted lips to complete the three shapes dominating the majority of his face, only an outline to the round shape of his nose.

Periodically, Jeongguk would make a noise in his throat, varying in tone and volume, only enough to catch your attention before his lips were on the space just off the side of your nose. You sighed each time, letting him have his fun because, again, you were overly fond of your lovesick fool of a boyfriend. That is, until the one time he caught you off guard, hand engulfed on your opposite cheek while his lips caught the corner of your mouth again. And again.

And again…

...until you were laughing enough to shove at his shoulder.

He’d gotten his initial wish. You’d all but ended up in his lap the closer he shifted to you in between trying to figure out blending eye shadow and contour and the thing he’d heard you refer to as baking. Your leg was thrown over his thigh, latter knee bent and resting against his. If you stretched a bit more and scooted forward, you could trap his waist with the lock of your legs. Neither of you were complaining of the predicament.

“Stop laughing!” Jeongguk chided, immediately leaning to you after the end of your fingers finished shoving. “You’re creasing it…”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” You rolled your lips over your teeth to suppress some of it, cocking an eyebrow when his crooked index finger rested underneath your chin, “Are you almost done?”

Jeongguk hummed, lifting up on his finger to tilt your face toward him. “Yes…” He let his thumb unfurl from his fist, pad tugging on the forced sanction of your bottom lip in your mouth, “I need these though.”

You let your lips loose, half into asking why when his mouth was on yours, lingering for longer than the previous, fleeting pecks had. He hummed happily into the seam of your lips before pulling away, only enough to nudge his nose against your cheek before returning in your line of sight with a shy smile.

“Lipstick,” Jeongguk provided to your previously cut short question, raising the small tube of red up.

The delicacy in which he dabbed the color onto your lips made your heart swim laps in the flutter of butterflies that had gathered in the pit of your stomach, a few breaking loose to lift your most vital organ back to its proper position where it then proceeded to grow in size, spilling over into the spaces between your ribs. He’d finished by the time your fond had, for the time being, ceased to grow in the warmth that harbored the very feeling to the very tips of your toes.

Thoughtfully, you rolled your lips together, smacking them together a few times before you pursed them comically, like a red tulip blooming through the frost into spring. “Good?”

There was a handheld mirror under your nose before you could blink, Jeongguk’s shifting next to you outlined by his giddy stream of statements, “I think I did a pretty good job. Did I do a good job?”

Truthfully, the blending of the eye shadow was a bit questionable, but he’d managed to draw two mostly decent eyeliner wings. There was way too much highlight, by design of him insisting he wanted you to glow, but he hadn’t grown sloppy in sliding the lipstick to your mouth. It, honestly, wasn’t that bad.

You told Jeongguk so to a proud smile that burst into his cheeks, jostling his glasses on his nose to which he shoved up with the heel of his palm. Some more formalities, mostly those that marked the end of all his videos, a small and slightly sarcastic shout out to the beauty community, and he was about to let the footage roll out a few seconds before shutting off the camera when you were stopping him with a loud wait!

“You forgot something,” You nodded solemnly when his gaze whipped down to you still seated in front of him.

“What—”

There was a minor struggle, mostly one out of surprise when you squished his cheeks in your palms, leaning forward to plant a lipstick stain to the center of his cheek. A noise of protest mewled out of his lips and his cheeks quickly flushed around the mark you’d left, quick to wave off the camera for his editing self later before you were happily clambering astride his lap, planting more kisses to match the first mark while he giggled underneath you yet made no motion to stop you with his fists gripped to the front of your shirt.

He wiped those first with the makeup wipe he retrieved, only after you took a selfie to have for promotion purposes whenever the video would eventually come out. And a few selfies, just for safekeeping.

Jeongguk worked at removing the makeup he’d just applied to your skin with a tender patience, parked between your thighs where you sat on the bathroom counter. A gentle tune that he murmured under his breath filled the silence but otherwise, you were content with the happiness of your heart in your ears while his tongue poked between his lips to get a particularly hard speck of black from the crease of your eyelid.

He only hesitated when he reached your lips, ones that pursed playfully at him to catch his attention. “What’s wrong?” You continued to make soft noises at him, “Don’t want to part with your creation just yet?”

“Something like that.”

Quietly, he let you pinch the frame of his glasses in the center, dragging them off his nose to set them next to your thigh on the counter, instead fitting your hands on either side of his neck to drag fingertips upward into the fluffy hair at his nape.

Jeongguk dropped the makeup wipe when you locked your legs around his waist, fitting the artificial cherry between the natural strawberry of his.

#bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #fic: ytber jk #i've missed them :'-)

409 notes · View notes

rundzy · 1 year

Photo

Been trying to figure out how to write and express this. 2 weeks ago a guy I know from a club I work at asked me why do they call me Bishop. I told him there are many reasons but one of them because Bishop from #xmen was one of my favorite characters. From then we talked Marvel and movies. Later that night an altercation came about where I had to actually turn into that same character (😂). We all went home later afterwards. The next week the same guy came to the club and called my name while I was working the door. He said “I got something for you” and handed me this. He said “I appreciate your hard work and all you do to keep us safe while we have a good time. I know it’s not easy dealing with all of us. I remember you telling me why they call you Bishop and thought to get you this to say thanks.” It was a pack of 4 Bishop comic books. I was in shock for many reasons at this point. Never has anyone just gave me anything out the blue for a random reason. I can’t recall the appreciation from a patron of the clubs Ive worked. Sometimes I sit back and wonder is any of this worth it or does anybody ever appreciate the hard work that you put in. Most people will just see you man in a uniform, wearing a security shirt, or staff shirt and just see him as a man behind the shirt and really don’t understand what comes with that title. I’ve rendered a medical aid, been in multiple shoot outs, seeing people died right in front of me, saving children, enabling these people to get home. After every scenario nothing ever came from it except PTSD, dealing with cops or detectives, etc. I don’t expect thank you or gratitude shown to me for doing what I do because I chose that job. However for someone to think of me, and how I served them, protected them and kept them secure and to bestowed a gift like this; damn near brought tears to my eyes. Many people will see a comic book or comic books yet I see all the sacrifices I’ve made and so much more. Big Thanks to him! #clubguard #clubguardian #clubsecurity #clubsecurityservices #securityguard #securitycameras #securityofficer #secuirtylife #RespectTheGuard #xbox #xboxgamer #madden #GamingAtWork #GamingOnTheClock #LeaveTheConsoleAtHome #BringTheSticks #Marvel #marvelcomics #marveluniverse #marvelstudios #bishopmarvel #comic #comics #comicbooks #xmencomics #xmenbishop #xmenfan (at Dallas, Texas) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqDb37wO4Hk5WjsVESK-Gw9gT1_4iClC15TJzE0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

0 notes

nasir-simp · 3 years

Text

Azula’s Trauma

Okay, so I know that she was born psychotic (says so in the comics) but she still went through a lot of trauma that made it worse. So here’s me listing the reasons why she went off the rails.

Azula’s odds were never in her favor since she was born. She loved fire bending as a kid and would rather use a sword than play with a doll. It’s very to understand what she’s thinking and her emotions if you just payed attention. In some cases you could say she that she’s more on one side of the spectrum than others. She’s not very empathetic to begin with but she never knew better. No one really taught her how or that what she was doing was wrong.

1. She was already at a disadvantage seeing as Zuko’s older than her. That too, she was also a girl. But doors opened for her when Ozai realized how gifted of a fire bender she was. Also remember, Zuko didn’t know that he was born with the gift of fire bending.

This was the beginning of his envy towards Azula. She got his father’s love so easily while he had to try so hard to even get a shred of his recognition. This caused him to start distancing himself from Azula. Being Ozai’s prodigy wasn’t easy on her. Her mother probably thought of her as a monster to some extent. (Yes she loved her but that thought was always at the back of her mind.)

It also didn’t help that whenever Zuko cried her mother automatically assumed that Azula had something to do with it. Her mother should understand that it’s normal for siblings to make the other cry even if it’s their fault. It’s just normal sibling rivalry. This probably led to Azula resenting her own mother. Even with this newfound resentment towards her, she was still a child that wished for her mother’s love. Or for her mother to even glance at her the way she does Zuko. Because of this she tried to find parental love another way, through Ozai.

2. Being brought up by Ozai is much different than being raised by Ursa. He probably thought Azula battle strategies instead of reading bedtime stories. He probably taught her that mercy was for the weak, an example of that would be Iroh. Before she even met him, she already had a bad impression of him. The impression only went downhill when he sent her and Zuko gifts. Zuko got a blade while she got a doll.

Ozai must have told Iroh something about her, because if he knew her he would have known that would want a blade as well. It would make more sense for Azula to receive the blade, the girl who trains 24/7, rather than the boy who feeds turtle ducks in his free time instead of practicing. It was at the moment that Azula thought that no one really understood her but her dad, Ozai. But even he didn’t understand her, he just only saw of her as a child soldier.

All he ever id was encourage her ruthlessness towards other and to disconnect from other’s emotions to avoid being ‘weak’. It must of felt so good to finally be favored over Zuko. Ozai favored her while Iroh and Ursa favored him. The maids and servants probably had more of a liking towards Zuko since she never treated them as well as Zuko. But REMEMBER, Ozai taught her that kindness was a weakness not a virtue. Azula got hooked on the approval that comes with impressing Ozai which caused her to train harder and be better than Zuko.

This isn't how a child should be raised though, they should know the they are loved no matter how talented or talentless they are. You have to remember, she is still a child!

3. But, she had two friends that helped her gain the normalcy of childhood, Mai and Ty Lee. They were her best friends, she felt as if she could genuinely enjoy life instead of being trained like a soldier that's going to be shipped off for war. When Mai had a crush on Zuko all of Azula's insecurities probably entered her again. Afraid that Mai would soon favor him more and soon only hang out with him. The only thing that helped her feel grounded was the fact that Mai was shy and that it was highly unlikely that she would ever act on those feelings. She would still be on her side like always, or so she thought.

4. Now we'll talk about the Agni kai between Zuko and her father. Outwardly she seemed happy that Zuko was going to be banished and let's be honest, she probably was. But there's a chance that she knew he was still her brother and hoped that he wouldn't kneel in front of Ozai knowing that would just make him an embarrassment. With Zuko kneeling, she lost all of the little respect that she had for him because you're not supposed to show mercy to your opponents no matter what. Whomever it may be. Even with this lost of respect she must have felt happy knowing that with his banishment, there would be no competition for Ozai's attention. And with him, the uncle who knew nothing about her also left.

The years following Zuko's abandonment led Azula to perfect her fire bending and become a master. That too, also gaining a neverbefore seen fire color, blue. There's not much to say about this time since we don't know that much. Continuing on, when Zuko came back and joined the trio including Mai and Ty Lee, she probably felt the happiest she's ever been in a very long time. When it came down to the decision between Azula or her uncle, Azula must have felt fantastic to have someone favor her, even if it was just Zuko. To be someone's first choice, the words are indescribable.

During the beach episode we see a new side of Azula. We see her realize how different she is from everyone else. She desperately tries to fit in but it wasn't what she was trained to do. she must have been isolated from kids her own age besides Ty Lee and Mai during her childhood with Ozai. She was trained to conquer cities like Ba Sing Se, capture the avatar, be a master fire bender. This is what's natural for her, not making some boy like her. During the fire pit scene we see Azula open up towards the group saying how her mother thought of her as a monster. They all reacted quite calmly, not really jumping in with words of encouragement to make her feel better. Subconsiously, Azula must have known her friends shared the same thoughts as her mother. But she never really thought they would leave her seeing as they were friends, right? This scene is also where we see Azula show genuine emotion other than ruthlessness and it's directed towards Ty Lee. Ty Lee told the group that she always felt shadowed by her 6 other sisters. You could see the emotion flash through Azula's face. Azula related to Ty Lee on an emotional level because she went through the same thing, but instead it was with Zuko.

5. During the prison break when Azula was trying to stop the avatar from escaping, it probably broke her heart to see Zuko with him. Helping the avatar to escape goes against everything she was taught. But that wasn't what broke her, it was Mai betraying her. Sure she knew that they finally got together after Mai harboring the crush on him for years but she always thought that Mai would stick with her. She thought that Mai liked her and actually thought of her as a friends instead of the monster that everyone paints her to be.

6. The final crack on her heart though, was Ty Lee. When Ty Lee chi blocked her to let Mai escape, it broke her. Her eyes of pain were evident as she fell. Seeing the two people she trusted most on the other side when she thought they would be beside hers. Ty Lee was the only person who she never had a doubt on. It wasn't even a doubt that Ty Lee's loyalty could even be wavered. She trusted Ty Lee with her life. With the treachery of Ty Lee, Azula knew she was alone in the world. This final betrayal is what caused Azula's mask to crack. That crack let her insanity finally shine through.

7.While training with Lo and Li the only feedback she received from them was that she had a hair out of place. That hair symbolizes her mental health. Throughout the show her hair gradually becomes messier and messier. The messier it is, the more cracked her facade of well being is. The last time we see her on the show is during her Agni kai with Zuko. This is where her hair is the most messy. To quote Remus Lupin,"Finally the flesh reflects the madness within."

8. Even at Azula's worst she still held her own at the Agni kai during Zuko's best. But when she knew she was going to loose, she shot lightning at Katara with Zuko getting in the way just in time but rendering him useless. Once Katara bested Azula by freezing her in water to wrap chains around her arms, we hear Azula schema in defeat. The best way to describe it would be to call it a panic attack. Watching Azula breakdown hurts so much because it's so realistic. Her screams are heart wrenching and it hurts knowing what she went through. And she's only 14, a child! She's just a kid, a kid who went through too much that no one should ever experience. She went through too much for her to ever have hope. She went through too much to ever have the odds in her favor.

To conclude, Azula is a child who's broken on the inside and out. She's never stood a chance. She may have been born lucky but she wishes that she was never born.

#azula #ozai is an asshole #zuko #azula deserved better #uncle iroh #mai #ty lee #betreyal #trauma

21 notes · View notes

quentinblack · 4 years

Text

Your 5 biggest gripes with the HP movies

Okay so some of these might be controversial, but here are my five biggest gripes with the Harry Potter movies:

1. They don't handle the Weasley family very well at all for the most part. Ron is dumbed down and often comic relief, with some scenes downright character bashing. I actually think that movie Ron's portrayal is part of the reason why Ron-bashing become such a mainstream HP fandom thing. Ginny is handled terribly, in terms of book to movie, out of every character in the entire series she is possibly the one who gets the worst treatment. I don't really think it was Bonnie Wright's fault per se, more just bad writing or limited screen-time. Charlie doesn't feature in the movies at all and is completely cut other than the odd reference and a small picture in the newspaper. Bill was completely cut too, until JK Rowling wrote Deathly Hallows and they pretty much couldn't not include him, given his wedding and Shell Cottage were two events/bits of the book that rendered it near impossible not to cast him. Percy's entire redemption arc was completely cut from the story. I feel like Fred's death could've hit a lot harder if they'd had the Percy redemption arc, with us even seeing Fred's death actually happen as well.

2. I don't think they handled the Lupin/Tonks plot-line in the last few movies very well at all. They both have extremely limited screen-time and their relationship is kind of glossed over and doesn't have much time to breathe. We never even meet Andromeda or Ted Tonks and they completely cut out Lupin and Harry's fall-out, which was one of the better scenes from Deathly Hallows. It ultimately kind of means that when they die unless you're a hardcore book reader it's sort of a "oh right, yeah, those background characters were a thing" moment to casual film watchers, instead of the devastating moment it should have been. Teddy is then completely cut from the Epilogue, not really sure why as he was cast, although I'm guessing they just thought given how little mention they'd given to the Tonks/Lupin plot nobody would even know or care who he was anyway. 3. Peter Pettigrew doesn't even die. The only logical conclusion I can come up with is that Peter choking himself to death would have meant the rating went up a notch, which obviously they don't want, but how hard was it to give him an on screen death? Doesn't the chandelier fall down or something in the next scene when they're upstairs in the Manor? Just have the chandelier fall and crush him to death (without the audience seeing any gore or whatever) and you've at least killed him off. Or the metal hand makes his wand back-fire and kill him? I don't know, emiting him from having an on-screen death was completely bizarre. 4. This is a controversial one and I do actually prefer Alan Rickman's portrayal of Snape in the Movies than book Snape, but I think that's part of the problem. The movies play up Snape as a much more sympathetic/"nicer" character than he is in the books, which again, I feel is part of the reason why Snape being such a liked character in the fandom kind of came from. There's a few things here and there which the movies add in to make Snape a nicer character, one of the main things that springs to mind is when he forms a protective barrier around Harry, Ron and Hermione against Werewolf Lupin, but I think the bigger problem is what the movies choose to leave out. They leave out his angry megalomaniac rant at the end of POA when Sirius escapes which is really very nasty. They leave out some other nasty things he does, but I think also in some movies they try and portray his bullying of the students as kind of comic relief, having Ron agree with him bullying Hermione for being smart etc. Another big omission is they completely leave out the bit in his memories where Dumbledore asks him why he doesn't ask Voldemort to spare Lily and just kill Harry, and Snape says he says, after which Dumbledore says he disgusts him. This moment is a pretty big omission and again, paints Snape in a nicer tone than the character actually is. I only really noticed this on a recent re-read of the series and there were many moments where I sort of remembered how much of an ass-hole book Snape actually is. 5. Voldemort/Bellatrix death scenes. For some reason they had the stylistic choice of making Voldemort evaporate and Bellatrix sort of smash into lots of little pieces. I've got no idea why they wasted so much CGI money on these two deaths, when both of them laying on the ground dead is much cheaper to film and would have humanised both of the characters a lot more. Sometimes less is far far more, and their deaths was one of these times.

44 notes · View notes

like-rain-or-confetti · 3 years

Text

Nineteen Years Prior (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

You watched the sea of people hurry around platform nine and three quarters. Few amongst the strangers were ghosts of familiar faces, older, more experienced. All different people from which they had first been when coming here nineteen years prior.

You couldn’t help but smile fondly as though recalling a memory. In someways it was, with only a few minor details changed. Some would have thought that aging or losing friends and family wasn’t so miniscule and shouldn't be dismissed. From your perspective it was. The pain of loss, aging and moving on with life. It was all apart of the story. You stood alone on that platform. Without a family of your own, yet it wasn’t sad. It was enough to be witness to your friends. Your gaze stopped at Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny. You recognised them instantly.

Hermione kissed her daughters forehead, pulling her in close. Meanwhile, Harry fixed his sons shoe lace. His son said something, distracting him from the task. Your eyes returned to find another familiar face. Draco Malfoy’s hair was slicked back just as it had been in the first few years of Hogwarts and just as blonde. The boy he was looking down at with a soft smirk had to have been his son as he too had the Malfoy blonde hair that every Malfoy seemed to inherit. He led his son closer to his mother to enveloped the boy in a hug. He acknowledged Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Tension was still apparent but it seemed more on Draco’s side in terms of guilt. What could he have said after everything that had happened nine-teen years prior? Draco looked away from his family and caught sight of you across the platform. His eyes widened, smirk vanishing. He looked shocked to see you and you couldn’t help but smile in amusement. Nevertheless, you waved at him as you continued to smile at him. He shifted slightly, seemingly uncomfortable before giving you a discreet nod. You weren’t too surprised. Rumours spread about the Malfoy’s after the Battle of Hogwarts and they shut out themselves in shame. Draco cut contact with everyone. No one heard from the family, only the rumours about them. You never caught any detail of those rumours, only that they existed. Then again, such stories never made it to Hogwarts, only students ever kept them alive and even then, they were barely a rare whisper.

You had shared many classes with Draco as well as Hermione, Ron and Harry. Much like them, you and Draco got off on the wrong foot. In fact, you were enemies for the first three years.

With every year, Draco Malfoy had become more and more insufferable, or at least that’s how it seemed. Although whether it was being accustomed to his antics or the desire for a change of scenery with some fresh air, an example would have been in Hagrid’s class. You thought he was doing pretty well. Draco, on the other hand, was insistent on mocking Hagrid through out, making it very known that he didn’t have the seal of Malfoy approval. “Right you lot, less chatter, form a group over there and open your books at page forty-nine.” Hagrid ordered. A few looked down at their books, Draco and yourself included, in slight confusion. "and how exactly do we do that!?" Draco snapped. "Just stroke the spine, of course! Goodness me." Hagrid called back. You looked down are your book. "I didn't see that coming." You mumbled to yourself. Draco turned his head to look at you before running his fingers down the spine of the book.

Seeing Harry with Buckbeak was amazing, although you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous, wishing it were you. Although Draco wasn’t so impressed. Your jaw dropped when Draco stormed up to Buckbeak, all the while antagonizing the creature. In retaliation for being too close, Buckbeak immediately stood upon hind legs before tearing into Malfoys arm. Next thing you knew, Draco was whimpering, cursing Hagrid and 'his bloody chicken'.

You saw him in Lupin's Class, arm now bandaged up and in a sling. He leaned against a pillar as everyone waited for Lupin's next instructions. "You alright?" You asked quietly as you turned your head to Malfoy. Draco looked surprised you had said anything. His eyes darting to you. He hadn't even noticed you had been standing beside him. "Yeah." Draco said gruffly. "Figured I'd ask that one looked like it hurt." You responded. "It did, bloody chicken nearly took my arm off." You weren't sure if Draco was being dramatic, it certainly didn't look that close. However, you didn't really know Draco enough to know if he was the type of exaggerate.

Draco was surprised, just as his face had shown before morphing back into a scowl. He almost didn't answer your question but was so dumbfounded, he did anyway. Not even Crabbe or Goyle had asked him if he was feeling alright today. You had been the first and you were one of the last he'd think would ever think to ask. Then you surprised him again by actually keeping the conversation going. Draco had two options, tell you to shove off or actually take the conversation. Before he could make the decision, once again he had already responded.

As Lupin began his lesson, you heard Draco mutter to Crabbe. "This class is ridiculous." "Alright! Everyone line up!" Lupin called out as the class suddenly scurried into one line. Everyone pushed and shoved into a line. Neville started and the Boggart twisted and turned into Professor Snape. Within seconds of Neville's cry "Ridiculous!", he wore what resembled the very outfit he had just described his grandmother to have worn. For Ron, a large spider that was suddenly on roller skates. Pavarti, a snake that became a clown before it could strike. For each, down the line, the Boggart morphed into their worst nightmare before turning into something utterly ridiculous. Much like the spell had been named. You couldn't help but shiver when your turn came along.

You looked to Professor Lupin before the Boggart would morph. "How do I do it again?" You swallowed hard, your mind drawing blank at the thought of what the Boggart could turn into. "Other than the spell, what do I do?" The Boggart began to twist, morphing into your own fear. "Think about what would make it funny." Lupin said calmly with a reassuring look. The Boggart stretched, tall and thin, morphing into a man in a suit and bowler hat. He had no hair but it was the only defining feature you could make out. He never had a face. His arms longer than they should have been as well as his legs. You only ever saw his silhouette. You knew the figure well. Usually children feared the monster under their bed or hiding anywhere else. Your monster never hid. He stayed in the dark and there were many terrible nights you awoke to him at the bottom of your bed. That man had haunted your nightmares for so long that you had made up stories about him, even when very young. He had a wife with a neck that was so weak it couldn't hold up her head. The two had a son who looked to be nine years old at most. Due to his mother's weak neck, her son had weak legs. They had never worked since birth and were lifeless. It meant the boy had a solid tight grip that you had felt in your sleep before, the pain being enough to wake you. Since then, you looked at the boys hands that were gripped upon his wheelchair. You knew if there was more than one Boggart, you'd face the whole family that haunted you. However the tall man was the one who never left you alone.

You heard the discomfort in your classmates from behind you but didn't dare take your mind off of it. His movements were stiff, like he had to fight himself to move his own legs. His steps were small, his dress shoes clicking against the stone flooring. His knees lifting higher than necessary with each step, mimicking walking as if each step he took was his first. Just as he always had. His upper half was rigid and unmoving, making his movements even more unsettling. To your horror, the man head begun to reach out and that was when you snapped out of your frozen state. "Ridiculous!" You cried out. The man reeled back and his hat grew in size. It became to big for his head and covered his face. The man swiped at the air, unable to see. The scene gradually became amusing as suddenly the lack of vision seemed to render the man useless and unable to stay up, falling over himself and unable to stand up straight as though he had completely lost his balance. You felt relief rush through you as a few of the class chuckled, including Lupin. "Excellent! Goyle! You next!"

When class was over you realised the only person your had your next class with was Malfoy himself. You sighed, unable to stop the sinking feeling in your chest at the likelihood that you'd be his next target. Yet Professor Flitwick's class was surprisingly calm, even when you were paired with Malfoy. "Is there a reason you have a stupid look on your face?" Or perhaps it wasn't so peaceful but rather peaceful as it can be around Draco Malfoy. You shook your head. "Just thinking about how we've went from Lupin's class to this class. Dealt with Boggart's and now we're in charms? Seems a little-" "Ridiculous." Draco said flatly. "Charms is pointless. First year stuff. Hardly worthwhile of a whole class in my opinion." You nodded. "Especially after a Boggart." You agreed, it was rather comical how such a light hearted class was unintentionally put after a challenging one. "I thought yours was a dementor." You admitted. Draco scoffed. "Why would I be afraid of a dementor?" You shrugged. "They aren't the most pleasant of creatures. It was a grim reaper right?" Draco said nothing but nodded once, not meeting your eyes. He had a fear of death. "What was yours?" He asked much to your surprise. "You'll think it's dumb." You warned him. "Of course, I will. It's coming from you. Tell me anyway." Draco responded. "Thanks, Malfoy." You said with sarcasm and Draco's impatient glare told you to get on with it. "I'm prone to nightmares. I don't really get them here but I do at home. I think it's because the house is so old and creepy that my mind goes wild. That man the Boggart turned into has been around for a long as I can remember. He always stood at the dark corners of my room or the foot of my bed. Just a nightmare. I haven't a clue where he came from." You shrugged. Without warning, Draco sneered at his quill rolling it off his desk before reaching for another students quill. Plucking it from their desk like nothing ever happened and began to write in his book. The student beside him looked for his lost quill, noticing the one of the floor and assumed it was his, swiftly swooping down to reach for it. "Did you...did you just take that?" You asked in disbelief. "No, I borrowed it." Draco responded with a slight furrow in his brow. "Yeah right, you totally stole that!" "Are you an idiot? I just told you I borrowed it!" Draco said sharply. "Okay, do you intent to give it back?" Draco didn't respond and you hummed in satisfaction.

After that it was a matter of convenience for you both to claim you were enemies. Although, it was apparent that you weren't. Whilst not quite friends, hatred wasn't present, even on the days you didn't get on. It really shouldn't have been much of a surprise that Professor Slughorn paired both you and Draco Malfoy for potions class. Draco sent you an eye roll and a sneer whilst you looked utterly bored by the reaction. You moved to him, of course, because Draco Malfoy didn't move for anybody.

Slughorn put a piece of paper on the desk in front of you making the two of you lean over the desk. He made it clear that whilst these potions were harmless, "Alihotsy Draught? What's that again?" You furrowed your brow at the paper with the given potion the two of you were to create. "Alihotsy as in the plant." Draco scoffed. "Are you an idiot? It's a potion that causes uncontrollable laughter." "Shame, just when I thought I'd be lucky enough to get a jaw binder spell for you." You responded pointedly. Draco scoffed again. "You should know better than speak that way to your superiors." You turned to stare at him in the eye. "Do you really want to play that game right now?" Draco ignored that question. "You're wasting time. The sooner we do this the more decent potions we'll make in the future...more useful ones. Also we're testing this on you." "Me!? Why me!?" "Because I said so." Draco left no room to argue. "I’ll cut this. What does it say to do next?"

When the potion was done, there was a sweet aroma that came off of it. A smell that reminded of sweets and oddly enough childhood. Although you couldn't pinpoint just what made such a description come to mind. It was a purple bubbling liquid with an opaque purple smoke rising from the small cauldron. You grimaced, knowing you'd have to drink it. Whilst it wouldn't be the worst outcome if the potion was correct, if it was wrong then who knew what would happen. You generally just didn't want to be on the receiving end of potions. Draco handed you a small vial of the potion of which you were reluctant to accept but did so. Suddenly a different smell intruded into your nostrils. You felt very dizzy suddenly. You swayed slightly and immediately Draco steadied you with one hand, covering his nose and mouth with the other. "Blaise! Get that away!" Blaise looked up at the two of you before pulling the potion further from the two of you. "Don't think we should have used that much-" You didn't catch the rest of what Blaise said to Crabbe as Draco tugged you firmly. "Hey, are you okay?" You nodded, blinking past the now fading dizziness. "Yeah. Sorry, I don't know what happened." "It's their potion." Draco nodded towards Crabbe and Blaise. "Are you going to faint?" You shook your head. "No, no, I'm fine now." You looked down at the vial in your hand once more. "It's a small amount so it shouldn't last very long." Draco said. Although you were unsure if he was informing you or trying to subtly make you feel better as your unease was very clear. You sighed. "I hate potions." You mumbled to yourself before tipping back the vial into your mouth.

It was as sweet as it smelled. Not the most unpleasant tastes by definitely too much if in larger amounts. If anyone were to drink it, it would not be on it's own. You hummed slightly with a smile. Although you had no idea why. Gradually, you had begun to giggle until it was completely uncontrolled laughter. It was safe to say the potion worked. Professor Slughorn strode up to your table, double checking the potion you had created. "Ah, I see your efforts have been a success!! Excellent work you two!" He praised both you and Draco. Whilst Draco would have usually felt pride in the praise, something else had him distracted. Or at least, that was until you were crouched down, clothing the desk in hysterical laughter. Slughorn seemed to somewhat have sympathy despite his own poorly hidden amusement at your state. "What are you doing!?" Draco asked, looking at you now on the floor. You couldn't stop laughing long enough to tell him coherently that you couldn't stop laughing and it was really beginning to hurt. "Have this, it'll clear the effects within moments." Professor Slughorn handed Draco the small vial, nodding towards you as he figured it highly unlikely you'd be able to take it yourself.

Somehow the sight of you was the most uplifting thing Draco had experienced in days. You looked absolutely ridiculous and your laughter was more contagious than he'd have liked to have admit. "Don't...laugh...at me!" You said in breathless laughter which only made Draco chuckle a little more. "I can't help it." Draco crouched down. "Stay still! How am I supposed to give you this whilst you squirm around like that!" Even then, he couldn't be completely annoyed at you. He was certain you didn't even realise that you had made him laugh. Something he very much needed as of late. "Swallow it! Swallow it! If you spit that out, you'll be stuck like this." Draco said hurriedly. Eventually you were able to and as assured, your laughter subsided, leaving you coughing. You took a breath, giving him a small smile. Draco smirked although his stare in you remained, lingering longer than usual.

Draco seemed to grow more hostile yet isolated. His group of friends always behind him as usual but you couldn’t help but notice that it took him longer to notice them. Furthermore, it seemed more difficult for his friends to retain his attention. You noticed but didn’t ask. Not that you had high chances of a response. It seemed better to think that unless Draco approached you, keep out of his way. You got on with him better than your other friends did.

As the year continued, it seemed Slughorn was more interested in Hermione, Harry and Ron. As a matter of fact, it seemed the three grew closer, the more Harry grew suspicious that Draco was a death eater, the more Hermione and Ron seemed to develop a tension between them. You weren’t oblivious to the tension, even if they were. It was no big surprise that the two liked each other. You figured it was only a matter of time before they realised. Whilst they were at Slughorn’s get together - an invite you didn’t receive- you were asked to deliver a book from Professor McGonagall. Once you had done so, you were eager to get back to your dorm, not wanting to be caught wandering the halls.

As fate might have it, you nearly collided into both Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape as you turned a corner. Luckily you halted before you could walk into the two. You couldn’t help but notice how alarmed the two looked but before you could think anything of it Professor Snape spoke up. “What do you think you are doing wandering the halls at this hour?” Snape demanded icily. “I-I’m sorry, Professor.” You said hurriedly. “Professor McGonagall asked that I return a book for her. She permitted me specifically. I was on my way back to my dorm now.” Snape eyed you with skepticism. “I trust you two can both find your way back to your appropriate dorms without delay.” Snape said somewhat dryly before turning on his heel and marching back down the hall, leaving both you and Draco.

You exhaled as soon as he was out of earshot. “I thought he was about to rip my head off.” Draco seemed to lightly smirk at your statement. “He probably would have, if it wasn’t for that.” Draco gestured behind him. “You were at Slughorn’s party?” You raised an eyebrow as the two of you began to walk in the opposite direction. “No!” Draco said with disgust. “I was crashing it.” “Why?” You asked unable to hold back a smile. “I wanted to know what all the fuss was about.” He replied. “Well? Are we missing out?” You asked. Draco scoffed. “We’re the lucky ones.” Draco did a double take. ”Weren’t you invited?” It was his turn to ask. You shook your head. “No. Too pureblood to even dream of getting an invite.” You gave him a playful smile. “Disgusting...” Draco said to himself, thinking of the group that were in attendance. “You look great though.” “Thanks.” Draco smirked.

You did a double take when you found Draco, alone, reading a book. You hurried up to him. “Hey, can I sit with you? I promise I wont bother you.” Draco’s gaze lifting to you. He rolled his eyes. “Fine. What’s up with you?” “I’m hiding from Harry, Ron and Hermione.” “Finally seeing how pathetic they are? Come to your senses?” You sent Draco an unimpressed look. “Ron took a love potion when he and Lavender were previously all over each other. I don’t even want to talk about that. If i have to hear “Ron-Ron” one more time i will hunt own a dementor and make it kill me.” Draco couldn’t help but chuckle but continued to listen to your rant. “Hermione is almost heart broken and Harry wasn’t quick enough to the idea i had. Run like hell and hope it all blows over.” Draco crinkled his nose in disgust. “Weasley under a love potion?” “It’s weird.” You responded. Draco paused. “Lavender who?” “Lavender Brown.” You responded. “Oh...her.” He said and you nodded slowly in slight dismay. “I mean, get me some fire whiskey and maybe i could stomach it a little longer but I beg of you don’t make me go back there.” Draco chuckled. “I won’t.” He leaned into your side slightly. “Who was the love potion for?” “Harry.” You said flatly. “From who?” “Romilda Vane.” Draco burst out laughing. “Draco, shush! I’m not even supposed to tell you this!” “Tell me more!” Draco laughed.

You shook your head at him in disapproval but the smile was still clear on your face. The atmosphere surprisingly light and peaceful considering who you were spending time with. "How have you been?" You asked. His smile faltered slightly. "I've been fine. Busy." You nodded. "Yeah, I haven't seen you around as much. Dare I say it, it's weird without you." Draco smirked. "Miss me?" "I wouldn't go that far." You smirked back before you let out a laugh. The two of you stared into each other's eyes. You forgot the world in that moment. It was just you and him in the peaceful quiet...and he didn't even think to ruin it which was always a plus. It was also short lived in the end. Whilst the time with him had you convinced that perhaps you could consider him a friend. You couldn't help the slight flutter in your chest from seeing this side to Draco. A much preferable one.

The next time you saw him, he was hurrying around the corner and nearly collided into you. Before you said anything, you noticed that Draco was most certainly not okay. Immediately, you were worried and jumped into action. Draco looked ill, his face pale but his eyes wide in terror. "Are you okay?" You asked him caught off guard. His breathing quickened, not far from hyperventilating. "Hey. Hey. What's wrong? Come with me right?" You grabbed Draco by the wrist pulling him along. You knew something was very wrong as he allowed it without even as much of a protest or sly comment. You left him to a quiet and peaceful part of the castle. "Here, take a breath." You said rubbing his upper arms and looked into his eyes for any sign of pain or injury. Draco swallowed hard, trembling slightly. "Look at me." You coaxed him. "You are okay. Just breathe for a second yeah? Are you hurt?" After meeting your gaze, Draco shook his head. You visibly looked relieved. "Okay, good. Now deep breaths. Take your time. No one can see you here."

Any other time, Draco would have taken your kindness as insufferable but now, now he was more than thankful for it. Even if he didn't really want to be around anyone. Regardless it surprised him to see you so concerned when usually you could be dismissive of him, even send him a piercing glare when he made comments about you, Harry, Hermione and Ron.

You were even more thrown off guard when tears slid down his face silently. "Hey. What's wrong? What do you need?" Draco wasn't sure what he needed. Ideally an escape from his task that the Dark Lord had given him. Some reassurance that he wasn't a terrible person for what he had just done to Katie. He didn't know what he needed and yet in his silence you seemed to have an idea. You pulled him into a hug. A hug hadn't been something Draco considered would help yet much to his surprise, your hold on him was very comforting. Much to your own surprise, you felt Draco's trembling arms hug you back. You held him tightly.

"You're going to be fine." You said to him quietly. "Whatever is going on, you'll pull through." You stayed like that for roughly five minutes. Suddenly, he abruptly pulled back, wiping his eyes. "Not one word of this, (L/N)." You heard Draco grumble, refusing to meet your eyes before storming off. You didn't follow. Only watching him go in concern and confusion.

Later, you heard that Harry and Draco had gotten into a fight. Harry told you what he had done. Everything happening so fast that he hadn't realised what was happening until it had happened. You demanded to know where he got such a spell, at the very same time Hermione did. Suddenly the book Harry clutched and kept with him at all times didn't seem so much as a cheat sheet- it was a weapon. "For enemies?" You ground out as you stared at Harry. "I didn't know what it did and he attacked me! I'm not proud of it, I just don't understand what that kind of spell is doing in there!" "Listen, I get where you're coming from. You've had your suspicions of Malfoy and its not like you were best buds from the beginning but do you really want to be the person who fires off dangerous spells like that?" You said.

It was true, whilst you were furious Harry had done it and the stupidity it took to use a spell that you didn't know what it did, you understood Harry's predicament. Much like many situations, everyone could regret what they did in hindsight.

"No! Of course not." Harry said rubbing his forehead in stress. "You're sure? That Malfoy did that to Katie?" You asked him. "I think his response confirmed it." Harry said flatly. You nodded. "Okay." You hugged him. "I'm not going to give you hell over something I already know you're putting yourself through.

At seven in the evening, you waited outside the Slytherin common room. You couldn't just walk in and since you hadn't seen Draco, it was likely he was inside. Much to your relief, Blaise was heading back to the common room. "Zabini!" You called out, stopping him in his tracks and he turned to you. He looked confused as to why you were around and even more so why you wanted him. You gestured for him to come over and almost reluctantly he did. As though you were playing a trick on him. "If you see Draco in there, can you tell him that I'm looking for him? I need to talk to him." You asked. Blaise looked unconvinced, uncertain why a friend of Harry Potter would want to speak to Draco Malfoy. "Please." You said quietly with a pleading look. He exhaled, a war clearly in his mind as he turned away and headed into the Slytherin common room. There was a chance both Zabini and Malfoy would ignore you but you stayed put on the chances that Blaise would tell Draco and Draco would come out and see you.

Five minutes later you Draco emerged, looking around and locking eyes with you. He looked fine, tired if anything but seemed to be completely unharmed. "What?" He asked sharply. "Move over here so no one over hears." You said cautiously, eyeing the Slytherin students passing the two of you. Draco looked almost impatient as he tugged you further down the hall and out of prying ear shot. "What?" He asked pointedly. "I heard what happened today. Harry told me things and-" "Potter must be relishing the victory but he'll get what's coming to him!" Draco snapped. "Draco, I know about Katie. Harry told me." You said quickly. Draco didn't seem surprised, annoyed if anything. "Of course he did, but neither of you know a damn thing." Draco sneered. "Draco, stop. I'm not here to pick a fight. I'm here to ask if you're okay." You responded and this time a flicker of surprise flashed in his eyes, his rigid composure had begun to relax. "You what?" "Harry hurt you." You said softly. "He hurt you bad and I had to come by and see if you were okay." Draco relaxed, taking a breath. "I'm fine. Tired but I'm fine." "Was that why you were upset earlier?" You whispered. "Because of Katie...?" Draco swallowed hard, looking down momentarily and you knew the answer immediately. "Draco, I don't know what's going on at home and I don't want to make assumptions about you. Believe it or not. I just want you to know that...regardless of everything, I consider you a friend and I'm here for you." Draco tried his best to remain composed and was mostly successful if it wasn't completely obvious that is what he was trying to do. "I can't tell you what the truth is or what's a lie but thanks for being there for me. As weird as it is." You cracked a smile. "Glad it's both of us that find this weird." Draco gave you a small smile in response. "You're a good friend, (Y/N)." He said quietly. "I mean it, I'm here for you." You assured him. "I'm just glad to hear you're okay. Did Madame Pomfrey heal you?" "I can't tell you." He said quietly. You nodded. "Fair enough, it doesn't matter. As long as you're okay... I'll leave you alone now." You took a step back. Draco nodded. "Don't let Filch catch you. Go back to your dorm." He smirked slightly. "Draco Malfoy, do not manifest Filch on me!" You called back.

You had no idea what was coming, the Great Hall was destroyed and you just so happened to be out of the dorms. A cold tight grip grabbed your hand. Draco quickly dragged you down the corridors wearing all black, no longer wearing his uniform. "Draco? What's going on!?" "You can't be here! Not now!" Draco said hurriedly. "What do you mean?" You asked. He eventually took you to Crabbe and Goyle. "Malfoy? What the hell?" Crabbe began but Draco cut him off. "Take them to Gryffindor commons, if you don't, I'll crucio you into next week!" Before the two could comply you spoke up again. "Draco, what is it!?" You asked hurriedly. He stared into your eyes. "Were you really my friend?" Draco asked. You nodded, fear in your eyes. You grew more frightened, the more he dodged the question. Draco said nothing more. Sending a pointed look to Crabbe and Goyle. Immediately after that he watched you go, with a lingering stare.

You only saw Draco a handful of times after that. He didn't return that year, neither did Hermione, Harry and Ron. It made you very lonely, although Neville and Luna were quick to change that. Perhaps it was easier to think that Draco was just a friend back then. Although the time without him told you otherwise. Those lingering looks always resonated with you after he had gone. Friends don't look at each other for that long, do they? Ironically, it was easier to forget your feelings when he was around. When he wasn't, you missed him and thought of him constantly. By the time you had acknowledged your feelings for Draco Malfoy, it had been too late. You never stopped believing that Draco wasn’t the cruel death eater he was ‘destined’ to be. You saw more of him and were determined to see that through to the end.

Perhaps it would have been easier for Draco to see you again after all of these years if he hadn't found your lifeless body back in the Battle of Hogwarts. Perhaps he couldn't stomach looking at you knowing that you never made it out that day of the battle. Although nevertheless you smiled at him from across the platform. If he took anything from it, you wanted him to know his old friend didn't blame him one bit.

Draco sprinted towards your lifeless body, falling to his knees and scooping you up. "(Y/N)!? (Y/N)! It's me!" Draco said hurriedly, shaking you lightly. Your wand rolled out of your hand as realisation sunk in. You weren't breathing. Draco shook his head, tears in his eyes. "No! (Y/N), please!" He hugged you to him. "I'm so sorry." He cried before tearing himself from you and running off.

Draco looked up from his son and wife to the place you stood. Your pleasant smile still in place. A man walked past you and by the time he was out of his line of sight between you both, you were gone. No evidence you had ever been there. Harry, Hermione and Ron didn't seem to catch sight of you even once. He gave a small smile to his son as Astoria said her farewells. Whilst at first, seeing you filled with unease, he couldn't help but feel comforted knowing you were okay in the end.

#harry potter #platform 9¾ #Draco Malfoy #reader #hogwarts #one shot #oneshot

8 notes · View notes

stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

Text

...Alright, okay, wow. Another Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow post because we have a preview???? An entire MONTH before it’s set to release??!?!?!?!?! What kind of high profile NONSENSE. XD

Onwards!

Look. We all know what I’m gonna say, right?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT!!!!

Listen. From a purely artistic standpoint: I love this. I love the palette--the browns and yellows and the soft blues, and how Kara is visually the most vibrant thing on the page. And Evely draws a GREAT Krypto. Absolutely wonderful. LOOK AT THIS GOOD BOY!

Also the whole vibe is...really interesting? It has a very French fantasy comic feel--almost like an Alex Alice book.

Also love Kara’s big shapeless overcoat. Very stealth. Much blend in.

Also, something I’m trying to pay more attention to and appreciate, is when lettering works well with the established look of the art.

And here, the word balloons don’t have a uniform quality (well, obviously Kara’s don’t, since they’re wobbly in order to convey slurred/slightly tipsy speech) but in general, both the text and the word balloons have the same sort of ‘drawn’ quality you see in the art itself. It’s not the really slick, realistic rendered stuff you’d see in, say, the flagship X-Men title right now, because that wouldn’t match! It wouldn’t go!

So. Bravo on the whole art team, there.

(I do wish the SFX were a little bolder--Evely’s ink work is so distinct, to just have the SFX floating without an outline feels...a bit too light? Like. Just a touch.)

(Like, Krypto’s ARROOOOF! In the last preview page looks better, since it has that matching ‘inked’ quality.)

But okay...let’s talk about that WRITING.

(I can practically feel the judgement, rolling off the offended SG comic fans and ardent King haters.)

(But let’s not dwell on that just now.)

We begin with our new character, Ruthye!

Far too soon to have any hard and fast opinions, BUT! Something that’s been bugging me, about a lot of the Marvel titles I’m reading right now, is that all the characters sound the same. They all have the same cadence and cache of snarky quips...which. Is fun to read! But from a character standpoint, it just makes all of them seem interchangeable.

Ruthye has such a distinct pattern of speech. I appreciate it, but...it *might* become grating, after a while. XD Guess we’ll see.

Disposable jerk man is disposable and a jerk, so. That’s fine.

And then Kara!

Awww, Kara.

She’s drinking in an alien bar alone on her birthday. (Well, okay, she has Krypto.)

Also, confirmation that Kara is now 21! Thank you, Mr. King, for answering a question that has plagued me for literal YEARS now.

I’m sure there will be ~opinions~ on this, so I’ll toss my own into the ring:

Kara being 21...is fine!

Historically, Kara is one of the VERY FEW comic characters that was actually allowed to age in...well. Not ‘real time’, but she started out in the comics as a teenager, but actually like. Graduated. And went to college. And moved out! She was in her early twenties by the time Crisis hit.

So there is comics precedence for a slightly older Supergirl!

Also, it’s just a better idea, to make Kara older, because DC just. Cannot figure out how to handle their teen characters. Just look at how poorly they’ve handled the Teen Titans and Marvel family over the years, as well as their inability to make their newer legacy characters stick in any meaningful capacity.

ANYWAYS.

I like older Kara.

I don’t mind that she’s drunk and swearing and beating up guys who think it’s totally fine to slap kids.

EDITING THE EDIT because my clarification didn’t make my point any clearer. XD (This is why I shouldn’t try to cram these posts in on my lunch hour.)

The big issue, that I’m SURE folks are already hotly debating over on the other blue hellsite, is the whole: Kara’s DRINKING and SWEARING and GETTING INTO BAR FIGHTS. OOC!!!!!!!

My point is that: well, okay, she is doing those things. But also, it’s the FIRST FEW PAGES of the first issue, *personally* I want to see more of the story before declaring King The Worst Ever.

Like. What if the back half of this first issue turns out to be pitch-perfect Supergirl content? We don’t know! Because we only have THE FIRST. FIVE. PAGES.

(And like. I’m not gonna judge King’s grasp of characterization on a portion of the story where the lead IS DRUNK. And therefore perhaps not acting like she usually would.)

SO. TO REITERATE: I’m not gonna like. Jump to conclusions, or declare the thing awful, until it is done.

(We’re not playing the fandom game where you watch part one of two part episode and declare it bad writing, we are NOT.)

TL;DR - ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT!!!!!

#stranger speaks #SG post #kinda #Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow #comic thoughts #comic opinions #long post

6 notes · View notes

rwdestuffs · 4 years

Text

The real problem with the show.

Look: I’m not one of those idiots who is going to constantly shit on the show for this whole thing, nor am I one to blindly praise the show for doing the bare minimum.

But I am someone who is going to try to put this into perspective.

Our main issue that’s going to be talked about is the fact that this show doesn’t really address the issues from previous volumes.

Take Weiss’ racism for example. They didn’t want to have to address her developing. The whole issue with Weiss is that the whole thing got resolved off-screen. There’s no reason to have the conflict on-screen if the whole thing was going to be resolved off-screen. The big problem is that this show didn’t want to tackle heavy subjects that they weren’t comfortable or capable in tackling. And like, I get it. There are some subjects that people aren’t that well-versed in, and truth be told, there’s a hard way to determine if something that is wrong is worse than something that isn’t there at all. They didn’t want one of their main characters to be a racist.

But the problem here is that that’s okay. Especially when the characters grow and learn from that. I’m sure that everyone has pointed this out already, but Sokka was a sexist in the early episodes of A:tLA, but he learned his lesson and started regularly chugging his Respect Woman juice happily and regularly. Weiss’ whole racism thing was kinda… dropped. That’s not really interesting.

Your characters should have flaws. Real flaws. Ad real character traits. Character quirks that could make for some really interesting moments. I think I mentioned this somewhere on an earlier post, but Ruby being a weapon nut could have been a really good and natural way to explain everyone’s weapons. She could brag about hers, hype up Yang’s, pester Weiss about hers, or even ask about Blake’s, and boom! Everyone’s weapons are explained. Their names, what they can do, and how they work. And maybe even whether or not they made them (I imagine that Blake made hers with help from others, while Yang and Ruby made theirs on their own from scratch, and Weiss got a hers commissioned). This could have even extended to team JNPR too. We already know that Jaune’s is an heirloom, but what about Nora? What about Ren? How about Pyrrha? The thing about that quirk being dropped is that it takes away something from Ruby. HBomb talked about it in his video, but an arc where Ruby helps Jaune forge a new weapon or even add to his existing one would have been so awesome. But no. The upgrade comes from a never-will-be-seen-again blacksmith in Volume 4, and the best it can do is… Become a bigger sword. Then it gets another one in Volume 7 where it’s Penny’s creator that delivers the upgrade. These aren’t emotionally significant in any major way. Sure, the first upgrade is combining Pyrrha’s stuff with his, but it would have been more emotionally impactful if he had saved those things, did his damnedest to bring them to Pyrrha’s family, only for them to now say something like “Pyrrha sent us letters about you. She would want you to have them.” And then and only then, would he incorporate them into his weapons. Imagine how impactful that would have been! Imagine how heartwarming that moment would have been! I’m the resident Jaune hater of the rwde tag, and I’m pretty sure that I would love that scene. I might’ve even called it my favorite.

Like… These character moments get dropped for no real reason. A lot of character moments are just rendered insignificant because of them wanting to advance the story. But a story takes time. It takes setup. Let’s take Dragonball Z for example. There’s a lot of buildup to Gohan being Goku’s successor before he eventually gets upstaged again because the fanbase wanted Goku back. He had those bursts of power that made him stronger. It was built up to. It was hyped up. There was a lot of foreshadowing. Pyrrha’s death… Didn’t really have any of that. Outside of her name, she wasn’t really set up to die. Especially since she hardly had any interactions with the characters outside of Jaune. Because of this, Pyrrha’s death doesn’t hit as hard as it could. Why exactly is Ruby going ballistic? We never saw any major scenes that would indicate them as anything beyond classmates. Like… Moments where Ruby and Pyrrha bond over having high expectations for them. Ruby’s supposedly the daughter of a famous huntress, so everyone seeing her as basically another “Summer Clone” would be a really awesome move to go with. Ruby’s quest should not only to be to save the world, but to also prove that she isn’t a carbon copy of her mother. Have characters like Yang ad Qrow point out what Ruby does different. Maybe one of them is encouraging of being different, while the other doesn’t like it because they want Summer back. I guess Yang would encourage Ruby being different while Qrow would discourage it. A major theme in Volumes 6 ad 7 seems to be how the previous generation kinda screwed things over for the next one. Couple this with Oscar also trying to separate himself from Ozpin (and then immediately trying to talk down Ironwood in a way that Oz would try to do (seriously… WTF?)), Ruby could do something different.

Something that Ruby could do different is something in regards to her plan to stop the end of the world. Instead of trying to defeat Salem, she could try understanding her. I mentioned that Salem was effectively gaslit into being the villain, so the characters trying to help her recover would be an awesome moment. As of right now, everyone (even the fndm) wants to demonize Salem, and doesn’t want her to be redeemed. This is despite all the shit she went through. If anything, Salem was restraining herself when all she wanted was freedom and a life with Ozma. She could have very well have wanted to get back at the world that wronged her. Salem shares so many traits with the titular team that if anything, the fact that she is named after an event where women were killed for false prosecutions should be an indicator as to how much more sympathetic Salem is. Stopping Salem isn’t the answer. All that will do is delay the inevitable until an even worse and less sympathetic version of her comes along… Probably Cinder, but I think I’ve covered her already. The main point I’m trying to make here is that Ruby and her relationship with her mother is something that should be touched upon more. In fact, Ruby and Yang should have this subject brought up. The problem is that these writers don’t want to do anything that doesn’t lead to a fight scene because they’ve come to the conclusion that people are only here for the fight scenes.

And really, they should go to DEATH BATTLE or One Minute Melee if they just want a cool fight scene. People are ultimately here for the shipping and fight scenes. When it comes to character moments, that’s forgettable… Unless it’s something to mock the characters for like Yang’s singular burnt item in the comics automatically making her a bad cook. Why is that capitalized on, but Ruby’s “It’s also a gun” line hardly gets brought up anymore? Is it because people can mock Yang for it? Like… I know that I’m biased because I’m a Yang fan, but come on! COME ON! Yang had to take care of Ruby. This is something explicitly stated in the canon show. Unlike Raven’s up to interpretation line about her killing OG Spring, which has a lot of ambiguity to it, Yang’s whole taking care of Ruby thing is explicit. Ruby even states in Volume 1 that Yang read her fairytales when they were kids.

And this all ties back to the dropped character traits and/or moments. These are important moments for the character. Yang is a Mom Friend for a reason, and Blake is the Rebel Aunt friend for a reason too. Blake has shown that she has a lot of resolve when it comes to her beliefs. Weiss can be treated as the “Deprogrammed Karen” friend. The one that used to have some prejudices, but ultimately was able to move past that. Ruby could be the “Young and aspiring hero” type too. But these initial traits are forgotten because instead of them having their personality traits clash with the world around them, they are forgotten so that they don’t. These characters don’t grow on-screen. They don’t learn their lesson on-screen. They don’t even have it implied on-screen. We just have to assume that Weiss learned her lesson off-screen. We just have to assume that these characters worked and trained hard together off-screen. Like… Was a montage too expensive?

All I’m saying is that these characters are deep. But that deep characterization is never explored or used to its fullest extent because the writers don’t know how to keep having a character grow beyond that. Once a character is finished growing, instead of having said character help others grow, or show how that growth impacts others or themselves, they are forgotten.

Except for Jaune. Jaune’s more shallow than a puddle.

#rwde #writers crit

19 notes · View notes