#hes dumb. but hes not an idiot. he lived on the moon for four years! alone! he needed to know what to do in an emergency and how to get bac | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

outerbankies · 3 years

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new light blurb: fine line — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

summary: jaded by his relationship with his own father, rafe’s doing everything he can to stay in the good graces of your parents.

warnings: alcohol, swearing, angst

a/n: aka rafe being dumb! and some clues for what's next (which i'm very very very excited about)

“Baby I swear, it’s like my grandpa waltzed into a fraternity house in Chapel Hill and just, started handing out jobs,” you groan, frustratedly shoving the fortune cookie wrapper into Rafe’s hand so he can rip it open for you. “They do their work, but fuck.”

Rafe unwraps the cookie from the plastic easily, handing it back to you after with a hard glare in his eyes. “Are they still giving you a hard time?”

“I’m a girl. In charge of four boys, of course they are,” you say, rolling your eyes before cracking the cookie open.

“They know who your grandfather is though, right?”

“Maybe, m’not entirely sure,” you sigh. “I think that might just make it worse, honestly.”

“They’re not like… this is kind of bothering me now, Y/n/n,” he says, his eyebrows fully furrowed by this point. “I don’t like the idea of a bunch of idiot 19-year-olds stressing you out at your job just because you’re a girl—no, a woman—who’s their superior.”

“Rafe,” you say, sitting up a little straighter, where you’re perched on his desk across from him. “It’s not… like that.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. I only go into the mainland office once in a blue moon anyways, and like I said they get their shit done. Plus, I’m used to taking care of little boys, remember? Used to do it for a living,” you joke, attempting to lighten the mood as you pick up on your boyfriend’s discontent. But Rafe doesn’t relax yet, still staring at you seriously.

“You’re sure?” he repeats, slower.

“Positive. They’re just… rambunctious,” you shrug.

“Okay, cause I’ll come in there and—"

“Oh, that would help,” you laugh.

“Plus, I don’t exactly hate the idea of them knowing you have a boyfriend. Do they know?” Rafe asks.

You roll your eyes again as you eat the first half of the cookie, holding out the second for him. “Baby, I’m not going to leave you for an intern.”

“I mean, I know for a fact you’re very into frat boys,” Rafe says.

“Was,” you correct.

“Was?”

“You’re not in one anymore. And you’re also the only one I ever dated,” you explain, leaning forward and wiping some fortune cookie crumbs off of his work tie. “Broke my rule just for you.”

“I know as someone who never rushed you don’t get this, but a fraternity is for life, Y/n/n,” he says, looking far too serious.

“Okay. Now you sound like one of my interns,” you laugh, shaking your head. Your eye catches the framed photo of you and Rafe that he has sitting on his desk at work, something happy settling into your belly as he catches you staring, shrugging while he twists in his desk chair.

“I’d intern for you any day baby,” Rafe teases. “Keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t leave me for a 19-year-old.”

“Too young for me. You know I like ‘em old,” you tease.

“I am… literally six months older than you.”

“Born in different years, you’re practically a generation above me.”

“Shut up,” Rafe grunts, flicking your knee. He tilts his head to the spread of Chinese food on his desk that you’d shown up at his office with, unannounced, half an hour ago. “What’s all this then? I thought you wanted to go out for dinner tonight.”

Your lips downturn and Rafe sighs. “I did.”

“But you can’t?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“I still need to wrap up some stuff for Agnes when I go back home,” you say, pouting. “The foundation took longer than I expected today.”

“You’re not gonna be up late again, are you?” Rafe wonders, leaning forward and stroking a thumb over your knee. Your silence gives him his answer. “Y/n/n. How late? This is, like, the third night in a row.”

Your heart twists a little at the way he’s been keeping track, the light scolding tone he’s taken on—the one he usually does when he comes home from drinks with Topper or dinner with his dad, only to see you still at your desk where he left you hours ago, a fresh cup of coffee poured even though it’s dark outside. Or when he stumbles into the kitchen first thing in the morning to see you in the same spot, looking like you’ve been up for hours, getting a head start on another busy day.

“I know. Not that late, she just wanted me to do a few things,” you say. You hang your head to the side when he levels you with an unimpressed look. “I’m serious!”

“Can I get you in bed by ten?”

“What about eleven?”

“10:30,” Rafe counters.

“10:45?” you try, mentally listing all of the things you need to do when you get home today.

“Fine. But no more coffee, I’m guessing you’ve had no less than two today,” Rafe says knowingly. He taps the side of your thigh twice. “Get going so you can start, I’ll meet you at home in an hour.”

“See you,” you say, hopping off of his desk and leaning down for a kiss, turning around to start cleaning up the trash from the takeout you brought. You squeak when a hand comes down on your ass, turning around to smile at the grinning culprit.

“I’ll take care of this. Go,” Rafe demands. “10:45.”

—

A few days later, Rafe comes home to the welcome sight of your computer turned off for the day and your desk chair empty, smiling while he toes off his shoes. He’d been worried about your work habits for a while—honestly, since he first dated you.

He can’t count how many times he’d wake up for class on the east coast, texting you good morning as he always did, horrified at your immediate reply signaling you hadn’t gone to sleep that night yet.

You’d always been like that, even in high school. And it worried him then, even when he was just your friend. But now, he felt a sense of responsibility to make sure you were taking care of yourself (and that he was taking care of you). Taking on two different jobs had been fine for you at first, from what Rafe could see. He was no stranger to being overworked, but living with you showed him that you took that to an entirely new level. Rafe was beginning to think something had to give.

“Baby?” he calls, hearing your music coming from down the hall. “Where are you?”

“In here!”

“There she is,” he practically sighs, appearing in the doorway. He catches your eye in the mirror, immediately pushing off of the door jam to mold his body around yours. “Hi, pretty girl. What’s tonight again?”

“Hi.” You smile when he kisses the top of your head, his hand squeezing one of your shoulders. He tries to leave you then, but you twist around, tugging him down by the blue tie you’d picked for him that morning for a proper kiss. “Gretchen’s in town, remember?”

“Tell her I said hi. How was work?” he asks, still smiling as he stands before you while you make quick work of his tie. “You’re off early today.”

You just give him a look. “Work was work.”

“Oh no,” he says. “Agnes or the foundation?”

You leave his tie hanging around his neck and turn back toward your mirror, checking the damage of his kiss on your lip gloss. “It’s those stupid interns.”

Rafe stops immediately, his hand freezing where he’d been unbuttoning his shirt in the doorway. “Uh oh.”

“Yeah.”

“What’d they get up to now?” he says, leaving the bathroom to walk toward the closet and go about his after-work routine. Change his clothes, switch out his watch, plug in his phone. You recount everything you dealt with that day while he does, Rafe coming to stand in the doorway again once he’s re-dressed.

“It just sucks, if it were any other job I’d go talk to my supervisor about it but. I dunno, feels sort of weird when it’s family,” you sigh.

“Tell me about it,” Rafe says, yawning.

“I’m sorry,” you say, immediately twisting around again. “I’m sure you put up with way more than I do. How was your day?”

“Babe, don’t do that,” Rafe chides.

“Do what?”

“I always wanna hear about your shitty day, yeah? Even if mine sucked, too,” he tells you. “Actually, especially if mine sucked.”

You set your makeup brush down, turning to look at him again, tugging him into your arms so you’re pressed together in your tiny bathroom. “Was it that bad?”

“No, fine actually,” he says, melting into you anyways, face tucked into where he can tell you just sprayed perfume in your neck. “Dad was out of office today.”

“Ah, that’s lucky,” you say, running a hand over his hair.

“You could talk to your mom about it, couldn’t you? M’sure she could talk about it with your grandfather,” Rafe wonders.

“She doesn’t even think I should be working there,” you tell him, pulling out of his embrace.

Rafe furrows his eyebrows, catching the way your eyes fall before you turn back to the mirror. “What? Why?”

You sigh, setting your mascara back on the counter and bracing your hands on the tile instead. “She doesn’t think I should be working. At all.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Rafe bites his lip, clearing his throat. “Hey. You know I’d take care of you, right?”

You groan, looking back into the mirror, checking for the need for any last-minute touches. “Do not let her hear you say that, I swear to god.”

“No, Y/n/n. M’serious. If you don’t wanna work there anymore, we’d be fine,” Rafe says, catching your eye in the mirror again, his cheeks burning red.

“I… I know that Rafe,” you say in confusion, your eyebrows pinched together. “I am aware of my own financial situation.”

“Okay, ‘cause, like. I dunno,” he says, fiddling with one of his rings. “What does your dad think?”

You turn back around, stopping to look at his face before you flick the light in the bathroom off. “My dad?”

“Yeah,” Rafe continues, following you out of the room to your jewelry dish on top of the dresser. “Like... he knows that I’m not making you work, right?”

The ring you were holding clatters back into the dish loudly, silence falling over the two of you as you slowly turn to look at him again. Rafe doesn’t recognize the look in your eyes, and he hadn’t been expecting it all. “Making me work?”

“Yeah, baby. I mean—"

“Why are you worried about what my dad thinks?” you ask.

“I want him to think I’m taking care of you.”

“But you are, Rafe,” you say again, sounding even more confused, looking even more uneasy. “You take great care of me. You love me.”

“I know. I do love you. I love taking care of you. But I mean…” Rafe sighs, still twisting his middle finger ring with his thumb. “If you’re stressed at work and your parents don’t even want you working… I don’t want them thinking I’m this, like, bum who’s making their daughter contribute—”

“You’re not making me do anything, Rafe. Ever,” you say. “You don’t have that ability.”

“Okay,” Rafe says, starting to panic. “I understand that. I’m not saying I am, I’m saying I don’t want your parents thinking—”

“And what about what I think?”

Rafe balks at you. “What?”

Your shoulders shake as you heave a deep sigh, blinking your eyes rapidly, turning around to finish with your ring selection. You finally face him again after a while, your eyes full of unshed tears. “How do you think I feel?”

“Y/n, I… I know how you feel,” Rafe says dumbly. How could he not know? He’s watched you through it all—watched you stress over the phone calls and the deadlines, watched the circles under your eyes grow darker, the sleep you get every night shorter. “You’re overworking yourself, you hardly sleep—”

“No, you don’t know how I feel, Rafe. You don’t. Or you wouldn’t have said that to me just now,” you say, your voice shaking. “I work two different jobs, I manage my own trust, I know where all of my money comes from and I know where all of it goes. I pay half of the fucking rent and bills on this place, and I get to help my grandfather out, and pursue my career with Agnes that I’ve been working toward for years.”

“I know that, Y/n. I know all of that,” Rafe says, hands reaching out helplessly because he knows he needs to keep his distance when all he wants to do is touch your face. Make you understand he’s just worried about you, just wants you to feel loved, and wants your parents to like him—really like him. “I’m not saying—”

“I have all of that,” you continue. “But my mom still doesn’t even think I should be working at all. And apparently, you and my dad are just, deciding whose burden I am now, behind my back—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Y/l/n,” Rafe interrupts, moving toward you. But you turn away from him and walk out of the bedroom, in search of your purse and your shoes, with Rafe hot on your heels down the hallway. “What? That’s not true. Your dad thinks so highly of you.”

“Yeah, well,” you laugh, but it’s bitter and it doesn’t reach your eyes when you turn to look at him in the entryway. “It’s kind of hard to fuck up when the expectations for you are already so low.”

“Sweetheart, what—what are you talking about? What is happening right now?” Rafe runs a hand over his freshly shorn hair, feeling like he should be tugging on the ends. “I don’t even—”

“We’re not talking about anything. Gretchen and Margot are out front,” you reply quietly, checking your phone.

“No, what? Don’t leave right now,” he says, panicked. “Can we talk about this?”

“So you want me to quit my job and cancel my plans for you? Is that where we’re at right now?”

Rafe feels himself recoil at that, one of his hands falling to his chest. “Baby, I would never… you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Do I?” you ask.

“Y/n.”

“I seriously can’t believe you right now,” you say flatly, throwing the front door open and slamming it shut before he can follow you.

—

The house is quiet when you get home, but the lights are still on in the living room and in the kitchen. You’d almost wished they weren’t, preferring to have this inevitable conversation under the covers with your boyfriend, the comfort of shared body heat, and the flannel sheet set that you pulled out for the winter hopefully enough to ease some tension. You hated the way you left things, hated it even more when you spilled everything that had just happened to your two best friends over the second glass of white wine.

“Men are gross,” Margot said, wrinkling her nose. “But I can’t believe Rafe would say that.”

“It’s not like he meant it like that,” Gretchen said, eyes widening as the two of you regarded her incredulously. “What? This is Rafe we’re talking about! He’s probably just worried about you and it came out wrong. He’d never actually ask you to do something like that. Not after everything.”

“He doesn’t know everything,” you admitted, your finger circling the rim of the glass you’d been nursing for over an hour. “I never told him about that summer.”

“Okay, yikes,” Margot had said, throwing the rest of her glass back, before directing the conversation elsewhere for the rest of the night.

Of course, Rafe had waited up for you, you expected that—you knew Rafe wouldn’t let this go before slipping into bed for the night. That wasn’t his style at all, and it was usually better that way.

Rafe knew you inside and out, but he didn’t know everything about the boys who came before him. He couldn’t possibly know all of the thoughts planted in your head by your parents at a young age—he didn’t know that you were older than Dylan but still expected far less from.

Because Rafe had never acted like those boys, and had never acted like what your parents thought of you had any influence on his own view of you—not until tonight. The way Rafe treated you had never stirred up your deepest insecurities about what you were capable of, what you could do or be, what people expected of you. Not until tonight.

He’s standing in the living room when you enter, his back facing you. But he’s beholding a new addition to the room—the bookshelf he’d spent the past few months building for you. Your bookshelf that he built for you in the garage of the first place you’ve ever shared with each other.

You steel yourself one last time before clearing your throat, making your presence in the room known. “It’s finished?”

He turns to look at you, the circles dark under his own eyes, the old t-shirt he’s donning hanging slightly askew on his shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says softly. “I uh… finished it yesterday, actually. John B just came by to help me move it in here. Heavier than I thought it’d be.”

You slowly walk to stand beside him, taking it in from beside him. Rafe was right about how it’d turn out; it looked exactly as you pictured it would. It looked better than the one on the website had, but you knew that was partially a sign of his craftsmanship and partially a result of your love for him doing something like this for you. “I was gonna put your books on there, but I didn’t know what kind of order you wanted. I know you were thinking of doing it by color after you saw that one author you follow on Twitter do it.”

“Yeah,” you nod, not mustering a smile even though you want to. “I don’t think I could stand it, in the end. All of the books being out of alphabetical order like that.”

Rafe sets the stack he’d been holding—you just barely notice—down on one of the middle shelves. “Right. Well, I can help with that, too. But—”

“No, I wanna talk.”

“Me too,” he breathes, turning to you. “Y/n, I—”

“I said I wanted to talk, Rafe. I want you to listen,” you say firmly, turning away from his outstretched arm.

He agrees easily, muttering an ‘okay’ before taking his seat a respectable distance from you on the couch.

“You know how when you met my mom, and she loved you immediately?”

Rafe seems thrown off by the random throwback to the beginning of your relationship, head tilted to the side in confusion for a second. You knew if he was really going to understand this, you’d have to take it back that far—walk him through everything that led up to this. Well, almost everything. “Yeah?”

“You’re a charmer Rafe, and she loves you for you now—I think. I don’t see how she couldn’t but…” you shake your head, clearing your thoughts before you get too caught up in them. “It wasn’t just because you pulled out her chair, or held the door for her.”

Rafe furrows his eyebrows, showing you he’s still not following. “Okay. So why did she?”

“It was because she was probably thinking ‘thank god, my daughter finally found someone suitable to marry.’”

His eyebrows shoot into his hairline, baby blues blown wide. “Marry? Y/n, we had been dating for like, a month at that point—”

“Yeah, Rafe, I know,” you sigh, exasperated even if it isn’t fair to be. There were things you’d never understand about his family, and that went both ways. “But that’s how it is. That’s how it always has been with her, with both of my parents. They never cared what I studied, what I wanted to do with my life, or where I went to college—not after I turned down my dad’s alma mater to go to California instead. It was always about finding some guy that did all of that for me.”

“Oh,” Rafe breathes.

“So when she met you…”

“It was exactly what she wanted,” he says, catching up.

“Exactly.”

Rafe rubs a hand over the scruff on his chin, the sound slightly scratchy. “But they still must be so proud of you, I mean—with everything you did anyway, right?”

“Please,” you shake your head. “I did grunt work for Agnes for years before she even took me seriously in her actual field, but I saw it through. My parents told me it was a waste of time the second I was hired—when it was the best job I ever had. But in their eyes, at least I was learning how to raise kids, right?”

“Y/n,” he chides.

“Rafe, I’m not immune to our situations and how we grew up—all of the shit that comes with that, especially now that we live back here. I’ve dealt with people expecting nothing from me my entire life, and I can handle it,” you explain, your throat tightening. Rafe’s hand slips to your thigh on instinct and you let it. “I can handle that from anyone but you.”

Rafe stays silent, shifting closer to you and bringing you under his arm.

“I can’t choose my parents or the rest of my family, but I choose you Rafe, I love you but I choose to do life with you Rafe,” you say, looking up at him. “I choose you every day, and I don’t want to choose a guy that doesn’t believe in me just like everyone else—who just expects me to become some Figure 8 trophy wife, whether they’d stick around for that or not. I’ve dated guys like that before, and I’m not—”

“Come here,” Rafe says immediately, bringing you closer to his body, your sides allowing no space in between you. “I’m sorry that I made you think I don’t believe in you. Because I do, baby. I thought you knew that—I always have.”

“I thought I did too,” you accuse, your head hidden in his chest anyways. “I mean—what the fuck, Rafe?”

“I’d never expect you to just—it isn’t the ‘60s, Y/n/n. I’m not an idiot, I just—” he cuts himself off with a sigh. “Fuck, I don’t know what else to say right now. I’m sorry.”

“I think I just wanna go to bed,” you decide, feeling like you’ve said your piece. “Can we do that?”

“You don’t… yeah,” Rafe says, shaking his head. “Yeah. We can do that.”

—

Rafe doesn’t feel any better after you both sleep on it—after you slept on it. The dark circles under Rafe’s eyes nearly matched your own by the next morning, the only rest he got for the night coming when you sleepily rolled over and into his side, tucking yourself close and willing some of the worries out of his mind.

But it was only temporary. He stumbled through work with clouded thoughts of your words weighing on his mind and his heart. Not only about what you said, but about how you said it; how quickly you’d ended the conversation and wanted to move on from everything like you were over it—when he knew you weren’t.

You’d been plagued by thoughts like this your entire life, and Rafe had unknowingly joined the chorus. The sheer familiarity you must have with the people that you love counting you out in life must be why you let Rafe off so easily—like you expected nothing less from him, too. But you were so much more than that. Rafe knew it, and he needed you to know it, too.

He thinks about what he’s going to say the entire day, debates texting John B, and then ultimately decides against it (he only needs to be laughed at in the face and told he’s a ‘complete fucking tool’ by his little sister’s boyfriend once within a 24-hour period, after all), and even the entire car ride home. Whatever speech he’d had prepared dies in his throat when he comes home to you still at your desk as you always are, turning to smile at him when you see him come in. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he says, dropping his briefcase before crossing the room to you. “Can I sit with you for a bit?”

“Yeah,” you agree. “M’almost done for the day.”

“Good,” Rafe says, bending down to tap your hip, signaling you to stand up for a second. You do so while you continue typing, letting Rafe slip into your chair before pulling you back into his lap. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Just give me a few more minutes.”

“‘Course.” Rafe watches over your shoulder patiently as you tap away at your keyboard, his hands running up and down your legs before locking around your midsection. When he feels like he almost can’t take it anymore, you’re finally leaning back into him, sighing as you turn off your computer. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said last night.”

He feels you stiffen against him immediately. “Oh.”

Rafe clears his throat, trying to ground himself through all of the parts of his body that are physically touching yours. “I know what I said hurt you, and I know why. But I think… I was thinking about it today, and I just really need you to see where I’m coming from.”

“Rafe,” you sigh, turning in his lap.

“Just listen to me for a minute, alright? And then I’ll shut up about it forever,” he begs.

You roll your eyes at that, nodding anyway.

“When you and I got back together, your dad told me I needed to take care of you,” Rafe begins. Your mouth immediately drops open again in indignation but Rafe forges ahead. “Not like that, he didn’t mean it like that. And listen, I know he’s your dad, but you don’t give that guy enough credit. He believes in you, Y/n. Just like I do.”

“What did you say?” you ask.

“Of course I promised him I would, Y/n/n—c’mon,” Rafe says. “In any way that meant. But I never knew your mom felt that way until yesterday, so I panicked, alright? And I’ve been so worried about you, and your frat boys, and how much you’re working these days—I just want to help you out, sweetheart. It’s what I’m here for.”

You give him a deadpan look. “But you understand that you can help me out without telling me that I could just quit my job and we’d be fine, right? You’re stressed about work all the time, and I’ve never told you I could take care of you when we both know that I could.”

Rafe winces, head dropping to rest on the back of the desk chair. “I know. That was really bad. And I’m sorry.”

“It was awful, Rafe.”

“I’m sorry,” Rafe repeats. “I’d never want you to feel like I want you to give up your career if it’s what you want to do. You’re gonna do amazing things—you already are. And I wanna be here for it all, alright? I’m sorry.”

“It’s… okay,” you say tentatively, Rafe melting a little in relief when your finger hooks into a gap in the buttons on his dress shirt. “I think I get what you meant.”

“And hey, I just—never mind.”

“What?” you implore, hands grasping the back of his neck when he doesn’t say anything. “Rafe, what?”

“I care a lot about what your parents think of me,” Rafe admits. “A lot.”

“Baby…”

“Because my dad—I know he’s backed off now, but I can’t help that he doesn’t like you for no reason. I really can’t,” Rafe rambles, running a hand over his hair. “And I don’t want us to be living here, and my dad doesn’t like you, and your mom doesn’t like me, and we just don’t have anyone—”

“Whoa, whoa. Hey,” you stop him, your face flashing with realization. “Is that—is that what all of this is?”

Rafe’s silent except for a shrug.

“Cameron, look at me,” you tell him. “A year ago, you told me not to listen to your dad. But I did anyway, and look where that got both of us by your birthday.”

A blurry month flashes through Rafe’s head. A month of nights alone in his room, lights off and curtains drawn as soon as he was home from class. Days of rewatching anything he could think of to take his mind off of you, even though all of his favorites were things he’d shown you and couldn’t watch anymore without thinking about you again.

Only getting out of bed and leaving his room to head straight to and from class, sometimes not even doing that—putting in just enough effort at work to not tip his dad off that anything was going on, but still keeping his distance from the man he saw as partially responsible for your relationship’s unraveling.

Ignoring his roommates’ attempts to drag him out of his room, and just barely fielding calls from Kelce and Topper, not even eating the food they’d send to his house on Doordash from states away at their respective colleges. Wondering if he even deserved them, if they thought he was an idiot like he did himself—he’s sure Kelce did.

Constantly replaying that weekend in California over and over, wondering where he first went wrong, what he could’ve done differently, why he did what he thought was right when it couldn’t have been further from it. Agonizing over every last detail that led to your break-up.

His hands shaking on his birthday when he got that flight notification, hearing your voice for the first time in weeks—the ice-cold shock of the end of that exchange. And the scramble to win you back, the constant warring emotions of overwhelming hope and raging despair that had overtaken his body until he felt like a shell that could only be filled by you.

The way he tried desperately to manage his expectations when he knew that was useless with you. How his heart slowly began to numb over again, with every passing day after you said you needed time to think about seeing him again—and then the symphony of emotions that overlook his body the first time he did see you, back in the Outer Banks. The first time he kissed you, held you in his arms, while you finally let him back into your heart.

Rafe needs no reminder of the worst time of his life. And he doesn’t want to think about how the past 24 hours had reminded him of it.

“Yeah,” Rafe says lamely. “I know.”

“So I need you to worry more about what I think than what they do, alright? I know it’s hard—believe me, I do,” you say, smiling sadly. “But I can’t do it any other way.”

“That’s fair. And speaking of needs—I can’t,” his voice catches. “I’m all for giving you space when you need it, but, Y/n/n.”

“What?”

“Just,” Rafe sighs, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily. “Next time we fight, can we try to talk about it right away? If you need time, that’s fine. But I don’t like worrying about not knowing what you’re thinking, or if this is like… if this could be it, or I dunno. It drives me crazy when we leave things like that for too long.”

“Rafe… no, it’s not it. It’s never going to be it between us,” you assure him, pressing a kiss to his waiting lips. “Don’t ever think that.”

“I really fucked that up yesterday. I don’t think it was that far-fetched,” Rafe murmurs, arms tightening around your waist.

“Well, it was,” you say firmly, your lips meeting his hairline. “Besides, RC. I already put half of our books up today when I couldn’t focus on work. It would be a pain to go through and take out all of yours if we broke up.”

“Oh, so you’d get to keep the shelf that I made?” Rafe asks, feeling relief flood through him. He turns the both of you toward the shelf, smiling when he notices the bottom half of the shelf all filled in with your collection. His chest feels warm when he makes the realization that you probably waited on doing the top half until he came home today.

“Yeah, you gave it to me. There are rules about that, I’m sure,” you say.

Rafe tears his eyes away from the shelf to look back at you, something else he’d been wondering about all day coming to mind. “Can I ask you about one more thing?”

“Always.”

“Last night, when you said you’ve dated those kinds of guys.”

“You caught that, huh?” you sigh, head falling to his chest.

“I did.” Rafe’s hand slides over your knee, pressing a kiss into your cheek. “Did you mean Frederick?”

“Yes,” you say slowly.

“Any others?”

“We’ll talk about that one day, yeah?” you promise. Rafe doesn’t look at you immediately, until your hand falls under his chin and he meets your gaze. “Yeah?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Rafe agrees, even though he’s still itching to know. He figures he owes you that much. “I’ll be here to hear about all the losers that let you go.”

Your lips twitch, not pulling into as big of a smile as he hoped. “Thank you.”

“Always. Hey,” he says, kissing you once more. “We’ll be alright, yeah?”

“We’ll be alright.”

#rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction

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ahtsumu · 4 years

Text

how the haikyuu boys fall in love

oikawa falls in love like a tsunami’s last breath. the first time he realises he loves you, he thinks the earth beneath his feet has fractured. terrified, he recedes from your life, pulls back from your outstretched hands, withdraws from your longing gaze, hoping that his feelings will, too. instead, they surge forward with a roar, swell to monstrous heights, foaming viciously at the crest. and soon, the colossal wave collapses against the shore, unable to fight any longer. when his words finally flood out, that roar of the tsunami arrives in the end as a whisper–– “i love you.” and everything is washed anew.

iwaizumi falls in love like a tree branch under snow. his feelings accumulate crystal by crystal: a touch here, a smile there, a picture at 2 am followed by “i saw this and thought of you” and a reply of “go to sleep, idiot” seconds later. you worm your way into his heart so slowly he doesn’t notice it at first, doesn’t notice the thick layer of snow on the caving wooden limb, doesn’t notice that one more fleeting brush against his fingers will tip the scale–– until the branch finally snaps. and when he opens his eyes to a world bedazzled by snow, the only face he can see is yours.

kuroo falls in love like honey on pancakes. with him, there’s no sudden realisation, no flashbulb moment of his adoration, because he’s been happily fixed in a golden state of mind ever since the day you met. every day, his name sounds sweeter out your mouth. every day, he wakes up with sugar on his lips. it’s slow, how his love for you grows, but it’s steady. and now, as you kiss every knuckle on his hand to pull him back down to earth, he can only let out a soft, amused exhale through his nose. his half-lidded gaze focuses on your decadent features. “i’m here,” he purrs.

kenma falls in love like eyelids after dark. very rarely do the gears in his head stop spinning; he’s lived his entire life on alert, taking in and apart details to survive. but with you… there’s no need to take in and apart the way your lips feel against his, the scent of your hair in his nose, your shallow breath against his neck. it all feels so safe. with you, he’s home–– he can finally rest. so even when light drains out from the sky, even when the world is at its worst, at the feeling of your body curling up to his, the gears in his head grind to a halt. and he lets his heart beat instead.

bokuto falls in love like a fledgeling from its nest. he knows it’s reckless–– ridiculously reckless–– to have so much faith in wings not yet fully formed, but there’s something about you that makes him want to soar. maybe it’s that you remind him of a cloudless blue sky or a valley that stretches from both ends of the earth or an ocean that glitters beneath the sun. maybe it’s that your name is a call to adventure. and at that moment, he realises that birds don’t fly when they’re ready–– they fly when they’re called to. so he steps to the edge, spreads his arms out, and leaps, your name a prayer on his lips.

akaashi falls in love like silence between friends. it comes over him naturally, instinctively, right as he thinks that he could do nothing next to you forever and still be satisfied. the feeling wraps his shoulders like a blanket and, with a twitch of his lips, he pulls it closer around himself. his eyes dart over to your figure, wondering if you know–– if you’d known this whole time. and then when you catch his gaze, when you ask “like what you see?” with a smirk on your face, he feels the fabric stretch around his shoulders as if to fit a second body. his reply comes to him like second nature, like instinct. “no, i love it.”

atsumu falls in love like skydiving from a plane. he’s meticulous, guarded, the most untrusting of fate. so he fights to gain the upper hand: he picks his parachute, his pilot, the day with the best weather–– everything is in his control. and when you come in full view, he finally thinks the dropzone is perfect. only then does he throw all caution to the wind, diving head first, eyes closed all the way down. an awesome wave of euphoria washes over him, lasting even when he realises he’s landed right in your arms, hair mussed, cheeks flushed, pupils wild with excitement. he wants to freefall into you again. so he does.

osamu falls in love like night over the city. it’s as inevitable as the cycle of the sun and moon and when it happens, he’s still the same–– yet everything is different. beside you, he feels the air change and all else fade into the background. beside you, the hum of the world turns into a steady beat, a pulse awfully similar to the one in his chest. and he flickers to life, a mosaic of light, when you touch him. he doesn’t usually look like this, you think as you draw circles on the back of his hand, trying to pinpoint what about him has changed. smiling softly, he knows that you’ll figure it out soon. or... he could say it now.

kita falls in love like a seed into the ground. he doesn’t feel it when it’s sowed, nor when it takes root beneath the soil, but he sure feels when it sprouts. its stem crawls around his legs and up his trunk, keeping him safely fixed to earth. it grows with every “good morning” and “i’ll save you a seat”, it grows when you prance over with a joke on your lips and two coffees in your hands. it grows when he sees you with your eyes closed, head tilted towards the sky like a sunflower, and realises that you are all he’s ever wanted. your head turns. your eyes meet. and as spring does with the cherry trees, he blooms.

ushijima falls in love like a comet past the sun. as he hurtles by, your radiance melts his icy exterior into the glimmering cloud in his wake. every inch of his body is on fire. he feels the power in the pull of your orbit. feels you could utterly ruin him. feels he’d be okay with it, too. but you don’t. instead, he thinks himself made of anti-gravity as you trace constellations into his skin. he sees stars collide when you kiss. and when he remembers how a comet can spend thousands of years without passing the sun in its orbit, he looks at you asleep in his arms and holds you just a little tighter to his chest.

tendou falls in love like confetti on new year’s eve. this moment has spent all year in the making. ten, from the day you pummelled into his life. nine, the time that slowed when he saw you smile. eight, when you changed each other’s names in your phones. seven, that time he dragged you out to a party. six, how you retaliated by taking him to a play. five, your shoulders touch during said play. four, his fingers wrap around yours during the finale. three, you hold hands all the way home. two, he walks you to the door. one, you stop. zero, he leans in. and the world explodes in full colour.

kageyama falls in love like a fawn upright for the first time. it’s all new–– the butterflies in his stomach, the sluggishness of his tongue in his mouth, the short-circuiting of his brain when you’re around. he stumbles and trips and topples over navigating through the tingling in his body. “are you okay?” you ask, peering into his eyes. his cheeks burn as he nods, unable to form words. he thinks he’ll be fine, though, until you place a hand on his shoulder. the touch sends another flood of electricity through his nerves. “you sure? you look like you’re about to hurl.” and he resolves that he will do something about this.

tsukishima falls in love like a chest in resignation. he didn’t believe in softer emotions–– or at least, that’s what he told himself. and he held out for so long. but then you came along with your dumb sparkly eyes and your stupid smart mouth and infuriatingly sweet smile. even with the argument still fresh on his mind, he still adores you to death. especially right now, as he struggles to breathe knowing that he might lose you. fine, he thinks, no more running. he picks up his phone and sends the message that’s been sitting in his notes. and finally, he lets out a sigh. you win. he’s never been happier to lose.

sakusa falls in love like the last leaf before winter. just as a tree holds onto its foliage for dear life, he is stubborn in refusing to fall. still, even he is powerless against nature. as autumn goes, winter arrives in your form. he thinks you are the strangest cold–– the kind that soothes instead of stings, the kind that kindles fires and bakes chocolate chip cookies, the kind that turns his cheeks red without a touch but with a smile. but he likes it. so when winter knocks at his door and asks if he’s “ready to go?” he, the last leaf on the tree, finally flutters down to the ground.

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arewelonely · 3 years

Text

Eugenia, The Fat Lady.

—

They were idiots when they arrived, and they were idiots when they left. Seven years of schooling never changed this, but it amused her to watch their progressions all the same. Their bickerings, their romances, their stressors. Sweaty kids stumbling in after Quidditch, nervous energy tittering off of them when they left in the mornings before N.E.W.T.s. The ones who could barely muster up the energy to say the password, the ones with glassy eyes and a lack of facial expressions. Eugenia saw them all, and a few of them saw her back.

She had been named Eugenia by her painter. But the man was a prat, and the dark cloth forbade her from seeing the world until she was nailed into the Gryffindor door, so he deserved none of the credit. Instead, her friends raised her–Eugenia and Anne scampered throughout the portraits, seeing how far they could jump (Anne was too afraid of tripping, so Eugenia always won, sometimes skipping past three paintings before turning around to wave at her friend). At nighttimes, they sang throughout the hallways, giggling as their voices echoed and seeing how loud they could get before another painting called out for silence or a professor was summoned to bid these rambunctious kids goodnight.

The two obviously did this less during school times. They were too tired: Anne from directing the new students around the castle from her perch at the top of the Grand Staircase, and Eugenia from making sure that only the correct students were allowed in her common room.

Thank Merlin, she was stationed outside of Gryffindor. She had heard stories about the other houses: the portrait outside of Ravenclaw’s common room had to come up with a riddle each time a student entered, and the Hufflepuff portrait was far too lenient on who they allowed in! The Slytherin students sounded far less kind than Eugenia’s Gryffindors, but that also could have been a rumor. The students were difficult to understand–far too many streams of gossip and incredibly few facts. They sometimes chatted right in front of her for oh so long before giving the password… she rolled her eyes and huffed as loudly as she could each time. She had things to do, songs to practice, didn’t want her mouth full of grapes and cheese when it finally was time for her to ask for the password. She was not unreasonable, Eugenia, but the students were just little pricks. Joyful little pricks.

By her twenties, she had mastered getting back from just about any point in the castle to her station in under ten minutes. This was no small feat, and her chest swelled proudly each time she beat a student back to their common room.

“Password?” she’d sniff, chin held high.

And they’d give it to her, unaware she had been exploring some uninhabited hallway just a few minutes before. She and Anne were still friends, and they still frolicked around the castle whenever they got a chance.

Anne kissed her first, very briefly right before the end of class rush, and Eugenia felt the blush blossom across her cheeks before she was left alone in her hallway, hearing the students’ chatter coming closer, feeling her lips tingle from her friend’s touch. They went farther in the months following, and they were merry and laughed at each other as their limbs tangled, Eugenia’s head dipping backwards to let her giggles climb to the sky.

She had never wanted a romance; didn’t feel the need and couldn’t find the want in her chest, but this was fun and she had always loved Anne’s company and Anne was fine with the lack of romance–she had another lover a few floors up, anyway.

In the days when Anne and her other friends were all occupied, or when the rush of students in and out never seemed to end, the creatures around her kept Eugenia company. They enjoyed grazing from painting to painting, and Eugenia was blessed with ponds and blue skies, so she got to experience the most wonderful array of animals. Her favorite were the hippos, but the birds and butterflies were lovely as well. Many of them liked her, but a few just did not care–a bird even pooped on her head once, and Eugenia barely let out a screech before she was jumping up and waving them out of her frame. It took them many months of repentance before she allowed any animals back in her scene.

“Are…?”

Eugenia stared down at the girl–well, a woman, really. It had been, what, four years since this one had first entered the castle? And what did she want now? “Yes? Would you like to give me the password? I don’t have all day, you know.” And she didn’t, she had plans later: a picnic with a new friend… if she could get away.

The girl fumbled with her hands. She was usually much more composed, really. Betty, her name was. Gryffindor Captain. Usually held her shoulders high, said the password quickly, let Eugenia get back to her life.

“Yes, sorry,” Betty murmured. “I just, I saw you and another woman here earlier, and I was wondering… are you two, er, a couple?”

Eugenia snorted. “No, we are not.” She stared down at Betty’s face as it fell, as fear darted over quickly. “We are friends, Anne and I. We live like the Greeks,” she gestured with her grapes. “Don’t have time for that coupling nonsense.”

Betty blinked quickly. “Ah, so you…”

Eugenia cleared her throat. Alright, she could move this conversation along. She was supposed to picnic at sunset, and at this rate she wouldn’t get there until the moon had risen fully. She crossed her arms and shifted on her seat. “It’s Euphraïlde for you, isn’t it? The Lestrange girl?”

Betty’s head jerked up, her curls bouncing, her eyes wide. “I–uh…”

“Personally, I thought it was an odd choice,” Eugenia informed her. “A Slytherin and a Gryffindor? Really?”

“Oh, no,” Betty shook her head rapidly, “she’s so lovely, don’t think like that! She’s kind, and funny, and she just…”

Eugenia raised her eyebrows when Betty’s words ended and a pretty smile took over her face. “Did you have a password for me?”

“Do you have a name?” Betty blurted.

Eugenia sniffed. “I do.”

“May I know it? I’ve been here for a while, I was realizing I just don’t really know much about you.”

The hippos behind her gave a grunt and she held in a groan. “My name is Eugenia.”

“Eugenia,” Betty smiled again. “My name is Betty.”

“Yes, I know, you’ve been here for four years. Now, do you have a password or not? I have a picnic to get to.”

Anne teased her about it afterwards–“no longer anonymous, are you?”–“other students have known my name, you can shut up now”–but Eugenia couldn’t deny that this was different. Betty brought her girlfriend by a few weeks later, and even though Eugenia truly wished to keep the Gryffindor space closed (she had enough students bothering her already), she was forced to let Euphraïlde in after she saw how timid the girl was, how she bounced back and forth, and how Betty’s arm never left her back.

Eugenia placed her head in her hands when the door swung shut behind the two. She would hate it, this idea that had just popped into her head. Anne would be far too happy about it. But it was necessary.

In her thirties, Eugenia made sure to invite all her lovers to her portrait at some point or another. She enjoyed the company, she did, and she enjoyed the looks on her students’ faces when they saw her with a new suitor, gender be damned. Some of the students were idiots, but they always had been, so this was not too surprising. Some of the students were like Betty, and smiled at Eugenia softly, nodding at the people in her frame before heading off to class. Some of the students asked her name, and she begrudgingly gave it each time, if only for equity of information–Eugenia knew far too much about all of these dumb students, it was only fair they know a piece of her as well. Unequal relationship if not.

“So you do have a relationship with them?” Anne asked, and Eugenia scoffed, pushing her shoulder until she fell backwards into the flowers. Anne grinned up at her, and Eugenia hid a smile.

She supposed the nickname some students adopted for her only made sense; not everyone asked her name, and everyone needed something to call her. While she might have gone with ‘Lady Who Guards the Gryffindors’, Eugenia understood this was too long for everyday conversation. And so, The Fat Lady she became.

She had started meeting with Brian a few years ago. He was a decent enough man when he was Headmaster, and his painting was quite a delight. He enjoyed making the climb from the Entrance Hall to Eugenia’s nook, and always kissed her cheek before departing at the end of their time together.

“Are you free next weekend, Brian?” Eugenia would ask.

“Brian The Third,” he’d toss over his shoulder, jumping over a rock or across a stream.

She’d smother her smile. “Are you free?”

“Depends on whether you call me by the proper name, Eugenia dear.”

And she never would, and he’d always return.

He enjoyed lavishing her with food–“you’re my queen, darling, and I want to treat you well in every aspect”–and he blessed her with smooches every chance he got. He was particularly fond of her hair free, and sometimes she’d sneak down to his portrait in the dead of night, locks curled around her shoulders, to kiss him awake.

“It is okay with you,” she confirmed, “that we aren’t… together?”

Brian raised his eyebrows and tossed a grape in her mouth. “We are together right now. We were together last night.”

“But we–”

“And you’ll return to your Gryffindors, and I’ll come visit you. If you’d like.”

Eugenia nodded. “Yes, I’d like that. But I don’t…” she pressed a hand to her chest, pushing on her sternum, wrapping a hand around her waist.

“I like you as a person,” Brian told her. “I like spending time with you. I like when you kiss me. I like to kiss you.”

“I like to kiss you too.”

Brian tossed another grape, and it bounced off of her breast. She rolled her eyes at him when he grinned. His smile faded, though, and his eyes were sincere. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Eugenia told him. “Just checking.”

Brian hit the other breast with a grape and Eugenia cackled, then pelted him with a few in retaliation.

By her forties, Eugenia was fairly confident in her singing. It called her lovers to her, it repelled students, and honestly, what more could she ask for in a talent? She enjoyed that this was part of her personality to students–just being The Fat Lady was only moderately degrading, and she liked that they’d groan when they heard her, coming up the hallway. Sometimes she’d serenade them, making the loud ones blush, making the shy ones grin, telling stories of her youth–how had it been so many years already? Headmasters had come and gone, past students’ children were entering the halls… Eugenia shook her head and sang louder.

The day she discovered she could crack a glass with her voice was an outstanding one. She yipped with glee and the dog asleep on the lawn next to her groaned at being awakened.

“No, you don’t understand,” she chortled, “my voice! Is so stronggggg!” She leaped into the air and sang until Anne came to congratulate her.

Eugenia knew her fifties would be the prime of her life–and this was only partially because she would be fifty until the end of time. Her youth had happened, and honestly, she was still in it, but also, what had to change? She was as plump as could be, had friends and lovers all around the castle, and fairly decent working relationships with the professors and students, after only a few years of strife in regards to the volume of her singing. The students were still idiots, but there was the occasional one every now and again who was halfway decent, and many each year with whom she had talking relationships–“no, Anne, like a professional talking relationship, like I have with the professors–no, those aren’t real relationships, no, go back to your portrait now, shoo.”

There were a few students for whom Eugenia refused to bend the rules. Poppy Pomfrey was allowed to visit her girlfriend Minerva, and Rubeus was allowed to reenter when his friends brought him by. Eugenia was all too happy to play innocent when Albus would ask her if the boy had been seen in the castle–he was a prick as a student, a prick as Headmaster.

Tom Riddle, however, was not allowed to enter. Eugenia hated the way he watched the others, and she didn’t like his smooth mannerisms–namely, the way he informed her there was someone he had to meet inside, rather than respectfully asking for entry. She never allowed a non-Gryffindor to enter alone, and the flare of his nostrils when she told him no was enough to ensure he was never allowed to enter at all.

She wasn’t surprised when she later found out Tom’s goals. She had seen the students grow more fearful over the years. She saw the Muggleborn students watch over their shoulders a bit more. She made sure to sing louder when they were in the hallway, so they knew they were never alone. She let no Slytherins into the Gryffindor common room for several years.

And then Sirius Black stood in front of her one day. And he had the correct password. And as much as Eugenia tried to sniff her way to superiority, this Slytherin-born child would not let her.

“Oi, narrow-minded hag, let me the fuck into my common room!” He stomped his foot, the petulant kid he was. “I have the password, you imbecile, I literally told it to you, what more do you want?”

Eugenia crossed her arms. “You’re telling me you’re a Gryffindor.”

“I literally came in here last night.” He gestured to her wall, eyes wide. “I literally slept in there. I’m a Gryffindor.”

“But your fa–”

“Don’t you even dare,” the boy marched forward. His eyes were dark and his hair long. He stopped right in front of Eugenia’s face. She didn’t allow herself to back away. “I am a Gryffindor.”

She held his gaze. He was strong. His jaw was set. And Eugenia let him in, closing behind him with a smirk as he swore strongly in passing.

The boy did not like her, calling her “piss off” and “go to hell” (to which she responded that this portrait was, in fact, her home, and she would be here indefinitely)–and Eugenia didn’t like him, except for the fact that ‘hell’ was a Muggle concept and even as he swore at her she saw the corner of his mouth lift. She saw him talking with the Muggleborns in their year. She snuck around the castle to see what he got up to in his downtime, and saw him causing mischief absolutely everywhere. Anne tried to convince her that she liked him, and, as per usual, Eugenia told her off.

She most certainly did not like that Potter boy–equally as cheery as his father before him, far too loud and incredibly obnoxious, waking her up in the middle of the night, entirely invisible, to let him in and out of the common room. Hogwarts at night was a serene place, not one for immature children to roam around. But her job was her job, and she could not deny a Gryffindor entry.

“You know,” Anne told her one day, resting her chin on Eugenia’s shoulder, “we were exactly like them.”

“No, we were not.”

“Yes, we were. Two young kids, flirting and running around–”

“Flirting?”

“Have you seen Sirius with Remus?”

Eugenia frowned.

“Watch them, I’m telling you.”

And Eugenia watched them, and she made sure to invite Anne around, and Circe, a new friend from a few floors up. She kissed Circe square on the mouth as Remus walked up one day, bade her farewell, and waited while Remus gathered himself before sputtering out the password. Eugenia was pissed when, a few years later, he and Sirius woke her up as they snuck back in late at night. Yet, she couldn’t deny that her chest warmed when she shut the door behind them, hearing their soft murmurs from inside.

“I have a question for you,” Eugenia asked Sirius one day.

He pushed his hands into his pockets (jeans, of course–why wear something wizard when Muggle would do?) and smirked. “I was going to give you the password, calm down.”

“No, not that,” Eugenia shook her head. “You’re not a Slytherin.”

Sirius crossed his arms and stepped backwards. “I thought we discussed this years ago.”

“Calm down, boy, we did. You’re not a Slytherin, but your family is. Don’t you have a brother here?”

Sirius lifted his chin. “Depends who’s asking.”

Eugenia snorted. “I am.”

“What’s your name?”

Eugenia sighed. “Eugenia.”

“Well, Genie–”

“Don’t call me Genie.”

“–there is another Black child in this building. He lives down in the dungeons, with the brainwashing brats.”

Eugenia inhaled. Offering favors was always difficult. And unenjoyable. But she remembered Betty, and knew it must be done. “You could bring him here, if you wanted. I do occasionally allow Gryffindors to let members of other houses in.”

Sirius’s face froze. “You… yeah?”

“To visit,” she quickly clarified. “This could not be a habitual act. Strictly occasional.”

“No, yeah, of course…”

“Hm,” Eugenia pretended to think. “Perhaps in return, you and your friends could wake me up less in the middle of the night, because it truly is quite rude.” She leaned back and popped a grape into her mouth. “Just something to think about.”

Sirius’ mouth twitched.

She hummed. “I’ve seen that Severus lad around though, and I don’t think he is welcome.”

Sirius laughed. “No, Snivellus is not.”

“I don’t like the way he talks to Lily,” Eugenia informed him.

Sirius nodded. “We don’t either.”

Sirius had a new nickname to add to his repertoire after that, and although Eugenia corrected him brashly every time he asked what wish she would grant, the name ‘Genie’ stuck. She noticed that Peter liked this new name, in particular–he had always winced when calling her ‘The Fat Lady’ in the past, and she felt he made more eye contact with her in using this new name. He was the only one she wouldn’t correct. James said it too gleefully, Remus with too much unfounded sass, and Sirius was just an asshole.

The asshole grew up, though. He mentioned offhandedly that Eugenia, despite all her warts–“hush child, I’m voluptuous and incredible”–was better behaved than the portraits that lived back at the Black house.

Brian was here for this, and he raised his eyebrows at Eugenia after Sirius had left. “You’re better than the portraits at his home?”

Eugenia did not let him come back to her portrait for a few weeks, purely out of principle. But she made sure that her insults were much less harsh after that. The boy was a Gryffindor, after all. He should feel safe at home.

She and Anne talked often about how odd it was that their students never really returned. Yes, some did, as professors, but they didn’t really. Minerva nodded at Eugenia kindly when entering the common room, but there was a bit of embarrassment as well–Eugenia had known her when she was bumbling around with the school nurse. Eugenia was a third party in what was now a friendly professional relationship.

Eugenia wanted to mention, somehow, that she knew much about sexual relationships coexisting with friendships, and friendships taking priority, and that, honestly, Minerva didn’t need to worry so much–Eugenia had been mentioning this to her for years, hadn’t she?–but there was never really a time, and Minerva was an adult now. Minerva was an adult, and the world was at war.

The portraits huddled together right outside the room where the professors discussed this war. They listened for anything that might alert them to what was going on in the world outside, and they ran around to tell their friends and dispel of nervous energy after the doors burst open and the news seeped out.

It did not surprise Eugenia that James and Lily had a child so soon after graduating. The two were always too dramatic, even though Lily had always made sure to never use that stupid nickname that Eugenia missed from time to time. It did surprise Eugenia that they died not even two years after the child’s birth. It distressed her that she knew the murderer. It bothered her, greatly.

Eugenia would let none of her lovers see her for weeks. She walled off her portrait and let in only the Gryffindors. Some students begged for their significant others to be let in, and Eugenia refused. She understood a war rampaged. She just didn’t want to allow it inside Gryffindor.

It was Poppy who came to her one day, many months after James and Lily’s deaths. The sweet boy Peter had died. Sirius Black was in Azkaban. Remus Lupin was lost to the world.

Poppy sat across from Eugenia, her knees knobby, her frame smaller than when she had anxiously paced back and forth, waiting for her girlfriend to come out for their date.

Eugenia would not give her the pleasure of speaking first. “Spit it out,” she hissed.

“Your judgement is sound,” Poppy said.

And the women stared at each other, and Eugenia could not make the words leave her throat.

“You do a good job here,” Poppy told her.

“I never get to see them again,” Eugenia whispered. “They leave, and they take their mischief with them.”

Poppy’s smile was wobbly. “And we are not there anymore to heal them.”

Eugenia spent the night in silence, and the next morning she informed each Gryffindor who left the common room that she would again open the doors. “But I have jurisdiction,” she said.

“Of course, Genie,” a fifth-year replied, winking at her. “You know best.”

She tried to hold back her flinch at the nickname, waiting until the child had turned the corner before she shuddered. A hippo rumbled behind her and she turned around to flip it off.

Severus came back a few years after, and it was as if he had never left at all. Tall boy, not grown into himself yet, sitting at the professors’ table when Eugenia peaked her head in. She didn’t like to sit in the Great Hall paintings–too much commotion–but enjoyed hearing the gossip. Sacrifices had to be made for gossip.

Eugenia liked whispering ‘Snivellus’ as he walked past her, hiding behind a rock in a landscape. He stopped and turned around, eyes darting every which way, and Eugenia held her snort. She gave a full belly laugh when he was gone, though, and scampered off to tell all her friends, her dress waving behind her.

She knew Harry Potter had to come at some point, but his wide eyes and horrific scar were not any easier to see with this vague preparation. She sang louder on his first night than she had in decades, and Anne sat a few portraits away to listen.

Harry’s friends were questionable, but of course he didn’t have a wonderful pool to choose from. Ron was too happy, Hermione was nosy and asked Eugenia’s name the first day the two met, and Neville forgot the password and made Eugenia late to far too many picnics for her to count.

Circe, from her position up by the towers, tried to get Eugenia to befriend a Slytherin–she pretended that wasn’t her motive, but how could it not be, sliding the boy’s name into every other conversation and using adjectives such as “lonely” and “snarky” to entice her? A Slytherin had to be brought by a Gryffindor, though. Eugenia had never let a random non-Gryffindor inside, and she certainly wasn’t going to start with Draco, a boy who made Hermione cry and hit her knee on Eugenia’s frame in her rush to get inside. The cheery boy Ron even lost his cheeriness every once in a while due to this lad. The slugs were funny, though, although Eugenia visited the infirmary that night and heard Poppy discussing the intense dehydration they had almost caused.

She and Anne spooked Draco for the next few months in any downtime they could find. It was like they were teenagers again, and the two adored it, stealing kisses in between jumping from portrait to portrait and calling his name–

“Draco…”

“Draco!”

“Draco, over here!”

“Draco…”

–so he didn’t know where to look.

Hogwarts was unsafe again, but Eugenia wasn’t really sure it had ever returned to safety. Since she had seen that boy Tom stand in front of her, she had always been a bit on edge. She found it ridiculous that Albus was still in charge–the previous headmaster hadn’t lasted nearly this long, and he didn’t have as many issues with her being a bit late to her post. Albus was a bit more of a stickler in that sense, the obnoxious man.

Eugenia tried to tell Minerva that she would make a better headmaster, and while she could tell the woman was pleased the first time she mentioned it, the conversation seemed to bring her annoyance more than anything else afterwards. Minerva’s strides would increase so Eugenia was in a full-on run between portraits, following the professor back to her classroom after a meal. The exercise was enjoyable, though, and Eugenia did snicker when telling the tale to Brian a few nights later, so it all was worth it.

Relations with Circe grew difficult, however. Eugenia feared at first that she hadn’t made herself clear, or that Circe wanted more from her–

“No, no, I’m fine with what we have,” Circe said, pushing her hand through her hair. She bit her lip and wouldn’t meet her lover’s eyes. “It’s just hard to watch. There are students here whose lives you could change.”

Eugenia scoffed. “Excuse me? I let them in and out of their rooms every day; they can’t function without–”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Circe placed a hand on Eugenia’s. “Of course you’re a presence in their lives. Of course their lives change because you’re in it. It’s just… you have the ability to do more.”

Eugenia pulled her hand away.

“I don’t understand why you won’t take the lost ones under your wing.”

A jolt ran through her. Circe’s eyebrows knit together.

“I just… you could do so much.”

“Take the lost ones under your own wing,” Eugenia snapped.

“I’m trying. I talk to them, I do, but they don’t listen…”

Eugenia laughed. “And they would listen to me?”

“They have to talk to you, you quite literally have a space where they could feel at home–”

Eugenia stood, pulling her dress up, over her shoulders. The fabric felt wrong. Too heavy on her body. “They have to talk to me? Oh, no, they don’t.”

“Don’t leave,” Circe pleaded. But she remained seated, and bit her lip. “I just mean, you could make Gryffindor a place for people to feel at home. Like you do for the queer kids. Like you do for everyone.”

“Not everyone,” Eugenia said, and she turned to walk away, Tom Riddle’s face pounding in her brain.

Severus Snape, who still walked these halls.

Draco Malfoy, fast asleep in the dungeon.

Sirius Black, the boy she let con her.

Remus Lupin reentered the castle the following year. Eugenia watched him walk in with Anne, the two muttering about his face, the facial hair they had watched him grow, the scars they had witnessed appear. Eugenia noticed the same inability to form a full smile that she had seen from many students before. She understood why he felt blank.

He sought her out and she was grateful for it. He just strolled up one afternoon, and she looked at him solemnly.

“Password?”

He cracked a smile. “Ah, no, not today. I just wanted to come, and…” he looked around at the empty corridor.

“Am I the only one who knows?” Eugenia asked.

Remus met her eyes. “Yes.”

It fell silent, and Eugenia’s voice shook when she spoke next. “I hate him.”

Remus’s face wobbled into a smile. His voice barely made noise at all. “I love him.”

And Eugenia closed her eyes and sobbed, loudly and for a long time. When she opened her eyes, Remus was gone, and a crowd of students waited to be let into their common room.

Harry Potter was not like his father, and perhaps for this alone Eugenia liked him more. He was quieter, more respectful of others’ space and ears, and his snark was sparing but when it came out, it bit. Eugenia had to work very hard to hide her smirk each time she overheard it, and she loved that.

Nights were a bit quieter without Circe. Eugenia still had Anne, and Brian, and a few others, but she was more hesitant to make new friends–lovers or platonic. This castle was only so large, after all, and avoiding Circe’s disappointed looks took up far too much energy. Eugenia spent more time with the animals, letting cows come to graze and sheep curl up at her feet. She perfected the whistle to get her favorite dog to come and shoo all the animals away when the smell became too much.

But there was very little she could do when an animal existed outside of the painting. She couldn’t do anything but watch as the black dog in front of her watched her open her eyes. She didn’t know what was happening as the dog grew–

“Oh, fucking Merlin,” she breathed. She clutched her arms.

Older, yes. Withered. But the same hungry look in his eyes. Same glint like he knew more than she did. Same disrespectful stance, walking closer to her.

“Genie?” he whispered. “Genie, let me in. I need Harry, I need to–”

“Remus!” Eugenia screeched, like someone would come. “Minerva!” Her voice echoed down the hallway and Sirius turned.

“Re–what?” He shook his head. “No, Genie, I need Harry, let me in–”

“There is no way I am letting you in, Sirius Black–” she raised her voice again– “Sirius Black!”

“Eugenia!” he hissed. “Let me the fuck in, I need to get to Harry, he’s my godson–”

“Sirius Black!”

“Fucking–Eugenia, let me in!”

“Someone help me! Someone come! Sirius Black is here!”

“Oh, fucking shit, I–” he reached around the edges of her frame and Eugenia held herself, leaning backwards. He pulled and pulled, his face contorting and wincing each time Eugenia screamed louder. “Peter is in there, I need to get that son of a–”

“Get the fuck away, you shithead! You’re mad, Peter is dead, you–”

“Let me in–”

Sirius began to claw at her painting, and she shrieked and ran back. Her dog was barking now, and scurried off to other portraits. She could hear the castle come alive with the animal's yelps. Sirius stared at her, his jaw shifting, breathing heavily. He swallowed, morphed back into an Animagus, and scampered away.

There was very little Albus could do to console her. She tried to explain this to him many times–he had been obnoxious as a student, too rigid as a Headmaster, and now, clearly, not nearly rigid enough, if a murderer was on the loose in his school. Albus tried to explain that she’d have all the time and peace she needed, and he had her moved elsewhere for recovery. She swore at him all the way. She did not need to be moved, she needed confirmation Sirius Black had been locked up again. She needed Tom Riddle gone. She needed every Slytherin checked for their true alliances.

Eventually, she returned to her post at Gryffindor. Eugenia contemplated cutting off all her hair over the next year. She wondered if a lack of hair would give her a new mindset. She kind of wanted to grow a whole new part of her that had never seen tragedies before.

Brian sat with her while she cut it off; he spread the hair in the breeze for the birds to build nests with.

“Will you still find me attractive?” she asked.

Brian laughed. “It would take the work of a very dark wizard indeed for me to no longer find you gorgeous. Just… gorgeous.” He held her face in his hands and smiled. He kissed her softly. Eugenia walked back to her portrait slowly, listening to the sounds of the castle. She lay down in front of the Gryffindor common room and slept.

Age had not granted Ron Weasley any more quietness. Eugenia kept waiting, but even four years after she first met him, he spoke loudly and with glee. He made Harry and Hermione laugh far too often. Naturally, it was the moments when he and his trio were silent that intrigued Eugenia the most.

“Yeah, he’s at Professor Lupin’s house, he’s sending me letters–”

“I really can’t tell Mum, she’ll be horrified that Sirius Black is communicating with you–”

“No, I think she knows, I think they’re all working together–”

“I really don’t think so, I mean she was really–”

Eugenia stood up, and the sudden movement startled the three. “Are you talking about Sirius Black?”

Harry blinked. “Er, yes.”

“What are you doing with that man?” She felt her heart pump. “Is he here? Are you in danger?”

“No, no.” Harry stepped closer. “He’s innocent. He’s my godfather.”

And Eugenia listened, and her limbs barely waited to let the three in before sprinting down to Albus’ office. She screamed at his door until he came out, and she screamed at him once he stood in front of her.

She berated him for ruining this man’s life, for ruining that boy’s life, for keeping two people apart who very clearly needed each other. She screamed until her voice ran out, and then sat while he spouted bullshit at her, gulping water from the stream next to her. She interrupted him when her vocal cords worked again, and informed him he was to never stand in front of her again, and she would never allow him inside the common room again, and she–

Eugenia put her hands to her head.

“You’re an absolutely awful excuse for a headmaster.”

Eugenia saw Minerva on her stalk back to her portrait, and Minerva’s eyes dripped with tears. Her mouth opened, and Eugenia nodded, and heard Minerva’s steady voice grow shaky as she walked farther away. Good. Minerva would handle this.

She stopped Harry the next time he exited the common room alone. She told him she had known his parents. She told him he was most like his godfather, but that she could see parts of all of them in him. She loved the look on his face when she spoke of his family.

“Would you… I mean, could you tell me about them sometime?” Harry bit his lip and Eugenia nodded.

“I would. Perhaps you could do less sneaking out in the middle of the night, as payment.”

Harry blushed. “Ah, right.”

“It’s just, I’m fast asleep, you know. And then I’ve got to let you out, and then back in…”

Harry pushed his hand through his hair. “Yeah, no, yeah. Well, thank you.” He smiled up at her, and Eugenia felt her heart beat. “Your name is Eugenia, right?”

Eugenia leaned back and nodded slowly.

Perhaps it was time to bring this awful nickname back. Perhaps a boy’s sass could bring his adult self some comfort. Perhaps Eugenia wanted to change her own legacy in this castle, in her home.

She waved her grapes around in the air, and spoke to the boy. “Yes.” She smirked pleasantly. “I go by Genie.”

#eugenia #the fat lady #wolfstar fic #jily fic #harry potter #hp #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #the marauders era #marauders fic #arewelonely #gn mes amours

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uncleshits · 4 years

Note

4 👀👀

(Ellie ily and I hope you appreciate my frog road trip fluff 🥺👉🏼👈🏼)

#4 was "Canyon Moon" by Harry Styles

"I'm going, oh, I'm going home"

“You dumb mother-! Chowder, does anyone in California know how to drive? Or do we happen to be stuck on the highway with the biggest idiots in the state?”

“Dexy, you said the same thing in Ohio. You ever consider that you might just have the teensiest bit of road rage? You need to-”

“I swear if you say what I think you’re gonna say-”

“Chill, Poindexter.”

Chowder looks up from the post card where he’s just finished drawing their route coast-to-coast. In the front seats, Dex’s hands are white-knuckled on the steering wheel and Nursey has his feet propped on the dashboard, watching Dex watch the road.

“And to think, I thought you two had actually grown up in the past four years, but here you are having the same arguments you did freshman year.” Chowder says. He watches as both Nursey and Dex roll their eyes and smile, knowing they’re both way past their old spiteful bickering. He quickly signs the postcard still in his hands before tapping Nursey’s shoulder and dropping the card and his Sharpie into his lap.

“Yo, thanks, C.” Nursey signs his name, right through Arizona and New Mexico, adding a smiley face over Texas.

He pulls Dex’s hand off the steering wheel, puts the marker in it, and taps on the card for Dex to sign as well. As soon as Dex is finished he takes back the marker and places Dex’s hand back on the wheel. “C, do you still have those stickers we bought at that gas station in Illinois?”

Chowder nods and leans down to rifle through his bag on the floor. “Yeah, gottem right here! What kind d’you want?”

“The frog page, obviously, the leaves, aaaaaaand one of those little lobsters that Dex wanted.”

“I did not-”

“I know you said you didn’t want them, but I know you better than you know yourself. You needed them. Craved those little adhesive crustaceans more than any other physical object in the world. Anyway, C, those should be good since you already added the shark stamp.”

Chowder passes up the appropriate sticker pages up, and turns his head to watch the cars out the window. He’s glad to be almost back home, only a few hours left of their week long adventure. He’s excited to see his family members who couldn’t make it to his graduation, to eat at all his favorite restaurants in the bay again (Boston’s Chinatown was disappointing to say the least), and to start training with the Sharks.

He’s definitely going to miss Samwell, he already does and they’d only left a week ago. But he’s still taking the most important parts of Samwell with him. Dex had gotten a job offer at a startup in Silicon Valley the same day Chowder had gotten an offer from the Sharks, and Nursey had immediately started looking into publishing houses in the area. Farmer had already been accepted to a med school and she’d be starting in the fall. All of Chowder’s favorite people in his favorite place, living their dreams.

He leans up to the front seat to turn up the radio and snag the card back from Nursey. Nursey immediately turns the volume up even more and starts belting at the top of his lungs. Dex looks over, (fond as fuck. Chowder’s brain adds, definitely fine worthy), and taps his fingers on the wheel. Chowder watches them both, laughs, and sings along.

“I'm going, oh, I'm going (I'm going home)

I'm going, oh, I'm going (I'm going home)”

#mine #omgcp #check please #my edit #my fic #drabble #frogs #2020 wrapped prompts #this song is SUCH frog road trip vibes I swear #also gives me pure serotonin #ellie I hope you like this 🥺🥺#it's lowkey Nurseydex too 👀#i already had the map for the postcard done and I had the road trip idea and I was like 'oh it's all coming together'

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themurphyzone · 3 years

Text

PatB/BatB AU: If I Can’t Love Him Ch 1

Summary: Sequel to Imprisoned and part of the PatB BatB AU.

The Beast knows he’s too far gone, in too deep to ever have hope of regaining what he lost. But one action leads to another, and through a series of mistakes, discovers he may have been wrong about so many things.

Pinky is running for his life. He knows he made a promise, and he finds the servants charming, but he can’t stay. The castle was not and will never be his home. But things aren’t always as they appear.

AN: OK ok technically the disastrous dinner request does happen first (as of posting this first chapter, the dinner request scene has not been written yet but I do hope to get around to it), but I just wanna write the West Wing and its aftermath ok lemme have my angst.

This will be a 4 chapter story, each chapter named for a lyric from If I Can’t Love Her from the BatB Broadway musical. It’s a really heartwrenching song and every time I hear it I just wanna hug poor Beast.

AO3 Link

Ch 1: Careless and Unthinking

The Beast heard music drifting from the large dining room, traveling along the wind until it reached his usual haunt on the castle roof just above the West Wing.

Though he was too far to properly hear the lyrics, he recognized that irritatingly catchy melody to Be a Pest, a song the Warner siblings performed on a semi-regular basis ever since the curse upended their lives.

He should’ve known the Warners wouldn’t leave the prisoner alone in his room to starve.

The Beast huffed, a misty cloud forming in the frigid air.

He wasn’t sure why he said that when he didn’t actually want the prisoner to starve. It was counterproductive to breaking the curse.

And that mouse was far too foolish to suit his purposes. Arguing every order, determined to defy him at every turn, uncaring of self-preservation when he skipped into the castle and announced his presence without the slightest attempt at stealth.

Not that anyone else bothered to heed his orders, despite his higher station, but it was especially irritating from someone who was supposed to be a prisoner.

Surely all his hopes of regaining his rightful position weren’t dependent on an idiot whose head was permanently up in the clouds!

Rage mounted in the depths of his deformed body, and though he tried to hold back, he couldn’t stop the primal roar that worked its way past his throat.

It echoed off the trees, a flock of faraway birds taking to the air to get away from a perceived predator.

He struck the roof with one clawed, oversized hand. Several loose tiles spiraled into the abyss below.

The rush of adrenaline was overwhelming. It felt good to be so powerful. His old body was woefully lacking in strength and height.

He’d never been able to climb onto the roof before. A mouse was far too small and fragile to ever attempt something so death-defying.

Nor was he able to tear furniture apart so easily. But now he could.

Give in, a voice whispered, sweet and tempting and malicious all at once. Why resist your anger? Give in now, and you won’t be hurt ever again. I promise.

Anger was the only emotion worth feeling. It was blissful to not experience anything other than splintered wood and torn cloth under his claws. No worries, doubts, or fears to hold him back. When his thoughts became nothing but a simplistic chant of destroy, destroy, destroy.

Then all coherent thought would cease, and only instincts were left.

But anger was a fickle companion. It would encourage him, drive him forward, yet it would suddenly flee. It didn’t stay with him in the wake of his destruction.

And the guilt came.

His shortsightedness robbed everyone of a comfortable life. Nobody was spared. Not the innocent toddler, not the orphans or stray animals seeking a safe haven, nor the regular household staff.

On that first long, horrible night, he’d promised to break the curse. They’d be back to normal before they knew it, and they’d only remember it as one odd, terrifying nightmare.

But his plan didn’t work. And he made that promise again. Then his next plan failed before he set it into motion.

Tomorrow night. I’ll break it tomorrow night for sure.

For the past five years, he made that same promise every night.

But the curse wasn’t broken. The nightmare wasn’t complete.

Every plan failed. He tried everything.

That is, he tried everything except for the condition laid out from the very beginning.

The beautiful witch’s voice haunted him, mocking him through every waking hour and dream, taunting him with fate-sealing roses and mirrors that reflected the monster he was.

“If you can find somebody to love, and earn their love in return, my enchantment upon your castle shall be lifted. Fail in your quest, and you shall remain a beast for all time.”

The condition was an open secret in the castle, though only the Warners dared to bring up the topic within his vicinity.

He laughed, but it was a harsh, guttural laugh, completely devoid of joy.

Love? How could he possibly love anyone?

Love only brought pain.

As a foolish child, he loved his parents.

Then they abandoned him in favor of the lavish court. His existence was a scandal unto itself, and he was secreted away to a province with little royal oversight.

He let out an ugly snarl, cruel fangs digging into his upper lip.

The harsh, unnatural sound only served as a reminder that nobody would ever love him back. His mind, which once held ideas on how to reclaim his throne and improve life in this neglected province, was now dull and dimming further by the day.

He couldn’t read or invent anymore. His hands were too large for the delicate machinery, his claws ripping apart everything he touched. He barely remembered how to stand on two legs, and the few times he tried, he quickly lost his balance and had no choice but to stalk the hallways on all fours, stripped of all dignity.

Intelligence was all he had. And even that would be gone soon.

Nobody wanted a dumb, slavering, mud-colored beast for a lover.

A chilly wind blew snow into his fur, startling him out of his ponderings. The night had quickly grown dark and cold, the land below shrouded in an early winter. The moon and stars were hidden by thick, low clouds.

He didn’t hear any music. The prisoner had likely eaten his fill by now.

The silence unnerved him.

It was quiet on the rooftop, but without the background noise of the servants working or screaming from the unfortunate souls who were assigned Warner or Mindy duty, it was far too quiet for comfort.

When it was silent, the most unwelcome thoughts nagged at his deteriorating mind.

He sighed, regretting his decision to ponder on the roof this long. But then, it seemed his entire life was just one bad decision after another, so he was hardly bothered.

Stretching his sore limbs, he carefully gripped the slippery tiles as he descended down to the West Wing balcony. The wind whipped at his cape, and his exposed fur stood on end to keep his body warm.

This body was more resistant to the cold, able to endure conditions any weak, normal mouse would hide themselves from.

He was powerful.

But that thought quickly came to an end.

He lost his grip on a handhold, sliding several inches on the slippery stone.

The brief scare made whatever remained of his shriveled heart leap in fear, and he was reminded that regardless of physical prowess, he was still mortal.

On some nights, being mortal was a good thing.

He took hold of a thick, tangled growth of ivy that crept up the stone walls over the years, so thick that even his sharp claws couldn’t cut through it. The servants had valiantly battled the plants over the years, but there was only so much they could do.

The castle would crumble once the curse took hold permanently and become nothing more than a relic lost to time.

He crept down the ivy to the West Wing balcony, allowing the mysterious, cruel light of the enchanted rose to guide him to safety in the darkness.

Brooding over a rose and making doomed plans in the vain hope of breaking this curse.

That’s all he was good for these days.

Just as he set foot on the balcony, his ears perked at the sound of footsteps within his chambers. He growled quietly to himself.

He wasn’t in the mood to deal with the Warners’ antics tonight. Not when their advice proved little use against the prisoner’s stubborn refusal to have dinner with him.

But the footsteps sounded…different. Lighter.

Not brassy like Yakko’s, wooden like Wakko’s, or clinking like Dot’s.

The Beast inhaled sharply.

No.

It couldn’t be.

His prisoner was an idiot, but surely he wouldn’t break the only rule he’d been given. He should’ve been thanking the Beast for his leniency with the guidelines to follow for his stay within the castle property.

Don’t go into the West Wing.

But the mouse was right before his eyes, still on the far side of the room, twirling around in awe at the torn draperies, splintered wood, and haphazard bedding.

“Narf. This room could use a good sweep. I’ve seen pigsties cleaner than this!” the mouse tsked, shaking his head at the sorry state of the West Wing.

Really? The Beast wanted to scream. That’s your main concern right now?

Never mind that the West Wing was a grim testament to just how far he’d fallen, the shadowed lair of a beast, the broken décor scattered and abused throughout the years because it felt so good to lash out at something without guilt, and his prisoner commented on the mess of all things?

His claws brushed against a shard from a broken vase, and he sullenly flicked it aside. The ceramic remains skittered across the balcony.

Alright, so maybe the West Wing was a little messy…

An odd sense of embarrassment washed over him.

He crouched behind a thick tangle of ivy, feeling very much like a predator lying in wait for unsuspecting prey. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to do anything, and the mouse would just leave on his own.

The mouse picked his way through the West Wing, stopping to gawk at a shredded mattress and pile of ragged blankets that served as the Beast’s bed. He plucked at a strip of fabric that had fallen on the floor, and the Beast growled lowly. His sleeping area wasn’t a spectacle.

It was simply where he woke up from a nightmare, only to find that he never truly left.

The mouse gasped, his ears twitching. For a fleeting moment, the Beast believed he’d successfully chased him out of the West Wing. But the mouse turned to a portrait in a golden frame, one that had been painted so long ago, in a faraway life.

He’d dragged his claws across that painting many times, when he could no longer take the image of himself as a prince, mocking him with his dead-eyed stare and prestige.

Reminding him of what he used to be.

Though he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it permanently, some part of him couldn’t bear to throw it away. He didn’t know why.

He was tempted to spring out of his hiding place and tell the mouse to get out right now, but the gentle, almost reverent way the mouse pulled the hanging scraps of the portrait up to what remained in the frame made him hesitate.

In the entryway of the balcony, the rose sparked within the bell jar, its ethereal glow blinding for just a moment before it settled once again.

His hesitation cost him.

Slowly, the mouse approached the enchanted rose. The glow was always mesmerizing, always the only beautiful thing in an otherwise dark and ugly room.

Sometimes he fantasized about shredding the rose to pieces and scattering the petals to the wind, so that he wouldn’t ever have to look at it anymore.

But he wasn’t the only one affected by the curse, though he was the one who bore the brunt of it. Too often, he’d come close to forgetting that.

The rose floated just above a small, elevated platform. Five petals had fallen so far, lifeless and dead. More would join them soon enough. The pink glow illuminated the mouse’s unusual blue eyes, which were already lit up in idiotic wonder and curiosity.

With a surprising amount of strength for a mouse so slim, the prisoner carefully lifted the bell jar and set it aside.

The sheer stupidity of that action stunned the Beast.

Then the mouse reached out, fingers outstretched, just a few inches away from-

THAT FOOL WAS GOING TO DAMN THEM ALL!

All-consuming fear and fury seized hold of the Beast’s mind, his vision filled with red haze as he sprung out from behind the ivy thicket.

Protect the rose. Protect the rose at any cost.

The Beast snarled, ignoring his prisoner’s startled gasp. The mouse tripped over his own feet as the Beast snatched up the bell jar and slammed it over the rose.

For a moment, he feared he was too rough with the precious items. Though no petals fell, he wouldn’t allow himself any relief.

Not until the intruder was dealt with.

He gripped the bell jar tightly, slowly turning to face the mouse who thought he could just barge into the West Wing without any consequences whatsoever.

“What are you doing here?” the Beast growled, blocking the rose from the mouse’s view.

The mouse held his hands in front of his face. “I…I’m sorry!” he stammered.

Did he truly believe a simple placation would work? That he broke the one rule, a rather generous rule, just to satisfy his own curiosity?

“I warned you NEVER to come here!” he snarled, caring nothing for the apology.

The mouse stumbled over the corner of a ceramic vase which had oddly survived the carnage the Beast had wrought over the years. His eyes were wide, his ears limp. He squeaked something in protest, pitifully trying to justify his poor reasoning.

“DO YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU COULD’VE DONE?”

A roar tore out of his throat. He was dimly aware of a terrified scream, his large paws smashing a vase into jagged shards, and all he knew was the pleasure of unleashing his wrath upon anything that couldn’t fight back.

He only saw red.

“GET OUT!”

A pile of broken wood flew past the mouse’s head. He let out a ragged cry and fled the West Wing. His piercing scream echoed in the Beast’s ears, banishing the red, vengeful haze that overtook his mind.

Broken furniture surrounded him.

Downstairs, the servants pleaded in vain for the mouse to stay. A cold wind blew through the castle, icy enough to pierce through his defenses.

The Beast turned to the rose, just in time for the sixth petal to fall.

It had a wicked sense of humor.

The enchanted mirror reflected cruel, sharp fangs as he panted for breath. The portrait’s gaze bore into him, dead-eyed and mocking and judgmental.

And the twisted black horns which adorned his head were heavier than before.

AN: I’m sorry mice, I love you, I swear…

No I did not start the BatB AU as an excuse to torture Brain as much as I already do. It’s kinda sad that many character traits of Disney’s Beast and Brain overlap. Short temper, arrogant, a goal they want very very badly but their own vices prevent them from ever obtaining it, brooding, someone they love so much they’ll do anything for, even give up their own desires, but they don’t believe they can be loved back…yeah.

I tried to do the West Wing justice cause it’s such a great scene in the movie, but I don’t think it translates well to a text based medium. Oh well, you can just listen to the soundtrack, but I think I did well enough with it.

#pinky and the brain #beauty and the beast au #patb fanfiction #patb if i can't love him

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ladynox · 3 years

Text

20 Questions - Writer’s Edition

Tagged by @kaydeefalls & @im-the-punk-who

How many works do you have on AO3? 15. I use to be a pretty profilic writer when I was a teenager (before AO3 thank fuck 😂) but I lost interest. Picked it up again somewhere in my 20s, only to lose interest or the drive or something again. Roswell's the first fandom I've written for in almost decade. Hopefully this time I'll be able to stick too it. Id' forgotten how much I enjoy writing. What’s your total AO3 word count? 233292. Most of that is from just the last year alone! Crazy! How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Currently posted to AO3? Just three. Yu-Gi-Oh!, Captain America and Roswell New Mexico. If we're counting the stuff lost to long dead Yahoo groups or forgotten notebooks, or the stuff still on the internet because I can't remember my password but I will never own up to? Probably 8? With the addition of Gundam Wing, Sailor Moon, Digimon and Final Fantasy 7. There might have been more but I can't remember anymore. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? The 1-3 and 5 were co-written with @beautifulcheat 1. The Great New Mexico Fake-Off (Roswell, malexa, complete) Michael takes up baking after watching The Great British Bake Off and starts gifting his bakes to the people he loves. Mostly fluff and pining. 2. Milestones (Roswell, malexa, WIP) based after the series, in that nebulous well adjusted future we dream of for our favorite idiots. 😂 Maria, who has been living in a v poly relationship with Michael and Alex for years, realizes she's pregnant. Michael is ecstatic. Alex is conflicted, which dampers some of Maria's joy. Still a pretty fluffy and very domestic fic. This one's on hold because we're both busy with work, school and certification exams. So we only really have time for one, which is the following monster of a fic:

3. The Truth is Right Here (Roswell, malexa, WIP) X-Files/White Collar fusion where Michael is both Scully and Neal, and Maria and Alex are both Mulder and Peter. Yes you heard right. The alien is the skeptic. But the agents don't know he's an alien yet. hahah 4. Testing the Bonds (Captain America, Steve & Bucky) Bucky comes out to Steve during the war. 5. Petit Fours (Roswell, malexa, complete). Companion piece to Fake-Off. An assorted collection of text fics or short fics. Mostly about everyone else's reaction to how bad Michael is at keeping the secret that he's the one baking the cake. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Hmmm looking over these fics, I realize that I don't really write angsty endings. I tend to like my angst with a happy ending, or a hopeful one. Whatever that might look like given the subject matter of the fic. So I guess the closet would be The Message (YGO, puppyshipping, complete). The fic starts after an incident of domestic violence. Jou is basically working through the horror/guilt he feels at what he's done. It's not a happy ending, but there's hope different decisions will be made. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? A New Year, A New Hope (Roswell, malex, complete) is entirely made up of marshmallows from start to finish, so likely that one. Fake-Off's also tooth rottingly sweet. Surprising no one I'm sure hahaha. I love happy endings so I write a lot of fics with those. Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written? Yes I do! I'm counting fusion fics as crossovers too. I *love* AUs in general. They're super fun. As for craziest.... well I've already mentioned Truth above, which is likely the craziest because of how ambitious it is. I both love and regret ever starting this monster. Have you ever received hate on a fic? Oh yeah definitely. hahaha One day people will figure out the back button. Do you write smut? If so what kind? Yeah but not a lot. I want to write more smut honestly but I have a hard time writing it. I don't have a problem with action scenes so it's all mental. Just start thinking it's gonna suck or it doesn't make sense or it's boring. Dumb brain, cockblocking me. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of? Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. Have you ever co-written a fic before? All the time. It's the best. Everything Kat and I write is just to amuse the other, makes writing so much fun. Also, she and I have opposite writing strengths and weakness so it really works out well. What’s your all time favorite ship? Er? I gotta choose just one? Seems kind of pointless to pit different fandoms against each other. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I mean I have every intention of going back and finishing it but probably Six. A malex The Last of Us AU that I had a lot of grand ideas for but have lost all drive to finish. I do think that what's written can largely stand on its own as a 1 shot. One of these I'll go back edit it, give it a good "in conclusion" so to speak. XD What are your writing strengths? Hmm? Character voices/studies, I think. I like doing stream of consciousness a lot. What are your writing weaknesses? Everything. Kidding. Kidding. Probably smut and dialogue. Though I think I'm getting better at dialogue. Lately I've been getting the dialogue on paper before the descriptions. That use to not be the case! Yay! Improvement! What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Use it sparingly and carefully. Most of your readers are probably not going to be able to read that language. The last thing you want is to confuse or annoy your readers. What was the first fandom you wrote for? Gundam Wing 🤣 All of those fics are lost to time and I'm totally ok with that. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? I am proud of everything I've posted to AO3. Um... @beautifulcheat, @maeglinthebold @jocarthage, @tasyfa and anyone else who wants to do it.

#tag meme #apologies if you've already been tagged by someone else #or have already done this #it's sometimes hard for me to keep up with my dash

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friendofspidermannedleeds · 3 years

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Fictober Day 2

Prompt #2: “you have no proof” Fandom: Spider-Man (MCU) Rating: Teen+ Warnings: None Characters: Ned Leeds & Peter Parker Words: 1618 Summary: Ned gets kidnapped and does not play it cool.

Nothing Like the Movies

Ned startles awake in a small, dingy room with crappy lighting.

All he can see is brick walls and a metal door, and all he can think is that his head is spinning and he’s horribly nauseous.

He tries to rub his eyes but find his hands tied tightly, painfully behind his back and overtop a metal chair. He takes stock of the other aches and pains that come into focus—his entire body is stiff and sore, and he’s desperate to stand and walk it off—but his feet are tied, too.

Oh.

Oh no.

Ned’s pretty sure he’s living through his first real kidnapping.

He shuts his eyes, attempting deep breathing exercises and trying not to panic.

Ned’s been awake for all of ten seconds and this is already nothing like he’d imagined a few years back when he first saw Peter in the suit. He’d thought then how cool and exciting it’d be if the bad guys realized how vital the Guy in the Chair was to Spider-Man’s operations and brought him to their evil lair with their evil cronies. He would play it just like a hero in a movie—remaining calm, cool, and collected in the face of adversity.

Yeah. He’d been an idiot.

Because this isn’t like an exciting at all, this just sucks, and he’d rather be anywhere but here right about now, and he has a college visit planned for this weekend and his family is probably freaking out, and how long has he been missing and has anyone noticed yet and Peter sure as hell had better notice because it’s almost certainly his fault Ned’s in this mess and he’d like to be rescued now before some evil mobsters come in and do that monologuing shit he assumes all villains do.

But no, he can’t start spiraling, he’ll need to have his wits about him when the cronies do come in, he has to get his story straight—but what is his story, exactly?

It’ll depend on the reason they kidnapped him, obviously, and he honestly has no idea why he’s here, unless someone figured out Peter’s Spider-Man, which, duh, of course someone has, it’s not like villains are in the habit of picking up random high schoolers off the street and tying them to chairs in random warehouses (he assumes that’s where he is, it’s always a random warehouse), and anyway, if he’s somehow been captured by a random serial killer and not an enemy of Spider-Man, at least he’ll be featured on MJ’s favorite true crime podcasts.

His heartrate increases exponentially at that thought, so yeah, okay, maybe let’s not think about the serial killer stuff…

Ned returns his focus to the breathing exercises. How do those work again? In for four, out for seven… no, hold for seven maybe? Seven seems like an awfully long time, that can’t be right, holding your breath that long would surely make it worse, at the very best it’s not helping Ned at this moment. When they taught him this shit at school to “relieve stress during exam week” he never thought he’d be using the techniques here, in the den of a killer.

Ned wiggles in his seat as much as the tight cords will allow.

He really, really has to pee. Of all the injustices, this one suddenly takes top prize. Because this is never a problem in the movies, the kidnapped hero never has to pee while tied up, and now that he’s here living this nightmare, he can confirm that is utter bullshit and who cares if it doesn’t make for great TV, kidnapped characters should have access to a bathroom dammit, this is entirely unreasonable and he’s thinking he might even try shouting into the void to see if someone will come untie him.

He’s not sure how much longer he can sit here like this—his shoulders are starting to cramp up from being pulled back so tightly, his head’s still spinning and setting in on a dull ache, he’s minutes away from pissing himself—who knew being kidnapped would be such torture?

Oh.

Oh shit.

Torture.

Ned cannot, he absolutely cannot, afford to be tortured. If the bad guys come in here and ask for information on Spider-Man he’s for sure going to tell them, he cracks under pressure on the daily for the most inconsequential of things, like his mom asking if he’s finished his homework, or MJ asking if he’s practiced his AcaDec flashcards, or Peter asking him to hack into a multi-million dollar suit.

Okay, so maybe that last one wasn’t so inconsequential—is there a possibility they know he’s Spider-Man’s hacker guy?

He hopes not, because if he’s tortured he will absolutely crack. It’s not a possibility, it’s a fact. Ned is simply not made for this kind of situation.

There’s a loud crash somewhere outside the room, then voices—angry voices arguing about something, probably what to do with the prisoner, and oh shit, Ned hasn’t even planned what he’s going to say or do yet, what if the bad guys come in and ask if he knows Spider-Man??

He has to think of something—something that won’t make him look like the weakling he is, who has more or less already thrown in the towel, who will, at this moment, gladly turn Peter Parker in for the promise of using a toilet.

He sets his teeth.

No.

No, Ned can do this. Ned has to do this.

Okay. He’ll play it cool, like it’s a scene from a movie.

He shuts his eyes.

They’ll say: “We know you know Spider-Man, kid. And we know he’s your best friend, Peter Parker.”

And he’ll say: “You have no proof!”

Ooh. That’s good. Ned’s pretty sure he’s seen that in a movie somewhere.

But wait—that implies he thinks there is proof, and they just have to find it—shit.

He’s better off just saying he doesn’t know what they’re talking about, he’s just a kid who was walking down the street, minding his own business.

Speaking of the street, he’d do anything to be walking down a street again—anything not to be tied to this stupid, freezing metal chair in this stupid, cliché of a room.

Ned hears the voices again, louder, then shouting, then really shouting, and it sounds like maybe there’s some sort of scuffle occurring, and then—

The door busts open.

Ned’s heart beats faster than he’d thought was humanly possible. He instinctively looks at the floor, terrified of what he’ll see, unwilling to look the devil in the eye because this is not a movie, and he is not an action hero, and he sure as hell shouldn’t have to be.

“Ned?”

He looks up. The voice was the last thing he expected, and yet, the most welcome sound he could ever have hoped for.

“Peter?”

He’s wearing the Iron Spider suit, fully masked and already kneeling down to easily break the cords that secure Ned’s limbs.

“Oh my god Ned I’m so glad you’re okay—you are okay, right? You’re not hurt or anything?”

Ned winces as he bring his arms around the back of the chair and tries to rub life into his shoulders. He stands stiffly, supported by Peter’s hand under his arm.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I think. Just—that really, really sucked.”

Peter hugs him. “Ned, I am so, so sorry.”

And Ned has lots of thoughts and lots of questions, but none of them seem to matter right now, and all he can blurt out is—

“ialmosttoldthem.”

Peter’s mask retracts, and he stares at Ned. “What?”

“I don’t know what these kidnappers wanted, but if they’d come in and if they’d asked who you were or wanted to know something about you and threatened me I feel like I would’ve caved for sure and I just know I—I would’ve told them.”

He doesn’t know why he felt the need to share that information, or why he couldn’t seem to stop talking once the confession began pouring out, and he’s wishing he hadn’t said anything but he’s sure that wouldn’t have made him any less guilty, and—

“Good.”

Ned blinks. “I—what?”

“I said that’s good,” Peter says matter-of-factly. “Look Ned, I don’t know yet what these guys wanted—they were amateurs, pretty dumb actually because they didn’t get rid of your phone and that’s how I tracked you here—but honestly, if anyone ever kidnaps you or anyone else and wants information about me, you give it to them.”

Ned shakes his head. “But—but—”

“Ned, I’m a literal superhero. I don’t need protecting, I can handle pretty much anything. If you’re in a shitty situation, your job is protecting yourself.”

Ned’s shuts his mouth as he realizes it’s gaping open, and he doesn’t know why it was, because he’s really, truly not surprised.

Of course Peter would say that. Even if he wasn’t a literal superhero, he would say that. That’s just who Peter Parker is, and if being kidnapped every once and a blue moon is the price to pay for being his best friend, it’s worth it to Ned.

And the next time it happens, (hopefully an if, not a when), Ned’s not telling those kidnapper punks anything.

“Let’s go,” Peter heads out the busted metal door as Ned follows, “the police are coming for those idiots and we need to get you checked out. You need anything?”

“A bathroom,” Ned says immediately.

“Dude,” Peter nods with an empathy only someone who’s been kidnapped multiple times can share, “I am so sorry. Literally the worst. And like—they never acknowledge that in the movies!!”

“Right??”

#fictober21 #ned leeds #peter parker #spider-man #spider-man fic #my fic #fos fic

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candychronicles · 4 years

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unrequited love, or not? // k. bakugou

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this, and thank you for being so patient!

CHARACTER PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,668

WARNINGS: mentions of being drunk, blood, mutual pining, dumb best friends

SYNOPSIS: you’ve been best friends since you could remember, but what if you wanted more?

the first day you met Bakugou Katsuki was on the first day of school, ever. you were bubbly, upbeat, someone who introduced yourself to everyone and made as many friends as possible. nothing could get you down, well, besides Bakugou. despite your best attempts, he was mean, sassy and definitely didn’t want to be your friend. for awhile, you resigned yourself to all your other friends, but the grumpy gremlin never left your brain.

over the following years, you slowly broke down the anger and superiority of his childhood, peeling back the layers to find a kid who wanted to save lives and be a hero, a kid who used his confidence to keep himself going against all odds. it wasn’t until your years at UA high that you really figured out who he was to you, but by then, things were too late, him being too focused on climbing to the top to even spare anything other than a friendly glance your way.

it wasn’t as if he ignored you. in some ways, that may have even been better, for you would’ve been able to push aside your feelings, but no, Bakugou was anything if not an attentive friend. he was one of the few people you trusted with your life, and vice versa. he came to you for everything, with everything, about everything, because you were his partner, his best friend. this closeness only complicated things, but you persevered, determined to be the greatest sidekick you could be to him.

your friendship wasn’t one that many people understood. while you were bright, extroverted, smiling brighter than the sun, moon and stars, he was grumpy, reserved, focused, but it worked. he called you annoying every day, and yet you two were inseparable, eating together, doing homework together, shopping, spending holidays together and taking selfies that, when you posted, he threatened to blow you up.

you watched as he blew every challenge out of the water, both literally and figuratively. from every challenge that came in high school, all of the death and destruction that you two fought together, coming out on top despite the pain, and continuing to help save people as he became a sensationalized pro hero practically overnight.

despite his constant successes, he wasn’t the number one pro hero, and until he achieved, and consistently maintained, his biggest goal of his life, there would be no other priorities in his life. you slowly watched, year after year, as he worked tirelessly, throwing away other opportunities in order to continue to pursue his goal. it wasn’t until you confronted him casually one day that your worst suspicions were confirmed.

“Katsuki, why haven’t you ever dated someone?” you questioned not so innocently one day, waiting with baited breath to hear his answer.

“Becoming the number one pro-hero has and always will be my number one priority,” he replied casually, shrugging his shoulders and continuing on with eating like he didn’t just shatter your heart into a million shards.

little did you know, his heart was also breaking, threatening to rip his chest open from the inside, suffocating and strong. he liked you, loved you, for longer than he could remember, but he was sure you didn’t feel the same way. he thought that every lingering touch, every suffocating hug, every time you called him when you were sad and drowning in tears, begging him to make you feel better, was just you being a best friend, nothing less and nothing more.

you became a bit more distant after that, nursing your hemorrhaging heart, attempting to fix it back up, using any stitch or glue that you could find so that you wouldn’t bleed out. this need to not hurt led you to a very drunk night with Mina and Jirou. it started off innocent enough, but as the night drug on and the alcohol tickled your veins, your blood began to thin and pour out of your mangled heart, and the tears followed soon after.

“why did i have to fall for him? he doesn’t love me, he never will. i’ll have to sit back and watch him continue on with his life, blissfully u-unaware that there is someone here who loves him so much that it hurts. i’m so dumb, so so dumb,” you rambled on, liquid pain streaming down your face as you cuddled a bottle of wine.

the girls tried to console you as best as they could, snuggling deeply into you and rubbing your hair, wiping the tears off your face and assuring you that you were loved, before you promptly passed out, the bottle of booze replaced with a pillow that you clutched tightly to your chest, attempting, even in your sleep, to fix the ache in your heart.

you awoke with a pounding headache and a steely resolve to distance yourself from your best friend even more than you already were. while you knew it would hurt, nothing could compare to the emptiness you felt standing next to him knowing he didn’t feel the same way. texts were replied to hours later, calls missed, and you once even pretended you weren’t home when he stopped by randomly to check up on you.

Bakugou didn’t know what he did wrong, and it was eating him alive. he texted, he called, he even tried to break down your door, knowing you were home, but you still barely responded, claiming you were busy. never in your combined friendship had you went this long without talking, even when you were truly mad at each other.

the lack of communication took a toll on Bakugou and he finally decided to confront Mina about it one day, despite not wanting to look desperate.

“why has she been avoiding me?” he asked the second she picked up the phone, not bothering to even say hi.

he heard a soft sigh on her end of the phone before she replied, “i’m not supposed to tell you.”

“bullshit. if she’s hurt, mentally or physically, she should be coming to me. i’m her fucking best friend.”

“and that’s the problem,” she replied cryptically.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean? does she not want to be my friend anymore?”

“well, yes and no.”

he swore, at those four words, his heart stopped.

“if she doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore, then she needs to man up and tell me. i don’t have time to waste on cryptic shit. i’ve got more important things to do.”

“and that’s the problem!” she suddenly exploded, before replying more evenly, “all you care about is being the number one pro hero to even see what’s going on in front of your very eyes. someone cares about you very, very much, probably more than your shitty ass deserves, and you can’t even return those feelings because you can’t and won’t prioritize more than one thing in your life.”

Bakugou hung up on her after those words, immediately calling you, to no avail. he grabbed a jacket and some shoes and raced out of the door, heading towards your house with nerves of steel.

how stupid could i be? does she really feel the same way?

once he reached your house, he barged in, not even bothering to announce his presence as he headed towards the kitchen.

you appeared out of nowhere, alert and ready for anything, before relaxing your body, though there was still tension squaring your shoulders back.

“what the hell are you doing here?” you asked, confusion and a little bit of anger tinging your voice.

“do you love me?”

you quirked your head at him, face heating up in embarrassment, not sure how to respond.

“are you ignoring me because you love me and you don’t think that i love you back? are you so dumb to think that if you confessed to me right now, that i would reject you?”

your mouth gaped open and closed, unsure of how to take his questions, so you nodded meekly back, before responding, “you told me that being the number one pro hero was your number one priority-”

“my number one priority right now, sure, but that doesn’t mean you’re also not one of my priorities in my life. sometimes you’re even my number one. i don’t spend all my time with you, tell you everything, help you with everything, just because you’re just one of my ‘friends’. you’re my other half, you idiot. will you go out with me?”

your head cocked side to side, mouth still open, attempting to process his words, all the information that he had just thrown at you like it was nothing. he liked you? he wanted to go out with you?

“the question isn’t that hard. you also look like a fish. close your mouth and just tell me how you feel, how i know you feel now, so i can kiss your dumb face.”

at those teasing words, your face broke out in a smile before you rushed forward to capture his lips in your own, pouring all of that pent up pain and sadness into the kiss, allowing your heart to finally stitch together.

“you’re such an idiot. of course i like you, and of course i’ll date you. i’ve loved you for a long time, maybe even since you were a snotty nosed little brat, but not much has changed since then,” you teased, eyes twinkling in mischief.

“hey, just because you’re dating me doesn’t mean i still won’t kick your ass for being rude.”

“catch me if you can lover boy,” you called out, leaping away from him and into the kitchen laughing.

he shook his head, finally allowing himself a moment to breathe, feeling the heat rise into his cheeks and his blood pumping throughout his body, before he called out threateningly and began chasing after you around.

i’m in love with my best friend.

maybe being number one pro hero wasn’t the number one priority in his life anymore.

TAGS: @jojosmilktea @redbeanteax @softforshigi @katsuki-bakugous-lady @katsukisprincess @secondhand-trash

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#bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha

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witchygirl99 · 3 years

Note

ALONG CAME SHIPPO

Here! Have a 2.2k snippet because I don’t know if I’ll ever finish this:

The End of the World begins on a Tuesday.

Fucking finally.

Inuyasha taps out a rhythm on the old wooden desk he’s sitting at, his sharp nails creating tiny indents with each press. There’s no pattern to it really, just boredom shifting the beat from fast to slow, erratic to sedated. He’s sitting in some sort of bedroom, the furniture vintage and the curtains threadbare. The ceiling fan hums as it rotates, too loud to be pleasant. The bed is covered in some sort of ugly quilt, the white patches stained from age.

As far as punishments go, being in here is a good one.

It sucks, being as powerful as he is but as trapped as his current predicament shows. Inuyasha could burn the earth down, shatter the realms, rip apart dimensions. He could do anything he wanted really. For millennia, Inuyasha had done nothing terribly wrong. A few species were extinct, sure. The odd fireball. The whole witch rioting thing was a pain in the ass but overall, not really his fault, no matter what anyone else says.

He’d been just another Almighty Being, living his immortality.

And then the Winged Ones came. Idiots with too many feathers and not enough brain power who at first, Inuyasha will admit, seemed rather harmless. Just fluffy little things. Kind of like fleas but with too much of a complex and not enough use.

Hindsight is, of course, 20-20.

Stupid Winged Ones. Stupid, flying morons who thought they could rule the world. The End of the World is coming, he told them. Don’t be dumb, he pressed.

But no. The Winged Ones banded together, tore him open and flayed him screaming. They chained him, burned him and did the only thing they knew would keep an Almighty Being from gaining back his freedom: they locked him in the Pit, deep in the earth where Creation was born. It was a place so full of magic and power, that it was both everything and nothing at once.

Currently, it’s a bedroom with a shitty ceiling fan and some really disgusting curtains.

Inuyasha sighs. The Pit changes often and at random, too much power to stay as any one thing for too long. He vaguely hopes the next bit of scenery will be a little more interesting.

The ceiling fan suddenly stops. Not like a normal fan would, where it slows bit-by-bit until it grinds to a halt. No. The dingy ceiling fan stops so suddenly it was like it was never on at all, the humming silenced. Inuyasha doesn’t worry; this is actually the coolest thing to have happened to him since he Created fire. Still, something is happening. The Almighty Being can feel it in his bones, a deep, gut-wrenching knowingness that latches on and refuses to go away. The Pit around him is vibrating, fluctuating, pleased.

And then the bedroom door opens.

“Oh good.” A redheaded boy, looking no more than six years old, bursts in and grins up at him. It’s toothy and kind of weird, but the child doesn’t falter at Inuyasha’s lack of response. “I was worried you’d be somewhere else.”

Inuyasha’s not really sure what’s happening, but it’s probably good. The child is not a child at all. He’s not even an Almighty Being. He’s something… Inuyasha frowns, unable to get any sort of read. It’s the first real puzzle he’s stumbled upon since he opened his eyes to the galaxy and the stars sang to him. “Who are you?” he asks. His voice is deep and gruff, scratchy from disuse. The sound of it actually is a little startling. He’d forgotten what he sounded like over the past hundred thousand or so years.

The redhead waves dismissively at him. His eyes are a startling green, like emeralds. The smile never leaves his face. “You can call me Shippo. Names are strange, aren’t they?”

Inuyasha’s frown doesn’t deepen, but it sure as hell doesn’t lessen either. “Shippo.”

“Yep.” The kid bounces on the balls of his feet, hands clapping. “I’m glad I caught you.” Inuyasha wonders where the fuck else he would have been all this time. It’s not like he’s moved. “The End of the World is here so we gotta go.”

He’d like to remind everyone that this is, in fact, the oddest thing to have happened to him in a very, very long time. While he doubts the Pit is this creative in its scenery, Inuyasha figures it’s best to not take it for granted either way. “Go where?” Inuyasha asks. He doesn’t want to ask, but he does it anyways.

“To destroy the world?” Shippo levels him with an unimpressed glance, smile instantly gone. “Did you not get the whole End of the World thing?”

Inuyasha narrows his eyes. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Ugh!” Shippo throws his hands up in the air, looking exasperated beyond all measure. The expression looks peculiar on his face, too old and worn for a body so youthful. “It’s no wonder the Angels locked you up.”

“The–”

“Winged Ones, whatever,” Shippo interrupts, waving a dismissive hand yet again. “You Almighties really like to mess around with names. Seriously. Probably my fault, I was kind of absent but we can only move forward, you know?” He brushes back his bangs and lets out a long breath. “So, like I said. It’s the End of the World. Are you in or are you out?”

“Are the Winged Ones involved?”

Shippo makes a seesaw motion with his hands. “Kind of?”

“Can I destroy them?”

“No.” Shippo looks rather firm on this answer, which makes the next admission all the more startling. “But the End of the World will more or less dismantle all the shit they’ve been doing the last few centuries and will likely throw them into a pit of despair.”

“Can it be the literal Pit?” Inuyasha asks, because fair is fair. They started it.

Shippo gives him that flat look again, his green eyes too piercing for the monotony of the room. Eventually, he huffs out a breath and turns around. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Inuyasha gets up slowly and follows the redheaded child out the bedroom door and into the deepest, darkest part of the ocean. Bermuda, the creature of all creatures, opens a lazy eye at them before going back to sleep.

“She’s probably my favourite,” Shippo says then, grinning that big, toothy smile at the creature. “Top five best names, for sure.” He says it like he was the one that named her. Inuyasha opens his mouth to ask but Shippo skips ahead then, muttering to himself as he goes. “One down and three more to go. I should probably leave the easiest one last, right?”

Inuyasha half-swims, half-stumbles through the water. He has no idea how the kid can skip through like it’s nothing, “Wait, three more?”

“Three more,” Shippo confirms. “I’m thinking Miroku first, and then Sango. Sango will put up a much bigger fight if we do it the other way around and we’re on a time crunch.”

Yet another question he doesn’t want to ask, but does anyways. “Who the fuck are Miroku and Sango?”

“Uh, your co-Almighties?” It’s more of an incredulous statement than a question, but Inuyasha feels anger bubbling up in his system anyways, the familiar rage burning in his veins like an old friend. He’s missed feeling like this, feeling anything at all than the nothingness of the Pit. His hands curl into fists, his claws digging into flesh and though he doesn’t bleed, the pain of it is almost startlingly good.

Shippo eyes him like he can read every thought that’s racing through his mind. “Weirdo,” he lands on finally. “I really have been absent.”

“Explain,” Inuyasha grits out.

“You actually thought you were the only Almighty Being?” Shippo snorts, smacking a palm to his face. He looks rather disappointed, which is again such a strange look on a body so young. “Well then, you’ve got some catching up to do. There are four of you, all Created differently but Made at the same time. You grew from the ground. The Earth split itself in half to carve out your Creation.”

Inuyasha remembers it, though the memory is hazy at best. For all the things that he can do and recall, his Creation was fuzzy, like looking through layers of fogged glass. “I saw the galaxy.”

“You did,” Shippo answers. “While emerging from the earth, you only had but up to look.”

“And the others?”

“Miroku and Sango are kind of strange. Basically, a rock was–” He stops and winces. “Well, it was blessed. Long story. Anyways, when Sun shone its light down upon the Earth, Miroku grew. That night, when Moon filled the sky, its light shone upon that very same rock and Sango was Created. One rock, two Almighties… You see how it’s weird?”

Inuyasha doesn’t. He nods anyways.

“And then there’s Kagome.”

For some reason, the name stabs something within him. It brings about a pain that rivals Inuyasha’s memories of being dragged into the Pit. He doesn’t know why. Inuyasha’s entire existence was himself, the Earth, and the fucking Winged Ones.

Angels, whatever.

“She was Created first,” Shippo says, wistful. Bubbles leak from his mouth as he sighs, still deep are they in the ocean. “She was Made with intention.” He sneaks a glance at Inuyasha before grinning slyly. “Race you to the top?”

“The top of—?” But it’s too late. Shippo has already flown, jetting up towards the surface without having moved a muscle. Inuyasha stares for a long moment, baffled. He wishes, suddenly, that Shippo had gone for someone else first. Why hadn’t he gone for someone else first?

When he gets to the surface, the waves are all-consuming. Shippo hovers over the top like the water is a solid mass, a floor to be walked-upon. He laughs at Inuyasha’s struggle before snapping his fingers, and then – finally – Inuyasha is by his side, dry, and drowning no more. “You’re a mess,” the redhead tells him with glee.

“What intention?” Inuyasha demands instead, because he may have been chained to the Pit for a very long time, but he’s no fool. He knows a distraction when he sees one. Shippo’s flight out of the ocean was as clear as day, a neon sign of distrust.

Inuyasha is not dealing with this shit, free of the Pit or not.

For a moment, those green eyes pierce him. Shippo is six year’s old in body, but certainly not in mind. He’s difficult to get a read on, but the reverse doesn’t seem true. Finally, the kid shakes his head and sighs, long-suffering. “Still a pain in the ass,” he grumbles.

Still? “We only just met,” Inuyasha growls back, irritated. “Look, this has been a fun few minutes but—”

“Kagome was Made from the Light and the Dark,” Shippo interrupts. His body hovers higher, taking Inuyasha with him, though the child doesn’t seem to notice. “She was born out of love, staring down at the Earth.”

Inuyasha has no idea why this is such a secret. That thought must be written all over his face, or maybe Shippo doesn’t need to read expressions at all. Maybe the child simply knows.

“You were Created second,” Shippo tells him casually.

The comment means nothing. “And?”

A startled laugh comes out, oddly cheerful and childish. His tiny hands form fists around his stomach, like he’s trying to keep himself together. “Nothing,” he gasps out. “Oh, nothing. This is going to be great. The gang is back together!”

Back…together?

But before Inuyasha can ask anymore, Shippo whoops and flings them both into the sky.

#ACS #witchy writes

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sylvie-writes · 4 years

Text

In the Apple Fields.

Summary: You and Steve go on a double date with Bucky and his girlfriend, Ruth, to go apple picking in Saratoga.

Disclaimer: I know nothing about the 30’s/40’s so plz pardon the lack of detail in my writing and anything that is incorrect, I am trying to expand my writing field.

It was kind of hard for me to write this for whatever reason, so it didn’t go as exactly planned, I hope you still enjoy it though!

Warnings: none. besides my dumb-ass apple puns at the end (it was just so a-peeling) I’m done I swear.

As always, plz pardon any mistakes, the stories are always proofread but I tend to make many mistakes regardless.

Part of my Fall Writing!

“Hey doll! Ya ready for today?”

You excitedly gripped the bright red telephone against your face, your cheeks heating up and a large grin on your lips. In the kitchen, your mother looked back from the stove, to see your childlike giddiness, a smile forming on her own face.

When you were three, your mother and father moved to Brooklyn from Philadelphia, a better job presenting itself to your family. As soon as you moved in, two little boys, a few years older, came up to greet you and your family, the three of you soon clicking. Days later, you came to know them as Bucky and Steve. Your parents were all very close, a tight knit circle soon forming.

And now 21 years later, you all were still just as close.

When Steve’s mother had passed, it was hard on everyone. Mrs. Rogers had the best personality, she was like a second mother to you.

When the news arrived that she had passed, Bucky had tried to get Steve to come over and live with them, the stubborn man refusing. Your undeniable love for him made you do just the same. Relentlessly, you’d bother him, bringing him muffins, taking him for lunch, yet not once did he ever budge.

It was scary to think of Steve ever being homeless or not having any food, for his mother worked hard to make sure that it didn’t happen.

Steve and Bucky were two years older than you, and at the age of five you started developing a crush on the little blonde. Sure, he might’ve been smaller than other boys, but you loved him regardless.

It always crushed you to see Steve getting rejected or teased for the way he looked. In your eyes, he was just as perfect as any other man. As you guys became older, and dating became more prominent, you made sure to be there for Steve. He already had a spot reserved in your heart, if only he knew then. Bucky would try and set Steve up with other girls, but the second they rejected him, the blonde would sit on the sidelines, moping, until you’d find him and spend the whole night with him.

Eventually, Bucky caught on and you even truthfully confessed your feelings, making the man pinky promise on not telling Steve.

Weeks passed until Bucky was finally over the two of you dancing around each other.

“C’mon punk! She’s totally into you!”

“You’ve lost your mind Buck.”

Steve just shook his head and solemnly picked at the french fry basket in front of him. You were out shopping with some old friends from high school, when Bucky knew that now was the time to prep Steve.

“Why would I lie about this? She told me! I even made a pinky promise on it.”

Now Steve was full on laughing not realizing Bucky was being dead serious. When his laughter stopped, he saw Bucky’s unamused expression.

“Wait, you’re being serious?”

“No shit, Sherlock. (y/n) loves you and you need to man up and ask her out, ya idiot.”

“Well, if you are being serious, how would I go about asking out (y/n)?”

“I’m glad you asked…”

And this is the part where Bucky pulls out a 20 slide presentation titled How To Ask Out A Woman.

That morning Bucky had stopped to invite you for lunch later with them, but you politely rejected, for you had a day planned out with some other friends. When you told Bucky he seemed almost ecstatic which honestly kinda confused you.

Later that day, you’d find out.

To be more specific, you’d be sitting on the couch, the doorbell ringing. Opening the door, you’d find a well dressed Steve, red roses in one hand, while the other anxiously swiped at his dangling hair. Soon after he’d hand you the roses, his meek voice would speak something along the lines of “Will you go on a date with me?”

(Sorry about the weird switch of verb tenses)

And of course you were over the moon! Happily, you rushed the man in and kissed him deeply, his cheeks turning crimson red causing you to giggle. The poor thing was so nervous, you were afraid he was gonna have an asthma attack from just asking you out.

Now here you were, a year later. Happy with Steve, enjoying every date.

“I’m so excited Steve!”

You could hear the man’s laughter over the phone, your smiling only growing bigger.

This was your first road trip in New York and you were delighted. Last week, you had even invested in some brown leather loafers for the trip, taking on many extra shifts at the library earned you those shoes and you’d treat them like gold from here on out.

“I couldn’t tell, pumpkin. Bucky and I are gonna go get the car from his cousin’s, then you and Ruth.”

His small sarcastic quip made you giggle some more as you bid him goodbye.

“Okay, I’ll see you then, darlin.”

“See you soon, angel!”

Oh! And that’s another thing.

Since Steve has been dating you, your parents, Bucky, even Bucky’s parents noticed he has a new found sense of confidence.

Hanging up the phone, you sighed in bliss, picturing the lovely moments to come. Unfortunately your daydream was interrupted as your mother moved from the kitchen, folding her apron on the chair beside you.

“You don’t want to be late, now do you, dear?”

With that your mother pulled you away and into the bathroom, grabbing a comb, a red bandana, and some hairspray to pin up your hair.

To match the hairstyle; navy overalls, a red and white striped shirt underneath, and you were soon prepared for the buggy and muddy fields of the apple orchard.

An hour later, Steve showed up at your doorstep, holding a hand out for your own. You hugged your parents goodbye and looped your arm in Steve’s.

The man planted a kiss on your cheek, his arm falling to wrap around your waist, giving a gentle squeeze.

“Hiya sugar! How are you?”

You both slowly walked in sync down the apartment stairs.

“I’m better now that you’re here, honey!”

Turning your head, you threw a small wink his way.

Steve, ever the gentleman, took your small duffel bag and threw it into the trunk of the convertible as you went to the driver’s seat.

Kissing Bucky’s cheek, the man then pulled you in for a hug, disregarding the door separating you two.

“Hey doll-face! Excited for the trip I see?”

You nodded your face and quickly went to the passengers seat.

Ruth sweetly smiled at you, getting out of the car and embracing you in a hug.

Out of all of Bucky’s girlfriends, Ruth was by far the sweetest one, the two of you quickly clicking.

“Hiiiii (y/n)!!”

“Hey Ruth!”

“You look absolutely adorable, girly!”

Looking down at your clothes you smiled and returned the compliment to Ruth, taking in her own outfit. A pair of high waisted denim trousers, a white puff sleeve blouse, black loafers, and her strawberry blonde hair tied in a low ponytail.

The two of you continued to make small conversation, awaiting Steve’s return, who then showed up not too long after.

Ruth pulled down the passenger seat, allowing you and Steve to crawl into the back. With the sun out, and a small breeze, it was the perfect time for the convertible’s top to be off, after all, it was a three hour drive to Saratoga.

The three hours passed quickly as you took in the scenery, Bucky making jokes, and you and Ruth singing along to the radio.

Just as you were fifteen minutes away from the orchard, Steve picked up your hand and kissed it, a way to get your attention. You had been so caught up in helping navigate, and just goofing around, that you hadn’t even noticed what Steve had been doing the whole time. Your head immediately turned towards him at the affectionate gesture, a smile spreading on your lips as Steve showed you his sketchbook.

On the page, a beautifully sketched woman matching your attire, leaning against the car door, her hair slightly blowing in the wind although it was in an updo as yours. Soon your eyes traveled up to the woman’s face, a bright beam plastered on her lips as she was mid laugh, soon your eyes met hers and you came to realize that it was you.

At the bottom Steve penned his name and a sweet note.

For you my love. -Steven Rogers

“Oh Stevie! It’s beautiful!

Carefully, you set aside the picture and flung your arms around his neck, leaving the man chuckling but soon holding you close.

“All right kids, simmer down, we’re here now.”

You pulled back from the hug and shot Bucky a glare in the rearview mirror, to which he stuck his tongue out at you.

As soon as Ruth stood up from her seat in the car, Steve scrambled to get out and around to your side, flinging open the driver door. You giggled at his chivalry and put your hand in his outstretched one.

The four of you walked through the gravel parking lot, careful not to get rocks in your loafers.

The woman at the gate politely greeted you all and handed each of you a burlap sack, explaining that the apples are priced by the pound.

You and Ruth soon interlocked arms and bounded off into the orchard, leaving Bucky and Steve behind who kindly waved you both off.

“I’m not gonna say I told you so, but… I told you so.”

Steve slapped Bucky’s arm that was wrapped on his shoulder.

“Oh shut up will ya, Buck?”

Bucky removed his hand in surrender before heading off to go find you and Ruth, Steve following suit.

Upon discovering you intermingled with the trees, Steve couldn't take his eyes off the sight in front of him. You and Ruth were happily picking the cortland apples for cider tonight, laughing about something you had just said, while playfully throwing apples to each other’s sacks.

In Steve’s mind, no picture could ever justify how beautiful and mesmerizing your smile was. He could just stare at you all day, a smile cemented onto his lips, and to say, that's exactly what happened.

The whole day as you all picked apples, and ran up and down the orchard, Steve was just grinned the entire time, adoring your every movement.

Later, many apples in the burlap sacks, Bucky and Ruth ahead, you looped your arms in Steve’s

You just smiled, taking in the picturesque sunset behind the trees of the orchard. Out of the blue, it hit you that you were in love with this man, and it was about time he knew.

“I love you, Stevie.”

You turned from the sunset to kiss his cheek, the man freezing up and you were about to apologize for overstepping when he opened his mouth for a deep breath.

“I love you too, (y/n).”

The two of you then smiled like lovesick idiots before sealing the deal with a kiss, Bucky’s whistle and cheers ruining the moment.

“I’m gonna kill you, Barnes.”

Bucky just shrugged, turning back to the produce stand. The man beside you let out a small laugh at the goofy banter before gaining a surge of confidence pulling you into a kiss once more. Your eyebrows raised in surprise, soon laying back down as you smiled into the kiss.

“C’mon guys, save it for the hotel!”

Pulling away, you picked up the sack of apples, going to the scale. Steve then offered to pay even after your relentless arguing about it.

The burlap sack over your shoulder, you and Steve quickly caught up with Ruth and Bucky who were already close to the car.

What better way to end a fun day with one of Steve’s terrible puns?

Ruth was locked into Bucky’s side, you doing the same with Steve, when the man beside you dug around in his pocket, an apple now in his hand.

Lifting the apple to his eye, the blonde spoke up.

“I’d say (y/n) is the apple of my eye!”

Cue the playful groans from you, giggles from Ruth and the “atta boy” from Bucky.

“Okay! Okay! Lemme just say that I’d like to apple-ogize for the pun…”

You couldn’t have picked a better boyfriend.

As they say, don’t judge an apple by its peel, and always look on the brighter cider of life.

I promise you will never see a pun from me again.

Taglist: @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild

the taglist is open! lemme know if you want to join!

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #chris evans #sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans x reader #sylvie's fall writing

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kpophours · 4 years

Text

a very necessary guide to The Boyz

➥ basic information

debuted on December 6, 2017 with Boy

currently consisting of 11 members (they used to be 12 members, but Hwall sadly departed from the group in October 2019 due to his ongoing ankle injury)

signed under Cre.ker Entertainment

their official fanclub name is “THEB” (aka deobi)

no official colors yet (we’re waiting, Cre.ker)

they have an official YouTube, Instagram, Twitter and vlive

they had their first win with Bloom Bloom in 2019

discography: four EPs (The First, The Start, The Only, Dreamlike), two Singles (The Sphere, Bloom Bloom), a special Single (White), one full album (Reveal), one Japanese release (Tattoo)

recently won mnet’s Road to Kingdom and should have participated in Kingdom this year, but sadly, the show has been postponed indefinitely

currently preparing for a comeback (September 2020)

... now onto the members!

➥ hyung line: Sangyeon, Jacob, Younghoon, Hyunjae

▸ Lee Sangyeon - leader, main vocalist

born on November 4, 1996 (a Scorpio and the oldest member of tbz)

(not your typical) leader - he’s not really “the dad”, but truly more of an older brother to the others

often teases and pranks the other members and is one of the funniest members according to their “Who’s Who” video (see: video recs)

writes own songs - super talented and dedicated, a really hard worker

has a beautiful deep, soul filled voice (we’d LOVE to hear more of it @cre.ker) - check out his performance on King of Masked Singer

according to Eric, he’s the member with the best body - really likes to work out and is stacked™

he really, really loves mangos

says he’s not cute but is obviously very wrong about that

has a super cute smile and adorable laugh

looked too beautiful with pink hair (deobi will never recover)

super bad at literally any game - always, ALWAYS loses when it comes to rock-paper-scissors (would be hilarious if it weren’t so sad)

some fun facts: his mbti is ESFP-T (he doesn’t believe in those kind of tests though), he’s good at impersonating others (especially Eric), he has an older sister (who has two sons, Sangyeon is a super cute uncle to them which he recently showed in his BOYLOG - WARNING: extreme cuteness!)

▸ Jacob Bae - lead vocalist

born on May 30, 1997 (a Gemini, but he very rarely shows it)

his Korean name is Bae Joon Young

kinda the mom of the group, but his official title is the angel™ (he literally never gets angry, he doesn’t even curse! how does he do that even his older brother says they never fought while growing up)

is from Toronto and therefore ½ of Canadian and ⅓ of English line - so he’s obviously fluent in English!

really improved his dancing skills over the years and it shows (unofficial member of dance line, fight me cre.ker)

beautiful soft vocals, amazing high notes (see their Mirotic cover)

plays the guitar and composes/writes his own songs

an MC for Simply K-Pop together with Kevin

½ of the superior “MoonBae” ship (aka married to Kevin - they’re super cute together, truly just two halves of the same idiot)

used to play volleyball and basketball and is really good at both, has apparently been working out a lot recently (rip his stans)

some fun facts: his mbti is INFP-T, his family adopted a new dog and named him after him/gave him the nickname “Cobi” ("your family replaced you... with a canine” - Kevin Moon, 2020), has an older brother, is left-handed, used to be the biggest fan of cereal (literally stocked boxes of it inside his room)

▸ Kim Younghoon - vocalist, visual

born on August 8, 1997 (but the most untypical Leo ever - only shows he’s a Leo like, once a year)

tallest member and ⅓ of the so called “Bermuda line” (aka the visuals™)

an under appreciated vocalist - his performance on King of Masked Singer more than showed how amazing his voice actually is (LET HIM SING CRE.KER)

has a “cool/cold look” at first, but is actually the softest, shyest, most precious squish on this planet (and has super soft puppy eyes)

kinda bad at life - needs to be protected because he’s just so clumsy, pouts when he’s about to cry (me, immediately: *cries with him*)

sometimes just randomly zones out and dissociates for a bit

fell down the stairs and injured his collarbone (I TOLD YOU HE NEEDS TO BE PROTECTED) before their Europe Tour and the Reveal promotions and therefore didn’t participate in the choreography

loves loves loves LOVES dogs so much and (his family) has a poodle (we stan Bori in this household)

the softest™ when trying to speak English (I‘m not crying, I‘m just really allergic to his extreme cuteness)

was a model for the Seoul Fashion Week in 2017 (together with Juyeon)

some fun facts: his mbti is INFP-J (there are four (4) introverts in tbz and they all share the exact same mbti), has an older brother, appeared in I.O.I’s Whatta Man music video, was recently cast as the second lead for the drama Love Revolution (his first ever acting role! the world should look out for actor!Hoon), is a BTS fanboy (his bias is Taehyung/V)

▸ Lee Jaehyun (aka “Hyunjae”) - lead vocalist, lead dancer, visual

born on September 17, 1997 (a Virgo)

also one of the tall members and another third of the “Bermuda Line”

an amazing dancer and a great vocalist (had like, 98% of the lines in No Air, so he’s pretty much an undercover main vocal)

an allrounder

seems quiet and chill at first. DO NOT BE FOOLED!!!

he is: l o u d . a bit annoying but also very cute without trying (actually really dislikes doing aegyo). hear someone loud in the background (especially laughing)? yep. that’s him! you found him, congrats.

also very caring and soft, takes great care of the younger members (when he’s not behaving like one of the younger members himself, that is)

also nags them a lot though (at least according to Eric)

the biggest Iron Man fanboy (like, legit wrote a fan letter to Iron Man when he visited the Marvel studios in NYC he’s just so cute)

l o v e s, no, ADORES kids and dogs

also really loves fried chicken

the biggest IU fanboy! very recently covered her song When Love Passes By for their A to BOYZ cover series

MWOHASEYO (don’t ask, just watch)

some fun facts: his mbti is ENFJ-A, he has an older sister, he’s really close with Pentagon’s Kino (they had some very cute interactions during Road to Kingdom), he can spin literally any object (a very weird, random talent tbh), has very skinny legs (so... literally a skinny legend)

➥ middle aka ’98 line: Juyeon, Kevin, New, Q

▸ Lee Juyeon - main dancer, vocalist

born on January 15, 1998 (a Capricorn)

the last third of the tall and “Bermuda line”

an amazing dancer - he trained very hard to be where he is now (went viral as “the bucket hat guy” from their Bad Guy dance practice with the 1MILLION dance studio)

has a very soft, beautiful voice needs more lines

has very sharp features and beautiful eyes - his personality is very different from his cold looks though, he’s actually very soft, caring and thoughtful

he’s very gullible and innocent (also needs to be protected), therefore often the victim of jokes - most people think he’s a bit dumb thanks to that, but he’s really not: he likes to read, watches a lot of documentaries, and is just more on the quiet side in general, he likes to think before he speaks (unlike Hyunjae for example, no shade)

also very clumsy (never leave him and Younghoon alone together, please)

booked and busy! had like, a trillion photo shoots just this year, and was also a model for the Seoul Fashion Week 2017

very bad at taking selfies but he tries and we love him nevertheless

can speak Japanese and English, is also a really good cook

an MC for The Show (aka the “JuShow”)

some fun facts: his mbti is ENTP-T, is very flexible (especially for his height), he likes to work out, has a younger brother, was on the show Law of the Jungle (he really likes nature), biggest U-Know (TVXQ) fanboy (legit cried when he met him), likes to play basketball, has gigantic hands (20.5cm a bit excessive but okay)

▸ Kevin Moon - main vocalist

born on February 23, 1998 (a soft Pisces boy™)

his Korean name is Moon Hyung Seo

the other half of Canadian line aka MoonBae (therefore, married to Jacob)

is from Vancouver and fluent in English (⅓ of English line)

yes, he’s the living meme you probably know from all the “funny kpop videos” compilations, quotes vines on a daily basis

SO much more than just the meme-ber though, he’s extremely talented - BIG BRAIN ENERGY, his creativity legit knows NO LIMITS

has amazing drawing skills (that he often shares with deobi on Twitter) - actually designed the group’s logo tbz use for their official Twitter account

can play the piano and guitar (he’s truly just so talented and amazing - STAN KEVIN MOON Y’ALL)

HAS ONE OF THE BEST VOICES EVER AND WE’D ALL REALLY LOVE TO HEAR MORE OF IT ONE DAY, CRE.KER

can cook really well

also writes his own lyrics/songs

an MC for Simply K-Pop together with Jacob

undercover visual (have you seen his cheekbones?! almost made me cry with his beauty when he had long wavy hair)

“I have no lips” - Kevin Moon, 2020

some fun facts: his mbti is INFP-T, has an older sister, his parents named him after watching “Home Alone” (iconic behavior right there), has a kinda embarrassing past (some of the pictures and videos… uh well, let’s just say he was born a meme legend), he participated in the show K-Pop Star before becoming a trainee

▸ Choi Chanhee (aka “New”) - main vocalist

born on April 26, 1998 (a Taurus)

literally the prettiest human alive

legit looks like an angel (how is he not an official visual?!), but is a savage (and extremely funny, lowkey judges his members 24/7)

a bit of a drama queen but he’s so cute it’s okay

amazing vocal skills, does most of the ad-libs

looks too cute in a beret, that should be illegal

gets bullied by the other members, which is kinda fair but also a bit (too) much sometimes (#letChanheelive2020)

is a math genius, can calculate extremely big numbers inside his head and FASTER THAN AN ACTUAL CALCULATOR (this is SORCERY)

½ of the other iconic duo beside MoonBae aka “NyuKyu” (together with Changmin aka “Q”) - you heard of dumb and dumber, now get ready for New and Q!

takes the best selfies, holds the official title of Selfie King (according to the others, he takes the most selfies - according to himself, he doesn’t even take that many but just takes them in a very obvious way, so the others always notice him doing so)

almost breaks his neck taking selfies

used to have a lot of half-time jobs before becoming a trainee

one of the members in charge of cooking (idk why, he managed to melt a spoon once)

doesn’t know how to swim (because - and I quote - ”he’s a CEO’s son”)

puts MILK FIRST, AND THEN CEREAL it’s over, he’s cancelled

some fun facts: his mbti is INFP-T, he really hates tomatoes, he has a tattoo (a cross on his left pinky), has an older brother, lowkey looks like a Volturi, dropped Younghoon’s new sunglasses TWICE which Hoon will never let him forget, he once accidentally ate a plastic fork (don’t ask)

▸ Ji Changmin (aka “Q”) - main dancer, vocalist

born on November 5, 1998 (yep, another Scorpio)

one of the best dancers in the industry (everyone can fight me on this) - went viral for his improvised dance to the Mario music

STAGE DEMON, has one of the best stage presences EVER, goes from 0 to 100 in literally no time

so cute it HURTS and takes the best boyfriend aesthetic pics (all moodboard makers thank him for this)

has dimples he likes to poke when saying “music cue (q)” (me: *cries*)

has a veeeeeeeeeeeeery long neck

can impersonate a giraffe and a pigeon

½ of NyuKyu aka dumb and dumber (WE LOVE BFFS) - they have some very iconic (cooking) vlives together

he’s very - and I say this with all my love - weird

or, to say it more diplomatically, “unusual”: LOVES horror movies and has had Annabelle as his iPad background for the longest time now (according to himself, they apparently recently broke up though rip our favorite otp), says his favorite beverage at Starbucks are the napkins (???????), literally BEGGED Kevin to let him buy a stuffed pigeon plushie when they visited New York, says the creepy nun from The Conjuring is cute (again: ?????? *whispers* is he okay)

dolphin screams™ (you’ve been warned, turn down your volume)

got lost in New York City together with Kevin (never let them take the metro ever again, at least not... unsupervised)

has a poodle named Ghana and adores him (see this BOYLOG where he just hangs with his puppy, 10/10 recommend watching that)

some fun facts: his mbti is ESFP-T (same as Sangyeon, doesn’t believe in those kind of tests either), has two older sisters, is ambidextrous (but mostly uses his left hand), is really good at playing the piano (won a price in elementary school), his English name is James aka the most generic English name ever (no shade, no hate)

➥ maknae line: Haknyeon, Sunwoo, Eric

▸ Ju Haknyeon - lead dancer, vocalist, rapper

born on March 12, 1999 (another Pisces!)

he is half Chinese, half Korean and lived in Hong Kong for a while

speaks some Mandarin, a bit of Cantonese and also some English

also one of the allrounders of the group (I SAID WHAT I SAID)

an AMAZING dancer! is really good at freestyling

taught himself how to b-boy

such a rich, amazing, stable voice (*bass boosted* more lines for Hak)

one of the funniest and most random members

very loud, randomly bursts into songs all the time even sings when sneezing

just generally really, really sweet and nice

before debut, he participated in the second season of mnet’s Produce 101 (was eliminated in Ep. 11 and ranked #19) - The Boyz were actually often referred to as “Juhaknyeon’s group” before/shortly after their debut

he’s a very good eater and eats A LOT (FINALLY A RELATABLE IDOL)

his family lives on Jeju Island and owns a pig farm - because of that (and because he eats a lot), one of his nicknames is “pig/piggie”

has a blindingly bright smile and is such an underrated visual

yes, you can probably drown in his beautiful, deep chocolate eyes

he and Hwall accidentally became thieves in NYC (they forgot to pay for their food, but went back later to do so so no jail time!)

some fun facts: his mbti is ENTJ-T, he’s really close with Seventeen’s Seungkwan, he has two sisters (one younger, one older), NOT a morning person AT all (relatable), really good at organizing stuff (as seen during the Battle Trip to Jakarta episodes with Hyunjae), really good and fast at peeling tangerines

▸ Kim Sunwoo - main rapper, vocalist

born on April 12, 2000 (an Aries and his fire sign nature shows)

a flawless rapper, just... truly superb. also an amazing dancer !

actually auditioned to be a vocalist (so he has amazing vocals, too), but became a rapper instead

tbz’ unofficial stuntman (as seen during Road to Kingdom), even though he’s actually really scared of heights

can play the guitar

on the other end of the “lip spectrum” - because unlike Kevin, Sunwoo has a lot of them (lemme just *smooch*)

literally one of the wittiest, most savage people on this planet (GOOGLE SEARCH: HOW TO BE SO FUNNY)

used to drink a lot of juice to keep himself healthy

is really good at soccer and used to play when he was younger

beautiful deep brown eyes that hold every star and galaxy in them

Mr. Coconut Hair™ (really makes it work though - still, every deobi screams when we get to see his forehead (which is like, once a year if we’re lucky))

a real stage demon but in reality an actual baby™ + scaredy cat needs to be protected at all costs

had a mental breakdown when he had to eat a bug after losing rock-paper-scissors

always yells “GO AWAY ANNA” whenever someone knocks on his door (especially if it’s New)

some fun facts: his mbti is ENTP-A, has a younger sister (who’s taller than him, he’s really salty about that), he’s really close to some of the other ‘00 liners in the industry, he understands English quite well but doesn’t really speak it, also contributes to a lot of tbz’ songs

▸ Eric Son - maknae, lead dancer, lead rapper, vocalist

born on December 22, 2000 (another Capricorn)

his Korean name is Son Young Jae

he was born in South Korea, but grew up in Los Angeles and is therefore fluent in English (⅓ of English line)

a great dancer (knows soooo many choreographies, it’s insane)

an amazing rapper (deserves more lines!)

hyper 24/7 watching him makes me tired, where does he get all that energy from

talks fast and a lot. never shuts up. you can’t make him. he tries to tell you one (1) story, but ends up telling 10 different ones along the way.

really good a baseball and loves to watch games

super close to Juyeon and used to go to Ju’s place during holidays as his own family lives in the US (my JuRic heart)

really neat and tidy, loves to clean maybe almost a bit neurotic about it

just generally really, really cute ???

a huge GOT7 fanboy (RELATABLE)

a thot on stage, should not be left unsupervised

close friends with Stray Kids’ Felix (his best idol friend according to himself)

also close to GOT7’s Mark (they’re also really cute together)

performed CPR on a watermelon once (it sadly still died, Eric gets an A for effort though)

some fun facts: his mbti is ENFJ-A, he has an older sister (who lives in New York), does NOT look like the maknae which often confuses people, really good and fast at solving Rubix cubes

➥ former member: Hwall

Heo Hyunjoon (aka “Hwall”) - lead dancer, lead rapper, vocalist

born March 9, 2000 (yet another Pisces!)

from Busan

such a good dancer, truly incredible

very soft rap tone

looks a bit like a cat

is very acrobatic

has a “cool” persona, but is actually just a certified babie boy™

used to live in the Philippines for four years and can speak English

the official fashionista of tbz, some of his outfits are truly just iconic

his signature aegyo is to shoot an arrow at deobis’ hearts (Hwall actually means “bow” in Korean)

can get very clingy with some members

had to sit out during D.D.D promotions and decided to leave The Boyz in 2019 (he’s still in the music video though!)

in August 2020, it was announced that he left Cre.ker Entertainment and established his own label called Dia Note

the same month, he debuted as Hyunjun Hur with the song Baragi

you can follow his official Instagram and YouTube

some fun facts: his mbti is ENFP, he’s still in contact with the other members (said he especially misses Juyeon and Hyunjae *sobs*), his role model is BTS’ Jimin and he actually went to the same dance academy (also knows pretty much all their choreographies/songs by heart)

➥ some videos to watch

all their music videos of course

all their live stages/performances too

BuzzFeed’s Who’s Who

Metro UK’s Quick Questions

their Billboard interview

their Weekly Idol episode

their Idol Room episode

their Road to Kingdom performances: Sword of Victory, Danger, Reveal, Heroine, Quasi una Fantasia, Checkmate

their dance covers: Girls Generation’s The Boys + GOT7′s Hard Carry’, TVXQ’s Mirotic, TWICE’s What is Love, EXO’s Love me Right, EXO’s Call me Baby, Super Junior’s Sorry Sorry

Q, Haknyeon and Jacob for the Idol dance cover challenge

their Billie Eilish Bad Guy stage for KCON 2019 + the dance practice

their dance cover medley

drop the dance at KCON 2019

their performance on Immortal Songs

Q’s Mario dance

their Halloween dance practice for Bloom Bloom

their “Identity Film: Generation Z” videos which show a very different side of each member

my personal emotional support kpop video

The Boyz - The Play “Mafia game” (aka a mess™)

their A to BOYZ cover series (five members have been released so far): Jacob, Hyunjae, Sunwoo, Juyeon, Q

and if you have the time: their whole The Castle concert

➥ their shows

The Boyz - Summer Vacation

The Boyz in New York City

Come On! The Boyz

Come On! The Boyz School

The Boyz - Flower Snack (pre-debut)

The Boyz - The 100 (shortly after debut)

The Boyz - Otoseyo (Japanese show)

The Boyz - The Mission

The Boyz - The Play

there are literally endless videos on YouTube - especially “The Boyz memes” / “funny The Boyz compilations” and so on, but I won’t include those here as you can easily find them on your own !

... and that’s it (for now), if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to send an ask - and please give their new comeback lots of love, they are so talented, funny, dedicated and hardworking, and truly just deserve the whole world 💞

[masterlist] | [requests]

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in-tua-deep · 4 years

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tua s1 rewatch with my roommate

episode one (I forgot for the first episode oops):

I have been treated to pictures of a lovely cosplay of Klaus who won a cosplay contest my roommate was in !!

Klaus putting his arm in front of Five during the funeral fight is good shit

“I have heard like nothing about Vanya” “yeah that’s pretty much how she’s treated in show as well”

“I can see why he’s the fandom favorite” - about Klaus

“Istanbul is in the firST EPISODE?”

I forGOT about the “rapists can climb” line when he breaks into Vanya’s apartment omg but also like,, his dumb arm wound

Episode two:

HERR CARLSON

Aww baby fives first time travel his little smile. Baby. Baby boy. And the dawning horror in the apocalypse baby nO

Five: you got anything stronger

Also five: takes one sip and then fills up more, takes another sip, and then immediately puts it down ?????

The motel dude for hazel and cha cha just looks at them like “yeah these are serial killers” and just rolls with it

Also actually why tf doesn’t the commission spring for better stuff?? Why would they cut costs?? They time travel? They could game the stock market so hard ?????? Give the assassins their own rooms omg

Also why didn’t five like. Crush his tracker. Why did he just leave it whole and intact outside of the Griddys.

Forgot how much I love Agnes

(Oh man it is storming bad here it just BOOMED)

Also idk if Diego actually deserved that taser hmmmmm but also like,, communication lads five was literally right there killing people and Diego is like “hmm something is up here” like. Yeah Diego ur big brother “I can get my sibling in trouble for something” senses are tingling

Wow I really did repress all these Allison and Luther scenes huh. Also it’s still super cute that Allison read Claire moon books

Allison: dads heart gave out, which wasn’t how I was expecting to find out dad had a heart but it tracks

“SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE BEN... said with love 😘”

Did five actually sleep at Vanyas?? The sofa looks undisturbed but he had to wait for work hours to interrogate the meritech people,, five,, please sleep. The whole “IF YOU CALL ME YOUNG MAN ONE MORE TIME” interaction makes more sense with five on. Zero sleep.

I didn’t remember that Patch straight up knows about the umbrella academy oops. Like she clocks Diego as overcompensating for his childhood. Queen

Is that an umbrella adademy Diego cross stitch on Diego’s wall?? Did he buy that? Make it?? Did grace make it?

Vanya, walking into the academy: five??? five? pspspspspsps

Also like. Who was Vanyas therapist??? Clearly they did not help her

Aww the tow truck driver :(

I know the show wants me to dislike Patrick I KNOW,, and I think her fathers funeral is extenuating circumstance?? But still Patrick is valid for not giving an inch regarding his ex who mind controlled his child. Vanya didn’t really deserve Allison snapping at her but like. She had some good points. Allison arguably would have had to deal with vanyas book more than anyone else

Five smiling proudly at Klaus’s drama at meritech bless but also KLAUS DONT BREAK GLASS ON YOURSELF

Me, spotting Leonard: BASTARD

Love how everyone greets Diego in the gym and don’t question all his knives or anything like “yeah that’s Diego he lives here and loves knives :)”

Why could Leonard have not been like. A normal ass guy. Vanya needs friends who sympathize with her holy shit get this person some socialization

Pogo really did have to lead these kids by hand to the recording rooms because literally no one was super invested in reginalds ~murder mystery~

ahafahJAGSJWGAI MY ROOMMATE JUST SAID POGO IS THE BEST CHARACTER SO FAR,,,, I will probably never include pogo in my fics because I do Not Care About Him lmaoooo

Aww five does to see Dolores and being like “it’s been a rough couple of days :(“,,,,, baby,,,, but also tag yourself I’m hazel going “elastic wrist splint yesssssss”

Five I am begging you PLEASE get some sleep

OH FIVE SHAKING DIEGO IN THE APOCALYPSE TO TRY AND WAKE HIM UP OHHHHH OH :(

Episode 3:

my roommate is super faceblind which is an issue bc she identifies people mainly by hairstyle so seeing the s2 stuff on tumblr is tripping her over bc she keeps seeing diego and going ??? who is that again? bc she’s seen his longer hair

okay there is no way that the eggs that grace put in that pan are the ones that ended up on the smiley face breakfast plate,,, but also grace that whole scene was a mood honestly i would be like “okay maybe mom killed dad BUT he deserved it sooooo”

“what the FUCK” - my roommate about cha-cha’s shitty wound care where she holds a curling iron against her arm

i didn’t remember that five got shOT AT THE DEPARTMENT STORE did i just erase that from my memory?? i mean yeah it’s a graze but he stitches it up and then slaps a bandaid on it so he has a wound that needed stitches on his shoulder for the entire show ??????? is he okay???? that would make moving your arm,,, painful,,,,,

a bandaid just slapped over it i’m actively yelling

“Sometimes when I see a million gifs of a show before I watch I get really surprised when they talk but he is exactly what I expected” - my roommate, about five

“I noticed they’ve only really showed diego in really badly lit scenes so far” - my roommate defending her lack of ability to recognize diego

i’m still laughing about pogo literally having to point out the murder tapes and now allison and luther are investigating and just. allison is lowkey defending grace and i’m laughing

“why is he saying woodwork is embarrassing that’s like one of the most middle of the wood hobbies to have. you’re respectable to grandpas who used to carve wooden ducks AND twenty-year-olds who can’t make anything to save their lives” - my roommate on leonard peabody

“i think he’s already crossing some lines he’s met this lady ONCE” - roommate on leonard/vanya

five having flashbacks in the car :(

did allison and luther draw straws for who went to fetch which sibling?? allison was like “dibs on vanya” and luther was just like “aww :(”

five luther and klaus in the van - BOYS NIGHT BOYS NIGHT let’s go pick up diego

“the coat he’s wearing does have a nice swish to it” - roommate about klaus’s coat

luther being like “you’re just as messed up as the rest of us and we’re all you have” like luther,,, baby,,,,, you literally ARE all he has,,,,,, his family is the only thing he’s really cared about since he was thirteen and maybe before then :(

“I can’t tell if those are supposed to be cake or yeast donuts... i think extruded donuts are cake donuts but she said she lets them rise so maybe they’re yeast?” - my roommate focusing on all the things that i do not

sometimes i forget that hazel and cha-cha pretended to be private detectives trying to find a lost child in a potentially dangerous situation,,, five would be disgusted

“she shouldn’t get a vote” “i was gonna say i agree with you” “she should get a vote!!” this is peak sibling energy honestly i think i’ve had that exact interaction with my siblings voting for a movie or something

“hashtag android rights”

“I want to be the tailor who gets a call one day that says ‘i want you to make clothes for a chimpanzee”

is it telling that only luther in the flashback didn’t really talk to grace at all,, i mean five didn’t either but i think he was gone by that point in the flashback ????

wait diego tells grace that she worked for him for thirty years,,, the kids are 29 and later it’s implied she was built bc vanya kept killing nannies when they were like four but maybe s2 clarifies that some more?? or diego just is rounding up

“that’s an interesting fabric to her skirt” - my roommate about grace’s outfit

forgot that hazel and cha cha broke the door to the manor busting in,, do they ever fix that?? we’re only at episode three do they spend the rest of the season with their door open to anyone on the streets

okay that bathtub is WAY too small to allow for klaus to be moving his elbows about like that underwater smh

“how is HE useful on mission??” my roommate about klaus

where is the SECURITY SYSTEM??? luther LITERALLY said that reggie was more paranoid and yet some assassin can just bust down the door and have unrestricted access????? he built a whole ROBOT but no security system????????

“maybe it was like,, practice for the kids? someone breaks in and they take care of it? wait no that doesn’t explain the thirteen years they’ve been gone?”

“why WAS he on the moon?” - about luther

“I want to see what she’s embroidering!!” about grace during the gunfight in the living room she’s absolutely ignoring diego getting shot at

what is a rope-a-dope,,,, diego yells “EVER HEARD OF A ROPE-A-DOPE???” at luther but like. no i haven’t. what does that MEAN diego

aww i forgot they played sinnerman, love that song

“what are you doing dude, rumor has it you’re not shooting at me that’s all you need to do” i mean. the roommate is not wrong. allison could just end the fight with a yell. i understand she’s pissed off and has rumor trauma but like cha cha is actively trying to murder them

how is luther not winning he literally has super strength. does hazel have super strength? just punch the man and knock him out jesus y’all suck at this smh

why is there such intense music we all been knew about luther’s strength - oH HIS BODY

forgot about that

is it allison’s fault that klaus got kidnapped because she didn’t literally just rumor them to give up?? like she literally has that power. she could have been like “i heard a rumor you left and forgot about us” it didn’t even need to be violent?? i understand she has rumor trauma but this i feel is allowable circumstances

diego showing his worry about vanya by getting angry which honestly i think all the siblings do that rip none of these idiots have even heard of healthy communication in their LIVES

you know,, i don’t think vanya can drive. she takes the bus. she took a taxi to leonard’s house. we see her walking a lot. does she know how to drive?? i imagine that the umbrella academy were taught bc of mission related stuff but,,, vanya wasn’t?? that’s just depressing tbh

#tua rewatch #i cannot beliEVE she likes pogo so much #pogo was complicit in the hargreeves abuse no i wont change my mind #i would be more likely to forgive him if he didnt keep mentioning how much reginald loved them #pogo fam dont say that #youre just going to feed luthers daddy issues #more to come #i cannot BELIEVE i forgot five got shot/grazed in the arm by a bullet #he slaps a BANDAID OVER IT #right after i said five is better at woundcare than cha cha with the curling iron #he just #slaps a bandaid on it #not even a big bandaid #that motherfucker

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love-sapphirerose · 4 years

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Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon Episode 21

https://www.animenewsnetwork.com/review/yashahime-princess-half-demon/episode-21/.170045

I was naïve enough to hope that, after delivering an essentially tolerable half-hour last week, Yashahime might finally be on the upswing. Except I forgot: Yashahime is where hope goes to die. The animation, voice-acting, and direction all still range from mediocre to outright bad; nothing's changed there. In order to truly understand what makes “The Secret of the Rainbow Pearls” so lame, we have to talk about its writing, and that means the return of ~Yashahime Masterpiece Theater~, where I provide a completely accurate, line-by-line breakdown of Yashahime's many flaws! We begin some two-hundred years before the beginning of InuYasha, with Kirinmaru plotting his defeat of the Great Dog Demon…

—Prologue: Wherein We Technically Learn About the Secret of the Rainbow Pearls.—

The Four Perils: Lord Kirinmaru, the Great Dog Demon is ill, which makes right now the perfect time to strike!

Kirinmaru: You idiots! I'm an honorable and soulful villain. I only want to kill the GDD if we're on equal footing! Riku, go deliver these medicines to him, so I can murder him later!

Riku: Kay. [He leaves]

Lady Zero: That damned fool Kirinmaru! If only he'd be willing to murder the GDD while he's down! This is why we haven't taken over the world yet! [Riku returns]

Riku: Yo, so I went to go deliver those meds, but that Great Dog Demon dude is definitely dead.

Lady Zero: What!? No! how cruel, how unjust is this world to take from it such a beloved creature! I simply cannot handle this grief, so I'm going to use my tears on the Shikon Jewel to make these Rainbow Pearls, which are like Infinity Gems, I guess? Point is, I'm not even a demon anymore, except I'll still be immortal and young even hundreds of years from now, so maybe I am a demon still?

Riku: Um.

—End Prologue—

(Why does Lady Zero's entire disposition turn on a dime? Why does it take almost two hundred years for Riku to get ahold of the other Rainbow Pearls? I hope you weren't hoping for answers to any of those questions, because instead the episode takes us to…)

—Act One: Wherein Towa Is Very Bad at Listening to Directions. Again.—

Setsuna: Alright, sis, look. Moroha and I are going off to do…whatever it is we do in our free time. It's the new moon, and you're powerless again. We all know that everything you touch is immediately ruined, so I am begging you. Please. Do not go anywhere. Do not do anything. Just stay inside with Kaede. Got it?

Towa: Yeah, yeah, I got it! Geez. Hey, Kaede, how are—

Kaede:[Unprompted] Have I ever told you about how much you remind me of your mother, Rin? I lived with her for years, and when she disappeared after you were born, it broke my heart.

Towa: You've literally never mentioned any of this to me, even though we've been in Feudal Japan for…I dunno, a while? Anyways, I guess I'm mildly interested in this. What happened? Did she die?

Kaede: I dunno. Probably.

Towa: Huh. Well, what about me reminded you of her?

Kaede: She was…nice?

Towa: Neat. Oh damn, was that the Dream Butterfly!? [Towa immediately runs outside to get into some shenanigans]

Setsuna:[Miles away] Seriously, Towa, what the fu—

—End Act One—

(I don't need to go into any more detail about why it's so ridiculous that it has taken twenty-one episodes for Towa to show even a passing interest in one of the most important story threads that fans have been dying to have resolved, right? That's good, because we haven't even gotten to the next part yet…)

—Act Two: Wherein Things Get Really Dumb. —

Towa: Aw, man, I lost the Dream Butterfly! I guess I'll give up on that again for another season or two. [Enter Riku]

Riku: Hey there girl. Remember me? I'm that sketchy guy who always shows up at suspiciously convenient moments. I got you arrested that one time? I have an inexplicable knowledge of the villains' movements and plans?

Towa: It's tea time! [The episode becomes about these two sharing a romantic tea picnic, for some reason]

Riku:[A few minutes of unbearably cringy flirting later…] So anyway, I'm, like, all about these Rainbow Pearls. You know, the incredible magic artifacts that are lodged in you and your twin sister's eyes? I gotta snatch 'em all!

Towa: Oh yeah. That isn't even a little suspicious! I've honestly never thought about them much. What do they even do when you have them all together?

Riku: Who knows? Your powers would increase, I suppose. Or perhaps a devastating Degenerate Age could begin…[Riku gives a mischievous double-wink]

(Note: That is really Riku's line from the show, straight up. Even the wink.)

Towa: I have no follow up questions for you. At all. Not even one! It's a good thing that I'm out here, vibing with such an obviously trustworthy dude, especially since I don't have any powers tonight!

Totetsu: Surprise! I'm gonna kill you all, you motherfu—

—End Act Two—

(There's a fight scene here, it's nothing special. The only noteworthy thing is that Riku summons some awfully familiar-looking poison miasma bees. Oh, and he takes a bunch of bees to the back to protect Towa, which leads us to the worst part of the whole episode…)

—Act Three: Wherein…You Know What? Just Read It For Yourselves. Trust Me.—

Riku: Agh! Towa, I've got to tell you that I used to work for Kirinmaru, that guy who wants to murder everything you love. Well, I used to work for him, but we both have *separate* schemes for the Rainbow Pearls, so it's been kind of awkward.

Towa: Yeah, yeah. Whatever, sure. Have I told you that I kind of have a crush on you?

Riku: Oh. Well, that's nice and all, but I don't know if you heard— [Setsuna and Moroha conveniently arrive]

Setsuna:Towa, you had one job. How are you so bad at this? Plus, this Riku guy is definitely a creep! He smells like our worst enemy! It's weird!

Towa: I know, isn't it hot?

Moroha: Um. [Riku brutally decapitates Totetsu, leaving his head to gasp and twitch on the ground. It's honestly pretty metal]

Riku: I'm just so good at murdering things. Wowzers!

Towa: You see, so trustworthy! In fact, he's so trustworthy that I'm just going to give him my Silver Pearl!

Moroha: Wait, what!?

Setsuna: That is, without a doubt, the stupidest thing you could possibly do at this moment. What on earth would make you think, even for a second, that—

Towa: Already done, no takebacks! Byeeeeeee!

Riku: Um….Okay? Peace out, then! [Riku dips out]

Setsuna: Was that really okay, handing over your Pearl like that? With those Rainbow Pearls he'll have immense demon power. We can only hope that their rightful owner won't use them for evil… [Towa looks very shocked by this ridiculously obvious point]

Moroha: And wasn't Mr. Riku working with Kirinmaru?

Towa: That's right!? I changed my mind! Give me back my Silver Pearl!!! Riku, wait!

Riku: Haha. No.

—End Episode—

You know what the kicker is? That final exchange up there is taken word-for-word from the dialogue in the final scene. What more is there to say, when Yashahime's actual script becomes virtually indistinguishable from my bitter snark? It's one thing to try and blend some humor into your fantasy adventure story, but it's another thing altogether for the show to make its ostensible lead heroine into such an incompetent joke. This week's Half-Star of Pity comes from the single redeeming moment of the entire episode: Moroha finally got herself a corpse head to sell! Good for you girl! Now go buy yourself a hot meal, a fresh set of clothes, and a one-way ticket out of this show, because Lord knows it isn't doing you any favors.

#anti yashahime #anti hanyo no yashahime #anti sunrise #anti towa #anti moroha

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lochrannn · 3 years

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AU-gust: Ya like Jazz?

Read on AO3

No warnings

prompt no 7: Beekeeper

Characters: Lila Pitts, Diego Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

So, dad’s dead and now they have his estate to deal with.

The stupid townhouse that the old man had cobbled together from two separate houses, making it into some kind of monstrosity of cavernous halls and oddly shaped rooms, and then filled it to the brim with artefacts, antiques, taxidermied animals, and seven children he didn’t love, stolen from all corners of the world, was bad enough. But this… thing in the middle of absolutely nowhere really puts the cherry on top of the turd sandwich… or whatever the expression is, Klaus is finding it hard to concentrate on his own thoughts while he’s looking at the creepiest wood cabin he has ever seen in real life.

He shouldn’t even be here. He’d only come along to the reading of the will as he was hoping to get some cash that his father would have left for him, purely for appearance’s sake, but then his slightly estranged siblings (they have met for family weddings and funerals, and occasionally run into each other more or less intentionally over the years) promised him a real share if he helped them deal with things.

He should have stuck to Allison, but she is freshly divorced and in a surprisingly bad mood about it, so Klaus decided on Diego instead. But that has landed him outside the cabin, none of them knew existed, after a slightly tense two hour drive with his grumpiest brother.

The drive was tense because the last time Klaus had stayed with Diego when he was between living arrangements, he may have liberated from his brother a - what turned out to be - quite expensive watch.

Diego really does like to hold a grudge. Klaus thinks that’s rather pedestrian of him.

But as nothing can be proven, Klaus decides to repay Diego for the watch by giving some assistance with the cabin and not even complaining about it. Well maybe a little.

“What was the old coot even doing with this?” he asks incredulously.

“Dunno… let’s go and find out,” Diego says and then goes up to the door and breaks the lock with his Swiss army knife, like a glorified boy scout.

What they find inside is more of what they found inside the house in the city. A place filled to the brim with stuff. And to Klaus’s utter annoyance, it is very hard to distinguish the valuables from the junk.

They start halfheartedly looking through things, not even bothering to tidy much, just deciding that they’ll probably have to take anything that’s worth keeping and then hire a company to do the rest.

Klaus opens a heavy looking wooden chest and then springs back with a yelp.

“What?” Diego calls from the other room.

“Bees!” Klaus shouts in a high pitched voice and then edges back a little more, glad he dropped the lid back down in his panic, but still able to see the huge writhing mass of a hive before his mind’s eye.

“What the shit? Nah man! I don’t fuck with bees!” Diego has made it no closer to Klaus than to the door between the rooms and he’s apparently decided that’s as far as he needs to go.

“What do we do?” Klaus’s usually stoic brother asks him with a deep frown and a lot more worry in his voice than Klaus has heard in a long while.

“I don’t know,” Klaus answers, making his way over to find shelter in the other room, not particularly interested in getting stung either.

Then he has a thought, “But if the internet is to be believed, there are bouji white women all over the place who love nothing more than to scrape some bees out of any old crack or crevice, I’m sure we can find one who’ll help us with our little issue.”

He pulls out his phone and starts searching. Not quite sure what to type into google, he just tries the dumbest version of what he’s looking for. That usually works.

“Aha!” he exclaims, and Diego comes to look over his shoulder. Klaus reads out loud, “It says ‘The Bee Handler - we handle any bee trouble you might have’ sounds like exactly the thing we’re looking for. And this woman might be a bit older than I expected, but she’s excessively blonde and very bouji looking, don’t you think?”

“Call her!” Diego grumbles.

The bee handler lady says she has no appointments free for a removal for the next four weeks, but when Klaus explains that they have come all the way out to the cabin and weren’t planning on coming back, but need to be able to look through the rest of the bee infested room, and when he then also explains that they are willing to compensate her handsomely for her troubles, the woman promises to send her daughter along, who is apparently involved in the family business.

Klaus and Diego decide to edge their way along the wall of the room full of danger, just to get out of the cabin and wait for the bee handler’s daughter out on the porch.

When a huge, fuck off truck pulls up the dirt road about an hour and a half later and a woman climbs out the driver’s side, she turns out to be nothing like what Klaus had expected.

Klaus had imagined a tall, elegant, blonde woman, wearing a pastel coloured chiffon blouse, maybe a wide brimmed hat. Instead he finds that they’ll apparently be rescued from their bees by a tiny, very angry looking goth.

She clambers up onto the flat back of her truck, not having acknowledged Klaus and Diego yet, pulls a huge case down, and then stomps her way over to them, once shiny red boots getting duller with each step she takes along the dusty path.

“The directions you left for me were absolute dogshit, which one of you numpties do I have to thank for that?” Her accent sounds a lot more like their father’s than the woman Klaus talked to on the phone.

“That would be me,” Klaus answers, having no trouble keeping his tone excessively pleasant. He’s quite certain she just called him an ition, but if he got offended every time someone called him an idiot, he’d end up being constantly angry like his brother. The brother who’s gone oddly quiet.

Klaus turns around to Diego, as the woman stomps up the wooden stairs, and finds a very peculiar look on his face.

“Right, I’m Lila, I’ll be handling your bees today… yada yada, my mother insists I give you the spiel… for the branding. So, where are the little creepers?” the woman, Lila, drawls with a slightly blank expression, but her kohl rimmed eyes glow a bit brighter when she starts talking about the bees.

“Just this way,” Klaus swings his arm towards the door dramatically to indicate the way. “After y…” he trails off when Lila breezes past him entirely ignoring him.

He’s just about to follow her in, when Diego pushes past him, also saying nothing and with a slightly dumb, almost dreamy expression on his face.

Oh fuck, Klaus thinks. He’s forgotten about his brother’s thing for intimidating, angry women. This should be interesting.

Klaus can admit that at times Diego can be remarkably smooth. At other times he is a huge dumbass. These versions of him occur seemingly at random and apparently today Diego is incapable of pulling off smooth.

The two brothers spend most of the time that Lila takes dealing with the hive, back in the other room, watching from the doorway as she… does whatever it is she has to do… and Diego has made multiple attempts at small talk, but Lila keeps shooting him down with bored one word answers. Klaus likes her on principle for making his brother look like a fool.

Once she’s more or less done, she closes the lid of the chest and instructs the two of them to carry it outside so that the remaining bees that she couldn’t secure in her crate can fly out, once outside, and hopefully follow her along to her destination.

Klaus really doesn’t want to do any heavy lifting, and even Diego next to him seems reluctant to get too close to the bee infested chest, but it’s not like they have much of an alternative so they seemingly silently agree to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Klaus takes the front end, assuming his brother, who has much more in the way of brawn to offer, will have an easier time of keeping his end up when they make their way down the front steps.

They manage quite well, with hardly any cursing from Diego, and Lila follows them outside.

And then, to his genuine surprise, when they get to the dusty path in front of the porch, Klaus catches Lila staring at Diego where he’s gently putting down his end of the chest - Klaus just let his drop unceremoniously - and she’s thoroughly checking his brother out.

Good lord, Klaus thinks, Diego is lucky that he’s hot.

But somehow, nothing else happens. It seems, Diego’s given up on his pathetic attempts at flirting, and while Diego scribbles down his credit card information, Lila just looks at him with a slight scowl, as if he’s taking too long for her liking.

She gets in her truck and Diego ambles back towards the cabin, “C’mon Klaus, I want to be done here before it gets dark!” he calls.

“Right with you in a sec!” Klaus sing-songs back and thinks he hears a grumbled ‘whatever’ as Diego disappears back into the cabin.

Klaus makes his way over to the open car window where Lila seems to be sorting through some paperwork.

“What now?” her question dripping with irritation.

“Do you ever make it into the city?” Klaus asks, as casually as he can manage, which is very.

“How’s that any of your business?” Lila shoots back, giving him a very sceptical frown.

“Humor me for a second,” Klaus gives her his brightest, most disarming smile.

And apparently it works, because she shrugs and says “on occasion…”

“Then you should let me give you my brother's number!”

“Why?” Actual bafflement has made it into Lila’s voice, she doesn’t even sound quite so angry anymore.

“So you can call him up when you’re in the city, silly! Go on a date, have wild, sweaty sex, or whatever you kids want to do!” and when her mouth literally drops open in shock, Klaus goes on, “Oh please, are you telling me you didn’t notice him mooning over you?”

“He was?” she asks in a voice that’s significantly more quiet and softer than any other she’s used on them all afternoon. And Klaus can’t be sure with the dark brown of her skin, but he’s getting the impression that she’s blushing.

“Oh my god! You two idiots are made for each other. Give me your phone!” Klaus rolls his eyes at her.

Lila pulls out her phone and hands it over.

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