#I know new fandom always finds old fandom cringe and stupid but there was a simplicity back in 2009 that I'll always miss | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

linklethehistorian · 1 year

Note

🤗

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

Oh gosh, a lot of things, really; in fact, there are so many things I could say that I’ll probably miss a few along the way as I’m writing this, and have to add to it in reblogs in the future.

For now, though, let’s see…

(Full answer under the cut for length)

1. Ignore the naysayers.

I know, I know — this advice probably sounds cliché and basic as fuck, but hear me out.

One of the most important things I ever started to learn as a writer — and still continue to do so in new and crucial ways, as time marches on and I gain more experience — was the value of not giving a shit about the naysayers.

When I was younger, I used to let the criticism of everyone — both constructive and destructive — live rent free in my head all day, every day, and obsess over making sure that my works were always as picture-perfect, innocent, and problem-free as anyone else told me they should be.

It was the biggest mistake I ever made, it made my life and my hobby a living hell, and looking back, it is the one thing I genuinely and thoroughly regret the most about any of my older works.

To explain this in better detail, here’s a little story-time for you:

When I was little, I would always have my Aunt telling me, “You shouldn’t write stories that are so dark, and [series I was writing for] isn’t meant to be so dark and ugly.” or, “It’s not healthy; there’s something wrong with you if you like writing things like this. You must enjoy things being hurt because then you get to feel good about helping and protecting them. It’s sick; you’re like those disgusting mothers who poison their kids so they can get pity and attention from it.” So, I would hesitate to write any major level of angst in my stories from that point forward.

Then, when I wrote a somewhat less “dark” story, she would tell me, for example, “No. You can’t have the Mom be in the wrong for what she did in this story. She was just looking out for her kid, and right to stop him from making friends. The kid is in the wrong and he needs to pay the consequences of his actions. Rewrite it.” So, I started re-writing it, but then quickly lost my passion and eventually abandoned it completely.

After that, I would eventually try to write a story for a different fandom — a book I loved dearly — and she told me, “Oh god, not that. That story is so stupid; you’re too old to like that, anyway.” Depressed and feeling stupid for ever even wanting to write it, I then abandoned that idea, too, before I’d even gotten past the first page.

If I tried to write multiple stories at once, swapping between them whenever I had writer’s block on the other, she would tell me, “Write one story at a time! Real authors don’t do that!” And if I complimented something in a book I read, saying that “as a writer myself, I really enjoy this”, she would quickly snap, “you’re not a real writer.” As a result, I stopped writing multiple books, even if I had the inspiration for them, and for a long time, I stopped daring to even call myself a writer.

Because I listened to someone who wanted to control and ensure that whatever I wrote would stay purely to her personal tastes, values, and interests, I let so many ideas that could have been born into the world die before they’d even taken their first breath and allowed myself to stay feeling inadequate and irrelevant. Would some of them have sucked? Would most of them have been cringe in some shape or form? Yes. I’m sure they would. But…I would rather have had those sucky, cringy books exist than to never get to see what I would have created — to never get to find the bits of good and overall interesting premises that yes, would also have come to be through each and every one of them.

I can never stress this enough, but please, new fanfic writers and even just writers in general: DON’T be like young me; don’t listen to the naysayers in your life who tell you that you shouldn’t write whatever the hell you want, however the hell you want, and whenever the hell you want. Do not let them get in your headspace over anything.

The thing you need to know about these people who tell you that what you want to write is “problematic”, “boring”, “uncreative”, or “cringe” in some way, and that you shouldn’t do it for your own good and reputation, is that they are all just like my Aunt: that is to say, they do not genuinely care about you or what is in your best interest — they are not genuinely trying to protect you or steer you on the right, most healthy path. Yes, they may claim that they do care and want the best for you, and to some extent, they may even think that they do, but at the end of the day, when push comes to shove, what they really want most is just to control you, so that they can stop you from creating content that they dislike and don’t want to have to see. Thus, rather than doing the actually healthy thing by learning to curate their own experiences in life and teach those around them that it is fundamentally okay to not share the same interests and opinions with everyone around you, they choose to guilt trip you and manipulate you into believing you are the one who is in the wrong, and who needs to be re-educated to recognize the dangerous non-conformists who may look like they are just minding their own business and hurting no one, but are definitely abusing and/or encouraging abuse to real live people and animals behind the scenes. (Because they write about the topic, so it must mean they commit or at least condone these things in real life, too, right? /sarcasm)

I promise you that these kinds of people and their moral grandstanding over things that aren’t even real in this world is far more harmful and genuinely problematic than anything fictional you could ever imagine and write or draw, and that if you went to an actual, licensed therapist and asked them their opinion on the matter, they would undoubtedly confirm that with no hesitation.

It may seem harmless on the outside to give in to one of their demands — that it’s not worth the fight, but I promise you, if you give them an inch, they’ll take a mile. It will keep extending further and further from one thing to the next until there is basically no longer anything you are “allowed” to write or draw that isn’t one or two universally accepted “completely healthy” pairings, in “completely healthy and happy, ideal” settings, in which nothing even remotely bad or mildly disquieting ever happens or is said — if you can even do that.

And this applies to more than just tropes, genres, characters, ships, plots, or what have you — these controlling people will exist about other things, too, and they must be ignored the same.

There will be people out there who will tell you that fanfic writing isn’t as good, fulfilling or creative as writing original works. It is bullshit — bullshit that, if not based on an intentional desire to control and manipulate your actions, is at the very least born of the incorrect and extremely biased belief that fanfic writing doesn’t count as “real writing”; ignore it, and do not feel pushed to create wholly original works if that is not what you already want for yourself and are passionate about.

There will be people out there who will give you so-called “writing advice” which tells you that you must never do a certain thing (such as using a certain phrase, perspective, or writing style) regardless of circumstance, and that if you do, that’s automatically a negative thing and makes you unprofessional and a bad or fake writer; ignore them the same. The reality is that many famous beloved authors of the world have either intentionally or unintentionally ignored certain so-called “rules” of writing and are still enjoyed and loved all the same — and sometimes even all the more because of that particular, unique, characteristic ‘style’ they created in doing so.

Constructive criticism can be great and help you grow leaps and bounds on your journey, but that’s the key thing about it; it has to be constructive, and furthermore, what may be typically considered constructive for one person may not be for another. If something is negatively effecting your headspace and making you more miserable and unhappy for having experienced it, that is not constructive — it is destructive, and you need to either find a way to make peace with it and be better for it, or cut it out of your life.

If you don’t want any criticism towards your writings, then try your best to communicate that nicely and outright to your readers; most nice communities (especially AO3) will largely accept that, and those that don’t can and should be blocked or ignored.

2. Realize that someday, you are probably going to look back at your old works and think that they are very cringe, and that that is perfectly okay. Remember how I said “ignore the naysayers”? Well, that applies to you, too; remember that you are almost always your own worst critic, and that if you let that hold you back, you will miss out on a lot of good things and experiences in life, too, as well as depriving other people of that privilege through what you could create.

If there is something you want to write, then write it; don’t sit back and overthink all of the potential negatives to doing so until you’ve talked yourself out of the idea, and it never comes to be.

Yes, it is very likely that someday all of the fics you are writing now — even the ones you love the absolute most — someday will be things you will look back on and, in some manner or form, think are “cringe”, but that is okay. It is okay even if you think it is cringe now; don’t be afraid of being ‘cringe’. Cringe culture is dead, as it rightfully should be, and you don’t need to try to resurrect it out of guilt or self-depreciation.

Not only is it a sign of growth for you as a writer to be able to look back on something and say to yourself, “wow, that’s something I would never do if I wrote this today”, but it’s also important to remember that just because something may be cringe or outdated to you and your current style, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t someone else to whom that very creation means the world or massively brightens their day.

Don’t delete your old works. Don’t prevent yourself from writing new ones by gaslighting yourself into believing they aren’t good or valid. Don’t hold yourself back from experimenting with new things that you may want to try just because it may turn out a disaster; that’s the only way to grow and learn. Don’t be afraid to be derivative or “uncreative” by writing something that’s just barely different from the source material, if that’s what you enjoy. Don’t be afraid to be repetitive by creating five thousand slight variations on the same story or trope; not only is that a valid thing to do, but there are also many people out there who are looking for exactly that.

All in all, just, don’t let you hold yourself back from something you genuinely want to do and will enjoy — in writing or drawing.

3. Don’t pay attention to the numbers. This can be a hard one to stick to, but it’s very important. All too often, we end up getting stuck comparing ourselves to others and the success that they have, instead of enjoying what’s right in front of us, and it’s not healthy or good — not for ourselves, and not even for others around us.

While it may be tempting to pick up the pen and try to write for a more popular series, trope, character, or pairing and rake in some of that sweet, sweet instant gratification with the big numbers, it’s important to remember that not only do those numbers not matter in the grand scheme of things, but also that nothing that is big and popular ever simply started out as being big and popular — and nothing else will ever have hope of joining that list of big and popular if you aren’t willing to take the first or another step in making it so.

That big ship you’re thinking of right now that gets all the kudos, comments, bookmarks, subscriptions, and hits that you wish your fic had? It didn’t start out that big. The most popular and successful fic of all in the biggest fandom you know? It didn’t start out as the most popular or successful; it started out just like your fic did when you first posted it, like your ship did when it first came into being by the first person to think of it.

Things can only gain traction if they have people behind them, loving them, creating for them, and engaging with them, and every person who gives up on them because they’re not popular enough is one less chance that thing had at eventually becoming popular, just as that biggest ship or fic out there needs people who love it to keep engaging with it and standing by it in order for it to remain “the most popular”.

What you love desperately needs you, and you do make a difference for it; don’t turn your back on it and end up doing something that doesn’t make you happy — or at least that makes you less happy — just because it isn’t popular or doing the numbers right now. Someday it might be. Until then, be the change you want to see in the world.

The fic that I’ve written which I love the very most and have worked on the most and the longest is also the most obscure and niche one of them all — and yet, it did gain something of an audience of its own. It is beloved by more people than I ever anticipated it would be, because I didn’t give up on it — because I made it happen and dedicated myself to continuing that, and it can only grow more popular the longer that I do.

You can make your dreams come true, one step at a time. So don’t give up.

4. Write things based on what you love, not what you hate. Obviously, this is advice that requires nuance and extra consideration based on the individual situation, but as a general rule, I feel that this is a very overlooked and yet very valuable piece of advice for all sides of a given matter.

I’m not saying that is always wrong or even completely impossible to write about something you wholly and purely hate, and still have it come out a good and positive thing to put out into the world, but the trouble with writing about something you completely despise — or for which you even just plain feel nothing but a general dislike — is that it is very, very hard to remain unbiased in doing so, and therefore highly increases the chance that you will create an extremely negative misrepresentation of that thing in some way.

If you absolutely must write about something you hate, I strongly advise that you at least tag it as a hate fic and/or (preferably and) put a disclaimer before the fic stating outright that it is such, that you hate or dislike it, and that as a result you may not be capable of accurately representing that thing in every way.

As someone who has accidentally read fics of this nature before about something that I hold very dear, I can tell you firsthand that it is not the least bit enjoyable to go into the tags of your favorite ship or character and stumble upon an untagged, self-congratulating hate fic that pats itself on the back for how ‘accurate’ it is, with no regard or warning for people who actually love or at least enjoy the character or ship.

I, for example, never wrote a fic centered purely around Paul Verlaine and his character pre-Storm Bringer because, at the time, he was the character I just loved to hate; I had nothing good to say about him as an individual, and writing a fic about only him purely for the sake of shitting on him would have been an extremely terrible use of my time and energy, and of the time of people going into the tag for his character looking for nice, or at least accurate, representations of him. Now that I have a better understanding of him and can appreciate all aspects of him — not just the negative — I am happy to write about him, but, I would never write a fic just about Fukuchi in the present moment, because in that same vain as before, I have nothing positive or interesting or wholly true to contribute about him in his tag (not to mention I’m not really particularly interested in him to begin with).

All in all, while I’m not saying you can’t or shouldn’t do it if you’re willing to give the proper tags and disclaimers, I promise it’s really just not worth your time or energy, when you could be spending it instead on something you love.

And if you do write a hate fic and you don’t tag or at least give it a disclaimer, well, make sure that you at least state outright you don’t want constructive criticism, or else you shouldn’t be surprised if you end up with people who frequent those tags telling you that you’re not writing the character or ship accurately, because it will probably happen sooner or later.

5. Somewhat related to the end paragraphs of advices 1 and 4, don’t ask for constructive criticism if you don’t want it, and make it clear if you absolutely don’t. While most people — especially on AO3 — will not just submit criticism, constructive or otherwise, on a fic unless you make it absolutely clear that you actively want it, if you truly want to avoid having criticism submitted to your fic for any reason, it is best to state that you would prefer positive comments only (especially if your writing community is one that does leave criticism a lot), as it will save you a lot of trouble. Likewise, if you do want more than the usual amount of criticism, you should feel free to ask for it, but please make sure that this is truly what you want, or else you may not like what you receive.

I have encountered fic writers in the past who request, “please tell me what you honestly thought of the fic!”, only to then later delete any and all constructive criticism that their readers take the time to leave them. Please do not do this; it is a waste of time and energy not just for you, but for your commenters, as well. If you don’t want something, don’t communicate to others that you do.

6. Be as passionate as you want; don’t worry about being ‘normal’ about your interests. I know this is technically related to the third bit of advice, but seriously, what is normal is completely subjective to the individual and it is also completely overrated. Don’t sit stressing about if you act ‘normal’ or like something ‘a normal amount’; go crazy with it! Be over-ambitious about your creations and your interests! Make as much content as you want for it, spread it across all mediums if you desire! Make a music playlist that ties into it! Make a blog centered all around it! Post regular updates and exclusive content like it’s famous! I did all of this and more for one of my fics, and I’ve had the time of my life with it.

Embrace your inner overenthusiastic eccentric and have fun. That’s what hobbies and fandom are all about.

7. Be kind and supportive to yourself and others wherever you can, and mind your own business when you can’t. It’s unfortunate, but many times in life, when we get caught up in the rush of things and the height of excitement or negative emotions, we can forget to show kindness, love, and understanding to ourselves and to others. It’s important to remember to take a deep breath now and again, and consider those needs and feelings that we would otherwise ignore. The schedules we sometimes create for ourselves are amazing, and they can help us keep on track, but they aren’t the end-all, be-all to writing and being a writer; don’t obsess over them and let them run your life or expect other writers to uphold them all of the time, either. Taking breaks for your mental, emotional, and physical health is so, so important and so necessary, and it’s something we all should be able to do judgement-free from time to time when we need it.

And furthermore, remember that just as you have your own interests, so do your other fellow writers in the world; sometimes they may move on and change fandoms, or have fictional interests that you don’t like or agree with. It’s important in those times to realize that that is okay, and that they are valid. It’s important to be able to say to yourself, “it’s not my business”, respect their right to do what they love, and move on to something that is your business and that you do love, yourself. Don’t harass or insult other writers in the heat of the moment over something that isn’t your business or they didn’t ask you to negatively comment on, and if somehow you do, make sure you apologize and learn from that mistake going forward.

Fandom is a big place, and there’s room in it for us all to co-exist and thrive.

—

Send me another emoji and I’ll tell you about myself as a fic writer.

#linklethehistorian #Thoughts #my thoughts #My writing #meme #fanfic emoji ask #fanfic writing meme #ask #ask game #anon #ily anon #thanks for the ask #writing #advice

4 notes · View notes

reilleclan-blog · 3 months

Text

They just don't make hyper-fixations like they used to

I'd say I should "hyperfixate" on my craft but my craft is just video gaming these days no motivation for anything else. Photo mode just so happens to be a joint thing with my new hyperfixation, Cyberpunk 2077 but cyberpunk is a very taxing hyperfixation the mods, already have my startup screen lagging and I felt I only downloaded like 3gb of mods?

Anyways um yeah I'm still breathing ig maybe I should actually do something on the weekend. A "purpose". I do a job I find "helpful" (helping older ppl) but once I clean up I'd rather just go home, I go home and then I'm sitting at home listening to my mom yell about shit or yell at me then I game to focus on anything else, or sleep and then I sleep and dream about stupid shit like nightmares or what I wish for? I don't really know.

Also I have like 20 cavities but haven't done shit about it *old cringe white guy smiling* like wtf ??

Cowboy bebop, Naruto, Rick and Morty, cyberpunk, samurai champloo, amvs, (idfk) Tokyo ghoul, I just don't fucking know anything

Idk maybe I'm just pressuring myself to have a "purpose" but maybe I should just be happy I'm alive and can even breathe a little longer. Especially the way the world has been looking. Everytime I think about having to get up to work I always have these "existential thoughts" ok bye

Edit: and my phone is glued to my hand or something. I LITERALLY PLAYED "MASS EFFECT" SO I COULD FEEL POSSIBLY WHAT PPL APART OF THE FANDOM FEELS SND I FELT LIKE A "PANG" OF INTEREST AND THAT WAS IT. Is there a correlation to me self diagnosing myself as adhdautistic? So many questions. I just watch tv shows just to pass the time mostly, most movies are just so formaliac, I have a hard time fully enjoying something. Ig if I watch with friends but still. I find myself mostly watching comedies on my alone time, Bob's burgers is just classic, and Rick and Morty still funny but I've watched it so many times. I have been making yt videos lately but then I have to remotivate myself to make yt videos again and I feel I only be having energy just for the gaming part so I stream stuff. (And i enjoy it) but then the depression sets in(or the other shit) and then I get upset that streaming isn't going to do anything for me (I'm never making it out the hood) not like I hate the hood but I don't exactly love it either,

Maybe this is just the disease of the impostered black "creatives" I don't fucking know

#black #hyperfixation

0 notes

penguinclover · 2 years

Text

Not sure if anyone will see this post, just wanna vent at midnight drawing.

Skip it if you want.

I didn't start drawing GreenBlue non stop just because I suddenly got interested in them at a time. I've always loved them since I was a little kid, at that day when I saw the "Oldrivalshipping - A thousand years" video, like...8 or 9 years ago I think. I don't know what made me have that kind of impression about the ship, I just remembered the arts were cool, the characters looked so cute together. Then after a year, I mean when I got used to using devices, I tried to find out where those two came from and they led me to PokeSpe.

As a human being who has lived 18 years on this planet, joining multiples fandoms from games to comics, PokeSpe, or Pokemon in general, is still the one fandom that I will spend my whole life making arts for. I'm not genius in art or anything. I started drawing when I was 6 and I kept doing it til now. I made fanarts and doujinshi for fandoms when I was in grade 6 and you know, people usually say their kid arts are cringe. Yeah I do feel like that in some ways back then, when I see how I failed anatomy and stuffs. Honestly I was a big mess back then. I saw many godlike artists who are at my age on Facebook, I admired them but at the same time I felt discouraged. I didn't know how people could improve their art so fast and I just stucked with my messy art forever.

Yeah it kept looking like this for years and I just got devastated. Around those years, I didn't know why I didn't think about drawing PokeSpe.

Then I dropped drawing for half a year cuz I was exhausted, only searching for art of GreenBlue. For some mysterious reasons, OldRivalShipping arts made me feel comfortable and as a result they became my comfort couple. The more I saw OldRival arts, the more I want to improve my art and draw for them. In the end, I got back to practicing anatomy and any kind of art stuff.

When I first posted my OldRival art, nobody really care to be honest. Before I drew GreenBlue, I had drawn for fandoms like FnF, LoL, Sky or HTF which just made me become so popular with lots of fame. So when I stopped drawing those, people started to leave. I was disappointed at first but then got used to it. Eventually, I stopped playing attention to fame and what people like. I enjoyed the art I made for my favorite characters and couples. I can just post my drawing there and nobody noticed it and I still feel normal about it, which is a great success for me. I want to draw to make a whole collection and then when I become one of thise godlike artists, I will look back to my old arts and laugh.

I started making arts for GreenBlue since last year, and by now my art has improved a lot. I met many OldRivalShippers which make me very happy since people still remember about this ship and at the same time, kidnap new members for the shipdom ( ˙꒳˙). If you ask me "what is Oldrivalshipping to you?", I will definitely say they are my everything for real lol. I made standee, stickers, orders dolls and cosplay outfits for them. I simply delete "Stress.exe" out of my brain everytime I see them together. Slowly, they just become my reason to keep moving on in life, like- I want to study and finish university, get a job and things so that I can make a room to store OldRivalShipping goods, or buy their figures and doujinshi from my fav Japanese stores. I know it sounds stupid, but it's good for my mental health and I need it. I simply love GreenBlue and I will keep drawing them until the day I die lmao. Thank you for supporting me, you guys also encourage me a lot.

25 notes · View notes

makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 307: The One With Shindou

Previously on BnHA: Endeavor and Hawks (and Jeanist too, although he didn’t really do anything, but BY GOD, WHAT IS UP WITH HIS NECK) held a press conference and were all, “everything you’ve heard is true, so we would just like to say, from the bottom of our hearts... our bad.” U.A. opened its doors to the public as an evacuation shelter. Deku and All Might told basically EVERYBODY about OFA, which is absolutely wild, and yet somehow we hardly paid any attention to this at all. Mostly because the chapter ended with Deku being all “I WALK A LONELY ROAD, THE ONLY ONE THAT I HAVE EVER KNOWN” and peacing out of U.A. to embark on a solo journey of angst. So this is either gonna be the best or the worst thing that ever happened to this series, so TIME TO FIND OUT WHICH IT IS.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “so who do you guys want to see next? Deku? Bakugou?? Well how about SHINDOU?” Shindou is all “hi :) I’m Shindou :) :) remember me :) :) :)?” Horikoshi is all “I’m so sorry for depriving you guys of Shindou for so fucking long, how about an ENTIRE CHAPTER ALL OF HIM” and then he REALLY FUCKING DOES IT because, I don’t know?? Did we make him mad?? Am I being punished for something I did in a past life?? It really is, honest to god, seventeen whole goddamn pages of Shindou, punctuated by a few pages of Muscular, and topped off with one (1) whole appearance by Deku at THE VERY END. And we don’t even get to see his face. I am beside myself lmao I’m sorry you guys, you can skip this recap if you want. Or just skip straight to the end, because movie 3 promo.

“long time no see” now what could this mean?? can’t think of too many characters this phrase would apply to right now. although I can think of one big one, and I know that fandom has been trying to manifest his deadbeat ass to finally show itself for years now. could it finally be that time? if Hisashi shows up and debunks DFO a big chunk of the fandom is probably going to riot lol

(ETA: why oh why did I get my hopes up like that lmao. I’m pretty sure Hisashi doesn’t actually exist and Deku was either immaculately conceived, or the stork really did bring Inko a lil green baby from the cabbage patch.)

anyway, so the chapter is opening on this random scene of CRIME and DISARRAY

was this all done by that big villain from the previous chapter? utility poles knocked down, random holes in the sides of buildings, and it looks like this one car pulled over in a hurry and the driver just hopped out and ran

who are these people talking

OH NO, OH GOD

I am immediately struck by the urge to push Shindou off of this ledge. is that mean? probably that is mean, but also fuck this guy lmao. every year you cheat someone out of their well-deserved spot in the popularity poll, and every year I want to punch you in your stupid face for it

bah. and how are you doing, Tatami. love that hero name even if you do have arguably the dumbest superpower in the entire series

listen, though. here I am shitting on these Ketsubutsu kids for no good reason, and I’m sorry about that, and truthfully it’s mostly because I just want to see Deku and/or Kacchan and so it’s hard to give a fuck about anything else right now. BUT, I will immediately cease and desist ALL of my complaining if this means we also get to see my best girl Ms. Joke, omg. Horikoshi please

sdlkfjlskalk

FUCK YOU SHINDOU OMG. I’M SORRY GUYS I CAN’T HELP IT, EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM IS SO EMINENTLY PUNCHABLE AND DETESTIBLE. IT’S LIKE SOMEONE COMBINED WESLEY CRUSHER WITH JEAN RALPHIO

but LSKJFLEK at this random reminder that Bakugou refused to shake his fucking hand. like, that’s his “fun fact” apparently lol. it’s what he deserves

also living for this “cringe” here, too. fuck you Shindou. I am so, so sorry to any Shindou fans out there you guys because I’m just going to be like this the entire time he’s here. the hate is flowing through me

how has it been three whole pages and I still have to look at his stupid face

anyway so it seems like the kids are having to pick up the slack for Old Man Samurai and all those other assholes who retired. I’m guessing the U.A. kids will be seeing a lot more action as well

but in the meantime let’s hope no villains attack here all of a sudden, because all Tatami can do is make herself shorter while Shindou creates an earthquake to bring the entire building down around them dflkjslk

these guys don’t particularly want to go with them and I can’t say I blame them

so now Shindou is saying that yeah, they can probably handle the looters and such by themselves, but it’s a different story when it comes to the Noumu and the escaped Tartarus prisoners. Shindou how dare you make a reasonable point that I can’t immediately argue with

he says that one of the escapees was sighted in the area, so that’s why they’re trying to evacuate everyone

and the guy disagrees and says he doesn’t trust the heroes and thinks they’re pompous

fdskljk. fucking...

ME: Horikoshi can we please stop and get Deku HORIKOSHI: we have Deku at home THE DEKU AT HOME:

Horikoshi. please. we get it, the civilians don’t trust the heroes anymore. I UNDERSTAND. I COMPREHEND THIS. so unless there is some other point to this scene I respectfully ask that you hurry things along because omg

did Tatami always have this habit of speaking in meme language and such? I thought that was Camie’s thing but hey

listen, I’m here for anyone who’s willing to drag this man down into the depths of the earth. I would just also rather not spend the entire fucking chapter on this oh my god. Horikoshi do you have any more of those chapters where things happen in them?? those are good, I like those

YESSSSSS FINALLY

so whoever’s on the other end of the call (ETA: it’s that rock-looking guy who can harden anything that he touches. why does BnHA have so many hardening powers) is telling them to run because there’s apparently a villain heading right for them, oh my

WHO IS HE

depending on who it is I can’t promise I won’t be rooting for them over you, buddy

ohhhhhh shit

huh. well that’s... hmm... but on the other hand...

okay lol no, I know it’s bad. Muscular fucking LOVES murdering kids. not even Shindou deserves that. I’m sure he has a family that loves him and stuff. and Tatami seems like a sweet girl. they don’t deserve to be murdered

that is the question isn’t it? are we really going to spend the entire chapter with Limbs-Retracting-Girl and her boyfriend, Joseph Gordon-Levitt from (500) Days of Summer??

YES OMG

YES PLEASE CALL YOUR SENSEI. my god do you know what I would give to see Ms. Joke take down an S-class villain??

(ETA: all I’ll say is that we were robbed here, you guys.)

now Tatami is running away while Shindou stays behind omg

Horikoshi I know I said I hate the guy, and I do, but my god. seems I don’t hate him half as much as you do you. been nice knowing you Shindou my man

are you serious Tatami really ran all the way back up here to try and evacuate these guys one more time

SHE’S SUCH A GOOD PERSON omg if you assholes don’t listen to her you deserve to get murdered

BRO

HORIKOSHI DID YOU REALLY FUCKING DO IT I CAN’T BELIEVE IT

LOL OKAY NO, SO FAR HE’S ONLY MESSED UP HIS FACE

WHAT A SHAME WHAT A TRAGEDY. THE WORLD MOURNS

okay but seriously, now he has to be dead

r.i.p. Shindou. he died doing what he loved, talking a lot and being utterly useless

then again, damn Shindou are you really gonna come out here and be a badass?? gonna make me eat my words there kiddo?

I have absolutely no idea if I should expect this to work or not. all I know is that this is page 14, and so it would seem we really are going to spend the entire fucking chapter on fucking Shindou. this beautiful chapter had so much potential, Horikoshi. and now look at it. I hope you’re happy

nope it didn’t fucking work at all lmao

IT’S JUST LIKE I SAID. r.i.p. you pretentious handsome lump

OHHHHHH SNAP

DEKU YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO LOL. anyway but it’s good to see you!! it’s good to see ANYONE other than these guys sob but especially you

FINALLY SOMETHING COOL OMG

somehow Horikoshi actually made the bunny mask look badass?? I don’t think this is sustainable, but I am here for it while it lasts

Shindou should by all rights be nothing but A HANDSOME PASTE at this point lol but WHATEVER. it’s BnHA; getting smashed into walls and cliffs has more or less the same consequences as being set on fire. slap a band-aid on it and you’re good to go

we are REALLY ENDING IT HERE huh

well. and that’s it. I just did not care about any of that lmao. a rare dud of a chapter. well, but we’ve had something like ten in a row that ranged from “pretty good” to “amazing”, so I guess that’s fair

anyway I feel like I owe you guys something other than endless bitching and moaning, so! BONUS:

now this is more like it

first of all, I’m absolutely living for this promo’s “YEET THE CHILDREN OUT OF A HELICOPTER” vibes. FUCK YEAH WE’RE HEROES BITCH

is Deku wearing a jetpack/parachute?? let’s hope he is because I’m assuming he doesn’t have Float yet, so if that’s not a jetpack then it is a LONG WAY DOWN kiddo

these maniacs actually got Deku to wear something other than his red shoes holy fuck. I’m speechless. are we sure that’s not an imposter??

Shouto has the funniest falling position I’ve ever seen. I’m assuming his left arm is not in fact tucked under his leg like it appeared to be at first glance?? like, wtf is the outline of your body right now Shouto

this is what I think it is after careful analysis, but at first I thought this kid had some hidden contortionist abilities

and then there’s this guy

I MISSED YOU YOU BIG GOON. loving the new gauntlets!! and he’s changed up his impractical metal neck thingy into arm thingies! but most importantly, ARE THESE WHAT I THINK THEY ARE

ARE THOSE WEENIES. KACCHAN. KACCHAN HAVE YOU GONE NATIVE OMFG

and meanwhile, look who’s with them! Endeavor makes perfect sense of course, but Hawks is a very welcome surprise. does this mean we can expect to see Tokoyami too? because I would fucking love that

lastly, so this confirms the whole “world heroes” thing! which we all pretty much guessed anyway lol. I wonder if this movie will take place in another country (fingers crossed). the city in the background doesn’t look particularly familiar, but this image probably wasn’t meant to be analyzed in that way lol. anyways, looking forward to this so much, PLEASE GIVE US A TRAILER SOON omg

#bnha 307 #shindou you #nakagame tatami #muscular #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #bnha movie 3 #bnha world heroes' mission #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #'I never knew shindou was so popular' said horikoshi not understanding memes #'I guess I better give the people what they want'#smdh #this chapter should be called 'horikoshi's revenge'

193 notes · View notes

5uptic · 3 years

Text

crewfu: fanfic spotlight!

We work together by Anonymous (5up & DK, unrated, gen | 248 words)

Summary: One likes plants and baking, the other loves to create and design video games. They stay up and create monstrosities together, it's their fun, it's their favourite game. Aka a 5up and Dk roommate au!

No matter how life tangles, I’m still here with you. by hungryandsleepy (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 279 words)

Summary: 5up has been working so hard on his new map, and of course, he needs someone to give him a motivation to go to sleep.

objectively pretty by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 462 words)

Summary: steve is drunk. he's pretty sure 5up is too. that doesn't mean being called pretty is any less momentuous.

you plus me by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 489 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve meet.

he said to me by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 656 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve share a moment.

by the snowmen by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 670 words)

Summary: Steve has a moment when it's all over.

today you got to know me (a little bit too slowly) by runninohhoney (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 675 words)

Summary: Steve lights up a cigarette. 5up doesn't smoke.

what would it take by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 787 words)

Summary: It's Steve's first mission. He hecks up. Or does he?

sorta cute by floweruru (5up/Steve, unrated, m/m | 822 words)

Summary: ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he said. ‘That’s just disrespectful,’ he said. Yet there was 5up, crushed like a can in Steve’s embrace, feebly kicking at nothing as his feet leave the pavement.

i was gonna kill u, but ur kinda cute?? by Cthulhuer (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve is a mess and 5up is worse.

I hear a Symphony by AwkwardAce (5up/Fundy, unrated, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: He exhaled until his lungs ached for air, fingers twitching as he opted to remove the sleek white gloves he wore in a feeble effort to soothe himself. It didn’t work. He wrung his trembling hands together as his eyes raked down the worn leather case taking in the doodles- some etched some drawn- across the faded surface. He snapped the buckles open and his breath hitched, catching in his already tight throat. For a moment the world span, his head throbbed and he wanted nothing more than to run and hide. 5up breathed out slowly, shakily.

staring by lytriis (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: steve asks 5up out. 5up doesn’t know how to respond.

and it's four am, and yet, you're here by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: in which steve shows up at 5up's house, in the middle of the night, completely spontaneously

more than this by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve catches 5up venting.

3:15 by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve tries to guess Five's name. It's much more difficult than he anticipated.

things were different by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: His eyes circled around to his friends, Kimi and Janet engaging in pleasant comversation, sleepy and becoming increasingly more sober. He looked, finally, across him, and caught Dumbdog staring at him. What now bro, what did this guy want. small talk, turns into not small talk, then there's no talk

Once Upon A Dream by SmearedWords (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: 5up looks ethereal, while Steve is struggling to breathe. "You're not real either." Or: Steve has a crush and a nightmare in three parts, 5up is tired, the crew life is hard and Polus sucks.

the ones you love will call you back by homeward_bound (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.8k words)

Summary: stevesuptic: dude, is it weird that i miss vegas DumbDog: No? I do too. stevesuptic: okay [steve misses vegas and apollo. they talk about it]

cough it out by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: Apollo thinks that Steve must be well and truly gone, at this point, because he giggles, like Apollo’s just told a particularly funny joke. He looks Apollo right in the eye and asks, “Do you trust me?” “Absolutely not.”

ivy by Secular_Czar (5up/Steve, teen rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: It might be a sad day, in general, but Steve isn't about to let it get to him. His friends won't ever let him wallow either.

The Colosseum by WhenTheFogClears (general rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: Five squinted, looking at the colosseum intensely. He thinks Apollo was latched onto the sphinx’s shoulder, fur matted with blood. Janet was slumped against a column, probably out, with Kimi whose bow was snapped in two, her leg twisted at an odd angle. DK was in the corner trying to cast various supporting hexes and charms with a broken arm, whilst Hafu was dragging a heavily bandaged Steve away. or 5up slaughters a cat

Oneshots :) by woofles1990 (5up/Fundy, 5up/Steve, teen rating, multi | 2.5k words, oneshot collection)

Summary: Just a bunch of MCYT/Among Us oneshots, mainly featuring 5up's crew because yes :)

the adventures of 5up and steve staying up late because they're under 30 by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.5k words)

Summary: “The night is young!” Steve yells at the ceiling, throwing his hands up in the air. “Take advantage of it! Commit crimes! Fuck hoes!” Five catches his hands in the air and laughs. “You wish you had hoes.”

unreasonably in love by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.6k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "It was like pieces of a puzzle, everything coming together. And now, here they are, standing in their apartment, which looks more like a hollow shell than a home, filled solely with scattered boxes and the minuscule amount of furniture that they brought with them to Vegas." Or: what happens after Apollo and Steve move in together.

cant be love by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.5 words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: He had chuckled to himself, he felt so stupid. Who in their fucking minds names a playlist 'sugr?', he thought, internally cringing. A story where a Steve meets an Apollo, and some things happen.

Somewhere in the darkness, us together for a while by tumtummeke (Apollo & Kimi & Steve, teen rating, gen | 3.6k words)

Summary: Apollo worries about Steve. Steve breaks his vape pen. Kimi plays power washer. Self-indulgent angst, with a generous helping of friendship and cuddles.

odyssey by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 23k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "First you will come to the Sirens who enchant all who come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too close and hears the singing of the Sirens...they warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. Therefore pass these Sirens by and stop your men's ears with wax that none of them may hear." -Homer, The Odyssey

Also: SilverSprinklez10‘s yupwaves collection.

Summary: This is a Harry Potter AU based on the characters/personas of the youtubers/streamers.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s), if there is one/multiple], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k] ([added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not)])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji... you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed (but this is the first one! lol).

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

#crewfu #fanfic spotlight

54 notes · View notes

eliotheeangelis · 2 years

Note

1, 5 and 23! 👾

Thank you darling and sorry for the delay!

1. Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

Currently I am working on my genderswapped f1 au and my god do I love it so much! It came from humble origins (making stupid faceswaps of 80s drivers in FaceApp) but then I couldn't get those babes out of my head. The premise is that several of our favourite f1 drivers from the history of the sport (clark lauda cevert villeneuve mansell de angelis senna) are female, and all the baggage that comes with that (sexism and misogyny and big 80s hair i guess). It's nigelio focused of course, but in a 'harold they're lesbians' way. Progress-wise, I have a whopping 25 chapters planned out, and chapter 6 (drivers' strike!!) was published just before Christmas.

It started out really as a vehicle for fem!nigelio but I actually love exploring the sexism aspects of that era - eg one character hates the suggestion that she only has her drive because she's a woman and it's just because of sponsorship, whereas other girls on the grid embrace it and accept that's how f1 works. It's also really nice to talk about women winning races and wdcs in the 60s, 70s etc and it being accepted as normal in that universe (although sexism taints everything of course - eg niki is a woman, she wins her titles only for the media to wish it could have been a prettier woman...)

I'm working on chapter 7 at the moment, watch this space...

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

It is definitely a trend for me that I always find it easier to relate to one person in my ships more than the other. For nigelio, cringe it may be but I will admit I relate to nigel quite a lot (midlands babes stick together mwah), his voice always comes to me really easily. Read into that what you want (but I don't think I'm as dramatic as him thankfully). With prosenna I definitely can get into Alain's character a lot more easily than Ayrton. I don't know why, but maybe it's because despite them being very different personalities, both nigel and alain aren't the most beloved drivers in fandom and I always relate to an oddball underdog much more than 'popular' drivers.

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

Speaking generally in my fic career, this would actually be a very old Star Wars au about Boba Fett that I originally came up with when I was 14! Every so often I go back to it and keep chipping away new chapters, but with the new Star Wars movies, Mandalorian and now Book of Boba Fett it's too different from canon and I don't think I'm motivated any more to keep writing it. Hopefully I will get back to it at some point.

In terms of F1, it would definitely be my drivers' strike story, which is currently on hiatus. I have quite a lot written and planned for it but the motivation is just not there at the moment. I will definitely get back to it eventually because it's a fun premise.

Thank you for the ask again and sorry for the wall of text...

Writing Ask Game if you want your very own wall of text!

#greenlikethesky answers #ask game #my writing

8 notes · View notes

hexalianrebel-blackfeathers · 3 years

Text

Crossfire

Panda’s Notes: Hey, it’s a new fandom. >w< I kind of fell in love with the chaos and characters from Friday Night Funkin’, so I’ve got a few stories in mind. This one is based on this piece by @fluffymary!

Find it on AO3!

John didn’t have a side. Demons, mortals; the blood of both ran through him. All he really knew was war. The smell of the gunpowder; the ringing in his head from explosive shells; the sounds of tanks and jeeps rolling across their battlefield and the men calling—

“Sir!!” He flinched out of his inner monologue and spun around to see one of his soldiers panting softly in the doorway. “He’s back again.”

As if on cue, there was a chorus of shouts under a melody of loud gunfire. Usually, John wouldn’t bat an eye, but today, he snatched his helmet and the staff leaning beside his door.

“Get Squad 17 together; tell them it’s time.”

The soldier sprinted down the hall, and John took a brisk march in the opposite direction. As he passed the infirmary windows, he could see several soldiers already appearing in beds; and with enough frequency that they quickly began to appear on top of each other. The kid certainly wasn’t slacking this time either.

The soldiers that had recovered were quick to fall into line behind John as he made his way out of the building and onto the field, fanning out to return to where their weapons had fallen from their deaths.

The air screamed as something tore through it at supersonic speeds, and the bullets from several soldiers’ guns were redirected or ricocheted back into their own or a fellow soldier’s face. A cloud of dust suddenly appeared, swirling around the little beast that caused it with his sudden stop.

Fully clad in red and green scales, carrying a beast of an automatic rifle, and excitedly whipping a long tail was the brat they’d met all those weeks ago; and had been continuing to meet every time the bastard needed to blow off steam or something. The little dragon glanced over his shoulder, eyes glowing bright green as he smirked with sharp teeth at John.

John only huffed as the dragon disappeared in a burst of speed, and he drew a strained breath as he felt blood strike his face from a soldier that happened to pass near him. Oh, he was going to teach this kid a lesson alright…

“Sir, do you copy?” John’s radio crackled softly on his shoulder, and he glanced around warily before tipping it closer to catch his voice.

“Copy. What do you want?”

“Squad 17 is in position. On your mark, sir.”

John smirked this time, drawing his staff from its holster on his back and stepping forward. “Everyone, you know what to do.”

The soldiers mobilized quickly, scattering away from the main area and gathering up in a tight group on the target practice field. Many were less than thrilled about the position they knew they were in, and they could only clutch their riot shields and brace when the call went out.

“Here he comes!” Someone shouted, and indeed, the beast could be easily spotted perched on a lamp post and sneering down at them. The rifle in his hands glowed with his green aura before he ripped it into the pair of Uzis they were all too familiar with. The second he vanished, soldiers were dropping and vanishing left and right as bullets ripped through them.

John took his time approaching; there was nothing more that the little bastard seemed to enjoy beside playing with his prey. In the meantime, he leaned into his radio, reconfirming the position and preparation of every member in Squad 17. He could feel a surge of power swirl around him and his staff, and he couldn’t resist the smile on his lips as he finally called out to their attacker.

////////////

Pico adored the battlefield. Miles away from any cities or towns to damage or helpless people to put at risk; dozens of targets to mow through for his personal speed tests; and, most importantly, he knew he couldn’t kill any of them. Pico had known about the “Tankman’s” power long before he’d first been summoned to this place by Lilith’s own abilities. He’d always assumed it was just some kind of rumor; one if his mother’s exaggerated stories.

But here he was again, watching the same soldiers he’d shot through the head reemerge from the main building to come rushing back to the fray.

Fuck whatever Heaven’s got; this was the life.

He must have been a damn sight, tail wagging all over the place. He hadn’t razed like this since he was little, and even then, it was with his mother over his shoulder making sure he was sticking to the targets and locations she’d been assigned. Nothing like letting a fully loaded toddler do your job for you, after all.

He was smacked out of the casual memory by a bullet bouncing off of his armored hand. An attempt to disarm him, probably. Yeah, right. He lunged into a run, his aura spreading out around him. He never got tired of the way bullets hung in midair, easily redirected by a slap from his hand or tail and usually finding a new target in one of the soldiers firing at him. He paused again to catch his breath, unable to keep from laughing to himself as he rolled his shoulders and checked the stopwatch he’d mounted on his rifle.

He felt a sort of tingle as a new, powerful aura hit his senses. The half-blood; the leader; the Tankman. He glanced over his shoulder, sneering a bit fiendishly at the man before zipping off and sending a shot through the soldier that was running by him. He adored pissing him off almost more than mowing through his soldiers. Almost. Nah, no he didn’t.

He spotted a crowd growing at the far end of the training field, and he made his way to the top of a lamppost to get a good look. They were practically lined up, every other row bearing riot shields that wouldn’t stand a chance against Pico’s shots while the others were taking aim.

“Here he comes!” Someone called, and they all seemed to brace and cringe.

Oh, well, now he had to flex. He made a show of transforming his rifle into his favorite pair of Uzis before lunging down into the crowd. The sounds of his guns couldn’t even reach him with how fast he was moving, and he couldn’t resist tackling some soldiers to the ground to make room for a sweep of bullets before shooting them as well. His average time was coming up; he just knew it. He needed a good finisher. Maybe something flashy…

“Alright, you little shit!” Pico flinched at that familiar voice, looking up from his position of standing on a soldier’s chest. Oh, perfect! A high level tag. It’d be a first, for him at least, but taking Tankman down a peg in front of all his soldiers would be a fantastic note to head home on.

“This little game of yours ends now, ya goddamn salamander!” Tankman barked at him, holding a…a fuckin…glowing stick?

Pico blinked, capping the soldier he was standing on before turning to face his target. Why was it taking so long for him to catch his breath? He could have been over there by now. He scoffed as he caught sight of Tankman’s smirk; what’s a little headache if he got to punch that jaw in?

His aura spread out as he prepared to rush, and whoa, whoa, time-fucking-out!

He was dizzy; way too dizzy. He stumbled to a stop, keeping his distance from Tankman; but he was still shaking. His guns vanished, and his head cleared a bit. He could see the staff in Tankman’s hand glowing, and when he narrowed his eyes to hone his demon senses, he could see purple lines and symbols etched into the ground around him. Unfortunately, such an effort threw his head back into a spin, and he found his butt hitting the dirt as his tail and scales shifted off of him to leave him seated there in his school clothes. He pushed his red curls out of his face, panting softly as he glanced around at the soldiers surrounding his new little cage. Shit; there went his run.

“Men, I’d say Operation Coyote was a complete success.” Tankman said with a grin as he stepped forward, and the soldiers cheered and laughed around him.

Pico growled as he locked his gaze on Tankman. His face shifted suddenly as his eyes glowed, flames wisping between the gaps in his teeth as he—promptly faceplanted into the dirt from the sudden lightheadedness.

“Aw, isn’t that cute?” Tankman jeered as others chuckled, and Pico looked up to see him kneeling beside the edge of the circle, which seemed a lot smaller now than it had a minute ago. “He tried to do the scary eyes.” The man popped the visor off of his helmet, and Pico’s face fell as bright purple eyes bored into him from pitch black sclera.

Tankman sneered for a moment at Pico’s speechless staring, standing up as he reattached the visor. “Heh, and that’s how you do it, kid. You like your new playpen, brat?”

Pico blushed a bit, embarrassed, and quickly got to his feet. “It’s tacky, old man.” He growled, clenching a fist and trying a punch. He wasn’t surprised when his hand couldn’t go past the circle, but he was surprised when Tankman’s hand came through to grab him by his shirt.

“Yeah, it’s an older setup;” The man hummed, easily dangling Pico’s human form as the kid kicked against the barrier. “It’s amazing what you pick up when you’re raised by Demon Hunters, eh?”

Pico snarled softly, trying to pry those deceptively strong fingers off of his collar. “When I get out of here, I’m gonna fucking—!" He was shut up when his face was yanked against the barrier.

“You’re not gonna do a damn thing, you shitty little snake-spawn!”

Pico had winced a little at what he assumed must be the “Captain voice” he’d heard rumors about, a cheeky smirk seating itself on his lips to mask his nerves.

“We’re getting sick of your games, runt; and it’s about time you were put in—”

“What?!” Pico shouted exaggeratedly, tipping his head back and kicking the barrier again. “I-I can’t hear you; some old fuck blew my eardrums out with his bitching!”

He just knew Tankman was glaring at him through that stupid visor, and Pico couldn’t help laughing tauntingly until he was dropped on the ground. The man drew his hand back, resting it on his hip as the other tightened its grip on his staff.

“Men, next step. Get started.” He ordered shortly, stepping backwards.

Pico scrambled to his feet. Okay, he was fine as long as he didn’t use his powers; no problem. The soldiers were regrouping, and about ten of them stepped closer to the circle with staves or wands or whatever conduit they carried. Pico growled softly; he had a feeling he knew what they were doing, but dammit, he couldn’t tell which of them was going to attack first. He glanced over his shoulder, sure that they’d go for his blind spot, only for something to lash around one of his wrists.

He yelped, planting his feet and trying to lean back. He did his best to suppress the instinct to use his demon strength, and he growled angrily as he was forced into a tug-of-war with at least one full-grown man who didn’t look like he was having much of a problem keeping the magic coil still. The soldier beside him seemed to perform the same spell, another coil of magic energy zipping around his free wrist.

“Ack! F-Fuckers!” Pico barked, his sneakers dragging in the dirt for a moment before he was yanked down to the ground. He cried out as his tongue got caught between his teeth, and he struggled to find traction to pull against the magic ropes.

“Not bad, boys.” Tankman called, sauntering into the circle. He rested his boot heavily on Pico’s back, and a pair of soldiers managed to wrangle Pico’s flailing legs from outside the circle. “Well, kid, not so tough now, are ya?”

Pico growled up at him, but dammit, he couldn’t think of a response. They’d actually caught him.

“Pfft, no stupid quips either, huh?” Tankman jeered. “Damn, that’s almost sad. Stevie! Front and Center!”

Pico could hear footsteps running toward them, and another soldier made an effort to pass through his sightline and give him a wave.

“Hello, Pico.” He said almost politely, carrying a book under his arm; and Pico hated how genuine he sounded. “Ah, sir, the spell’s ready when you are.”

////////////

John couldn’t help a roll of his eyes when Steve greeted the little brat, given the position they were all in. He was a sweetheart to a fault.

“The spell’s ready when you are.” Steve said with a smile, the book floating out of his palm as his hands glowed. As the pages flipped rapidly on their own, John cracked his knuckles and grinned.

“Good to hear it.” He chuckled, removing the glove on his left hand. “Hit me, Stevie.”

Steve took a deep breath and spread his fingers, and John felt magic wrap around his arm. It coiled and tightened between his fingers, supplying his powers without the circle draining them away. His arm shifted: a dark black-purple form with sharp fingers, meant to reach and pull at souls and the essences of life itself.

“Alright, kiddo…” John hummed, curling his fingers and sneering when he caught sight of the brat looking up at him. “Time to learn ya a thing or two about messing with soldiers.”

The kid yelped when John’s hand clutched at his shoulder, and John’s eyes glowed behind his visor as he forced the brat into a partial shift. Scales quickly covered his back, and half of his head became dragonesque, glowing eye included. The soldiers restraining him had to plant their feet and pull as he got a burst of strength to fight.

“Stevie?” John huffed, setting his knee on one of the kid’s legs as his free hand gripped a handle on his belt.

Steve knelt in front of their captive, smiling in that calming way he does. “Now, Pico, I can imagine how upset you must be, but I’d suggest you keep still. All we’re going to do is a sort of test. Research purposes.”

“Fuck you…” The brat hissed, and John smacked him on the back of the head with his free hand before he could stop himself.

“Don’t fucking talk to Stevie like that, shitstain.” He growled, returning his hand to his belt to finally pull up the knife he’d been unsheathing. “Since you don’t want it sugar-coated, I’m going to scrape some scales off you so our boys can find out what kind of bullshit makes you so damn bulletproof. Knowledge is half the battle, you know.”

The kid’s glowing eye turned to him, a mouth half full of sharp teeth trying to snarl.

John just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, kid, I’m so terrified.” He flipped the knife in his hand, angling the blade against the boy’s spine.

Despite the fact that he’d spent at least an hour sharpening the damn thing that morning just for this, it simply rattled along the scales like a tire of the off-road track. John sucked his teeth, his shifted hand clutching tighter when the brat tried to kick again.

“Knock it off!” He barked, sounding closer to a whine from where John was kneeling.

John bit back a chuckle, but a smirk played his lips as he set the tip of the knife at the back of the kid’s neck. “Why should I? You haven’t quit shooting up our battlefield every other day for weeks! I’d say this is the least of what you ought to get.”

Steve was eyeing the kid curiously, and he took a seat on the ground to look a little closer. John crisscrossed the knife along the scales at the center of their prisoner’s back, growing a bit frustrated when he realized he was only dulling his blade.

“I s-said quit it!” The kid’s voice pitched to a squeak, and he tried and failed again to pull. John actually paused this time, quirking an eyebrow.

“Ah, I see!” Steve suddenly said, smiling happily as he tipped his head to try and make eye contact. “You’re a little ticklish, aren’t you, Pico?”

The kid promptly looked away from him, not even letting out a growl this time.

Steve smirked a little, crossing his arms. “Oh, you’re very ticklish; my mistake.” He corrected teasingly, purposefully raising his voice a bit and giggling at the look the kid must have given him.

John rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Takes one to know one, Stevie.” He said with a little smile of his own, attempting to curb his frustration with that cute blush on Steve’s face. Of course, after all this hassle, the damn kid’s dragon hide turned his sharpest knife into a tickle tool.

Wait a fucking second…

////////////

It probably would have been easy for Pico to just tell Tankman that his demon form was pretty blade-proof, but he couldn’t resist the chance to upset him a little for putting him through this. He quickly regretted that decision when the knife managed to catch his nerves despite not breaking through his armor.

“Knock it off!” He insisted, trying to keep any giggles from slipping into his voice. That “Stevie” guy was watching him closely, and Pico was too focused on trying to struggle to hear whatever Tankman was saying. A shiver shot up his spine when the knife made zigzags across it, and damn him, that tickled so bad!

“I s-said quit it!” He squeaked out, still unable to escape the magic coils on his limbs.

“Ah, I see~!” Stevie said playfully, watching Pico’s face as he struggled. “You’re a little ticklish, aren’t you, Pico?”

The human half of his face felt hot, and he looked away from that stupid smile. He was just trying to get Pico’s guard down; he just knew it.

“Oh… you’re very ticklish; my mistake.” Stevie taunted, raising his voice enough that a few soldiers behind him actually reacted.

Pico gasped indignantly, and Stevie just giggled. Oh, he didn’t care how nice this guy was; Pico was lighting him up next time. He heard Tankman scoff, and he realized the knife wasn’t touching him anymore.

“Takes one to know one, Stevie.” Tankman teased, but then he seemed to pause as Stevie was pouting at him. Pico blinked and shook his head as it suddenly started to shift back to fully human. He didn’t have the leverage to look over his shoulder, but he saw Stevie and a few soldiers behind him smile and snicker.

Before Pico could figure out what was going on, he found himself laughing loudly and trying to struggle again. Tankman’s fingers were digging and scribbling over his back and shoulders, occasionally giving more firm scratches right over his spine. His hands crawled up and shoved into the spaces between his shoulders to flutter along his neck, ripping a squeal out of Pico’s mouth as he tried to scrunch his shoulders up to his ears.

“Gee, Stevie, I’d say he’s definitely pretty ticklish~” Tankman taunted, wiggling his fingers against Pico’s neck where he could. “The little brat’s caught my fingers.”

Pico, indeed, was making an effort to keep Tankman’s fingers pinned where they were despite the squeaky giggles he kept pulling out of him. This was embarrassing enough as it was.

Tankman leaned slightly, and Pico heard him whistle. There was a bit of a murmur, and a few footsteps crunched on the dirt.

“Oh, quit being a bitch, he can’t hurt you. Now, come here.”

Pico tried to look back, only to squeak and squirm when Tankman so much as twitched his fingers. Another weight set itself on his left ankle, and he could feel his sneaker being worked off.

“W-Wait a minute; that’s not fa—!” He tried to protest, giggles mixing in as Tankman leaned over him.

“Oh, yeah? And why is that? Your little dragon paws tickwish too?”

“Fuck you!” Pico shot back, unable to keep from laughing when the new soldier scratched gently at the sole of his foot, seemingly tracing the snake patterns on his sock.

“You know what I think is unfair?” Tankman continued, letting his nails drag one last time as he finally pulled his hands away from Pico’s neck; Pico still hesitated to let his shoulders down. “I think it’s pretty damn unfair that you keep running in here taking pot-shots at my soldiers just for shits and giggles.”

Pico had to bite his tongue to keep from giggling as Tankman aimed a poke between his shoulders to punctuate the line.

“So, obviously, it’s only fair that they get a few pot-shots at you. And hell, if bullets aren’t going to work, we’ll stick to what does.”

Tankman’s hands burrowed into Pico’s armpits, and the poor kid shrieked and yanked his arms down. “Ohoho! There it is! That’s a tickle spot, alright!” Tankman’s left hand came to pry at Pico’s right arm, his free hand scribbling faster and digging to draw out loud squeals.

Fingers were scribbling all over his foot, and someone else was digging into the back of his knee. He let out a cackle when someone’s hand found the soft part of his side, almost catching the edge of his stomach. Stevie still sat in front of him, ruffling Pico’s hair with one hand while the other gave gentle scribbles around his ears that made him giggle even harder.

“Sir, why don’t we flip him over?” Stevie suggested. “Get the poor thing out of the dirt.”

“Heh, yeah?” Tankman asked playfully, hooking his hands under Pico’s arms. “Or do you just want to find out if his tummy is as bad as yours too?”

“John!” Stevie scolded with a chuckle, and Pico flailed a bit as he was lifted up. Two soldiers grabbed his wrists, and—Wait, when the fuck did his hands get free anyway?! Pico didn’t have a chance to think about it, since several soldiers’ hands returned to their positions of scribbling or pinching around his torso.

Pico’s voice was lost in squeals and cackles as he tried to writhe. That same bastard had ahold of his foot again, and someone else was reaching over to scratch under his toes. An arm was hooked around his leg, and fingers scribbled under his knee; a claw-shaped hand vibrated and squeezed around his stomach, catching the edge of his bellybutton every time he squirmed; knuckles dug and twisted against his ribs; and there was some feather-light tracing under his chin and down his neck.

Pico was a damn patient person. He’d have been willing to forgive all that shit.

If the fuckers weren’t teasing him!!

It was mostly the fact that they were laughing at him that irked him—no, he was not just going loopy from his own laughter, the soldiers were chuckling at his ordeal like fucking sadists—but the cooing in his ears and to each other about ‘how cute’ he was, and ‘poor thing’ and ‘Maybe we could let him go if he’s learned his lesson~”

Oh, yeah, that Stevie guy was so dead.

Tankman laughed beside him, arms crossed for a moment as he tapped his foot. “Nah, maybe a little longer. Kids like him tend to need some tutoring, y’know?”

Stevie gave him a little push, chuckling, and Pico tried his best to find some clarity.

A little headache was worth the glow that came to his eye.

////////////

John shook his head as he observed the chaos. Poor kid was kind of getting destroyed. Not that he didn’t deserve it, of course, but John certainly didn’t envy him right now.

Steve approached him with a smile, softly nudging John with his shoulder and adjusting his glasses with his thumb. “The guys are ruthless as usual.” He commented, sidestepping the poke John tried to give him.

“Yes. I’ve trained them well.” John chuckled, only to snicker and shake his head as a few of his soldiers broke off into their own little tickle fights.

“Think they should let up a little yet? I almost feel bad for poor Pico.”

John wanted to roll his eyes, but they stuck on Steve as he smiled fondly. “Yeah, no.” He snorted. “Good cop ain’t on call today, Stevie.”

“Maybe we could let him go if he’s learned his lesson~?” Steve suggested, raising his voice so the kid could hear him.

John let out a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nah, maybe a little longer just for that. Kids like him tend to need some tutoring, y’know?”

“John, you’re terrible.” Steve giggled, punching his arm lightly, and John chuckled with him until he felt something.

He looked up to see the kid glaring at him as best as he could through all that laughter, one eye glowing a bright, flickering green. He rolled his eyes and smirked.

“Yeah, kid, I’m so scared…” He huffed, stepping forward and kneeling in front of him. “But as long as this circle’s up, your powers aren’t getting you any—”

Something rattled, and John spun around for a second. It had sounded like it was right against his head, as if he was wearing a rattlesnake around his neck.

Rattlesnake…

“John?” Steve called hesitantly, looking around for a moment as well. When John’s eyes fell on him, they widened fearfully before he could catch himself. A tiny spot of green light rested perfectly still on Steve’s chest. As he was pulling his staff from over his shoulder, a hail of bullets came down fast enough to turn Steve into a fine mist and hard enough to rip deep burrows in the dirt where he once stood.

“Stevie!!” He cried out, eyes narrowing sharply as he turned around. “Men, get back; get behind me!”

The air itself seemed to rattle with gunfire as the soldiers around the bastard kid were quickly thinned out. Those who had managed to get behind John were encased in the purple shield he cast. Slashing lines were cut deep into the dusty earth, cutting through anyone in their path, and, as John was quick to realize, upsetting the ground enough to break the barrier spell they’d spent so long setting up.

The kid seemed to realize, too, since he shifted quickly into his demon form and curled up tight to protect himself. The rattling came closer until bullets were battering John’s shield. He growled to himself, and the soldiers around him attempted to aid him in boosting the shield’s power, but it seemed to chip faster with their effort.

It burst within seconds, and all of John’s soldiers were gone before he could blink. And to top it all off, John’s body was thrown to the ground by a weight attempting to cave in his ribs. A heavy boot came down on his collarbone. When he was finally able to open his eyes, he found himself staring down the barrel of a rifle, his helmet lost or broken somewhere during the chaos.

Two rattling tails swayed slowly in his peripheral. Less than he was used to; she wasn’t too mad. The gun was shoved up against his cheek as she ground the toe of her boot into his neck.

“O-Okay, easy, easy! Krotalía!” John choked out, grabbing at her ankle with one hand.

“Sergeant John Captain…” She hissed slowly, eyeing him through the sights. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten my name. Maybe got your hand shot off in a way ya finally couldn’t fix it. Would explain why ya never write me anymore.”

John could hear his soldiers’ footsteps coming from the main building, but they knew to keep their distance from this one.

Krotalía continued with a snide chuckle. “But, nah. Here I find you: still in one piece; still running the boys up and down the field; and most importantly: Picking on my goddamn kid!”

“Ma, I was fine!” The kid suddenly argued, stepping forward half shifted. “I could have handled them!”

John saw one of Krotalía’s tails split into two, and a gunshot rang out as the kid was thrown backwards with a little squeak.

“Oh, we’ll be discussing your punishment in a second, ya little hell spawn.” She snarled, but John could see her smiling over her shoulder.

“Alright, Rattlesnake, cut the shit.” John huffed, giving a small grin of his own. “Let me up. We’ll chat, yeah?”

Krotalía hissed faintly, unable to keep the smile off of her lips as she finally pulled the gun away from John’s face. “Yes, let’s…” She stepped back, turning away from him and giving her son a playful kick where he was lying.

John sat up with a wince, coughing softly and spitting some blood between his teeth. “So, who wants to talk about how your little brat has been razing through our battlefield like clockwork for the past few weeks?”

The woman chuckled, lifting her kid up by the back of his shirt and setting him down. “Yeah, I had a feeling he’d been getting some training in somewhere. He’s been getting awfully competitive with me lately.”

John glared slightly; fuck him for expecting a mischief making snake bitch to discipline her mischief making dragon brat.

She laughed at him though, resting her rifle over her shoulder. “I know that look, Johnny; you read like a bad script.” One of her tails whacked her kid to nudge him forward. “Go on, Pico. Make nice for once.”

The kid crossed his arms and looked away, thumping his tail on the dirt behind him; and when he finally looked up at John, he just stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry.

John snorted before he could catch himself. “Y’know, if you’re going to act like a four-year-old, maybe you should expect the tickle monster to get ya again next time too.”

He blushed brightly and snarled, shifting suddenly and attempting to lunge, only to be caught in one of his mother’s tails. “Dammit, Pico!” She growled while John just laughed again.

She set him on his feet again, and he shifted back to a mostly human shape before she gave him another whack on the back of his head this time. He grumbled angrily and stepped forward, extending a hand.

“…You know I’ll be back, right?” He asked, hinting a smirk.

“You gonna call your mommy to bail you out then too?” John teased, but he was quick to accept the handshake before the brat… Ugh, before Pico took it back. He even ruffled that mess of red hair as he chuckled and let go of his hand. “Krotalía, you don’t have to make him apologize. We’re all friends here, yeah?”

Pico spit out a little spark of flame and tried to pout, but he couldn’t help smiling a little. Krotalía looked between the two of them and rolled her eyes with a sigh.

“Boys…” She snickered, slipping one of her tails around Pico to guide his turn away from John and the soldiers. “C’mon, kid. Let’s go over those numbers you got.”

Pico had bounced excitedly at the idea, but he glanced back as they were walking. He drew one of his handguns from thin air and sneered right at John. “I’ll get you, old man…” He growled playfully, getting a little smack on his arm by his mother’s tail.

John chuckled, shaking his head. He’d look forward to it.

“John!” John glanced back to his troops, and the crowd parted slightly to let Steve run up. John smiled as he caught him in a hug, sighing softly over his shoulder and squeezing him tight.

“Are they already gone?” Steve asked softly, having to fix his glasses when John let him go. “That’s a shame. I wanted to speak to her.”

“You would say that after getting fucking shredded, wouldn’t you?” John chuckled, giving Steve a playful shove before addressing the soldiers that had gathered.

“Alright, men! I’d say we handled that pretty well, all things considered…”

There was a chorus of chuckles and murmurs in agreement.

“Now, I think we all know damn well this isn’t the last time we’ll be seeing Pico rushing through here. More importantly, the kid’s not gonna fall for that trick so easily again. It’s time I put you all on some heavier demon hunter training.”

He glanced back at Steve, who was already flipping through his summoned spellbook. “Game on, Stevie?”

Steve smiled fondly and shook his head. “Game on, sir.”

#a panda writes a thing #friday night funkin #friday night funkin pico #tankman #Tickling #fnf tickling

19 notes · View notes

fictionallemons · 4 years

Text

My Supernatural Story

For years people told me I should watch Supernatural. "Oh, you like Sherlock and ship Johnlock, you would love Supernatural. Oh, you like writing fanfic, you should watch Supernatural." But I never did. I chalk it up to it starting the year I cut the cord on cable TV. By the time Supernatural started streaming it had been on so long I thought there was no way I could catch up.

Flash forward to 2019. I'm looking for something to watch when doing dishes and stuff because there's only so many time you can rewatch Murder, She Wrote (it's a lot, but there's still a limit). Another mom at the bus stop mentions Supernatural when I ask for show recommendations. "It's starting its last season. The first five seasons are the best, but it's still pretty good."

I look up how many seasons it's been by now and my jaw drops. Fifteen seasons? Jesus Christ. But the fact that it's officially ending give me motivation. Something about knowing exactly how many episodes I'm in for if I end up liking it makes me feel better about the whole thing. I'm also looking for a new fandom and I know there's an entire world of SPN fanfiction out there so if I end up liking the show, then I have a ton of fic open to me. I've been on Tumblr for a couple of years at this point, mostly for Sherlock, so I'm aware of this ship called Destiel, and I know it's pretty huge, so who knows, maybe I'll get into it.

I watch the first episode one sunny September afternoon before the kids get home from school. It's a little scary, a lot dark—I mean, the cinematography is like super dark, and I spend most of the episode wondering how I've gone this far in my life without knowing how fucking adorable Jensen Ackles's stupid face is. I came for the entry to the fanfiction, I stayed for Dean, not going to lie. Don't get me wrong, I like Sam, too, but even though in real life Jared Padalecki and I are the same age, when I start watching he's 22 and I'm 37, and I see him as a kid. Then I'm like—where's this Castiel character I've heard so much about? Quick Google later…he doesn't show up until the FOURTH SEASON? Are you serious? I have to watch three whole seasons before meeting the character I'm supposed to be shipping with my idiotic, adorable Dean?

Turns out I didn't mind waiting because I last all of three episodes before I break down and search the Dean/Sam tag on AO3. I learn the term Wincest. I cringe. Then I Google "starter Wincest recs." I'm in denial about this ship. I find Invisible Boy and other Weecest fics and think, gross. There's no way I can read about underage brothers. Blech. I start with Nyxocity. I don't want to read too far ahead of where I am in the show, so I start slow. But it's inexorable. Inevitable. The more I read, the more it all makes so much sense. What brother is going to literally sell his soul and damn himself to Hell to save his baby brother? Said brother is definitely in love with baby brother. Becoming Wincest trash is easy. And, shocker, my tolerance grows to a point where even Weecest doesn't bother me, as long as it's good. By the time the fabled Castiel shows up on the scene, I'm so deeply involved in Sam and Dean's love story that I kind of find Cas annoying. Handsome and charismatic, but annoying. Not to mention constantly fucking up.

And remember when I said I stayed with the show for Dean? True, I still spend a good portion of every show marveling over the way the camera adores Jensen's face, but Sam, strong, smart Sam grew on me so hard. (Soulless Sam rivals Dean on the hot scale any day imo.) He's another flavor of adorable.

So I make it to the end of Season Five. Swan Song, aka a Wincest love letter. I sob my way through it and think. Okay. I could stop now. I'd be okay to stop. But there were so many legendary episodes I had heard of and couldn't bring myself to watch out of order, like Baby and the Scooby Doo crossover. Not to mention my poor Sam is in hell…or is he?…and Dean and Lisa make me want to throw up in my mouth. And the fanfiction obsession's getting worse. At this point, I'm deeply into J2 fics as well (all the fun of Wincest without the pesky incest part), and reading the occasional Destiel fic even though it doesn't really do anything for me, but there are so many interesting characters that my favorite writers reference and I have no idea who they are: Charlie? Benny? Rowena? Jack? I don't know who these people are, but I know I won't be complete until I find out. So I keep watching. And reading. And, yes, eventually writing my own Wincest and J2 fics, too.

By the time the show shuts down in March, I've watched probably half the episodes. By the time it comes back in October, I've caught up. I've watched every episode there is. Seven left. Seven episodes I'll have to actually wait a whole week in between to watch, like the old days.

I sob when Cas dies in Despair. The guy grew on me, even though I never could ship him and Dean canonically. The fact that the writers made canon that he was in love with Dean really changes the entire way I view the show now. Not in a bad way, just…the show really isn't about romance. It's about Sam and Dean and saving the world. So while I'm sad to lose Cas, I'm happy they're ending the show the way it started, with Dean and Sam and the Impala. I love how they dealt with Chuck and I cry when Jack fades away. I sob again when they pull a motherfucking montage on us at the end of 15x19. But I'm happy it's just the two of them again. (I am kind of disappointed that the series started with Sam as the emotional core, and then shifted to Dean, and never quite figured out how to shift back. Yes, Sam's awesome, and he's had some moments to shine, and he's saved Dean as many times as Dean's saved him. But has his arc really been as epic as Dean's turned out to be?)

And yet I'll be okay if they drive off into the sunset together, literally. Even if they die, if they die together and end up in their shared heaven, I'll be okay. I need my boys to be together, forever and always. I need them to have each other. I need them to have peace. I need them to choose each other, over and over again, always and forever. It sucks for everyone they've met and loved that all those people are basically collateral damage in the Sam and Dean Save the World Show, but oh well. That's the show. That's why I watched 327 episodes in 14 months. That's why I've worried about these boys since episode one. That's why I'm grateful I finally started watching. In Cas's words, the show changed me. Yes, I joined the fandom about fourteen years too late.

Better late than never.

My Wincest fics on AO3 My J2 fics on AO3 My bookmarks on AO3 in case you want recs

#you changed me #spn #spn spoilers #the end is near #sam winchester #dean winchester #my supernatural fandom adventure #fandom #spn fandom #one more #spn family #spn 15x19 #spn 15x18 #castiel #wincest #wincest4life #nyxocity #dollylux

30 notes · View notes

dynocation · 3 years

Text

🌈⭐️The DTL Mods scared of being called out so they make a callout post about me in secret.

Get ready for a juicy story newcomers. This is a fun one.

Granted there are people in the dtl amino that still like me, so the word got back to me. These people literally are incapable of understanding, that yeah people can lie (ChibiTacoLord) and be toxic behind the scenes. There’s a reason why Taco doesn’t have many friends and I do. Not trying to diss or anything.

⭐️Addressing The People Making Testimonies⭐️

Ark - Person in the dtl community that would bully multiple people calling their art trash and making fun of people’s mental disabilities. I sent screenshot evidence to Bregee. She dismissed it saying “He’s my friend. That’s just how he is.”

It wasn’t him just attacking me either, I could careless about random nobodies reeing at me, but he was attacking some of the nicest people in dtl community. Calling their art terrible and hoping they’d die, and because of him multiple people left the dtl community. I was contacting Bregee as a voice for these people because they were scared to say anything, and she brushed it aside. “He’s a friend.” Despite me giving her fair warning that Ark is a douchebag she allowed him to stick around and what does he do? He goes on FurryAmino calling people “faggots” and their art “cringe”. Am I suppose to go “Poor Ark”? I legit feel no sympathy for him. He sabotaged the DTL Discord all on his own, yet I get blamed for it apparently. No thank you. I do not claim Ark as my responsibility. You made it clear he’s your two year old to handle. I’m also not banned from Furry Amino as Bregee has said. I’m still using it and have been for years, being featured, and making friends there, and will be a curator on it here soon.

Ark went on there screaming how he hates me and people tore him apart for it. (He basically just called my art cringe and the people who like it are cringe too).

In furry culture, you do not attack an artist without evidence, and Ark didn’t have any. (In regards for me being bad at commissions)

In shame he left the amino and deleted his account/hid it from me(one of the possibilities, he could’ve been banned due to breaking numerous rules) blaming me for people yelling at him. I didn’t say anything other than telling people to leave him alone and let staff deal with him. People were not kind to him, granted he was personally attacking people. People were pulling apart his arguments and pushed him off the amino. I wasn’t made aware of it till later when people were gloating about it to me, sharing me images of him getting spammed with clown emojis. That’s a funny lie for him to tell though in an attempt to save face. If he goes around saying I’m banned there, because I’m one of the biggest community members and still to this day. People on there message me everyday telling me it’s becuase of me they pursue art and love to animate. Maybe Ark is just an idiot though and just learned how to use the block button? And thought block was the same as a ban? Wouldn’t be the first a DTL Amino/Discord person learned that.

BakiDance - I worked with them to solve the raid issue. I said nothing nazi related except when I was @ by Ark and I made a joke in response to him.

Alli - Would ask me to do sexual Roleplay when I was 11-12. WOULD ASK ME, and I would do them becuase I didn’t understand at the time. It was like incest/rape/gore shit. She then would call my art shit and call me homophobic. When called out for it, she went to the excuse “oh we sexual rp’d”, as if that doesn’t also look bad back on her.

Bregee- She invited me back to the DTL discord and I told her no becuase she doesn’t curate it. She got offended. Then showing me like a 10 page document of new rules for her discord which made me cringe. (It was massive and full of inconsistencies) She then messaged me again, asking me about the New Years. I gave her a short stiff response, because of the Ark situation I had a distrust of her. She was doubly offended. She then randomly accused me of befriending nazis/pedofiles, which I found funny because, number one, she doesn’t know my friends, number two, she doesn’t know me. She’s like a hate Stan. Literally, she looks at my art and obsesses over it to a negative degree. She’s joined my discord, follows me, dms me. I know she hangs out with Taco/Alli some of the most toxic people in the dtl fandom, so hh. Unless she wants to say otherwise.

Chibi Taco Lord - Would ask me to do sexual rps, and I would decline, because of the bad experience I had with Alli, she promised me she woulnt be like Alli so I agreed once and it was okay. I’m an adult, Taco is an adult. I sexual rp to this day if both parties are adults and consent to it.

When it comes to abuse art. It’s the Pot calling the Kettle black. Taco made a whole story about her Drew getting raped and beaten by Wilfre and shared it with me. Abuse art of her Drew that she drew still exists to this day too btw on the dtl amino. So if you banned me due to my depressed Wilfre comics. Guess you gotta purge a whole lot more people, becuase sad comics are banned. Edgy art is banned. I think it’s stupid, but come on, don’t be hypocritical.

This isn’t an accussation out of nowhere either. I have screenshots of her doing this, drawings she’s made, and testimonies of “bystanders” who witnessed her asking for sexual abuse roleplay, Roxy nonetheless (a curator on the amino has witnessed this). I only share this info becuase she moved goal posts from “I hate how Baki’s posts has a lot of likes on it”, to “Baki only hates me becuase im autistic”, to now “Baki is a sexual deviant”. I will remove this embarrassing incriminating evidence of ChibiTacoLord, if the DTL Amino staff remove their slanderous take on me. Otherwise, I don’t care, becuase I’m open about my fetishes and I see nothing wrong with them. You can’t say I’m wrong for having the fetish and the DTL Amino staff is okay to have that fetish and post it frequently. Hyprocrites.

My character Cope: Hes literally not a nazi lol! You either have to be a conspiracy theorist, liar, or delusional to think so.

He’s a raposa from Lavasteam, wears a red camo outfit, with golden medals. He’s politically a dictator. Runs a military state. He’s the villain in my stories.

So I don’t see why that’s a problem? What? Are villains just no longer allowed in stories.

Cope is adored by a lot of people. I get requested often to make a comic of him/make a game with him in it. Only a few crazies dislike him and go spouting ‘nazi’.

My friends: I have several friends and none of them are nazis. Absolutely delusional to think I would be friends with someone who hates me. I am friends with Roxy though who ended up having to leave the Drawn To Life Amino staff due to the toxicity of the members. A painful reminder for those people.

—

🌈⭐️Conclusion🌈⭐️

These people are mentally broken and delusional with hate. I find it funny though. They make these little hate spaces, think they’re private, but the word always gets out.

You know what we call people who gather together to hate on one person for superficial reasons?

Get ready to scream. It’s called people a HATE GROUP. Take that to your political obsessed brains.

Anyways, if you see these people. Don’t spam or hate on them. It just fuels their hate for me.

#drawn to life #dtlamino #call out post #drawn to life the next chapter

10 notes · View notes

thefreakishmuffin · 4 years

Text

Hetalia is coming back, and I have some thoughts...

Alrighty everyone, here we go! As if 2020 couldn’t get more insane...

(This is a longer post, so I’ll add fun gifs to separate the walls of text so it isn’t so exhausting to read).

So, if you’ve been on the internet since the early 2010′s, you’ve most likely seen, or at least heard, of an odd show called Hetalia. This anime, with the manga originally created by Hidekaz Himaruya, was later adapted into an anime. For those who are either new to the internet or have been living under a rock for the last decade, Hetalia, first going under the name Hetalia: Axis Powers, is a show about different events in world history and world politics, all being portrayed by people who represent different countries. Each country - or character, you could say - is essentially the embodiment of all their respective country’s stereotypes.

For example, Germany is extremely strict, loud, militaristic, and often angry or stubborn. Italy is an absolute coward who is obsessed with pasta and beautiful women. And America is an over-the-top, loud, bombastic, arrogant dork who is constantly downing fast food and calling himself a “hero.” The list goes on and on, but you get the idea.

Hetalia was, and still is, an extremely weird show. And with season seven on the horizon, coming to us in Spring 2021, I feel like I ought to talk about it. And why am I taking the time to talk about it?

Because I am a veteran Hetalian.

(Me laughing but slowly dying inside)

You read that right. Throughout all of middle school and the first few months of high school (almost four years), I was an absolute obsessive Hetalia fangirl. Outside of the internet, I was the biggest fan I knew, along with the guy who was my best friend at the time. We’d binge watch the show, read and write fanfiction, bring others into the cult fandom, talk about it almost constantly, draw fanart, watch the funny mmd video compilations on YouTube, delve really deep into world history, quote and reenact all of our favorite scenes - we even cosplayed England and Prussia one year for Halloween! This was the show that made me the HUGE history nerd I am today! I even got a book on the complete history of Prussia one year for Christmas.

Yep. We were those kind of fans. (Not gonna lie, as a now twenty-year-old woman, I still kinda cringe looking back at my middle school years. But I was having fun, so who cares?)

So when I heard we were getting another season after a five year hiatus, you’d think I’d be super stoked that a show I was once madly in love with was coming back from the dead, right?

(The part of me that is thrilled about Hetalia returning)

Well... It’s a little complicated. I won’t lie that I am really excited for this new season, and I’m of course gonna watch the entire series over again in preparation for it. But I have some hopes, worries, and mixed emotions about everything happening, and everything that may or may not go down when the season eventually airs, including the time leading up to it. I even have a particular topic I want to get to, but you’ll see that later in the post.

To address my worries, we first have to go way back to the early days of the fandom. For the most part, the Hetalia fandom was just really weird, fun, nerdy, and quirky. Nothing wrong with that. I feel like the fandom already had an odd reputation, but at least it wasn’t a bad one. That is until we had some... How should I say... Toxic behaviors and incidents start to take place.

Allow me to explain. How I see it, every fandom has some kind of toxicity level. The toxicity level is from the fans who are, well, toxic. We all know who they are, and you’ve likely met at least a few here and there. And the toxicity levels vary from fandom to fandom. In some it’s very low, and in others it’s very high. I wouldn’t say the Hetalia fandom’s toxicity level was super high, but it wasn’t incredibly low either. We had the usual problems, like some intense shipping wars and people debating on different ideas and headcanons, but the Hetalia fandom had something a bit different going on.

(My two personalities trying to coexist in peace)

You see, a lot of people didn’t like - or even hated - Hetalia, because they saw it as racist and offensive. If you admitted you liked Hetalia outside of the fandom, you ran a definite risk of getting either shunned or degraded for it. And if that wasn’t bad enough, you had a group of fans - a rather small group of fans, mind you - who did some pretty insensitive things that ended up landing the fandom in some serious hot water.

You’d have people in that small group of fans who’d openly do the Nazi salute while cosplaying Germany at conventions, and there was even the incident where you had fans cosplaying as Nazi Germany to the holocaust museum, where they decided to pose doing the Nazi salute. I even saw a cosplay of Germany and Prussia pointing guns at the Star of David, which is a well known symbol of the Jewish faith. Not to mention the fans who seemed to fetishize Nazi Germany and Prussia. Now, I may not know about everything these people did, as I was pretty good at staying on the light side of the fandom, but these were some pretty well known and disgraceful problems that everyone would find out about sooner or later.

Sadly enough, it was that small, tiny percentile of the fandom that did things that were so offensive, so wrong, that it was greatly magnified by others, thus giving the fandom its toxic, even cringey reputation. And I really hope we don’t have to relive that all over again.

(Me singing songs about punching Nazis and eating pasta)

So what I hope is that we are able to leave all of that behind us. Though I’ve already seen some Twitter users try to start drama all over again by reposting the offensive cosplays, and Tumblr users getting their panties in a wad because they apparently have nothing else better to do. But because a vast majority of the Hetalia fans are like me in that we’ve grown older and matured, I’m hoping we can help guide the younger, newer fans in the right direction.

And I won’t deny that I am very worried about the newer fans getting harassed and bullied on social media. I don’t have a lot of advice when it comes to the haters, other than the usual ‘ignore them and don’t respond’, tactic. But just know that if they don’t leave you alone, you can always block them.

And here’s another bit I want to touch upon. While I can completely understand why people see this show as racist and offensive, I honestly don’t think it is. If anything, I think it actually teaches us something. And no, I’m not talking about history right here. I’m talking about the stereotypes, and how they are portrayed. I think this show helps us to understand that all of these different stereotypes we have about different people and countries are all stupid and silly.

Do we actually know a German who is exactly like Hetalia’s Germany? No. Do any of us know an Englishman who is identical to Hetalia’s England in every way? Of course not. This series helps us to understand that the stereotypes so many of us hold onto today are nothing more than just stupid, silly old ideas that have been blown far out of proportion over the years.

Many people try to claim that this show is overtly racist and tries to divide, but in my opinion, I think it ties us together.

(My last two braincells writing up this post at around midnight)

At the end of the day, I’m incredibly excited and eager to see the new season of Hetalia, and everything that it will have in store for us. And it’s fun too look back on all the nostalgic memories I have of this show. This is all I have to say for now, but I may or may not be coming back to this topic in the future. Might even make another blog for Hetalia while I’m coming back to the fandom. After all, this is known as the fandom you can’t escape from.

Now if you excuse me, I’m gonna go press play on Hetalia: Axis Powers episode one, and let myself spiral into insanity once again!

#aph #hetalia #hetalia is back #hetalia 2021 #aph thoughts #hetalia thoughts #hetalia analysis #aph analysis

32 notes · View notes

faulty-writes · 4 years

Text

Warning: Quirkless Characters, Mentions Of Character From Manga, Attempted Blowjob, Attempted Sexual Acts, 18+.

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Student!Hizashi Yamada x Student!Shouta Aizawa

[ Alright, this is another prompt from @bnhabookclub. I decided to do some EraserMic since it’s one of my favorite ships. My blog is mostly reader inserts, but I love my gay ships as well. So for those that love EraserMic like yours truly. I hope you enjoy. ]

[ Shouta Aizawa, is a student from U.A. High. A high stake education establishment that prepares young students for their future careers. Unfortunately, Shouta is at a loss of what career he might want, which lands him in hot water. However, when he gets a part-time job as a florist at the local flower shop, things start to change. Hizashi Yamada, also a student from U.A. High and Shouta’s closest friend, happens to be doing a work-study at the local radio station. But when he finds out about Shouta’s new job, he begins to visit the flower shop. Much to Shouta’s annoyance, but is it really flowers he enjoys or being around Shouta? ]

[ Banner Made By Yours Truly. ]

“This is stupid,” Shouta said as he looked down at the green apron he was forced to wear in the flower shop. He was standing in the back, surrounded by various flowers and the sound of running water. He was 17 years old and this is what he was reduced to, all because his teachers were constantly pushing him to finally get a job. To advance in some career, that was the basis of what U.A. stood for. Almost like a college prep course, but exclusively dedicated to the study of the workforce.

You could even get a certain certificate or even license if you dedicated enough time to your work-study. Shouta however, never gave it much thought. In fact, it seemed like he was at a loss of what to do. Unlike his friend Hizashi who seemed to excel in the matter of careers, though the overly enthusiastic boy decided to do his work-study at the local radio station. Shouta had heard him on the radio a few times and it seemed like he was a natural, so good for him.

Meanwhile, Shouta was stuck here. “Aizawa!” he cringed at the sound of his name and turned to look at the owner of the flower shop. She was some elderly woman who probably didn’t have much else left in her life to do, but she had given him the job. But that’s as much respect as Shouta would give her, especially with the way she was glaring at him. “What are you doing!?” she demanded before her hand shot out and she smacked the back of Shouta’s head, he immediately glared at her.

“Pff, such messy hair as well,” she said as she picked up a lock of it, Shouta didn’t give much thought into his hair. Nor did he care what he looked like, still his hair was growing past his ears, and maybe to the older generation it looked sloppy. But once again, he didn’t care and stepped away from the woman. “My hair isn't a priority here. Is there something you came to bother me with?” he questioned in a flat tone, his eyes narrowed at her and he almost took pride in how offended she looked.

“You kids...no respect to your elders.” Shouta blinked, was he supposed to respect her? For what? Living this long? In order to receive respect you needed to earn it. That was his opinion, maybe it was wrong. But he would never change his mind about it. “Water the flowers, sweep, do something, and stop daydreaming! I can fire you at any moment,” she said before she walked away, leaving Shouta by himself once more.

The boy sighed before walking over to the large cabinet in the corner of the room, though it served no real purpose to him. It was merely used to store seeds and information about the plants the flower shop had. He shook his head before reaching over, a small radio sat on top of the cabinet and Shouta didn’t hesitate to turn it on. Something had to drown out the silence, even though Shouta tended to enjoy silence. Still, he might as well feel like he had some form of company, as soon as he turned it on.

He heard the sound of his friend’s voice, “Heeeeeeeey! All you peeps out there! Dig this! My name’s Hizashi!!! And I welcome you to your local radio station!” Shouta chuckled softly, which would surprise most. But, contrary to popular belief he could be happy. Normally it didn’t last long, but still. He turned and walked over to the hose, might as well try to make the best of this work-study. The next day at school, Shouta slumped over his desk.

“Heeeeeey Shouta!” Hizashi called as he walked into the classroom causing Shouta to cringe in his seat. “Keep it down,” he said as he lifted his head to look at the overly enthusiastic blond who plopped down in the seat next to him. “Aw, come on Shouta! Lighten up!” he replied causing his gloomy friend to roll his eyes. “Ya know, I heard that ya got yaself a work-study!” he exclaimed before leaning over to playfully smack his fist against Shouta’s chest. “Now you’re one of us! Congrats!” he said in a cheery tone and it made Shouta groan in response, sometimes Hizashi was annoying.

But a wonderful friend nonetheless, Shouta just wished that he’d tone it down sometimes. Though he always felt some sort of warmth in his stomach whenever Hizashi was around, maybe it was happiness. He wasn’t sure. “Shut up.” Shouta hissed, “It’s at a flower shop, nothing special.” he said before successfully pushing Hizashi off of him. The blond only smirked and snapped his fingers, “Hey now! It’s something! Ya should be proud of yaself!” Shouta shrugged, he wasn’t proud of himself.

He honestly didn’t know how he felt, it wasn’t an accomplishment in his eyes and his new boss wasn't exactly the nicest. “Hey, if you’re ever bored being surrounded by all those flowers. Maybe ya should turn up the radio! I’m going to be doing a graveyard shift over the weekend, they’re finally giving me a chance to show the world what I got!” Hizashi said, nearly jumping up from his seat and Shouta turned to look at him. Graveyard shift huh? “Congrats,” he replied flatly before looking ahead of him, the teacher just walked in.

Shouta groaned and placed his elbow on the desk before leaning the side of his face into the palm of his hand. He could never imagine being a teacher, what a drag. The next day at the flower shop, Shouta had decided to sweep the shop after he had finished organizing and watering the plants. It was a slow day and his boss had already gone home, so she gave Shouta temporary trust in closing the shop.

He thought he could have peace for the remainder of the day, however that changed when he heard the bell ring indicating that someone had walked into the shop. A sigh left his lips and he carelessly threw the broom to the floor before walking to the front desk, “Hello, welcome to-” he paused when he realized who it was. “Heeeeey Shouta!” Hizashi greeted before reaching up to adjust his sunglasses, they were more like a signature accessory to his person.

“Whoa, what’s with the getup? I’ve never seen ya in an apron,” he noted as he pointed a finger toward Shouta, though in a way he looked cute. Then again, despite Shouta’s rather gloomy outlook on life. He always seemed to come off as adorable, at least to Hizashi. “Is there something you want?” Shouta said as he crossed his arms, his normal scowl appearing but it didn’t phase Hizashi who shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe I just wanted to come to see ya! Don’t tell me you’re here alone?” Shouta blinked and cocked his head to the side, why was Hizashi concerned about that?

“The old hag said I could close shop, I didn’t expect anyone else to come in.” he said as he watched Hizashi approach a vase of flowers, “Oh yeah? Ya really call your boss an old hag?” he questioned before sniffing the flowers, “Hm.” he leaned back and rotated the vase, noticing how much detail was taken in the arrangement of the flowers and the small bow that was tied around it. “Did ya do this?” he questioned before glancing at Shouta who kept quiet, “I can tell it was you because ya always put the most effort into little things. Look at the bow, there are no wrinkles in the ribbon and it’s tied just tightly enough. The flowers are specifically arranged, there’s an even amount of each type of flower and exactly five of these little white things are in the center which makes the rest of the flowers pop. Good job, Shouta!” he said as he gave his friend the thumbs up.

Shouta groaned and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You observe me that much?” he questioned, it was kind of scary if that was the case. Hizashi however, looked as though he were pouting and approached the desk that Shouta was standing behind. He placed his hands on top of it and leaned over, “Well, I like to observe the things I find fascinating.” he said with a playful wink and watched Shouta’s expression drop. His eyes were wide and his cheeks were turning the faintest red color, honestly, it made Hizashi feel accomplished when he could get Shouta to react like that.

He chuckled and a smile came to his face, “S-Shut up. If you’re not going to buy any flowers. Get out! Don’t you have a work-study you need to be at?” he questioned and Hizashi laughed before leaning back, “I’m going to be doing that graveyard shift I told ya about! You’re going to listen right?” Shouta frowned and his shoulders slumped, truthfully he didn’t feel like staying up and listening to the radio. But, what Hizashi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

So Shouta tilted his head back and reached up to run his hand through his hair. “Sure...fine. Just stop bothering me,” he said, attempting to shoo the other away. Yet, Hizashi just smiled and jumped over the counter. Catching Shouta off guard, he let out a cry when his friend’s arms wrapped around him and forced him into a hug. “Hizashi…” he growled, his face twisting with anger. “Just a couple more seconds…” the blond replied which made Shouta groan, gees.

He always hated getting hugs and Hizashi’s were often unwanted and too tight, yet he made no move to escape. He sighed in relief when the hug ended and dusted himself off. “Happy…” he said before glaring at Hizashi who seemed to be smiling again. “I’m always happy when I’m with ya Shouta!” he laughed before turning to leave, though he hoped Shouta would actually go through and listen to his graveyard shift broadcast, after all, he had something special planned.

He waved Shouta goodbye before leaving, though as usual, the black-haired boy seemed unphased and resumed working. When he closed down the shop and returned home, he debated about actually listening to the radio. But instead, he drifted to sleep with nothing but the sound of silence. With no school the next day, Shouta proceeded to the flower shop. He was beginning to feel relaxed surrounded by plants and the heavenly scent they provided.

It was nice and he couldn’t say that about many things. Once more it seemed the owner of the shop had given him trust and was eager to see how Shouta would run the place by himself. He didn’t find it very difficult, though talking to people on the phone was rather annoying. He didn’t understand the need for floral arrangements, but the orders kept coming which meant he had his hands full with deadlines.

A few customers came in, though most of them Shouta assumed where either lonely women or men who thought a bunch of roses could help mend whatever relationship they messed up. However, much like before. Hizashi walked through the door. It was mid-afternoon and Shouta was slumped over the front desk. A small vase sat in front of him and Shouta was busy trying to make it into a flower arrangement. The sight made Hizashi smile, Shouta always looked cute when he was concentrating on something.

He noticed it when the other was invested in his schoolwork as well, it sometimes distracted him. But seeing as school wasn’t in session, he walked up to the front counter, much like he had done the previous night. “Hi Shouta!” he greeted, watching as the other looked at him with those tired yet soft eyes. “Here to annoy me again?” he questioned, but he was answered with the sound of Hizashi’s laugh. “Maybe I just want to give ya some company! But...uh, also…” he paused and scratched the side of his head.

“If you’re not too busy, think ya could wrap me up a bouquet of flowers? Nothing specific, maybe use the flowers ya think are nice,” he suggested, acting a bit nervous as he pressed his fingertips together and glanced away. His cheeks were dusted a soft red color, which Shouta took notice of. He narrowed his eyes, “Why do you want a bouquet of flowers?” he questioned, trying to ignore the strange feeling that was causing his stomach to twist.

Hizashi laughed again, “Come on! Ya know the answer already! I mean ya listened to my broadcast right?” Shouta’s eyes widened before he glanced to the side, oh right. He implied he would listen to that, well he didn’t and there was no going back now. “But!” Hizashi held a finger in front of Shouta’s face. “If ya must know, they’re for someone special.” Shouta frowned, yes most would be happy knowing their closest friend found someone that made them happy.

So why was Shouta feeling this way? It was strange, almost like a burning feeling. Was he jealous? Perhaps, he wondered for a moment if Hizashi was talking about a girl in class or maybe even Shirakumo. He was part of their trio and much like Hizashi, he had an enthusiastic and happy outlook on life. Unlike Shouta, who was more like the raincloud of the group. “Mm...I see.” he replied before crossing his arms, “When do you need the bouquet?” he asked, though his glance continued to avert Hizashi who tapped his chin.

“Well, how fast could ya make it? I was planning to give it to them tomorrow,” he replied and that jealousy burnt brighter. “Oh...tomorrow,” Shouta said, tapping his finger against his arm. Almost as if he were getting impatient about something. “Yeah, sorry man. Is that too early or-” Shouta shook his head and dropped his arms before finally looking at Hizashi. “No, I’ll get that ready for you right now. I’m sure you don’t have anything better to do,” he said, his voice dripping with that jealousy and he made no effort to hide it.

Maybe he would be better at hiding his emotions when he got older, but as for now, he was still considered a teenager. “Uh…” Hizashi scratched his head once again, a little confused by Shouta’s tone. “Are ya alright man?” he asked and Shouta shrugged in response before walking to the backroom. It only took about ten minutes to arrange a simple bouquet, he used roses and tulips for a little splash of color before walking back to the front desk.

“Here.” he said as he handed the flowers over to Hizashi who took them, though it was clear he was still confused about Shouta’s behavior. “Uh...thanks,” he said before looking over the flowers, they smelled wonderful and he couldn’t help but think they were special considering Shouta picked them out himself. That thought alone made him smile and he cradled the bouquet close to his chest. “Thanks, Shouta, you’re the best,” he said though his compliment was only greeted with Shouta’s eye roll. Still, it was something.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow then?” he questioned, sheepishly giving the other a smile. Though it didn’t seem like Shouta was very happy at the moment, he did shrug his shoulders in response to Hizashi’s question. “I’ll be here I guess,” he replied, once more causing the blond to chuckle. “Great! I hope ya don’t work yaself too hard.” Shouta kept quiet as he watched Hizashi leave and let out a sigh of frustration. Damn. Who did Hizashi like and why? Wasn’t Hizashi supposed to be his friend?

Shouta wasn’t sure what he’d do without the annoying blond by his side and it was such thoughts that kept him distracted for the rest of the day. What would he do without Hizashi and why did he feel so jealous? Was it because he considered Hizashi his? He was his friend, he was his only friend up until Shirakumo came along, and yet still, he never considered the possibility of losing Hizashi. Could he even prevent himself from losing the blond? He wasn’t sure but damned if he wouldn’t try.

Shouta decided that even if he had to work at the flower shop the next day, he would try to look to impress. He decided to wear the goggles Shirakumo had allowed him to borrow and pulled his hair back into a short ponytail. He chose to wear a black outfit, complete with gloves. Hizashi always seemed to like it when he wore black, though he always teased it was because the color black matched Shouta’s soul.

He wasn’t completely wrong and yet he still enjoyed Shouta’s company and made no move to try and belittle him because of his outlook on life. In fact, he seemed to give Shouta affection in return and he never wanted that affection to belong to someone else. Which is why he hoped to impress Hizashi, despite the fact that he had to focus on his work. He managed to finish a few more flower arrangements, however, he continued to look at the front door.

Just waiting for Hizashi to walk in, of course it was always a disappointment when he heard the bell and rushed out only to see an unfamiliar face. He groaned, what the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t sure why he was so paranoid about Hizashi all of a sudden, he continued to think about this mysterious person Hizashi had gotten flowers for and he found himself hoping he wasn’t too late. Though he was hesitant, he wasn’t one to jump into action and it typically took a lot for him to finally do something.

Though it seemed his life only worked at extreme ends. Regardless, he began to worry when nightfall came and Hizashi had yet to appear. For a minute, he wondered if he had done something wrong. Hizashi knew how he was though, was it still possible that he insulted the other because of his words or actions? Part of him wanted to try and contact the blond, but it would be useless. If he didn’t show up like he said he would, then that must mean something was wrong.

Maybe this was Hizashi’s way of indicating he needed space and honestly, it bothered Shouta. He couldn’t even get a proper amount of sleep, as he found himself tossing and turning. The following school day, Hizashi was absent which didn’t sit right with Shouta. Yet, there were rumors floating around about what had taken place during Hizashi’s broadcast, the one that Shouta had missed. Apparently Hizashi had spoken about a special someone and even dedicated a song to them, he claimed that his special someone was listening because he had made a special request in person for them to tone in.

Shouta couldn’t help but find that strange, Hizashi had asked if he’d listen to his broadcast as well and it seemed like everyone in the class had. Was that why Hizashi hadn’t shown up to the flower shop, was that why he wasn’t in class? Was this ‘special someone’ taking up his time just as Shouta had feared? He tightened his fists as he sat at his desk, his whole body began to tremble which gained the look of some of his classmates.

“Uh...Aizawa, are you okay?” Shirakumo asked he hadn’t seen Shouta tremble like this since the time he walked into class dripping wet from the rain. Shouta growled softly and turned to look at his friend, “I’m fine…” he hissed though Shirakumo didn’t completely buy it. Yeah, Shouta was normally in a bad mood. But not this bad. “You upset that Yamada isn’t here?” he questioned and Shouta’s eyes lit up. “Do you know why he isn’t here today?” he asked as he leaned over the side of his desk and Shirakumo shrugged.

“Wish I could help you man, all I know is that Yamada said he needed to do some thinking. Something about how to face someone again.” Shouta’s eyes widened, face someone again? What the hell did that mean? He couldn’t help but feel some hope in his heart, that perhaps Hizashi meant him. But at the same time, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Regardless, he couldn’t help but feel like he needed to get to the bottom of this. Yet, at the same time.

This seemed like a delicate situation and Shouta almost felt as though he needed to wait until Hizashi came to him. The only problem was how long Shouta could wait before he took matters into his own hands. Shirakumo had offered to come along with him to the flower shop, but Shouta declined the offer. It wasn’t because he didn’t appreciate it, but more so because he would rather sort out his own emotions than drag someone along.

Still, as much as he tried to distract himself. The thought of Hizashi continued to plague his mind and it caused him to drop a container of nursery plants. It was somewhat of a hassle to clean the dirt up and transfer the growing plants into a new container. It cut into the time he was supposed to be watering the plants and threw off his whole schedule. He hurried to make up for the lost time and by the end of the day, he was sweating. His hair looked unruly and he was covered in dirt.

No surprise there as he had forgotten to put his apron on when he began his shift. “Looks like you’ve improved.” the owner of the shop said as she approached Shouta, taking note of his appearance. “There might be hope for your future career, yet.” Shouta wanted to roll his eyes, this is not the future career he wanted. But he supposed he had no choice but to take it for now. “Here…” she said as she handed him the keys. “Just like before, close up shop when you’re done.” Shouta frowned, but slipped the keys into his pocket.

“Yeah.” he replied before watching her walk through the door. Business as always seemed to slow down as evening approached and Shouta spent the last remaining hour slumped over the front desk. Replaying the previous day when Hizashi came in, he had replayed the moment over and over again in his head. Trying to analyze every little thing and make sense out of it, was he the reason that Hizashi decided to distance himself? He frowned, hoping that wasn’t the case but what other explanation was there?

Maybe this is what he deserved for his childish behavior and jealousy. He still hadn’t come to fully believe that he could get jealous over Hizashi, but the thought of anyone changing his relationship with the other. Taking his time and attention away, it made him upset. He knew he had no right to feel this way, especially considering the fact that he couldn’t even keep his word and do as Hizashi asked. He sighed, reaching up to ruffle his hair before laying his head onto the desk and listened to the sound of silence.

The dirt on his skin was dried out and the sweat caused his hair to clump together. More than likely he could use a shower, but that was the very last thing on his mind. A shadow began to cast itself over the shop and Shouta knew the cause was more than likely because the sun was finally setting. But he didn’t feel like moving, he just wanted to continue to hide his face. Well, actually he wanted to scream. His head was aching, more than likely from all the overthinking he had done.

He failed to notice that someone had walked through the door, though the bell had sounded. Shouta seemed to have blocked it out, it wasn’t until he felt a hand press to the top of his head that he jolted up. His heart was racing as he looked wide-eyed at the very one he had spent the whole day thinking about. He narrowed his eyes, “Hizashi?” he questioned, almost in disbelief. Though Hizashi looked a tad different, Shouta hardly recognized him in those clothes.

They were dark and appeared to be made out of leather, apart from the shirt Hizashi had underneath his jacket that was adorned with studs. He was wearing orange headphones that dangled around his neck and matched his glasses. His hair was slicked back and it appeared almost as if he were dressed for a date. That thought alone made Shouta frown, but he was also curious.

“Why are you dressed like that and why weren’t you in school today? Why didn’t you show up here yesterday and then you come in today dressed like that?” he rambled off the series of questions and his hands curled into tight fists. He wanted to demand if Hizashi had just ended a date with this ‘special someone’, the one he had spoken about and dedicated a song to, or at least that’s what he heard in class. Hizashi blinked, “Uh…” which question did he have to answer first?

He had one arm pressed behind his back and the other was busy scratching his head, a common action he performed when he was more or less clueless about something. “Well uh...I thought it would impress ya,” he replied before trying to remember the other questions Shouta had asked. “I...wasn’t feeling well or uh...well I had to do a lot of thinking, sorry. I couldn’t face ya because well, I was thinking about what happened and my special someone...I knew there was a chance ya wouldn’t like it.” he replied and Shouta growled.

“Who the hell is this special someone? Are they the reason why you weren’t in class?” he demanded before stomping around the desk and approaching Hizashi who took a step back as he noticed the fiery expression Shouta was wearing. “Hey now, what do ya mean by that? Ya didn’t listen to my-” he let out a cry when Shouta grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him close, it was a little scary to see the other act this way.

“What do I mean…” Shouta repeated, almost wanting to laugh before he turned and began to drag Hizashi toward the back of the flower shop. “Shouta! W-Wait a second, what are ya doing!?” he demanded as he stumbled over his feet, but Shouta ignored him. “What does it look like, I know I’m being selfish. I’m just some florist that can’t match up to a guy with a future career in radio but…” he trailed off and turned to face Hizashi, his eyes drifted to that arm that was still hidden behind the blond.

He clenched his jaw and reached over, “Shouta wait-” Hizashi tried to plead again, but it was of little use as Shouta forced his hand from his back. A gasp then sounded from the black-haired boy as he took note that Hizashi was hiding the bouquet of flowers he had arranged for him the other day. He growled and threw them to the floor, “Shouta! What the crap!? What’s the matter with ya!?” the blond demanded, looking distressed as the flowers now laid wilted on the ground.

Along with the note he had written and tucked inside the center. However, it went unnoticed by Shouta who proceeded to press himself against Hizashi. He laid his hands on the man’s chest, curling his fingers into his shirt. “I know, I can’t possibly compete with your special someone,” he began, and Hizashi lowered his eyebrows.

“Shouta...wait...don't ya know that it’s-” once more he was interrupted, “I don’t need to know who it is, all I know is that someone is trying to take you away and as much as I hate to admit it. I can’t let that be.” he explained before leaning close to Hizashi, releasing his hold on the other's shirt in order to cup his delicate face.

He was careful of those glasses, he knew they meant something to the blond. “Y-Ya...what?” Hizashi stuttered out, though the fact that Shouta was so close added to his nervous behavior. “Shh...just let me do this, then...you can go back to your special someone. I’m sure those flowers were for them, I don’t know why you brought them back here. But it doesn’t matter.” he said before quickly capturing Hizashi’s lips. “Mm!” his eyes widened and he reached up, grasping Shouta’s shoulders.

He noticed the dirt that stained the other's clothes, but he knew it was too late to save his own outfit seeing as Shouta was pressed up against him. Though it was nothing compared to those soft lips, Hizashi found himself fighting the urge to kiss back while Shouta intended to overpower him. A moan sounded from Hizashi as he felt Shouta’s tongue brush against his bottom lip, wiggling and thrashing around as it tried to slip into his mouth.

His knees grew weak as he finally gave in, allowing Shouta what he desired. A shiver ran through his body as Shouta’s tongue brushed against his. Such a distinct flavor filled his mouth and his glasses grew foggy before Shouta pulled away. His cheeks were dusted pink and there was a determined glance in his eye. “Shouta…” Hizashi whispered before watching the boy drop to his knees.

“No one will treat you like this, you are mine Hizashi. Maybe not in romance, but you still mine. I won’t let anyone take you, call me selfish.” he reached up and unzipped the fly to Hizashi’s leather pants which outlined the perfect curve of his thighs. “Wait...don’t.” Hizashi’s heart was racing in his chest as he reached out to thread his fingers into Shouta’s hair, attempting to pull the other away. But a growl sounded from Shouta, a clear indication he wasn’t giving up.

“Shouta...I said no.” he warned as he continued to try and keep him at bay, however, Shouta seemed utterly determined and continued to lean forward. Despite Hizashi’s attempts, his arm began to tremble and his grip loosened the moment he felt Shouta’s warm mouth clasp over his bulge which was currently separated by the fabric of his underwear. “S-Shouta...I-I’m d-dirty...s-stop.” he tried to plead once more, though another moan threatened to escape him.

“I s-should at l-least shower-ah!” he cried out when Shouta’s tongue began to lap over his underwear, teasing his hardening member. Hizashi leaned over, though both legs were trembling. He threaded another hand through Shouta’s hair and tried pulling him off once more, but Shouta was in defiance. He reached up and yanked down the fabric separating him from his goal, that is Hizashi half-hard cock.

However, Shouta kept the same monotone expression before his fingers brushed against the warm and throbbing member, was Hizashi getting hard because of him? In a way it made him feel proud, despite the fact the other continued to pull his hair which began to ache and Shouta’s neck was bent back. He placed his hands on Hizashi’s thighs and pushed forward, his tongue sticking out ready to get a taste of that cock.

Though Hizashi spoke, “S-Shouta! Why...are ya doing this because you’re j-jealous of my special someone?!” his words came out in a panic as he tried to keep his thoughts clear, though they were clouded over with pleasure. “So what if I am...I highly doubt anyone is good enough for you,” he said before his tongue licked up the base, he could taste the salt and some sweat that Hizashi no doubt built up while wearing those leather pants.

Hizashi whimpered and slumped against the wall, soft pants escaping him. “W-Wait...ya mean...ya didn’t listen to my b-broadcast?” he questioned before tilting his head back, his fingers loosening their grip on Shouta’s hair as he continued to get assaulted by that rather talented tongue. Shouta wrapped his lips around the tip, teasingly slithering his tongue around before flicking over the small opening. His eyes shifted to Hizashi who looked rather satisfied, he found himself enjoying the look of the blond’s lust-filled face.

Still, he pulled back. “I didn’t need to hear it, everyone talked about it. Shirakumo said you were absent because you wanted time to figure out how to face your special someone.” his glance turned to the side and his jealousy was showing. Which confused Hizashi, he took a deep breath and tilted his head. Finally getting a break though his cock twitched, eager for more of Shouta’s advances but that didn’t matter right now.

There was another problem he needed to solve, something he needed to make clear to Shouta. “Yeah...I needed time to figure out how to face ya, Shouta.” his eyes widened and he shot his head back, “W-What?” he questioned and felt Hizashi release his grip on his hair. Though Hizashi brought one hand up to press against his forehead, letting out a sigh. An action that was uncharacteristic to the blond.

“Ya really didn’t listen to my broadcast did ya? Even after I asked ya to.” Shouta looked to the floor, almost feeling guilty. “I...fell asleep.” he replied quietly, “Whaaaaaaaaaat?!” Hizashi exclaimed, shaking his head in clear disappointment before he crossed his arms. “I can’t believe ya didn’t listen! Shouta, I don’t ask for a loooooot!” he cried out and Shouta’s eyebrow twitched, he was clearly annoyed with the way Hizashi was whining. “Well…” Hizashi shrugged.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now, even though my boss was impressed with my daring declaration of love. Shouta...I was talking about you, I said I had a special someone that I liked very much. He’s my best friend and even though he’s a little gloomy sometimes, he has a good heart. He’s patient and understanding and when he puts his mind to do, he can accomplish anything. Which is whhhhhhhhhhy I said ya should become a teacher, but instead ya decided to work in this dirt-filled flower shop.” he said, scolding Shouta who narrowed his eyes at him.

“I don’t like kids that much, there wouldn’t be a point to-” Hizashi huffed and grabbed Shouta by his shoulders, forcing the man back to his feet. “On another note!” he began, shifting the subject back to the main point. “Those flowers,” he pointed to the bouquet that was still laying on the floor, “were for you!” he poked Shouta’s chest. “I was planning on coming back the next day to get them and give them back to ya as a gift, but instead ya ruined my plans and gave them to me early. What gives!?” he demanded as he fisted both hands into the front of Shouta’s shirt and shook him.

Though Shouta looked surprised, he reached up to clasp his hands over Hizashi’s. “That makes no sense. If you wanted to get flowers for me, you should have gone to another flower shop. There’s no sense in asking me to make a bouquet and then present that same one to me, though I don’t like surprises.” Hizashi’s grip loosened, okay maybe there were some flaws in his plan, but isn’t it the thought that counts?! There was no pleasing Shouta.

“Hey, I tried. Give me some credit, at least I do what ya ask,” he said, clearly still upset that Shouta hadn’t listened to him on the radio. “How long are you going to go off about that? It’s already old.” Hizashi growled and shook him once more, “As long as I want, ya dig!?” he exclaimed, his voice echoing throughout the room.

“I don’t understand ya sometimes Shouta, the whole point of my broadcast and the flowers and my visit. The fact I was absent in school and didn’t come the other day. I was stuck, I was stuck on how to face ya and tell ya that I...well daaaaaaamn. Shouta I like ya! More than a friend, you are my special someone and weather what ya just did to my…” he paused and looked down at his still hard member that stuck straight up and brushed the jagged edges of his open zipper.

“Little Hizashi,” he said, “is out of jealousy or whatever. Shouta, ya are the only one who has my heart. I said I know ya’d probably reject my feelings, which is okay. But please tell me we can still be friends. You, me, and Shirakumo!” he exclaimed, and once more Shouta looked surprised, though if anything he was ashamed of his actions. He let his jealousy get the best of him and he used it along with his anger to assault Hizashi. He was lucky the blond didn’t react in a bad way, still.

He couldn’t make it up to Hizashi, could he? Part of him was happy, Hizashi liked him. He was this special someone and yet, he didn’t feel as though he deserved it. But looking at the other, Shouta took note of how handsome he looked. Even behind those orange shades, his blond hair seemed to bounce as he moved and the leather clothing only seemed to make him stand out more. However, that worried look Hizashi had didn’t go unnoticed and Shouta reached to place his hands on those padded shoulders, the studs against his fingers felt unfamiliar.

But, regardless, he leaned up. He heard Hizashi hitch his breath before their lips pressed together in a simple kiss. Hizashi released his grip on Shouta’s shirt and felt like jumping for joy, though that would break the kiss he was quickly melting into. So instead, he threw his fists in the air before resting them on Shouta’s hips. Dipping his head forward, Shouta’s grip tightened on his shoulders as he pushed back. Deepening the kiss, though unlike before it wasn’t forced.

No, it was out of the pure feelings he had or rather the feelings he didn’t know he had until jealousy pulled them to the surface. He moaned softly and pressed his body against Hizashi’s, reaching up to run his fingers through the blond’s hair. “Mm, wandering hands huh?” Hizashi said as he pulled away, however, he turned his head and pressed soft kisses down the side of Shouta’s neck. Hearing the sounds of what he could only describe as pleasure, he smiled before taking a small nibble which caused Shouta to shiver in response.

He doubted that Shouta had done anything like this before, but that was alright. Hizashi himself had so little experience, still. He was more than happy to have Shouta in his arms, though they still had school to worry about. What was another year compared to the life he’d hopefully get to spend with the one who captured his heart. “Mm, Shouta…” he said, causing the boy to stir. “W-What?” he replied, his heart was racing in his chest and his face felt hot.

More than likely he was flushed, which was an unfamiliar feeling to him. Hizashi smirked and stepped closer, pressing his hard-on against Shouta’s thigh. “Ya still have something to answer for, now I like ya and we don’t have to take this step if ya aren’t comfortable but well...ya did start it,” he said and despite how he was feeling, Shouta pressed his hands against Hizashi’s chest and looked up at the man with a frown. “You want me to finish...giving you a blowjob?” he responded dully and Hizashi glanced down, his lips forming into a pout.

“Well...I did say only if ya want to,” he replied, though the throbbing ache was beginning to get painful and while he could take care of it by himself. Why bother when Shouta was here? In a way, it could make up for the fact he hadn’t done what Hizashi asked. “I promise I won’t talk about it on the radio,” he said with a smile before reaching up to cup Shouta’s cheek. “I will never talk about our relationship unless ya want me to unless ya aren’t ashamed of it.” Shouta blinked and his frown deepened.

“Why would I be ashamed, if the world is still prejudiced about such matters. Who cares, I...I like you too Hizashi and...just sit down on the desk.” he said, pointing toward the front of the shop. Hizashi chuckled and leaned close to peck Shouta’s lips. “Are ya sure the flowers won’t mind? They might be getting quite a show,” he said as he began to walk away, Shouta trailed behind him. “Shut up,” he replied, once more being his normal grumpy self. But that’s who Hizashi fell for and no force in this world would change that.

They had been friends for a long time and though he was afraid of what would happen to that friendship when he confessed his feelings. In a way, they were just continuing their relationship. Just on another level, though Hizashi would proudly take the title of Shouta’s boyfriend. Maybe it would be a little awkward at first, telling everyone his boyfriend was a florist at the local flower shop.

But for now, it seemed to suit Shouta. Though Hizashi had confidence that his boyfriend would grow up to be someone that inspired others, though he knew Shouta didn’t like to be in the spotlight. He could still shine, especially with Hizashi by his side.

#erasermic #aizawa x yamada #shouta x hizashi #bnhabookclub

22 notes · View notes

onthesandsofdreams · 4 years

Text

Sister to Sister

Fandom: ASoIaF Characters: Arya & Sansa Stark Rating: T Summary: She watched as her sister held her form for a moment, then fired. Sansa did not hit the center, but she still managed to hit the edge. It was a decent shot. “That was impressive,” she decided to announce herself. Words: 1097 Notes: Written for Fictober-Event prompt: 6. “that was impressive”

Read @ AO3

Winterfell had an odd feeling about it, Arya thought. But then again, she had changed. Perhaps it wasn’t just Winterfell, but herself and the whole of the North that had changed. The air seemed cleaner somehow, the people were strangers yes, but they were coming together slowly.

She found herself wondering about one morning, made her way to the courtyard and near a corner, she found Sansa in the newly appointed archery grounds. She blinked, trying to assure herself that she was, in fact, seeing things right and not dreaming. She walked closer, her sister was holding a bow and arrow, getting ready to fire, the man who was teaching her was one of the wildings that had come south with Jon.

She watched as her sister held her form for a moment, then fired. Sansa did not hit the center, but she still managed to hit the edge. It was a decent shot. “That was impressive,” she decided to announce herself.

Sansa jumped, startled and then when she realized it was only her, gave her a small smile. “Thank you, it’s my first day of practice.” Her sister shifted awkwardly, as if expecting some comment or another.

“Well then, that was an impressive first shot.” She didn’t want to fight, not her sister. Not anymore. They had fought all the time as children and then, found themselves separated and torn apart by war. She still remembered wanting to apologize nicely, as Sansa would’ve liked. And it seemed that her sister had the same mentality. Sansa had done her best to be better, to make sure that she wanted her in Winterfell. Sansa had apologized too, for her cruel words as a child. When they both decided to forgive, Sansa’s eyes had watered and she had thrown her arms around her and held her for the longest time. She had not found it in her to complaint.

“Thank you Arya,” Sansa told her, then she bit her lips. “Want to stay and practice with me?”

A peace banner, she had come to see it for what it was. Her sister was trying. But truth be told, she preferred the sword and daggers. “I don’t have the patience,” she said. “But maybe, if you’re up to it, I could teach you some moves with daggers. Or the sword.”

Sansa beamed at her. “I would like that. Thank you Arya.”

She nodded at her sister, then Sansa returned to her practice but she remained, watching as her sister shot arrow after arrow, some hit the target, some didn’t. But Sansa was trying, it’s true that they would have a battle soon, Jon had spoken of the horrors that laid beyond the Wall and Sansa was being practical, perhaps she wouldn’t master the sword – nor develop the muscles needed to wield it, but she could shoot arrows.

Once Sansa’s practice ended, the wilding took her bow and arrows and departed, leaving them alone. That’s when she asked, “Why take bow and arrow?”

Sansa, in something she was sure her younger self would’ve cringe at the thought of, dropped in the ground next to her. “Because the Others.” Sansa was silent for a moment, then, she spoke softly so that only they both could hear. “Because if we win, I want to be able to fight and protect myself.”

Something twisted in her stomach. “You know I’d fight for you. I’d protect you.”

Sansa smiled sadly, her eyes dimming a bit. “I know, and I love you for it. But, still. I understand now that it’s better if I can fight for myself. Even if I die, I want to be able to try and defend myself in one way or another.”

She could understand that. She could respect that. “Well then, come on. I’ll lend you one of my daggers, you ought to practice with that too. You can hide a small one in your dresses.”

Sansa nods, stands and lets her teach the movements of the daggers. She even makes her sister practice with a wooden sword. Sansa’s clumsy with it, but tries. Doesn’t complain about being tired, doesn’t complain about anything. Instead, Sansa takes her teachings with surprising grace. Sansa has always loved to dance, so, the movements for sword fighting come easier than what perhaps her sister would’ve expected, she struggles with the movements of the arms, but that’ll come slowly. Sansa’s sweaty when they finish, but gives her a warm hug, thanks and a kiss.

It’s only after Sansa has left to go and bathe and oversee the running of their household, that she makes her way towards Gendry’s forge. “I need you make me two daggers.” She says, doesn’t bother with greetings. Her and Gendry have known each other for a while now. He made his ways North following his sister. To help the sister of his friend, he’d said. She was grateful, Gendry’s work was quickly replenishing their armory.

Gendry stops, lowers his hammer and looks at her. “You already have them.”

She rolls her eyes, “They’re for my sister, stupid.”

Gendry frowns. “Didn’t know Lady Sansa used them.”

“She does now,” She says. “I’m teaching her.” She finishes when Gendry watches her wearily.

Pacified, Gendry nods. “I’ll make them finer, lighter and perhaps smaller for her, then.”

And that is that. Gendry sets aside his work and concentrates on the new daggers. She knows because no matter how good he is, the next thing to come out of his forge is Sansa’s daggers. True to his words, they’re pretty ones, they have wolves engraved at the hilt, wicked sharp and fit for a lady’s hand. She approves.

She finds her sister then, in the solar that used to belong to their mother’s and now is Sansa’s as regent for Bran. “I have something for you.” She says and places the daggers on the desk. “I had Gendry make them specially for you.”

Sansa looks at them wide eye, jaw hanging open. Old instincts flare and she wants to apologize, to say she was being stupid, but before she can say anything, Sansa speaks. “They’re lovely. Thank you Arya.” Sansa lifts one and moves it around, then sets it down and repeats the process with the other. Sansa nods. “I will wear them proudly.”

She smiles at her sister, and knows that her smile is not a kind one, but her sister returns it all the same. “You’re a wolf, those are your claws and teeth.”

Sansa’s smile is just as sharp as hers. “And the pack survives.”

She nods. “The pack will survive.”

#fictober20 #sansa & arya #arya stark #sansa stark #asoiaf fic #ASoIaF

8 notes · View notes

gigilberry-wips · 4 years

Text

Ch. 11. Merida’s POV: Early October

Media: Fanfiction

Rating: General

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J.K Rowling, Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons/The Big Four, Brave (2012)

Characters: Original Female Character(s), Merida (Brave)

Tags: Hogwarts AU, kid!fic, Boarding School, Fantasy Elements, Friendship, Magic, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Family, Relationships, Character Study

Word count: 5,400 words

Chapters:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

AO3 Link

Summary:

Where Merida ruminates on old thoughts and gains some new ones.

.°○.♧.○°.

A/N:

Joana Ceddia came back from the dead before I finished this chapter. I weep 😔

Enjoy the chapter! Please comment and tell me your thoughts!

.°○.♧.○°.

One would think that crying all the feelings out would mean that there would be none left afterwards. But that’s not true. What the crying really did was get enough feelings out of the way that the realization of other important things could surface. Things such as consequences. And shame. And the guilt of revealing those feelings to begin with.

Was it possible to get rid of the guilt through more crying? If it were, then Merida was willing to do it, if only so she wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. But by the time she thought that, her tear ducts had finally decided enough was enough and they needed to take another one month vacation to recover from such an episode.

So there she lay, head in her arms, face dry and eyes red-rimmed. She was draped over the couch cushion, legs tucked up beneath her on the carpet. Next to her head was Clary’s knee, unmoving from where she’d been listening to Merida.

“So to surmise, you got frightened by a stranger, made the worst assumptions about said stranger, and then proceeded to yell at her until both of you cried?”

A dry sniff, followed by a nod.

“That’s…unfortunate.”

Stupid. She’d been about to say stupid. She hadn’t said it, but Merida still heard it.

Clary shifted, her weight dipping the cushions as her hand found Merida’s head. “I don’t think I know you that well yet. But I do know that this isn’t like you.” Even when she couldn’t see her, Merida could still feel her eyes on her. “What’s going on with you?”

Merida inwardly cringed. She hated questions like this. The ones who often asked them either wanted something out of her or wanted her to stop being so difficult for once. They’d pretend to listen and be uncomfortable when Merida finally revealed her thoughts, and Merida would be uncomfortable revealing them so what was even the point.

Because you want someone to listen. You want them to care. A voice inside of her whispered. And Merida had had enough of keeping everything inside. Clearly, ignoring her feelings wasn’t helping her.

And now someone had offered ...

“…Ever since I came here, I haven’t been able to focus on anything. I really don’t care about any of these classes, and I hate that my family made me come here. I’m always thinking about that, and it makes me…I always feel so angry—and sad and hurt, and I don’t know how to make it stop. I feel ashamed of myself for blowing up at a stranger. I feel ashamed that I made it come to this and it’s all my fault.”

The problem with keeping thoughts in her head for so long was that they became tangled up. There was more. But they were hard to say. Merida had to dig deep to find them.

“I…I think…I don’t feel relieved, but…I think I feel…justified. I feel like I’ve finally done something that’s…that’s bad enough for me to be allowed to feel this awful. I don’t think I want to do better or make up for what I’ve done. I don’t want to say sorry, I don’t want to try or make an effort in this school, I don’t want to make an effort at all for anything. Because then that’ll mean I’ll have expectations for myself or, or hope that things will be better—that I can make things better. But it doesn’t feel like…that doesn’t…I don’t-…I don’t feel like I’m good enough for that. I feel like I’m going to mess up everything and disappoint everyone for the rest of my life.”

Wonder of wonders, her eyes still had some tears left in them. Merida pressed her face against her jumper sleeves, gulping down the lump in her throat. “I wish my family knew how bad everything’s been. I wish they were here or—or that I was back home so I could tell them, and, and I wish they’d care.” Her last words came out as a whisper. “I wish I was home…I wish things were better again.”

The fireplace crackled. No great change came to the air. Nothing inside of her collapsed. For a long time, Merida didn’t speak. She just listened. To her scratchy breathing. To the steady ticking of the ornate clock over the mantle. Underneath those sounds, the strange, deep hum that came from the depths of the lake.

The location of the Slytherin dorm made it so that they lived under the lake, right near its bed. A wide, thick oval of glass and layers of enchantments ensured that they weren’t flooded. The water outside wasn’t black, as Merida would’ve thought, but instead a dark, murky green, lit by bioluminescent plants that grew outside the glass and the tiny, shimmering fish that lived within the tall fronds of kelp. And, occasionally, the Merfolk.

They didn’t come often. But whenever they did, there were a few students who communicated with them. The way they did it was…unique. Something Merida had never seen before. They would create glowing shapes that flickered in tandem with the movement of their hands, both student and Mer alike, and communicate through the glass.

Merida wondered how many students knew how to do that. She wondered if Clary would be able to show her if she asked. Clary’s hand, which hadn’t stopped stroking over her head, tucked a stray curl behind Merida’s ear. It carried the scent of honeysuckle soap.

“…from my guess, I believe this is a classic case of homesickness and loneliness.” Her fingernail tapped Merida’s skin. Merida looked up to see Clary smile down at her. “I think you should contact your family. Send them a letter. Or if that’s not enough, you can go see the nurse and ask her about it.”

“…Why would I see the nurse?”

Clary leaned back, hand pulling away. “Because the nurse in this school doesn’t just deal with physical wounds. She helps sort out personal affairs, too. If you’re having problems but you don’t feel comfortable taking them to a professor, then you’re allowed to go and talk to her or some of the other hospital wing staff about it. Trust me, she’ll listen to you.”

From the light blue bowl in her lap, she picked up a pocket knife and a lump of soap she’d been carving when Merida had stormed into the common room. Other than the two of them, the rest of the dorm was empty. It allowed Merida to lower her guard. To sit quietly as she lost herself in watching Clary’s hands scrape details into the soap.

“…you know, that girl said something strange.”

“What did she say?”

“It was…about me being an ‘awful Slytherin girl’. I mean, she called me other things, too, but why the Slytherin part? I didn’t really understand that.”

Clary hummed. “…Did you ever read those children’s books about Hogwarts? The ones with an orphan boy in it.”

The last time she’d picked up one of those books had been back when she was 9. Now that she was thinking about it, she remembered she’d stopped reading the first book a few chapters in because the main character boy had gotten on her nerves.

“I might have, but it was years ago.” She said.

“What do you remember about how they described Slytherins?”

“That Slytherin is the bad House. That we’re all supposed to be selfish, cowardly, backstabbing liars who want everyone else to die.”

“Yes, that about sums it up.” Clary chuckled. “Honestly, if the author had wanted some easy villains, the least she could’ve done was be creative about it. Good thing no one actually believes any of that.”

Merida gave her a suspicious look. “Really?”

“Yes, really. No one takes the House rivalries seriously. People are friends with other people. When there aren’t special events or holidays happening, they sit at each other’s tables and have sleepovers in each other’s Houses all the time. Even with games and competitions, the worst the Gryffindors do is ribbing and teasing, and we do it right back. I’m pretty sure we’ve had some of them bunking over here, too, recently. Hadn’t you noticed?”

No, she hadn’t. She’d been so caught up in her own head that she hadn’t paid much attention to others, not when they’d distanced themselves from her and she’d done the same.

“…If that’s true, then why did the books do…that?”

“Drama. An easy way to always have people ready to make drama in a story, make things “exciting”, you know? Keep the readers reading. But the problem with that is that it’s pushed so far that it becomes the opposite of what our House is supposed to represent. Honestly.” Clary shook her head. “For example, one important thing that the author seemed to forget is that under normal situations, Slytherins make a point to get along with the other Houses.”

“What?” Merida sat up, all her attention focused on Clary. “Seriously? You mean that?”

“I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it? If you take a minute and actually think about it,” said Clary, as if she hadn’t just dropped fresh news on Merida’s head. “Why would someone with survival instincts and a working brain want to make enemies out of every person they share a building with when they could do the opposite?”

“You see, the nicer you are to others, the more things you can get out of them. Things like information, utilities, allies, opportunities, and plenty more. If that’s not the height of self-preservation, then I don’t know it. And, well, people like having friends. They like being liked. So. This makes everyone happy.”

At the look on Merida’s face, Clary grinned. “What? This surprises you? You ever heard of “charming as a snake”? That didn’t just pop out of nowhere, you know. Slytherins are some of the most charming, likeable, and agreeable people there are in the school. They’re often really popular, second maybe to Hufflepuffs.”

Merida opened and closed her mouth. There was more information coming out of this conversation than her brain had absorbed in over a month.

“…and here I was thinking that you were one of the strangest Slytherins I’d ever met. Like, you’re so…friendly. And laid back. Aren’t Slytherins supposed to be more…I don’t know, competitive? Strong willed?”

“Oh, I have my moments, certainly. Frankly, I’d say that the more un-Slytherin aspects of me would have more to do with my lack of self-esteem, slight inferiority complex, and general existential dread,” she finished off lightly.

“I…” Merida paused. She didn’t know where to look. Her eyes fell to the bowl with the soap shavings in it and she focused for that. “…I don’t think I understood some of that.”

Clary shrugged, flicking away a bit of soap. “It’s fine. You don’t have to. I have friends I talk about it with, and I know how to deal with myself. I’ll be fine.”

“Oh…”

Silence settled between them. The clock chimed the late hour, a gentle sound of bells emerging from it. Merida stared at it and chewed on her lip.

“…If what you said was true, then where did all that Slytherin versus Gryffindor rivalry come from? Is all of that fake?”

“Oh, it’s real. And a lot of it’s because our Houses are the worst kind of similar. Both have strong values. Both are competitive. Neither likes being bossed around or told what to do. And if the Slytherin in question is attention-oriented, then both are dramatic show offs. Of course they’d clash.”

Clary made a little ‘hmph’ sound. Half annoyed, half amused.

“And when it comes to the differences, it’s all just…so much miscommunication. You’ve got Gryffindors, who don’t like that Slytherins bend the rules and care more about personal goals than keeping people happy. And the Slytherins think Gryffindors dense for not questioning the rules more often and narrow minded for believing that theirs is the only way to do anything. At the best times, it’s silly and avoidable and far less important than things like, say, basic human decency.”

While Merida sat digesting that, Clary held her soap up to the firelight and turned it in her hands. She let out a satisfied hum. “… I think this is just about done. What do you think?”

In her hand was a carved bird. Other than the slight details added around its head and wings, it was a very simple carving, but it was made with smooth, even edges.

“It’s nice.” Merida said. “I think it looks good.”

“Thank you.” Clary studied Merida for a moment. Her smile took on a mischievous tilt. “Would the wee lassie like a duck?”

Merida raised an eyebrow, less from the accent switch and more from the offer. It wasn’t that she was in need of a soap duck, but by then there were a few things she’d observed.

That Clary had looked comfortable enough carving the soap for her to have been doing it for a while, and also that if she was giving her creation away so easily then chances were she’d made similar offers to others in the past, too.

Merida shrugged and held her hands out. The duck fit easily in her palm.

“Irish.” She stated, without looking up.

“Correct. Half Irish, half black. And both of us have big hair and cute freckles.” Clary patted Merida’s shoulder and stood up. She wandered behind the couch and out of sight.

“Where are you going?”

“I just remembered something. You haven’t had supper yet, right?” Clary’s voice came from the back of the room. A few minutes of rummaging sounds later she returned and dropped a small pile of apples before Merida. “That’s from the snack cupboard. Word of advice: don’t try using it yourself. Or at least not until someone’s shown you how it’s done. No, really. Don’t.”

Clary folded her arms over the back of the couch. “Now then, anything else you want to share?”

Merida paused in the middle of smelling an apple. In all her crying, she hadn’t mentioned anything about her bully and how her other classmates were likely avoiding her. A part of her felt embarrassed that she still hadn’t found a way to fix the situation, and even worse that instead of taking action she’d spent her time up until then moping about how miserable she was.

So maybe she shouldn’t have avoided her feelings until they’d blown up, but she wasn’t about to go wailing to the first senior who paid attention to her to fix all her problems. She had some pride.

But something told her that Clary already knew. That maybe a lot more people than she was comfortable with knowing were well aware of it.

Slowly Merida shook her head.

“Then I’m off to bed. Good night.”

Merida looked up. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out. “Wait.”

Clary turned around. “Hm?”

“I…I was wondering…” Her hands fiddled with the apple. She pressed her thumbs into the surface and sighed. “…If you were to…in your own words, how would you describe Slytherin House?”

“…Now there’s a question. You know, I don’t think I’d ever put words to it.”

Clary stared into the fireplace. After a time, she nodded her head.

“To me, Slytherin is the House of Leaders. Intelligent, resourceful, powerful leaders. Who welcome new ideas and new perspectives, and are not so proud that we cannot change our views when given good enough reason. We are steadfast in our goals and value the same in others. Our loyalty is not easily earned, but once it is it stays for life. Regardless of if that loyalty extends to one person or one thousand, we protect our own. No matter what.”

And it could be that she’d seen something in Merida’s face. It could be that she’d guessed what Merida was thinking about, because her next words felt like they spoke directly to something inside of her that she’d held onto without knowing she’d had it.

“Perhaps we are unconventional, for not holding much weight in society’s rules and expectations. For being ‘rebellious’. But rebellion doesn’t just lie in actions. It is there in thoughts, beliefs, ideals. No matter what family ties we have or how close we might hold them, we are the ones who decide our beliefs, we are the ones who make our own decisions. Whether that means taking up the mantle of leadership or choosing a different path, we are the harbingers of change.”

The words hung between them, weighed down with the solemn light in Clary’s eyes. Then she quietly smiled.

“Good night. Sleep well.”

She left, and Merida remained on the rug, apple in hand and new thoughts in her head.

To bring about change…

To hear someone say that, it felt like a sign. A sign that this couldn’t go on. As Merida picked at the apple’s skin, she realized that she didn’t want things to stay like this. Not if there was something she could do to change it and make it into something better. She just had to figure out how.

Merida sniffed, rubbing at the tear trails on her dry, sticky face. In her lap, the soap duck gazed innocently up at her. She picked it up and pressed it to her cheek, breathing in the scent.

It’ll be okay. One thing at a time.

Before dealing with the problem, she would write a letter home. Before writing the letter, she would eat.

Merida ate the apples. She spent the rest of the evening staring into the fire and letting her mind wander.

.°○.♧.○°.

A few days later and there was still no answer in sight. The letter was sent, with the hope of a reply, but it did little to ease Merida’s worries.

At least most of her work was caught up. Unlike for the higher years, the theory classes for the first years were much longer, with each one hour class having an extra half an hour tacked onto it. This was done so that the students could use those extra 30 minutes to do most of their homework, start on group assignments, clear up doubts with the professor, or, during exam season, the professor could quiz the students in-class about the study material.

Reluctantly, Merida admitted to herself that it was helpful, even if it meant that she’d have to stay sitting in a classroom that much longer. It left most of her evenings free. She used the time to wander through the corridors and think about her situation.

There weren’t many options, as far as she could see. The best she’d come up with so far was going right up to the girl and yelling it out. If she’d had a problem with someone then that’s how she would’ve ended it. Just face the problem head on, put her thoughts out in the open, and be done with it. But something told her that wouldn’t work for this girl.

So far there hadn’t been any pranks or direct attacks from her. Just her cozying up to everyone except Merida and sniggering at her when her back was turned. ‘Direct’ didn’t seem to be in her vocabulary. If her bully really didn’t want to bother doing such a thing then there were any number of ways she could slip away from Merida and come out the better for it. At least half of them involved an audience.

Why did people have to be so frustrating? Why drag it out? Why couldn’t they just say what they meant and get on with their lives? What did Merida even do deserve any of this?

Merida was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t see where she headed. Not until her foot tripped on a bottom step and Merida suddenly went sprawling up the staircase.

“Ow! Ow ow ow!” She clutched her knee, glaring at the stairs. If the stone could talk, she bet it would’ve laughed. This school was out to get her, she just knew it.

“Oh, hullo. There you are.”

Merida jolted upright. It was a very short flight of stairs she’d fallen on. At the top of them there stood a girl. A girl who happened to be one of her roommates.

The girl tilted her head curiously. “…Would you like some help?”

Merida stared. This was the first of her classmates to come to her willingly. This was also someone her bully had attached herself to.

There was a part of her that wanted to believe this girl had come on the orders of her ‘friend’ to do something hurtful.

But the last time she’d made assumptions, she’d scared away a stranger who’d done nothing to her. If her bully had really wanted to pull something now, then surely she would’ve come herself to gloat about it and rub it in Merida’s face. She looked the type.

This one didn’t. In appearance, the difference between the two was day and night. Where the other was tall and gangly, this girl was short and petite. Where one had limp, blonde hair, this one had flowing black hair, the upper half pulled back from her face and the rest falling past her shoulders in tiny, glossy ringlets. The hand she offered to Merida was dark as ebony, soft as velvet.

Hesitantly, Merida took it.

“I was looking for you, you know. It was a bit difficult to find you, but I’m glad I did.”

Merida not-so-subtly jerked back. From where she stood three steps above her, her roommate raised a single manicured eyebrow.

When Merida didn’t do anything else, she sat down on the step with a noiseless swish of her skirts, legs tucking neatly under her. Her hands folded together in her lap and her posture was perfect enough to have come out of a textbook.

Only one minute in and already showing more grace than Merida could remember displaying in her life. Her mother would’ve been thrilled.

“If you are wondering, I didn’t come to find you because Jenny told me to. She doesn’t know I’m here.”

She had an accent, though she hid it well. It was there in the vowels but Merida couldn’t immediately place it.

Merida frowned. “…Who is this Jenny? And who are you?”

“Hm. Well now, this is…interesting.” The girl made as if to fiddle with her hands and caught herself. She sighed. “I don’t believe you mean, ‘am I your classmate or have I not seen you before?’, so I will not take it as such. To answer your first question: Jenny is the girl who has been spreading rumors about you. Her full name is Jenny Simple. My name is Rosalind Genevieve Beaulieu, and I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Merida DunBroch.”

…Oh. She knew that name. A memory from months before rose to the surface.

“Beaulieu. A renowned, magical family located primarily in France and going back centuries. A member of your family was once granted the protection of a powerful deity, and ever since the Beaulieu line has grown in strength. Currently, they deal heavily in the trade of high-quality cloth and woven magical articles, as well as seafaring and navigation.” Merida cut off the automatic rambling, before the rest of her old diplomacy notes could escape.

(Why were they still there? How’d she do that? Could she do it again? What in the world.)

“You’re…practically royalty.”

“I would say a reasonable estimate is more along the lines of a dukedom, but correct.” She nodded politely. “At the moment, my auntie is leading the family, but seeing as she has no children nor does she wish to have any in the future, I am being considered to inherit. But we’re not here to talk about me.” She looked Merida dead in the eye. “What’s going on right now—it needs to end.”

She was talking about Jenny. Merida didn’t need to ask twice. Why else would she come find her without Jenny knowing?

But that raised questions that had Merida crossing her arms. “Why find me now? Why couldn’t you have talked to me earlier?”

“Why couldn’t you?” She shot back.

Truth be told, Merida didn’t know what answer she’d wanted when she’d asked that. What she did know was that she did not have the mental energy for this.

At once, the dam on her words burst.

“Because I’d never wanted to be here! I wasn’t planning to stay this long! I didn’t want to go to an English school and be with—with everyone here! And then this Jenny character happened and before I could blink it’s like everyone hated me and they’re all chummy with her. So when you have something like that to deal with, how exactly do you expect me to know who to trust and who to not when you’re the first person in our entire year who’s even talked to me?! And yes, I know, okay? I know it’s my fault. I know I did this to myself. I shouldn’t have bunked the first week of classes and ran away from everyone after that. I just-…I wasn’t…”

Merida’s breathing sounded loud in her ears. Her hands shook.

“…I wasn’t really thinking …”

Rosalind waited for her. The calm on her face did not change, not even as the last of her words echoed away from them.

“…No, you weren’t thinking. It’s about time you start.”

“Well, if you’re so smart then why don’t you do it?” Merida snapped.

“First of all, we are not friends and I owe you nothing. Second of all, it’s not that simple. I’m already helping someone. Or, well,” Rosalind paused, then frowned, “it’s more that we’re both looking out for each other. I’m talking about our roommate – the other one, not Jenny. But that’s not my place to say, and if she wanted you to know then she’d tell you herself. Anyways. Even if I didn’t have to worry about that, I still couldn’t deal with Jenny for you. Tell me honestly, do you really think that would work? Do you really? If I actually stepped in and did that, do you think Jenny will ever take you seriously again?”

She said it quietly, gently. But the point in her words was sharp enough to sting.

With Merida’s luck, Jenny would just find another way to hurt her. Poor, stupid Merida, needing someone else to protect her. Too weak to do anything herself. It was just as good as telling Jenny to spend the rest of their school life smacking her around because she was just that easy.

Merida would never hear the end of it from anyone else. People would see her and remember someone who couldn’t even tell an annoying, pointless girl to shut up.

There might have been many things she was unsure of about herself and what she wanted for her life. But she knew she couldn’t, wouldn’t stomach that.

“…No.”

“Exactly. If you want her to stop, you need to face her yourself.”

“So—what? You want me to just go up to her and tell her to stop? I’ve already thought about it and I’m pretty sure it won’t work. Wait—” Merida sat up. “You said you and our roommate are helping each other? Does that mean Jenny’s bothering you, too? If that’s true then couldn’t you two just go up to Jenny and tell her to leave you both alone? Then we could kick her out of our dorm and she wouldn’t bother any of us, right?”

Rosalind looked vaguely surprised, as if she hadn’t expected Merida to catch all that.

She also looked like she was doing a mental eye roll, which, rude. Merida was sure she only half deserved that.

“…And that’s why I said it’s complicated. The problem here is that Jenny hasn’t done anything to us. And I don’t mean your kind of ‘not done anything’, I mean she really hasn’t tried to hurt either of us.”

“So you’re saying because she’s your friend now—”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s what you call a—what’s the word? A kiss-up.”

Merida’s first reaction was to gape. Her second was to wrinkle her entire face. “Eww.”

“Yes. Ever since the first day introductions, she’s stuck herself to us. Helping us with homework. Showering us with gifts. Including us in everything. One day I expect to wake up and see her polishing our shoes. She wants to be friends with us because she knows we’re rich, and that’s all there is. Which means that both of us have nothing reasonable we can blame her for. If we said anything, then we’d be branded the awful ones, hurting her for no reason. That’s what she’d make it into. It’d be a mess.”

“Well, she hasn’t done anything to me, either, so I guess we’re both stuck. So what do we do now? Let the spawn of evil keep going? Great plan.” Unlike Rosalind, Merida did roll her eyes. It’s not like she had anyone to perform ‘decorum’ for, so why should she?

Rosalind waved away the attitude like a stray puff of smoke. “She is not the spawn of evil, she’s dumb and insecure. There’s a difference.”

That didn’t sound true, but she didn’t interrupt.

“See, what you need to know about Jenny is that the one thing she really cares about is her reputation. She wants people to pay attention to her, to care about her, to treat her like what she says and thinks is important. If you make your squabble with her a private issue, then no one else will be involved and Jenny can get away without losing anything. Even if you do somehow get her to think you’re too much trouble to be worth the hassle, she’ll just find someone who’s less trouble and do this all over again.”

“…So…?”

“So,” Rosalind leaned forward, “what you need to do is make this a public issue. Make everyone involved. Make it as loud as you can and make sure everyone in our House is there to see it. Not only will you attack what really matters to her, you will also make sure that she has no way to escape from her actions or repeat the same thing again. Wait for your opportunity, then you strike.”

She sat back and crossed her arms, looking distinctly smug. The first real change from her ‘perfect little heiress’ persona.

Most of her still looked the part. Not a wrinkle on her clothes, not a hair out of place. Even sitting down, it was easy to see she was a good deal shorter and lighter of the two of them. Any physical fight between them would hardly be a fight, she looked frail enough for it.

There was nothing frail about the gleam in her eyes.

Merida nearly shivered. Slytherin, indeed.

“…You planned this out…?”

It must have taken weeks. Weeks of observing, of careful planning, of figuring out enough about who she studied that she found the root of who they were and how to break it. All this done while going on like normal and not letting anyone know. Except Merida.

Rosalind shrugged, and somehow made it look harmless. “It’s not that hard, really. You grow up learning diplomacy and tactics, you tend to put it to use. According to my tutors, that’s called psychology and anthropology. Interesting stuff, in my opinion.”

If Merida had any doubts about her, that decided it. She’d never cross Rosalind if she could help it.

She also made a mental note to never put her and her mother in the same room. They’d get along too well. No one would survive.

In this situation, there was really only one thing left for Merida to do.

Merida inclined her head. “Thank you. I’ll keep what you said in mind.”

“Pleasure to be of help. And if it’s alright with you, I should be going.”

And then Rosalind surprised her again. She smiled. A real smile, open and honest and without a trace of a trick.

“For the record, I do believe in you. I believe you can do this. Good luck.”

Without another word, she swept away. Leaving Merida once more alone on the staircase.

It was a long time before she moved again.

.°○.♧.○°.

A/N:

I've had a whole big rant planned here for, oh, about a year I'd say, but that would take more braincells to construct than are currently available. Also, I want to at least try to masquerade as something resembling a professional in the notes of my first ever long fanfiction. If I want to go on a rant so badly it wouldn't be much trouble for me to hop on over to tumblr and unleash my thoughts into the blue void.

But bottom line - my personal thoughts aside, Slytherin House has so, so, so, so, so much potential that was never properly utilised and that saddens me beyond words. Fanfiction writers better than me have already said and shown as much, I'm just here riding on the coattails of that. Also, fantasy bigotry used as an entire focal point in stories written by those who never had to be born into it is boring and overrated and calling that the height of literature is straight up insulting to everyone else.

Watch me get my gremlin brown hands all over canon and restructure it from the ground up. Watch me create a fantasy boarding school story better than that and do it with more compassion, respect, and grace. Lovecraftian horror did not get to where it is today because people just let the bigot lie peacefully in his grave and I swear I'm going to be so disappointed if I see that I'm the only one doing this. I am fuelled by rage and spite and god with the G could tell me to stop and I absolutely would not

#rotbtd #rise of the brave tangled dragons #the big 4 #Brave (2012)#merida #hogwarts au #my writing #fanfiction #fanfic #kid fic #the big four

5 notes · View notes