#i apologise for my childish sense of humour | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

helloalycia · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff

chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four

author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!

Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.

A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.

Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

And there goes my moment.

Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?

"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."

She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.

"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"

"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.

She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."

Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"

"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.

"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.

She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"

"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.

She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."

"Oh, the scandal," I teased.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.

"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.

Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"

She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"

I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."

Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."

"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"

She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.

"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.

I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.

Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.

"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."

I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.

"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.

"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.

"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."

She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."

She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.

"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."

"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.

"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."

"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."

She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.

"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."

She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."

I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.

When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.

"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."

She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."

I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.

"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.

She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."

"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."

Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."

And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.

Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.

—

Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.

As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.

Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.

Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.

"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.

Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.

"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."

I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."

She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."

The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.

"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."

"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"

She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits, but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."

I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.

She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.

And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.

"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.

I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.

Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."

She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."

I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."

She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.

"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.

I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.

She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."

I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.

Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."

She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"

I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."

She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.

Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.

"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.

She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."

"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.

"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."

I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."

She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."

I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."

She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."

I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."

She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.

"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."

She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."

I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."

"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."

Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.

The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.

"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."

Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.

—

My dreams were never anything worthwhile.

For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...

As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.

So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.

"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"

It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.

"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.

I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.

"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.

In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.

"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.

She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.

"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.

Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."

The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.

"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.

When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.

The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.

"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.

I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.

"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.

"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.

My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.

"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.

They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.

"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.

I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.

When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.

I liked my brother's fiancé.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu

375 notes · View notes

nagichi-boop · 3 years

Text

Ways me & Mae Borowski are similar

Yes, this is a self indulgent post.

TW // Mental illness (including depersonalisation/derealisation)

Also, spoilers.

1. Sense of humour

Mae makes jokes about things like arson and things that typically aren’t funny. She even makes jokes with Gregg about how she wishes he would die in a very gruesome way. And she makes jokes out of her trauma as a coping mechanism (I assume). I also make jokes like this, though I am selective who I make these jokes to. I don’t think a stranger would understand if I told them I kill babies as my side business.

2. College dropouts

Though college is different in the UK than other countries, I was supposed to do 2 years. Most of my time at college was me crying and stressing over my assignments. During summer break, I looked for work to have any excuse to drop out, but I was unsuccessful. But the day before I was supposed to go back to college, I had a nervous breakdown and decided not to go back. Mae dropped out of college because she had struggles with her mental health too, though her reason for dropping out was probably more justified than mine.

3. Body/self-esteem issues

When Mae looks at herself in the mirror, she talks about how she looks round and just generally seems to dislike her appearance. She also feels as though everyone hates her. I definitely struggle with this; feeling as though you’re ugly, feeling like everyone hates you and wants to leave you. Also, when she’s in the car with Bea after getting drunk, she cries and apologises for being a screw up. I often feel like I’m a burden to those around me, spreading misery where I go, even though sometimes I do something because I am trying to take care of my mental health.

4. Child in an adult’s body

Speaking of the conversation with Bea, she talks to Mae about how she grew up and became an adult, but Mae stayed a child in terms of maturity. And then later in the game, she realises her friends have responsibilities that mean they can’t just mess around all night. I feel like everyone my age figured out what they were doing, they have friends (or are even married), they are happy. But I am still very immature. I cry over silly things, I obsess over “childish” things, I spend money on plushies, etc. And while (unlike Mae) I have had a job, I never felt like I was mentally equipped for it. It sometimes felt like the staff viewed me as an incompetent child that can’t understand anything. Also, neither of us can drive.

5. “They were just shapes”

Towards the end of the game, it’s revealed that Mae had been experiencing a series of strange events. These have been suggested to be dissociation, or more specifically depersonalisation/derealisation. Mae felt so detached from reality that she says things were just shapes to her. While I haven’t been diagnosed with DPDR and I find it unlikely that I have the disorder, I think I have some of the symptoms. I look in the mirror and don’t recognise/relate to the person looking back. My memories feel like they don’t belong to me or that they were a dream. And people don’t always feel like they’re real, more like they’re robots or NPCs that simply react to situations rather than have emotions and memories.

Mae was fortunate that in her situation, she had Gregg, Bea and Angus there to keep her grounded and look after her. They became a refuge for her, a safe place to go. For me, I don’t really have anyone irl that I can turn to for help. Thankfully I’ve never gotten into a daze and wandered out alone or anything, but I don’t have anyone who knows how deep my struggles go or who is close enough to me to be able to offer a shoulder to cry on sorta thing.

6. Imagination/daydreaming

Since I don’t want to end this on a sad note, let’s talk about Mae’s imagination. She uses it when she plays music and when she is with Angus looking at the stars. I tend to immersive (or maladaptive??) daydream, especially if I’m listening to music. It’s like being able to watch my own anime in my mind, but no one else can see the story playing out in my mind.

xxx

Anyways, this was just a silly little post I wanted to make because I like Mae a lot. Hope it’s not completely boring!

#night in the woods #nitw #mae borowski #gregg lee #tw depersonalization #tw derealization #kinning #nagichi talks

81 notes · View notes

emiefaunwrites · 3 years

Note

Wait wait wait what is this idiot's plan to make Taka like him plz spill?

Heyyyy anon!

Pahahaha I had to actually come up with a decent plan! My original wasn't excellent but I think I've cracked it!

Let's hope Kokichi is successful, huh? Thanks for the ask and I hope you enjoy!!

**********************

• Kokichi honestly thinks his plan is foolproof.

• Who DOESN'T love his loveable ass, after all?

• Taka just doesn't see what a great guy he is - if he can get past his obsession with the rules and Kokichi's love of pranks, then he'll see how great a guy Kokichi really is!

• And so he hatches his plan.

• For it to work, he'll need to recruit a few friends.

• Kaito is the obvious one. Kaito is his best friend and will help him out with all his plans.

• Kaito's boyfriend Shuichi will also work - if KAITO does something, then SHUICHI is sure to follow.

• He wants to ask Leon and Hiro, but they're too close to Taka to work.

• And he needs someone strong.

• Ah. Gonta. Perfect.

• He lets Kaito and Shuichi into the plan and tells Gonta what he needs to do - listen to whatever Kaito says, basically.

• And so the plan is put into motion.

• Taka is approached by Shuichi, who tells him a teacher wants to speak with him about a project - and who is Taka to refuse a teacher's request?

• Heading to the classroom, not really spotting Gonta and Kaito loitering, he steps inside to see no one there.

• Well. No one but Kokichi.

• And before he can turn around and leave, the door slams shut behind him - the looming shadow of Gonta outside holding the door shut.

• No matter how much Taka demands he opens the door, Gonta apologises and says he and Kokichi must make friends!

• OF COURSE! This was all KOKICHI'S rotten plan!

• With a huff, Taka crosses his arms and stands facing the door - refusing to even interact with the other boy in the room.

• Who is TRYING to charm him into talking - and failing hard.

• 'Takaaaaa, don't ignore meeeee! It's meeeeeeean!'

• Silence.

• 'C'moooooooon! I'm not thaaaat baaaaaad!'

• Silence.

• 'Pleeeeeeeeeaase?'

• Silence.

• Well, this really isn't working. But honestly, what did he expect?

• So let's try a different approach.

• 'Why don't you like me?'

• Now THIS gets a response.

• 'You're childish, you're irresponsible, you're out of control, you play horrible tricks on innocent people, you have NO regard for other people's feelings, you...'

• Oh wow okay, the list is quite big - Taka isn't holding back.

• 'Is there ANYTHING you like about me?'

• 'No.'

• 'Ouch, really?'

• Silence once again.

• Okay this plan REALLY isn't working.

• And Kokichi really hasn't got much experience with friends. Sure, he has his group but he IS the leader. They HAVE to like him.

• Kaito was his first REAL friend - outside of D.I.C.E anyway. AND he's the first one he didn't have to lie too much to.

• But he's dealing with the Ultimate Moral Compass, after all. His lies and tricks are never going to appeal to him.

• And he does REALLY want to be friends with him. Leon and Hiro always say how funny he is and they sound like they have the same sense of humour when it all boils down to it.

• 'I really want to be your friend.'

• 'Pfft. Sure.'

• 'I'm not lying this time. Promise.'

• Silence yet again. Sheesh...

• Okay - crazy thought.

• What if...what if he tells the truth? Just this once.

• 'I know I'm a brat. I know I'm annoying. I'm loud, and crazy, and a pain in the butt to everyone. And I lie. Like ALL THE TIME.'

• More silence.

• 'I lie so much because people won't believe me if I tell the truth. And sometimes, I'm not actually lying. I just pretend I am. It's easier to pretend something to save yourself hurting in the end.'

• Taka still doesn't answer - but if Kokichi's eyes weren't trained on the ground, he'd have seen the older boy look over his shoulder and spotting what the truth looks like on Kokichi's face.

• 'I've been hurt a lot. My parents pretend I don't exist. I caught all my school friends would talk about me behind my back. The only ones who cared were D.I.C.E but even then, I'm a leader to them more than a friend.'

• Oooh wow, Kokichi wants to stop this truth stuff. But now the floodgates have opened, he can't stop.

• 'I like pranks and I like lies. They keep me safe. But they make people laugh too. And I like seeing people laugh. Maybe sometimes I forget the other side of lies and pranks because I like the laughs so much. Can you really blame a kid for wanting someone to smile at him?'

• Ah dammit. Why is Taka such a softie? He KNOWS this could all be just another trick but Leon's taught his lots about body language.

• He's SURE that all of this isn't a lie.

• 'I would REALLY like it if we could hang out. With everyone else. So you can see that I'm not so bad and I don't have to be sad when you walk away. Jusy once.'

• 'Fine.'

• Kokichi's face lights up as he bounces over, grabbing Taka's hands and jumping up and down.

• 'REALLY REALLY?'

• 'Yeah fine. Just once.'

• 'YES! You won't regret this. Or maybe you will. I might have been lying the whole time!'

• Kokichi laughs happily at Taka's disapproving frown and knocks on the door to indicate Gonta can let go.

• 'Me and Taka are best friends now!'

• 'I wouldn't say that...'

• 'We're besties!'

• It takes a good while before Taka's blood stops boiling whenever Kokichi turns up and starts lying the whole time.

• But he remembers the innocent, sad boy that spoke to him and starts to find glimmers of genuine happiness and truth in his smiles.

• And eventually, they do become friends.

• Not 'besties'. But friends.

#kiyotaka ishimaru #kokichi ouma #gonta gokuhara #shuichi saihara #kaito momota #ask request #anon ask

21 notes · View notes

xsparklingravenx · 4 years

Text

crystalize

Title: crystalize

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Childe, Zhongli

Rating: T

Word Count: 4126

Summary: When Hydro met Cryo, Freeze occurred. For Tartaglia, who held a Hydro vision, who coated his heart in water’s protection, there was no such shelter from the Tsaritsa.

Or, Zhongli stumbles across Childe and is asked to dinner, all while Childe plans on stealing an unsuspecting Archon's gnosis.

AO3

Across the inky canvas of Teyvat’s evening sky, stars glittered like wishes, the night holding them captive for itself. From the balcony of one of Liyue Harbour’s many inns, a man held onto the railing with knuckles white, regarding them with a careless look that belied the truth held within.

The evening breeze teased past locks of wavy hair, toying with the end of a distressed scarf. It was cooler than during the day, but the city itself was no less bustling, moving about below him as if he wasn’t there. Couples linked themselves arm-in-arm to visit attractive restaurants while sailors made their way to taverns, all while merchants finally packed up their wares to return home for the day, perhaps to partners or children, or to empty rooms that were little more than a place to stay. The world went on, unaware it was being watched.

The man felt a little like one of the stars in that moment, though less powerful. Not in the common sense of the word—he was plenty strong—but more in the metaphysical sense. Unlike those stars, he held no kind of ability to grant a wish within him, but he was an observer from further up, something a little more, a Delusion slung around his head in the form of a mask and a night sky to return to when all was over.

Although Snezhnaya would not welcome him home until his mission was complete.

Not far from the inn, the man could see the Wangshen Funeral Parlour, and it was there that his thoughts drifted away from him, an idle smile playing upon his lips. His target resided there most days, going about his business, his work, making his contracts and assisting the people of Liyue throughout some of their hardest times. Zhongli, or, so he said his name was, but the man knew better.

Dark hair, twisting into that thin pony-tail of his. Amber eyes that only legends spoke of. Broad shoulders and always delectably dressed, with a voice so deep that the man on the balcony could only imagine that hearing it was what drowning felt like. He’d never been afraid of water; it was difficult to be, when it bent and broke at his command.

“Childe?”

The voice made the man jolt, hands falling away from the balcony railing, which was unusual for him because he was so rarely ever startled. So deep in his thoughts that he’d conjured a fantasy? Hardly. He was not that careless. No, instead, when he looked down, he found the object of his wayward musings standing beneath him, still dressed to the nines as he always was, those amber eyes he'd been imagining peering up at him curiously.

The name juddered harshly against his psyche, because for a moment, it was not the right one.

“That is you, isn’t it?” said Zhongli, impatient for an answer even though he must have known that he was correct. If there was enough lamplight for the man on the balcony to see him clearly, then there was enough for Zhongli to see him back. “What a surprise. I had no idea you were staying so close by.”

The man, whose name was not truly Childe, made it so it was. He grinned down at him. “That’s ‘cause I’m always full of surprises. What’s up? So eager to see me that you had to come say hi?”

The edges of Zhongli’s lips quirked up near imperceptibly, but it was a smile all the same. “I was just passing through on my way back to my abode, and thought I would give a quick greeting. Though, I will admit, I do feel guilty for drawing you from your thoughts. I don’t imagine you spend a great deal of time in your head, do you?”

Childe barked a laugh before staggering back from the railing with a look of mock offence, one hand covering his heart. “Ouch! Kind of rude, don’t you think? You wound me!”

Zhongli blinked languidly up at him. “Oh. Then I must apologise. I didn’t mean any offence.”

It was difficult to tell if he was joking. Framed in both the silver tones of the starlight and the warm tones of Liyue’s streetlamps, Childe raked his eyes over his form, black and gold and elegant. He was a god in human disguise, something far more than him, and yet someone he'd come to enjoy the presence of regardless. This was the man who he had to break and bend like the water he enjoyed, and yet, here he was, having fun while wearing the skin of the person he knew he could never be.

Leaning back over the railing, Childe said, “Yeah, I know you didn’t. Are you just going home, or do you want to do something fun before you get there?”

“Something fun?” Zhongli said it slowly, as if he was deliberating it. “And what is fun to you, Childe? You wish to break into a hilichurl’s camp for target practice? Or is a theatre play more your fare? I’ll be truthful, I’m not certain.”

Shooting at hilichurl’s did sound entertaining, especially when he thought of fighting at Zhongli’s side, covering his spear with his bow, learning the ins and outs of his style while searching for the weak points. Then again, he had a feeling that Zhongli would prefer something less violent. He enjoyed history, given his encyclopaedic knowledge of Liyue’s past, and he enjoyed talking about it, given his inability to not drop his explanations on anyone who so much as expressed an interest in it. Something quieter would be to his tastes, of that he was sure.

“So, that’s a yes?” Childe asked.

“To?”

“Doing something with me.”

“Ah.” Zhongli smiled again, so nearly invisible yet still there. “So you want to surprise me? Then yes. I’ve nowhere to be, not tonight, so why not spend it in the presence of a friend?”

Friend. Childe grinned, dipping back into his room for his coin purse before returning to the balcony once more. He’d spent more than enough time with Zhongli by now to know how lackadaisical he was when it came to Mora, so it was better to come prepared than be caught short. He was well-stocked, the Fatui’s coffers helping immensely with his (many) expenditures.

“Hey, Zhongli.” He tossed the small bag once into the air before letting it land in his waiting palm. “Catch me?”

Without waiting for an answer, he leapt over the balcony’s edge, delighting in how Zhongli started forward as if he really was going to humour Childe’s request. Still, the fall was not great—he’d traversed Liyue’s cliffsides and mountains enough by now to know when something was too much for him. He landed in a crouch before him, half bow, half flourish, and remained there a moment before straightening to his full height.

“Shame,” he said, planting his hands on his hips. “You nearly made it.”

Zhongli raised his brow. “Indeed, although I fear that if I had tried to catch you, you would have bowled us both over.”

“Would that really have been so bad?” Childe asked. “To fall with me, I mean.”

Zhongli considered this a moment, the way he always tended to do, giving Childe’s inane questions more thought than they deserved. The Tsaritsa was not so patient, but he pushed her out of her mind almost as quickly as she entered it.

“Perhaps not,” he answered finally. “So, might I ask, where do you intend for us to go?”

Childe hummed, and then set off ahead of him, linking his hands behind his back as he took large strides. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

***

When Hydro met Cryo, Freeze occurred.

It was common knowledge throughout Teyvat, elemental compositions were taught to every child at the same time they were taught to read, and so all knew. To be caught in a rainstorm when a frozen slime dared approach was sure to spell death, and so travellers oft sought shelter when clouds covered the sky, not so foolish to afford such a fate.

For Tartaglia, who held a Hydro vision, who coated his heart in water’s protection, there was no such shelter from the Tsaritsa. Water was such a malleable element; it could be burned and turned to vapour. It could be caught up in Ameno’s gusts and wielded as a weapon. Electro used it for its own, turning it into a catalyst of death, and beneath Cryo’s touch, it was shaped into something unbreakable and immovable.

Maybe he had been weak once, a time long ago before the Tsaritsa put her hands on him and fashioned him into the frozen thing he was now. It was not worth remembering. He knelt before her and took her orders, and the ice that surrounded his heart helped him in carrying them out. To spy, to interrogate, to kill—that was the life he had chosen in standing at her side, and so, it was the life he had to live out.

“You wear your masks so easily, Tartaglia,” La Signora commented once, just before they left on their concurrent assignments. He was to leave for Liyue to track down the Geo Archon, while she was destined for Mondstadt and its deity of Ameno. “Why, I often find myself wondering if I’m ever looking at the truth.”

She was as frozen as the Tsaritsa, wielding her frost like gloves as her fingers caressed his face, tipping his chin so he would look up into her eyes of ice. Body frozen beneath her touch, he made himself grin, though he was hardly entertained by her display of dominance.

“Says you, when you’ve always got your face half-covered,” he replied, reaching up to grasp her wrist, fingers tight against her pale skin. “What secrets are you hiding, La Signora? Care to spill?”

“Deflecting? How childish a move.” La Signora chuckled, her fingers still about his face, freezing impressions left behind as she used her fingertip to trace his skin. “Such dull eyes you have, Tartaglia. No light left in there at all. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were little more than a living corpse, something brought back from the dead.”

“Still alive, sorry to say,” Tartaglia said, finally pulling her hand from his face. When he let go, she sneered at him, a delightful expression on her haughty face. “You came to find me here for a reason, and somehow I don’t think it was to insult me, so why not say what you came to say?”

Haughty and cold, a favourite of the Tsaritsa, La Signora couldn’t resist her biting words and frozen tones. He already knew why she was before him. She was an extension of their Cryo Archon, a god's words often sitting on her poison tongue.

She reached out again, though this time she touched not his face, but the real, physical mask that sat on the side of his head. There was power in that mask, Electro sparks sealed within it, Electro sparks that would take control and use his Hydro vision for its own should he choose to wear it. Her smile was a bladed thing, and she said, “I trust you’re showing me your true face now, right, Tartaglia?”

He smiled. It was easy enough to put one on his face. “Naturally.”

“You understand how important this mission is, do you not?” La Signora said, still caressing the mask. “And you understand what it is you will face? The Geo Archon will not show himself so easily to someone as tricky and deceptive as yourself, Tartaglia, and there will be no help from the other Harbingers either. You are on your own, little boy, and your punishment will not be kind, should you fail.”

She pulled back from him and walked away, each footstep crashing hard against the stone floor of the Fatui’s base. Tartaglia watched her go, still feeling her ice in his soul. It had not been this way, once. He had not been Fatui, and he had not been a Harbinger. He had not been shackled to this destiny, and he had not enjoyed his fate.

But now? He had been shaped to someone else’s will, taken beneath someone’s wing, given a place to belong and a position that required only his best. He was Fatui. He was a Harbinger. He was shackled to his destiny, and yet he did enjoy it.

When Hydro met Cryo, Freeze occurred.

When Tartaglia encountered the Tsaritsa, he’d been made hers.

***

On their way through the streets, not long after he’d begun leading the way, Childe did what he was best at. He overstepped ordinary boundaries, slowing down to let Zhongli catch up with him, and then linking his arm with his.

Zhongli didn’t seem all that surprised at the action, but he did look over. “What are you doing?”

“Trying something out,” Childe replied with a grin, testing him by pulling a little. Zhongli let him, but didn’t allow him to go free entirely. “Yeah, this is fun. Now it really seems like a night out, huh?”

He was mostly teasing, even if there was a small, fragmented part of him where the Tsaritsa’s ice hadn’t touched that wanted Zhongli to agree. The stars still watched them overhead, still caught up in the night sky’s hold, yet he felt freer than usual beneath their gaze.

“I don’t usually see friends this close,” Zhongli observed. “I’m certain this is something that lovers do.”

“Is it, now?” Childe asked, deliberately playing ignorant. Zhongli must have realised that, given his tone, yet still he let it pass, and still, he didn’t move away. Perfect. This was how one got close to a mark—he had to make their relationship, whether that was friendship or something more, as legitimate as he could. It was swapping masks for masks, looking for quirks and delights, picking apart at the person he was to betray to find out what made them tick. It wasn’t real, and it never would be, but it had to feel that way, to both him, and the mark too.

“Something tells me,” Zhongli said, all smooth tones and raised brows, “that you’re intending for this to look that way.”

With a chuckle, Childe leaned into him, still leading the way to the destination in mind. “Is that a problem?”

Zhongli was quiet a moment, once again deliberating, taking Childe seriously when he really didn’t have to. “No. No problem at all.”

Childe ignored how his heart skipped over a beat, glancing up at the curve of Zhongli’s jaw, at the glittering amber of his eyes. A thought came to him then, one he really shouldn’t have been entertaining, and he said, as a way of leading onto the topic he desired, “You know, I’ve always thought that your eyes look pretty…well. Bright.”

“Please, save me your comparisons to Cor Lapis, or what have you. I can assure you, I’ve heard it all before.”

“So modest!” Childe snickered, shaking his head. “Wasn’t intending on it. They sure are something though. What about me? What would you compare mine too?”

“If I’d known you’d asked me to go out just so you could fish for compliments, I would have driven a harder bargain initially,” Zhongli said. “You can pay for the food tonight, if that’s acceptable.”

“I was gonna pay for it anyway. You think I’d trust you to bring your own bag of Mora?” Childe shook his head in disbelief. “Anyway, I’m waiting.”

La Signora’s words resided in his ears, echoed sounds that he was ashamed to say had cut a little too deeply. Such dull eyes you have, Tartaglia. How part of him wished to rip hers from her sockets for saying such a thing.

Zhongli thought on it long enough that Childe thought he wasn’t to get an answer, but eventually, he spoke. “There are pools in the mountains here, Childe, where fish swim beneath the surface, that shimmer delightfully in the sunlight. When the sun shines here in Liyue, your eyes look remarkably the same, although there are no fish, I’m pleased to say. That would be quite odd.”

It was a thoughtful answer. Painfully so. Struck silent, Childe could do nothing but ruminate on it, on how it contrasted with La Signora’s frozen insult, how it clashed with the ice about his heart.

“Thanks,” he whispered after a moment, a little touched, perhaps, enough to quieten his inner-voice that always pushed him to make light of a situation. Shining lights ahead alerted him that they were nearing their destination, a restaurant that served Snezhnayan cuisine. “Hey, we’re here. Check out this place, you’re going to try something new!”

“New?” Zhongli snorted. “Childe, if you think this is new, then you’re quite mistaken. I once shared meals with a friend from Snezhnaya quite a few many years ago—”

“And I’m sure that was great and all, but I bet it’s changed since then.” Childe was well aware of what he was speaking of, even if Zhongli didn’t realise that. “Now this is my treat, so I’m ordering.”

Zhongli hummed, one hand at his chin in thought. “Do you really think we’ll get a table without a reservation?”

Childe dragged him forward. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Now, let’s go!”

***

In reality, it was all a ruse.

Encountering Zhongli tonight was a happy accident, but the invitation to the restaurant was nothing more than an attempt to get him to let his guard down. When dinner was done, Childe planned to get him alone in some quiet area of town, reach his hand beneath skin, and rip out the thing that made him more than mortal.

For Zhongli was Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon, and Childe was the eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, and he’d been sent to retrieve his gnosis.

The table had been easy, once Childe had replaced his mask with that of Tartaglia and spoken to the owner in his Snezhnayan tongue. As fortune would have it, the owner was Snezhnaya born and bred, and he had much love for his motherland. Perhaps more than Childe did.

“Your grasp of language is impressive, Childe,” Zhongli said once they were seated and champagne was poured before them. He picked up his glass and swirled the liquid within, gazing into it. “You never fail to surprise me. It’s perhaps my favourite thing about you.”

Unbeknownst to him, his words, though coated in honey, were like a dagger to the ribs. I’ll be surprising you even more, once this is through, thought Tartaglia, but it was Childe who said, “Oh? That’s a loaded statement. Okay, so tell me, what else do you like?”

“And you say I’m immodest!” Zhongli sipped at his drink and laughed around it. “I enjoy your company, though, if I must say something. And your bag of Mora. It's always at hand to assist me in a pinch.”

“That’s a joke, right? It’d better be a joke.” Childe reached forward, though he didn’t grab for his own glass of champagne. Instead, he went for the water beside it. Alcohol would distort his mind and muddy his aim when he went for the gnosis. “C’mon, you can’t just like me for my Mora, right?”

“It was a joke,” Zhongli clarified, taking another sip, and Childe couldn’t help but feel a little proud that he was enjoying one of his home’s beverages. He’d have to order vodka next time—

No. Not next time, because it wouldn’t come to be.

“Regardless, if you’re that desperate for another compliment…” Zhongli carried on as if Childe’s mind wasn’t running away with itself. “The colour of your hair is rather delicate, even if I can’t tell precisely which colour it is. In some lights, I daresay it’s more the colour of Cor Lapis than even my eyes. In other, it resembles more earthen stone.”

Despite having not taken a sip of alcohol, Childe felt warm, his cheeks heated. “Wow, you really lay it on thick, don’t you? Stone, though? Got to say, don’t think I’ve ever really been compared with Geo structures before.”

“Understandably. It seems we are often drawn to the colours and concepts that our Visions invite.” Zhongli glanced up. “Might I ask what food we are to sample tonight?”

“You can wait and see on that too,” Childe said, leaning back in his seat, and before long they were greeted by a waiter holding red soups in large bowls. Zhongli tilted his head as his was placed before him, and Childe rose to answer his question before he even asked it. “It’s called Borscht. This looks pretty good, actually. Thick and stodgy.”

Zhongli, eager to sample it, took his spoon and went for it. He remained quiet for a moment while he experienced the flavour, and then said, “Hm. Rather sour.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what to expect. It’s good though!” Childe took his own mouthful, and then another sip of water. “Oh, yeah, this is how it should be. Real sour. But good. What do you think?”

Zhongli went in for another spoonful, which was promising. “Unusual, but something I could get used to. A little bit like you, I suppose.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, promise,” Childe laughed, making himself slow down as he ate, not wanting this moment to be over too quickly. The end of the evening would bring the end to this thing he’d been building here in Liyue, and there was no need to rush it. Zhongli would be merry by the end of it, and Childe would finish it there, before escaping into the night, never to be seen by him again. Quick. Easy. A soulless end to a not-so-soulless mission. He’d return to the Tsaritsa and let her put her hands on him again, refreeze his heart and mould himself back to her will.

And so the meal carried on, their chatter a murmur against the warm buzz of the restaurant, another pair amidst many.

***

The stars still glittered when Childe led Zhongli from the establishment, his head clear despite how his heart beat hard in his chest. The moon hung between them, a silver curve nestled amongst a thousand lights, the only witness of what was to pass.

“I should return home,” Zhongli said, not muzzy in the slightest despite how much he’d drank. He’d made work of the entire bottle, Childe’s share and his own, and then he’d gone on for another, apparently not caring for the dent it made in Childe’s bag of Mora. “As pleasant as the night has been, I do have work in the morning. The funeral parlour will not excuse lateness, not even from me.”

“Hold on,” Childe said, linking their arms anew, pulling him around the side of the building. “You’re gonna leave, just like that? C’mon, don’t I warrant a couple more minutes?”

It was dark, behind the restaurant, cool and shadowed, the moonlight not quite reaching. Childe shuddered, uncharacteristically cold, and Zhongli frowned. “Everything alright there, Childe?”

“Just fine,” Childe replied, pulling away and turning to face him. Zhongli peered at him with a bemused expression. “Stop looking at me like that. Hey, listen, close your eyes for me, just a sec.”

Zhongli considered his request as he did everything else, slowly and thoughtfully, but he complied. Easier than expected, Tartaglia thought, but Childe’s heart smashed into his ribs with renewed anger. There was no coming back from this. This was the end of his mission.

He pressed his hand to Zhongli’s chest, pushing aside his jacket, and Zhongli tensed beneath his touch. He could feel him breathing, chest moving, and how odd it was, for something so godly to draw breath. It was human. Just like him. Just like anyone.

He curled his fingers, ready to dive beneath-and Childe, inexplicably, hesitated.

“Do it,” whispered Zhongli, cracking one eye open, a glint of amber in the dark “if you can.”

It was a dare. Or was it a challenge? Childe’s voice broke in his throat as he closed in, as he felt Geo crash against him, warm and inviting. This was his mission, he told himself. This was what the Tsaritsa wanted. This was his role as a Harbinger.

Yet he did not reach beneath skin. Instead, he reached up, and pressed his lips to Zhongli’s in a kiss.

Another night, Tartaglia told himself.

When Geo met Hydro, Crystalize occurred. A crystal that provided a safeguard, a defensive property, something to keep a person safe.

When Childe’s touch met with Zhongli’s, the ice about his heart melted away, replaced with a shield for the future.

#Genshin Impact #Zhongli #Childe #Tartaglia #chile #My Writing

25 notes · View notes

eltanin-malfoy · 4 years

Text

Epilogue (Kill Or Be Killed VI)

pairing : draco/fem-collegestudent!y/n

word count : 3.8k!

Table Of Contents

warnings : my sad sense of humour, cursing, a bit of a plot twist

a/n : okay i know IM SORRY I HAVEN”T POSTED IN SO LONG I HAVE NO EXCUSES. i have a bunch of fics fully written which i feel super insecure abt. (even a spicy drarry one) at this point i’ve kind of gotten into this circle of being overly critical of what i write and overanalyzing every detail to the point i can’t really tell if what i wrote has any worth. nevertheless i’ve been putting this off way too long so i’m finally gonna post this! and i hope that y’all like it. this is def gonna be different than what you may have been expecting but i implore you to read all of it!! up till my author’s note at the bottom.

taglist: @acciodracoo @drawlfoy @war-sword @lilyreachelcassidy @socontagiousimagines @andreasworlsboring101

What does one do when they’re on the run, you ask?

Well, Draco doesn’t really know either. It’s pretty obvious. In fact, he isn’t even sure whether you’d call wanting to hide from someone you almost murdered who now wants to kill you “being on the run”. He thinks it’s somewhere between hiding and just.. being a right coward.

He runs a few blocks, takes a shortcut to his house, packs up his belongings and wipes any clear identifiers of him off the place. Driving licenses, passports, just anything. Even those little clear strands of hair he’d usually just ignore. Then he covers his hair up with one of those ridiculous beanies, slips on a turtleneck sweater and covers his mouth with it. (He would have covered his nose up as well if it hadn’t been for his.. giraffe-like neck)

It doesn’t take him very long to start to venture out of his house, scoping the vicinity for any prying (Y/N) eyes. He’s alone in the alleyway, except for a homeless man sitting at the edge of the road. Covering himself with a blanket. He seems to be asleep until, well, Draco very gracefully stumbles against some cracked up bitumen. The man sits up, stirring slowly. His eyes blink rapidly as he comes to, the sun shining down bright just at the spot he’s decided to rest at. His eyes are a brilliant blue and they almost glitter in the sunlight. He meets his gaze, just for a second. There’s something so nostalgic about it. Something so familiar, yet so very strange.

Nonetheless, Draco is still very much supposed to be getting out of there. So, he turns to the side, and starts to.. jog. Running would be abnormal at this time of day after all.

He jogs and jogs and jogs. His skinny, dainty looking legs are strangely useful for this task. He gets to a tube station just far enough from his place to avoid suspicion. Then, he does what anyone would do, and heads into the public restroom for a nice, long (and mostly silent) cry. He rushes into a cubicle, locks it behind him and then turns to face the door, covering his face. He weeps and weeps and weeps.

He was in love with her, wasn’t he! He was so stupid! How couldn’t he have known! How could he have idolized someone and somehow have completely missed out the fact that the man had had kids! Should he have just left her like that? All alone in her apartment after she’d been crying about him? Well.. it was true that she was planning on killing him. But oh dear god, she’d definitely been near changing at that final moment… oh dear god, what was he going to do? Where was he going to go?

He thinks he sniffles too loud at one point and an oddly gruff voice in the cubicle to his right just goes “That shit not going too well, son?”, and then he laughs. Ugh.

Draco waits until he’s pretty sure that that man is gone and then he steps out, heading straight for the washbasins at the front. He’s wiped his face with toilet paper enough that he hopes it isn’t too obvious to anyone outside. A man, somehow even lankier than him, is standing at the washbasin beside his, rubbing at his hands so hard with soap you’d think there was something stuck to it. His hair.. isn’t looking too good. Neither is his face. The man notices him step to the front and seems practically captivated by him, keeps staring at him for 10 seconds straight, until he finally says, “You know you’re not allowed to do crack in here, right?”

Draco then blushes a fierce pink.

***

Draco’s quick after that, topping up his Oyster card and calling his broadband provider to cancel his wifi subscription. He even gets his number changed while he’s on the train. There’s more people there than he’s used to, but he looks ridiculous enough in his get up that most people sit as far away from him as they can. He’s thankful Y/N hasn’t found him yet though. Although, as he’s thought about it now, she probably wouldn’t follow him. At least not too far.

Then he changes lines a bunch of times and rides the train all the way to Heathrow Airport. Aha! Do you think he’s about to take a flight out of the country? Because he isn’t! Instead, he calls up Blaise and almost cries about needing help.

“It’s an emergency, mate, I swear!”

“Oh my god, Malfoy.”

“Please, Blaise, for old time’s sake. I’m not too far from your house too. I’m at Heathrow. It’d take you five minutes…”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve just woken up, and this is what you’re calling me for? After months of not speaking?”

“I texted you but you never responded, mate. Come on… please? I thought we’d be buds forever.”

Blaise scoffs.

“Fine, blondie. I’ll be there in half an hour. Be at the pick up place when I get there, or I’m leaving. And you really fucking owe me, you know that.”

Draco sighs. “I know… thank you so much.”

“Yeah, bye.”

It isn’t long before Blaise shows up right where he said he would. And Draco is right there! His turtleneck pulled down now. He runs forward as Blaise steps out of his car and throws his arms around his abdomen.

“Oh, god, bruv.” Blaise pushes him back gently. “I was only coming out because I thought you’d have luggage or some shit. Were you travelling light for once?”

“I… I wasn’t here to catch a flight. Or get off one”

“So.. you were going to drop someone off?”

“No…”

“Oh god, you came here just to get me here, didn’t you? Jesus fuck-” He turns around, assumingly getting ready to leave.

“Bini, please.” He puts a hand on the top of his beanie.

“I should literally just run you over for that one.” His face knits up slightly and he pauses, before soon beginning to smile. “Okay, I guess. I’ll drop you where you want me to..”

“I.. I kind of don’t have a place to be dropped off at.”

“You don’t? Where you planning on going then?”

“I was… kind of hoping…”

“Draco… always a needy little fuck, aren’t you?” He brings a hand to his temple, pressing his fingertips to it.

“Please, Blaise.. I let you stay over all those times as well.. all those times at my manor when we were kids… ”

“Christ, you don’t stop with the sentimental stuff, do you? Why do you have to know all of my weaknesses… okay. But only because Mum’s out of the country at the moment. If she knew you were staying over.. she would have gotten real mad.”

Draco doesn’t really say anything after that. He supposes Esme has somewhat of a reason to not want Draco around. What his Father had done wasn’t exactly... good for the reputations of those associated with him or his bloodline. But it was definitely nice of Blaise to offer him a place like this.

“Thank you.”

Blaise looks over at him at that.

“Did roughing it up on your own teach you how to be nice, Draco?”

“Maybe it did.”

***

So, yes, Draco does stay at Blaise’s place for a while. He does come clean to Blaise about everything that happened (“You… tried to what a girl, mate?”, followed by Blaise running out of the room and attempting to hide from Draco, while Draco running after him, trying to apologise and explain himself) And yes, he does agree to go to a therapist. A nice, motherly one who allows him to cry in front of him with little interruption. (Just a little “D’you want some tissues, love?”) And yes, he does spend a lot of time thinking about Y/N. He cries and listens to Harry Styles and Frank Ocean some. (Even though he hasn’t actually had his heart broken or anything of the sort! Draco is one hell of a dramatic little bitch, huh?)

What he does begin to understand is his own constant self-victimization. He’s always found a way to find someone to blame for every little trouble in his life. His parents were why he was so bitchy and spoilt all the time, Potter was why he wasn’t as popular as he deserved to be at school, Granger was why he wasn’t the best student at school, his mum was why he wasn’t so open to having a girlfriend much too different from him and… well.. this was all bullshit, wasn’t it?

He was being childish. He was so bitchy and spoilt, well, because he thought he was better than everyone else. He did for so long, all the time. He could only play it down when he needed to, but if he really didn’t like anyone he made it very clear that he thought they were inferior to him. He wasn’t popular at school because he treated everyone like he was better than them and Potter was just… nicer and understandably more famous than him (Draco still hates him though). He wasn’t the best student at school because Granger.. was simply more hardworking than he was. (Hey, he had to accept it at some point, didn’t he?) He wasn’t anywhere near how damn good she was… at everything.

And he wasn’t so open to having a girlfriend much too different from him because… he was too used to everything being the way it had always been for him. He had grown up in the same house, stayed in a similar friend circle his whole life, always had the same taste of.. basically everything. That’s why he was so goddamn angry when everything just blew up for his family. Everything he was used to… was gone. He was no longer rich, no longer privileged the way he had always been. And again, he reacted by… well… channeling all his anger towards the person who had seemingly been responsible for that. He didn’t need to be as angry as he had been at his father. Sure, he was smuggling artifacts and even keeping some illegal works as decoration for their estate, but it’s not like Draco hadn’t known about it for as long as he had. He’d even been an adult when he… enabled everything that he knew happened behind closed doors.

But his father did do everything he did for him. He did thinking he would best be able to provide for Draco and his mum that way. It was true that he was never much too generous, but he wasn’t only because he wanted to invest the money towards his own family’s wellbeing. He supposed he could understand that. And his parents were always, always mindful of his wants. Whether it was buying every boy on his secondary school house’s team a new cricket bat so he could get on with them, to what he wanted to study at uni, his parents always had his back.

Obviously, their “work” hadn’t exactly been safe and Draco wasn’t properly insured to be able to keep up his lifestyle without them or their accounts, so that had been irresponsible on their part. But his childhood could not be considered less than good. At all. He was only ever upset because of problems he kept making up himself. And because of him distancing himself from others by thinking he was too good to mix with them.

This whole change in lifestyle had done more harm than good in terms of his personality, in a way. He’d grown a conscience. It had started by him getting angry at everyone in the place of privilege he’d once had. First, he’d gotten mad at his father for getting him where he was, then he’d hated his friends from pulling back from him, and then… well.. he’d begun to hate Y/N for being able to study and afford nice things for herself.

His stupid fixation on Hoyt was him looking up to someone he really, really shouldn’t have. Instead of looking up to actual great chemists like Lavoisier or Avogadro, he’d idolized... someone who’d used his knowledge of chemistry for all the wrong reasons. Again, him trying to get back at people who’d stayed rich while he’d lost all his wealth. Instead of working to be more successful than them or anything of the sort, he’d gone straight to the extreme and tried to think about how best to kill one he’d grown envious of.

The interesting thing is, he doesn’t come close to seeing (or even thinking about) Y/N for a while. He lives harmoniously. He writes to Oxford and tries to get back into his second year. He writes to his college there and even applies for a need-based scholarship.

What’s surprising is, he gets it! He gets back in! His grades back then were reason enough for him to be readmitted into the program, and he just feels thankful for a second that Granger was never interested in taking up Chemistry at uni. He gets himself a job near Blaise’s place, rents another apartment, has a birthday party for Blaise there and meets up with his old friends again. They’ve all grown apart a bit now (understandably so, he was sort of.. the one who bossed everyone to be together most of the time). He even grows closer to them than he ever has before. Actually feels like they’re his friends.. rather than his minions.

It’s springtime and there’s still a lot of time until he has to get back to Oxford that fall. Somehow, even with his parents still in custody, everything seems to have somehow fallen back in place. Even better than before. Everything seems… peaceful.

That is, until he runs into Y/N at his therapist’s office! (Yes, you read that right! :)

He’s only sitting in the waiting room, reading something silly on his phone when he hears… that voice. Stepping out of the therapist’s office.

“Thank you so much, again.”

The woman inside mutters something inaudible in response and Y/N giggles softly. Oh, dear god.

He looks straight up at her, slowly pressing his phone into his lap. Oh no, oh no? Should he be here right now? Should he have told Molly Y/N’s name when he was explaining everything? Has Y/N told her about him? Has she connected the dots at all? Has Y/N followed him here? If Y/N actually has no idea he’s here, how on earth is she going to respond to the sight of him? Should he hide, for her sake? Would Y/N think he was stalking her again? Would Y/N think he was doing the same thing now and have some sort of attack in the office? He quickly looks to his lap again, trying his best to somehow hide away from her. Even though he was alone in the waiting room… and he was quite a bit taller than the seat he was sitting in.. and his blonde hair wasn’t exactly subtle. Maybe he really should have dyed it darker, that time he was considering it, maybe he was right about that. Maybe it’d even su-

“Draco?”

Oh, fuck.

He looks up at her, meeting her gaze a little slowly, eyes scoping out every plant pot in the back before they finally… reach.. their.. target. His ears are burning now, and it’s so quiet there that he can hear the blood rushing through them. Neither of them says a word, until, well, she does.

“Either this is everything all over gone or this one mother of a coincidence.”

She grips her purse a little tighter but she smiles at him brightly. Draco… then… smiles back. He should be careful, shouldn’t he? She’s lured him in once like this. And there’s no reason for her to be so nice to him. Not… after everything. She should hate him. She really should. Is she on something? Does she take meds? Or is she nicer when she doesn’t think worse of you? But shouldn’t she be thinking worse of him? If anyone should be doing that, it should be h-

“Hello?” She’s waving her hand in front of his face. Her nails aren’t manicured as they were before. “Why do you keep spacing out? Should I call her or something?”

“N-no. I’m just- I wasn’t expecting this today… not exactly… prepared. I- I guess I never really got to say it to you then.. I’m sorry. For everything… I-”

“Draco, maybe this isn’t the best place to… you know… just openly talk about this.” She gestures towards the receptionist in the corner, who looks up for a second, then, noticing the gesture, quickly looks down again. “Why don’t I.. um.. I’ll wait for you outside, yeah?”

“Y-you will?”

“I- well, yes. I don’t see why not. Not really in a rush to get anywhere right now. I have some chores to do round here. Why don’t I meet you at the cafe round the corner after your appointment? It’s an hour long, right? The one facing the Waitrose?”

“Yeah, um.. you’re not scared or.. anything like that? I totally understand if you are.”

“No.. I mean.. we know whom between us is that much better at self defense anyways. And I suppose it’d be best for me to take it in my stride after everything.”

“If you- if you really think so, I’m down for it.”

“See ya then. Good luck.”

And with that, she heads out. She’s wearing a light pair of jeans this time. With a full sleeved green top. The jeans are tight. In the best way possible.

He shakes his head and gets himself out of it. What the fuck is wrong with him? He is not seventeen anymore. He needs to get back to himself. He can’t just get hormonal at the sight of a pretty girl.

He rushes into his therapist’s office, and very soon, begins to pour his heart out to her. He tells her explicitly what happened with Y/N herself. And Molly, oh dear me, is a little overwhelmed. She’s just as lovely, though.

“Oh my. You’ve gotten yourself into something, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose-, well, what do you feel you should do about this?”

“What do you mean? What do you think? I’m confused!”

“I- you have to decide what to do, don’t you? I’m here to listen, clear your head about it and let’s help you make a judgement.”

“Molly!”

“Draco! Now, go on.”

***

Somehow, within that space of an hour, Draco does come to a decision.

The decision to risk it all and try to go out with her again!

He does stay much safer this time around, though. He sends people he’s close to his location. And tells them what to do if he doesn’t wish them goodnight that night. (“just call the police”)

He sits down with her at the cafe and he pours his heart out to her as well. God knew this morning would involve him literally having to do this with two grown woman! Well, at least the one of them was expected. The other… however… also seems to empathise with him as well. To some extent.

“I… well… I suppose I can’t exactly forgive you for just deciding upon killing me the way that you did. That’s mighty fucked up. But… I see the position that you were in.”

“I- yeah.” Draco just shrugs, offering a sort of tightlipped smile. “I get it.”

“It’s amazing to finally be able to wrap my head around it somewhat, though. For so long, I thought you were still lying to me about… the… my father thing. But now I can.. somewhat grasp it. I suppose.”

“It was extremely messed up.”

“It was. But it’s not like I didn’t-”

“I mean, that seemed more like self-defense to me than anything. Yours made a lot more sense than mine.”

“Oh, that’s for sure. I’ve… kind of always been super paranoid about anything to do with… him. My mother always tells me to be careful so I kind of… took it much too far. That’s sort of why I started going for therapy. I would get such bad anxiety from the simplest of things. I’d taken a long self defense course last year, even though my mom's already had me doing Tae Kwondo since I was in primary school. And you saw what I did with you. I had knives, pepper sprays, everything and anything I would need. I’d set up an alarm system in my apartment and always spoke to someone when I went to sleep and when I woke up. I was just… constantly on edge. And you kind of just… tipped me over it, you know.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry about it. Still. I have no excuses.”

“I appreciate you saying that.”

She smiles at Draco. And he does the same. Something flutters up and down his stomach.

“I’m so glad we could talk this through, yeah? But I should get going. I do have to study and everything.”

“I-” Should Draco give up on this chance. Is this worth it? Could she ever even say yes? Perhaps she would. “Should we trade numbers? Just so we can keep in touch about it.”

“I’m-” She sighs and looks down at her lap, then up at him again. She sets her elbow on the table and leans forward the slightest, setting her chin on her palm. “I’m really sorry… but with the way things went last time… and with my recovering mental health, I just- I wouldn’t feel comfortable with it. I’m so so glad we could go over everything and come to some mutual understanding but… I don’t think I could-”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry. It’s all good. I totally get it.”

To his surprise, his heart didn’t sink. She reaches over and gently squeezes his forearm.

“Maybe we’ll meet again, huh?”

“Maybe we will.”

And Draco walked out of there, not unhappy, but finally feeling like he’d received some closure. He’d erred greatly and he really did deserve what he’d gotten (or not gotten). He’d really tried to get over her already, so it really didn’t sting when she said what she did.

For once, he knew what to expect. And he felt happy about it. Maybe he didn’t get to do bits with her, but that hardly mattered. At least now she knew the truth about him.

What mattered most was that the next chapter of his life was only leading him forwards.

a/n: thank you so so sos os so sososososososooooo much for reading through this series. this is very close to my heart and i appreciate each and everyone who’s managed to keep up with all of it. This final part i also chose to end without really bringing the characters together because… Y/N does not deserve it. for her, that would be the bad ending. i did this because i just think that girls often do not realise that they deserve more than the attractive guy who tries to be bad. this sounds hypocritical coming from well… me… someone who runs a draco blog, but what i’m trying to say is, we shouldn’t settle. a lot of times i feel like we forget to place ourselves in the shoes of the actual character. for what reason would you ever go out or sleep with someone who had ever planned to kill you! their good looks just won’t cut it if so, no? i feel like this is the best ending for the both of them, because draco learns to actualise his potential and to stop blaming everyone else in his life for all his problems, and y/n learns to heal from the struggles she’s had and both their endings are left pretty open. also, i feel like a lot of fanfic endings/plot developments are compromised just to get the main pairing together in the end. so. yeah. also mental health is something i really prioritise, and i thought doing this just does so much justice for both of them mentally. i’d be happy to hear your thoughts and any feedback you have! thank you so much for reading through you all of this as well. love you so much <3

#draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco #hp #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #hp imagine #angst #romance #murder

25 notes · View notes

missnight0wl · 5 years

Text

MC was supposed to attempt casting Crucio on Rakepick in the Portrait Vault

First of all, this post IS NOT about that MC should’ve used it because Rakepick deserved it for betraying Jacob, torturing Merula, and whatnot. For one, I still believe that Rakepick didn’t do anything to Jacob (except maybe helped him). For two, in this scenario, Merula wouldn’t even be tortured, so…

Secondly, this idea comes from @wilhelminafujita And the more we discussed it together, the more sense it made for the overall story. Therefore, I decided to collect it all in one post. I tweaked it ever so slightly, but credit goes to her <3

I’ll point out the events from year 5 foreshadowing such scenario, I’ll propose how Y5Ch30 should be changed according to that, and how those changes actually make more sense for things happening in year 6. But first, let me tell you why, in my opinion, the events from the Portrait Vault in their current form simply are not good storytelling. Also, spoilers up to Y6Ch14.

About Rakepick and Merula

Rakepick’s talk when she was torturing Merula in the Portrait Vault could be summarised as: “I’m tired of pretending that I like you so now I’m gonna relieve my frustration”. And you know what, it’s not uncommon theme accompanied by the reveal of a villain (I had to pretend to care about you, but it was only about money/information etc.). The thing is that it just doesn’t work in that case.

First of all, as far as we know, Rakepick had absolutely no reason to care about gaining Merula’s trust (or Bill’s, or anyone’s for that matter). This is what really bothers in Y5Ch30. Merula didn’t tell Rakepick any important secret information, she didn’t give her any important object. And if she did, but we just don’t know about it yet – we really should. Because otherwise, the whole trust aspect serves only to make the betrayal more emotionally devastating which is plain stupid. Especially that Rakepick was always portrayed as a very practical, goal-oriented person.

The second problem here is that Rakepick didn’t even spend much time or effort on making Merula believe she likes her. Seriously, it was maybe… like a week? Let’s look at what we know about their relationship from the beginning. Because at first, Merula was actually among people who thought Rakepick is suspicious (Y4Ch2):

Their first actual interaction we saw was in Y4Ch4 when Rakepick met with a group of students involved previously with the Cursed Vaults. She asked MC then who should be her apprentice, and if we chose Bill…

Maybe it’s just me, but I find her choice of wording quite interesting, considering that Merula is a Slytherin and it feels like a suggestion that she might be not ambitious enough. A bit stingy… Though not as much as Rakepick’s reaction if we chose to duel Merula during the second meeting within the same chapter:

Rakepick definitely wasn’t impressed by Merula. Yet, if we borrow Merula’s broom in Y4Ch5, we learn that they work together:

It’s brought up again in Y4Ch6, no matter whose broom you borrowed (meaning that MC had to learn about it off-screen, I assume).

Their cooperation is confirmed in Y4Ch11:

We don’t really see much of how they’re relationship actually look like, though. They don’t interact with each other on the screen after Y4Ch4. The closest to tell us anything is Merula’s line from the Pepperup Potion class (Y4Ch11):

Though it’s not very reliable either as it’s typical behaviour for Merula when she admires someone (for example, she often says that she’s Snape’s favourite when his behaviour not always confirms that, and he definitely likes Penny – and probably Chiara – more).

Then comes year 5 and our first DADA class where Rakepick wasn’t particularly impressed with Merula’s childish sense of humour:

We also had our first apprentices' meeting where Rakepick admittedly acknowledged Marula’s value:

… but we also had this:

… which is interesting because it came back a little later:

And again, perhaps it’s just me, but I sense some mockery here. However, it didn’t really seem to discourage Merula. She still thought of Rakepick rather highly, we can also suspect that they still worked without MC (for example, it was Merula who told MC that Rakepick is looking for the Marauder’s Map in year 5 – even though technically MC knew about it already from year 4). All of that despite the fact that Rakepick never really praised or compliment Merula much. And maybe the most interesting example of that, in my opinion, is when you compare the scene where Rakepick saved us in Knockturn Alley between different companions.

- for Jae:

- for Bill:

- for Merula:

She didn’t even bother to say a single nice word about Merula. And Jae isn’t even among her “chosen ones”! Now, I’m not saying that she hated the girl from the beginning. She made her one of her apprentices, after all. And while I do think it was mostly practical decision (so Merula wouldn’t disturb MC like she did in previous years), I also believe Rakepick was somewhat concerned about not letting Merula die. I mean, Merula never got too close to the Vaults on her own, but when she once overtook MC in year 1 and entered the Icy Room first, she immediately got stuck in the cursed ice. You can say that Rakepick didn’t want Merula to die before the right time or whatever, but either way, she didn’t take her to the group to make Merula feel special. Rakepick herself never acted in a way that could make her feel that. She was never shy to show that she’s just not very impressed by Merula in general. As for Merula, she was seeking for Rakepick’s acceptance, yes (as she does with people of power: Snape, Dumbledore), but it wasn’t blind admiration like we’ve seen by the end of year 5. In fact, I’d say that there was a point when Merula became far less idealising about her mentor.

Y5Ch12:

Merula knows that her parents weren’t great at parenting, she even says a chapter earlier in Knockturn Alley:

That line doesn’t mean: “Rakepick is like a mother to me”. It means: “The last person who said that valued her ideology above me”.

Y5Ch15:

She was pretty quick to throw suspicion in Jacob’s room, especially that the Weasley brothers also have rather long red hair.

Y5Ch16:

It sounds more like pointing out Rakepick’s arrogance than showing admiration.

Now, let’s take a look at Y5Ch27, right before we went to Binns to learn from him about dragons, and Merula asked:

If MC answers that it’s because Rakepick trusts them, this is her reaction:

Notice that she talks about herself AND Bill – she sees all three of them as a group. She didn’t say anything like: “Rubbish! She should tell me, not you!”. In the very same chapter (Y5Ch27), Rakepick also taught us the Conjunctivitis Curse:

Merula showed critical thinking towards Rakepick, Rakepick was kind of dismissive towards Merula. Yet, in the next chapter (Y5Ch28), we have this:

And I have to ask again: what are you talking about, girl? Like… where did it come from, exactly? The only possible explanation is that something had happened between those two chapters that made Merula think so, but the problem is that the story implies that there was no break. In Y5Ch27, Rakepick told us to come back to her after we talk to Kettleburn, and that chapter ends with Kettleburn. Then Y5Ch28 is dedicated to Merula because she’s scared before the Vault so she doesn’t want to go to Rakepick immediately – meaning that there just couldn’t have been too much time in between. So… what gives? Rakepick’s behaviour towards her didn’t change that much in that chapter yet.

Sure, she had her “Never apologise (…)”, but she started with scolding Merula and she was pissed off. But then, we have Y5Ch29 and this scene when we were choosing the fourth person (Penny or Charlie):

… and let me stop you here, Patricia, because WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! She DID question your judgement about a blinded dragon still being able to hurt people just days ago! Later in that chapter, Rakepick continues to praise Merula over nothing:

… and the best thing is that for some reason, MC goes along with it!

HOW?! How, you stupid child, did you come to such conclusion? Are you just repeating what Merula told you? Are you really incapable of independent thinking and realising that NOTHING before, during almost two years suggested that?

After arriving at the Vault, Rakepick butters Merula up once more:

... and nobody questions that Rakepick’s attitude towards her made a 180 degrees change in a matter of days.

I really can’t look emotionally at what happened in the Portrait Vaults because nothing about Rakepick and Merula adds up. I’m just upset because of how little sense it makes. The whole torture scene tries to use something that was never even built up.

There were, however, some bases for a different course of events that ended up pretty much meaningless.

Foreshadowing with no real payoff

Let’s start with Ben as his character is quite important for the whole discussion. Year 5 for Ben was about becoming braver, and it’s something that started already in Y5Ch1 when he covered MC with his own body when they were attacked by the Red Cloak. He did it, even if moments earlier MC said that they don’t trust him.

We can also say with no doubt that one of the reasons behind his will to change was MC.

Y5Ch7:

Y5Ch9:

Y5Ch16 (before Rakepick broke MC’s wand):

Y5Ch19:

Y5Ch20:

Then, of course, it became much more prominent by the end of the year (though, it’s also kind of weird because Ben had spent most of the year wanting to be braver, yet, in Y5Ch27, he suggests that it’s only the recent chaos for Peeves that caused that change – but that’s a topic for a different discussion…).

Y5Ch27:

Y5Ch29:

Another important foreshadowing was with Rakepick, and I’m talking here mostly about two scenes. The first one is after she showed MC the Cruciatus Curse for the first time in Y5Ch19:

The second, right before MC had to choose a person to accompany them to the Portrait Vault in Y5Ch29, which I mentioned already:

With all of that in mind, let’s try to fix Y5Ch30.

How it should’ve looked (more or less)

This is just my proposition based on the things I listed above. I do think that it’d be better than what Jam City released, but I also assume that they could come up with something even more interesting, considering that they know the future plot.

Anyway, the chapter could’ve looked pretty much the same until the moment when MC opens the Legilimency door. The kids want to go inside, and then:

Instead of knocking them down instantly, Rakepick tells them that she’ll go first because it can be dangerous.

MC protests, but both Merula and Bill take Rakepick’s side. This is the least I’d expect to see when it comes to their trust being used in Rakepick’s favour. Everyone argues for a while.

Eventually, Rakepick loses patience and uses Petrificus Totalus on everyone except MC and Ben. When she tries to attack MC, Ben pushes us away and takes the spell on himself, keeping his promise that if Rakepick tries anything, he’ll help us (Y5Ch16) and proving that he’s braver.

Rakepick decides that Ben will be her victim. She warned us that if something happens, it’ll be MC’s fault because they made a choice – and even though she was talking about the choice between Charlie and Penny, MC was the one to decide that Ben joined us, too. She says that she’ll kill Ben as she was instructed to do so. Perhaps she even starts saying Avada --

MC is filled with rage, despair and fear. They’ve just learnt that Rakepick betrayed first Jacob, then them. They don’t know if Jacob is alive. After all, Beatrice was getting weaker and weaker in the portrait, and Jacob was trapped for years. In a desperate attempt to save their friend, they cast Crucio on Rakepick – validating her “Never say never” and mirroring Harry using the curse on Bellatrix after she killed Sirius in the Order of the Phoenix.

It doesn’t really work - just like in Harry’s case - but it stops Rakepick, and Ben doesn’t get hurt. She falls, but then she laughs. She reminds MC of their lesson in Knockturn Alley. She adds something about R and disapparates.

The rest of the chapter could remain pretty much the same. And we could stop at that – just a bunch of missed opportunities to make the story more interesting and sensible. However, I genuinely believe that a scenario close to the one I proposed WAS the original plan, and it was changed quite late in development. So late that the writers were already working on year 6 and didn’t manage to do proper changes.

The events post-Vault

The first thing I want to discuss is about MC. It’s not really big, but I feel it says a lot. In Y6Ch4, Dumbledore asks MC about their feelings:

… and if you choose “I’m afraid”, MC says:

… but it doesn’t really make sense that MC feels that way. Yes, Rakepick herself was claiming in the past that they’re similar, but she abandoned it pretty much half-way through year 4. Then, in the Portrait Vault, we also had this:

… but honestly, it’s total bullshit. Rakepick couldn’t pick an argument that would be more untrue. MC talks ALL THE TIME how everything they do is about Jacob, very often without the player’s choice, so how anyone is supposed to believe otherwise? She could’ve played on their guilt that they’re using other people! Anything! It really feels like not a well-thought-out hot-fix in comparison to the situation where MC would try to use Crucio. It’d be a real reason for MC to think that they might be like Rakepick.

Now, let’s move to the main point: Ben. Or rather New Ben. To be clear, I don’t think that Ben’s change doesn’t make sense. Either way, he experienced trauma, and I can see where he’s coming from. But that being said, I believe that his transformation would make more sense if he was “the victim”. And yes, I think it supports the idea that it was the original plan. Ben’s change is also apparently crucial for his character and for the plot, therefore they had to push it somehow, resulting in something that not always is clear. But let’s start from the beginning. In Y5Ch32, Ben talks about being invincible:

… but again, it just… doesn’t really make much sense. I mean, it makes some sense. But it’d be more understandable if Ben actually avoided dying, like in “Rakepick was about to kill him”. Anyone could feel invincible after literally escaping death. And Ben’s friendship quiz even mentions this particular fear!

The changed scenario also explains better Ben wanting to be MC’s protector. Yes, MC was his first friend and a person to believe in him, and all. But their relationship went through a lot. And depending on the player’s choices, MC could be not supportive at all towards Ben during year 5 (and even earlier). In that case, Ben wanting to protect MC is a bit out of nowhere. It’d be much more expected if MC saved him from Rakepick. Ben could see that as “repaying debt” but also kind of redemption after he wasn’t fully successful in the Vault. I wouldn’t necessarily change his behaviour, he’d still feel the need to prove he’s braver because technically, he still didn’t do much – at least in his eyes. But it’d be more obvious why it is that way.

Another person whose behaviour would be more understandable is Charlie. He’d still feel helpless, but it’d be about two of his actual friends who were in serious danger, so of course, he’d consider leaving to Romania. Not to mention that it’d add more emotional weight to the fallout of his friendship with Ben.

Hell, even Ben sending Cedric to protect MC in Y6Ch14 could’ve been less ridiculous. If they’d approach it properly, they could’ve created the atmosphere of “unspoken fear” that if left alone, MC could go full evil and start casting the Unforgivable Curses on people. I know that Cedric is just stupid fanservice and there’s not much more behind it either way, but it could be used at least a little better!

Last but not least, it’d be a pretty great opportunity to finally do something with Merula. And again, her behaviour in year 6 wouldn’t have to be changed, but the narrative behind it would be so much more compelling. If they included the plot where Rakepick actually uses Merula’s trust – to gain information, to have Merula defend her, whatever – Merula would still have a very real reason to feel betrayed and to want revenge. The difference would be that we - as players - would know that she doesn’t do it only for herself. Because before going to the Portrait Vault, Merula did see herself as a part of the group. I’d still change some things about her in those last chapters, but we had that moment in Y5Ch27 where she put herself on the same level as Bill, for example. We also had this scene in Y5Ch30:

Now, that group was betrayed and attacked. I wouldn’t expect Merula to talk about that. She could keep yelling about how Rakepick used her, how she stupidly was taking Rakepick’s side etc. But it’d be also a sign that something changed in her thinking - a pretty nice basis to start working on her development.

And that’s it. That’s why I believe that Y5Ch30, the worst chapter in the game so far, was indeed quite good at some point. That it was meant for this story to be more interesting and satisfying. Why it didn’t happen? I don’t know. Perhaps someone at Jam City decided that it’d be easier to force people to feel sorry for Merula than actually work on her character’s arc. And then, the writers had to adjust. Either way, I’m unbelievably disappointed by that.

Yikes forever.

#long post #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm spoilers #hphm mc #jacob's sibling #patricia rakepick #madam rakepick #ben copper #merula snyde #bill weasley #charlie weasley #portrait vault #jam city #about characters #analysis post

77 notes · View notes

dorizardthewizard · 4 years

Text

TLNM musings, part 2

Okay, here I ramble about problems with the movie. Ended up adding more stuff since I first wrote this :’P

Screentime and characterisation of the other ninja:

One of the biggest complaints from fans... they're all introduced individually with very different personalities, they’re told they each have a special element they control, making you feel like they should each get some moment to shine and affect the plot of the movie, but then none of that happens. Ultimately you could take out all the ninja and the story would be the same, you don't even necessarily need them for Lloyd's character since his journey of reconnecting with his father and bringing his family together can still work without them. It's so sad because if you read and watch extra material, you can tell thought went into their personalities, but we never get to see this as they're all just lumped together, mostly there to support Lloyd's development.

For someone who hasn't seen the show, it must feel a bit off seeing characters with distinguished personalities and no payoff for it; take Zane for example. Imagine not knowing anything about the characters and seeing one of them is a robot, for some reason? You wonder why he's a robot, what significance that has for the plot and why it's important for his character (I mean they missed a big opportunity to develop Zane from always trying to fit in and seem like a “normal teenager” to accepting that he's different but that that doesn't mean he's less valid), but then this really specific characteristic is never expanded on except for comedy purposes. People probably thought “oh, guess it makes more sense in the show”, but this just detaches viewers and makes them feel like they're missing something if they haven't seen the show beforehand.

Sigh, still gotta give the crew credit for fitting in a load of little subtle details about the ninja, I had to rewatch it a couple of times because there were things I didn’t notice at first, like Kai sliding down a bannister in the Temple of Fragile Foundations and falling off :’D

Group dynamic:

Another thing that bothered me is that the movie isn't that good at making you care about them as a team. They're already established as friends but I wish there were more material showing us how much they care about each other. The Kai hug scene was 10/10 but then when Chen and the other cheerleaders started picking on Lloyd, nobody said or did anything? In merchandise it said Kai is a hothead who isn't afraid to speak up or stand up to people, then show it in the movie! Him and Nya should have been on the verge of tackling that guy to the floor! Ok, I can see Lloyd asking them not to get into fights as it makes people hate him even more and he probably feels guilty if one of the ninja gets into trouble because of him. This would still have given more emotional connection between the characters but we're never shown it, except in the novelisation where Cole tries to block Lloyd from his locker so he doesn't see the insult written on it, I think. But again, we shouldn't have to read/ watch extra material for that.

Instead of moments showcasing the ninja’s friendship and close bonds, we got the opposite- everyone turned on Lloyd incredibly quickly for one mistake. Sure, it was a pretty big one and resulted in Garmadon taking over the city and their mechs being wrecked, but Lloyd was the only one doing anything about Garmadon at the time and he didn't exactly know what the consequences of using the ultimate weapon were; it's not like he knew it could potentially hurt his friends. In fact, how did the ninja know he used it anyway? That would mean they already knew about it and what it could do, yet Lloyd was not told? In which case, how can they blame him?? Damn it Wu, why couldn't you just tell Lloyd that using the weapon would unleash a cat that could destroy the city, instead of vaguely saying the weapon can be dangerous in the wrong hands. That's taking too many pages from TV Wu's book!

Honestly, it's like the ninja were just one character either shunning Lloyd or supporting him, depending on what the plot needed :/ That scene where they're talking with Garmadon while carrying him through the jungle really rubbed me the wrong way because first, no one seemed to care that Lloyd is so snippy because he's been forced to work with the man who made his life hell, and second they joke about Lloyd with that very same person and imply they don't respect Lloyd as leader, as Jay says he doesn't usually want to listen to him when he's talking? What??

Lloyd and Garmadon’s relationship:

I mentioned this in part 1, but they really didn’t execute this well- I feel like they had so much fun playing up Garmadon being the worst dad in the world that they forgot to give him redeemable qualities. It took me a second viewing to realise his relationship with Lloyd was actually pretty messed up, because they played off his despicableness as comedic and glossed over it by suddenly giving him a flashback to make it seem like he’s sorry. They wanted to go for the father-and-son-have-issues-but-reconnect story, and had Lloyd say “I wish we didn’t have to fight all the time” in his emotional ending, but that’s a line usually present in a daddy-issue story where both have a part to blame and there's issues with communication. In this, though? Lloyd did nothing wrong! It was just Garmadon being trash, and there wasn't even a particular scene of him recognising and apologising for his actions- not the bit about driving Misako away, but how he treated Lloyd after.

The message is all mucked up - hoping to find some good in neglectful parents is just gonna get you hurt, and in a story like this it would make more sense for the protagonist to realise they don't need validation from this guy, shouldn't feel like they have to keep connected with toxic relatives just because they're family, and that they should focus on the friends and family who actually love them (although, whether Lloyd's friends were even portrayed as liking him is a different story). I mean, Koko could just teach him to throw and catch! Does he have to have two parents just for that?

Tone and humour:

I think another main reason this movie didn't do as well was its more childish tone and dialogue; unlike the previous two movies, it was marketed at younger children. One of the main reasons TLM and LB were so successful is because of the self-aware jokes that could actually be enjoyed by adults too, while in this movie I may have properly laughed only a couple of times. Plus, in its effort to connect with kid's humour it just got cringy in some parts, like the Ultimate Weapon compilation. It would have been funny if it was ironic, like Amazing World of Gumball style, but it just didn't come across like that, so I can see why many jokes fell flat for older audiences.

People probably had different expectations for the overall tone as well- everyone loved the previous LEGO movies because of their constant barrage of action, witty jokes and a ton of references. This was never the selling point of Ninjago, but TLNM didn’t manage to capture the show’s dramatic style and deep lore-driven plot either.

The writers:

Okay last thing. This movie had three directors, six producers, six screenwriters and seven people working on the story. Compared to most animated movies, that's a lot, and its shows. It feels like they had a few different ideas and themes and couldn't quite patch them together, with vague messages like “looking at things from a different point of view” being thrown in as well to try and link it up. I guess at the end of the day, this is a father-son story, and that makes it very difficult to fit in a power-of-friendship plot at the same time, but still. Also, the shifting plot and ideas is really clear in the trailers, I mean half the stuff there wasn't even in the movie, it's as if the entire story was changed!

Final verdict? I think an overall theme with this movie is that the writers wanted to overhaul Ninjago to introduce it to new viewers, but also wanted to keep the fans happy so shoehorned in lots of elements from the show without giving them enough development. This just disappoints fans and alienates general audiences, which is a problem since Ninjago doesn’t have a huge following already backing it up like LEGO Batman did, and could have been the pilot for more original LEGO lines making it to the big screen. It was a technically amazing movie, with beautiful animation and visuals, an epic soundtrack and stunning voice acting, but it was also such a waste of potential.

The only other thing we can do is think about how it could have gone differently, so here's some of my ideas :'D

NOT using the deleted time travel plot. I know that after being disappointed in a movie you welcome any alternative, but giant mechs were already a big deviation from the ninja theme; flinging in time travel as well would be too much for non-show watchers. Plus, I thought we were all complaining about how time travel in Ninjago always just messes things up :'P

Also not following the show closer. We have over 10 seasons of the show, the whole point of a movie is giving a fresh take; using a giant snake or the Overlord possessing Garmadon again would just be boring.

Delete the first act? One of the best parts of the secret high school heroes trope is seeing how they juggle both lives, if you're gonna drop it after half an hour there's not much point of it being there.

Could instead just have Garmadon attacking again, the last invasion attempt being ages ago. Maybe the ninja rediscover a rich history of elemental masters protecting Ninjago when Wu decides to get a new team together to fight the new threat?

Make it about learning master building instead so they build their mechs at the end, and then gain elements in a sequel?

Or don't mention anything about elements and have every ninja individually go through an obstacle to obtain an elemental weapon, then they all lose them but don't know they're not necessary, so it's actually a surprise that the power is inside them? Everyone gets a sort of true potential moment?

Ninja having to warm up to Garmadon's son, so we have a plot of Lloyd slowly gaining their respect and becoming leader?

Higher stakes at the end, make the Shark Army more threatening and have them turn on Garmadon using Meowthra, so there's still an intense climax of the ninja fighting the army before Lloyd reaches Meowthra and gets his emotional ending?

Get rid of the live action sequence, or make it fit the message of the story more?

Feel free to add any ideas/ thoughts!

#ninjago #ninjago movie #lego ninjago movie #RIP lego cinematic universe v_v #my posts

9 notes · View notes

gottawriteanegoortwo · 5 years

Text

Jackieboy Man - No Longer a Hero

While I mainly write Iplier stuff, I do sometimes very rarely dabble in Septic stuff. This is an idea I’ve had with the Jackieboy Man I write that I’ve been mulling over the last few days. Now bear in mind, I am absolutely not good at writing Septics. Jackie is the only one I have proper experience with. Go easy on me in that regard.

Word Count: 1,468

Timelines are a very funny thing. When you’re in a position to view them all and make comparisons, you can begin to see differences. What would happen if this thing didn’t happen? What if those two never met? If you look hard enough, and focus on a small number of people, you can find the various scenarios.

Most timelines have many similarities. Maybe Marvin has longer hair in one, short brown hair in another. Maybe Chase is winning his internal battles, and is Anti in another. Two timelines could have Henrik on polar opposite ends of the good/evil spectrum. This isn’t even considering the multitude of various endings for Jameson Jackson.

This timeline is interesting. There is no Jackieboy Man.

Yes, it is a rather normal setting. “He’s not had a video in a long time!” “Where is he?” The fans would protest while posting various media about it. But that is not the situation in this timeline. There isn’t a Jackieboy Man, not anymore. He retired.

Our dear hero found himself in a rather strange situation. When Jack was put into hospital after an unexplained accident, he was the only one who could step up and play the part. Normally, it would be up to Chase, but Chase was not ready to return to life in front of the camera, especially while pretending to be someone else. However, Jackie was born and raised in Ireland, had a similar accent, and could sound the same if he raised his pitch a little higher. While he didn’t have piercings or tattoos, those were easy to mimic with a little creativity and fake piercings. Not only that, the pair were like-minded with a similar sense of humour. Before Jackie ever became a hero, he worked with computers, and specialised in computer sciences. When not working on that, it was a love of video games and superheroes that spurred him on. In one way, it was no surprise that when his powers were unlocked, he dove into the hero business on a part-time basis.

But after the crushing news that something bad had happened to Jack, it fell onto Jackie to play the part to ensure ‘everything was okay’. They couldn’t have people know about the threat that hid in any potential electrical device, or even what could lurk behind any set of dead eyes. Over months, Jackie began juggling a triple life: his civilian life, his hero life, and his public act. Wake up, go to work. Go home, get ready for an evening patrol. Reach Friday, spend the weekend recording for the week. It was fine at first, but it was draining. Even if he had a chance to rest, it was never something he enjoyed. One day off was ruined when there was a breaking news report of a bank robbery that took four hours to resolve. Another day had him go into the office because his co-worker was sick. Even when he was undisturbed, sleep became empty. There was no interest in anything he normally loved. Ultimately, he was exhausted and miserable, and Henrik had to intervene.

“Zhis is going to be long term,” the doctor explained in a calm voice, offering support through a gentle pat of Jackie’s arm. “You can’t keep this up forever. One life has to go. You need time to live.”

Jackie knew what that meant. Give up his day job. Abandon life as a normal human being called James, and live his full life with two masks. Be nothing more than a lie because it’s for ‘the greater good’. After all, being a content creator allows him to work at his own pace, and he can keep the part-time status of being a hero. But he smiled and promised the other he’d think about it.

Two months later, typed letters were posted to the various radio stations and newspapers in the city:

This is my official resignation.

I won’t go into detail, but Jackieboy Man is no more. I’ve received an injury that’s too great for me to continue on. Work together to keep this city we love safe, okay?

“James, what zhe FUCK are you playing at?!”

“I made my decision like you told me to.” Jackie’s attention was solely on his Playstation in the living room as he responded. Henrik’s response was to simply storm over and unplug the TV. “Hey! What are you doing?!” Before he could say anything else, he was dragged out of the chair and pushed onto the couch. Apparently, the other Septics had decided to give a belated intervention.

“When I said zhat you had to choose, I did NOT mean to do so in such a childish manner! Sending letters to zhe media before talking to any of us?” Henrik folded his arms. Jackie felt like he was a child being scolded by a parent, which only served to push the former hero’s buttons.

“Oh, really? So what would you have decided for me if I had asked for opinions?” Jackie sat forward, foot impatiently tapping on the ground. “Well? Give me your professional medical advice, Henrik!”

“Doc… I told you this was a bad approach -”

“No, no. Don’t try and step in, Chase. I want to hear it straight from ‘zhe good doctor’ himself.” He took the moment of hesitation to rise to his feet and square off against Henrik.

“You were supposed to quit your office job.” It was delivered so bluntly, like it was obvious common sense. “Zhe city needs a hero, and zhe internet needs safety. Besides, you aren’t hurt at all. Why are you being selfish?”

Jackie didn’t register that he had shoved Henrik until he noticed Marvin, the normally astute warlock, had tripped over a footstool to land in an ungraceful heap on the floor. Normally, he would be quick to apologise, but he was too infuriated to care.

“So that’s it, then. That’s what you think of me. Fucking fantastic. Maybe I should go out there and break my neck. Oh! But then how could I keep recording videos if I was in hospital? Not even your equipment or medication - however you fecking get that in the first place - would be able to hide that!” There was a cry of protest from the others as Jackie grabbed Henrik by the scruff of his shirt and threw him onto the couch. None dared to act. When all was said and done, there was no point trying to stop him when he was like this. They could get electrocuted with this anger.

“I’m not hurt, you say? So just because I don’t have physical ailments, I’m as fit as a fiddle? Oh sure, Jackie’s your normal, hardy Irish lad! Nothing can hurt him when he’s so used to putting himself in danger with parkour! Oh sure, being tired is nothing when you’re an almighty doctor working night shifts, day shifts, and whatever probably illegal shit you do when none of us are here, right? What’s little sleep when you’re so busy working toward the ‘greater good’, right?!” Chase reached to put a comforting hand on Jackie’s shoulder, but it was roughly shrugged off. “I haven’t slept properly in months. That’s not something pills can fix. I keep having nightmares that by me sleeping, I’m letting someone down, that I’m not living to my full potential, that someone is going to be hurt because of me. Oh, but you’d have that too, wouldn’t you? One of those ‘regular stresses of being a doctor’, isn’t that what you said before?” Before anyone else could try and step in, or before he did something he would later regret, Jackie moved away, edging toward the door.

“Being a hero doesn’t pay the bills. Being Jack doesn’t either. None of us see a penny of that money, remember? And now that Jack doesn’t exist anymore… I need to be able to live by my own means and not feel like a leech. If I gave up my day job, I’d lose more than money and the place I rent. I’d lose my only social outlet beyond you feckers. I’d lose whatever friends I made. I’d even lose my fecking birth name and identity. But it’s fine. I get it. I know what I am to all of you.” He turned and walked with a dejected air toward the front door, only to pause and let out a breathless chuckle. “Then again, I should’ve guessed. All of you call me ‘Jackie’. James - my actual name, in case any of you forgot - is only the ‘you are in so much trouble’ name. Christ… To think I thought of you lot as a family away from home.”

With a slam of the door and a surge of electricity that blew the lights, he was gone.

#writersofjack #jackieboy man #henrik von schneeplestein #fanfic #angst #implied whump #(though that might be a stretch? idk)#(other egos are only mentioned in passing so I won't tag them)#septic egos #Irish Heroics (Jackie)#(still a personal petty grievance that I can't muster the same love for the Septics as I have for the Ipliers.#I would give me a huge advantage with phrases and whatnot since I'm Irish but I just can't do it like others can D: )#(also; I didn't wanna go OTT on Henrik's accent since that would be too jarring so I kept it to a minimum)#personal fave

13 notes · View notes

skoobyspooky · 5 years

Text

thirteen - part i

i. a new home

The Coopers had absolutely no idea they were going to die that evening.

Tobias Cooper was a wealthy man but he was of old money so any means of accomplishment on his behalf was practically nonexistent. Feeling the weight of his own incompetence, Tobias had decided to become a Reverend and to serve the people of the small little village located a fair way from the Cooper estate. For what he lacked in usefulness, he made up for in riveting sermons and pleasant humour. He wasn’t an unkind man—in spite of the typical perceptions held around those of family fortunes and family estates. His family weren’t unkind either; his wife, Elizabeth, enjoyed sewing dresses in the West Wing of the manor and their daughter, Mary, was a lively child who ran from one end of the manor to the other end, cackling like a mad witch. They ate dinner in the library by the fireplace to combat the fierce English chill, and also to hear the tales told by powerful storytellers before them.

It was a Sunday, a holy day, when Tobias once again joined his wife and daughter in the library for their evening meal and to hear a new story or one heard before but good enough to be heard again. Tobias opened the drawer in his desk to pull his leather-bound Bible, pausing such a sweetly domestic moment to read a piece from the holy book to his wife and daughter. The eager patriarch licked his lips and prepared to utter the words of God when the silence that had previously occupied was slightly disturbed.

The Coopers glanced at one another with wide, concerned eyes. Their ears pricked up as the cause for alarm seemed to grow louder and clearer to their consciousness: it was a little girl singing from inside of their home. The Reverend stood swiftly from his armchair, holding a palm up to his wife and child as he moved gradually, cautiously, toward the library’s magnificent double mahogany doors. He opened one to peer into the corridor, glancing from the left to the right and froze still when his eyes fell upon the source of the singing. It was indeed a girl—but it was not a child. As a matter of fact, the correct terminology would be ‘woman.’

“Hello…” he glanced quickly at his family, the both of them staring in wild-eyed terror at him, as he slipped through the door and came out into the spacious hall to greet her appropriately.

Tobias gazed at her with uncertainty, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. By the door, like a good patriarch, was where he remained.

He observed her as she was and came to the conclusion she was definitely not native to these parts of England. Her clothes were too fine; delicately sewn, beautifully detailed and her dress was made of a deep plum with complimentary lighter shades of violet weaved through its material. Cascading in loose, elegant curls to her hips was hair he had never seen in such a pale, icy shade of blonde that he was distracted from the equally stark pallor of her complexion. She continued to hum in a high, childish octave occasionally easing her humming into poetic lyrics the Reverend could not identify. Abruptly, she stopped singing and her lips pulled into an easy smile. But still, she did not speak.

He nodded at her, thrown by the oddity of this whole… set of circumstances. The Reverend briefly glanced away from the woman when the corner of his eye thought it had seen a large shadow dance across the wall across from him, but he could only see the candlelight display many dancing shadows along the wall. He turned his attention back to the woman, stepping for a moment away from the doors of the library where his wife and child still remained.

“Excuse me…” he took a couple of wary steps toward the smiling stranger, only having just realised he was still clutching his Bible. “But… what are you doing in my home? Are you lost?”

“My home,” the woman parroted, her voice startling him. It was far deeper than he would have suspected; not deep in a masculine sense but deep as in it crawled into your ears and made an impression. It was not a voice one would forget.

“Yes… my home. You are in my home,” he enunciated, his feet taking a couple of more steps closer to her. There was something… something cold about her. Like fallen snow on the ground or the winter’s breeze rattling through the windows. He couldn’t describe it; but images of dead trees in the night came to mind.

“No,” her easy smile grew into a large grin with her straight, white teeth—absurdly white, Tobias observed with disbelief—remaining absolutely still. “You are in my home.”

Tobias Cooper backed away, tripping over the heels of his feet and tumbling. He swiftly reached for the wall to regain his balance, staring in alarm at the woman in the deep plum dress who seemed to be the embodiment of winter and death. The first thought that rushed into his increasing uneasy mind was the image of his wife and daughter. He needed to protect them from this mad woman—who very clearly was mad if she believed a stranger’s home was her own.

The Reverend released a grunt of agony when the library door slammed into the back of his head with a hard thud, his discombobulation preventing him from coming to comprehension fast enough to realise that another person was present. Another man.

“… I do apologise,” the masculine voice broke through the Reverend’s haze, a laugh in its tone. “I had no idea you were so close to the door.”

“I beg your pardon…” Tobias groaned, his hand cradling the back of his head, feeling something wet pool between his fingers. “But why—why are you in my house—”

The man, who Tobias observed as being the contrast of the woman with his jet black hair and bottomless pits for eyes, sighed heavily. Tobias felt a strong hand underneath his armpit, hoisting him swiftly to his feet from the floor. The wetness continued to curl around his fingers as it grew and grew. Was he bleeding, he wondered. He pulled his hand away and saw his crimson-stained hands, his brain slowly catching up to the present events.

“Oh my God…” he whispered, shocked.

“Not really, he’s left for the evening,” said the strange man casually, bringing Tobias’s hand to his mouth and licked a strip of the blood away from his palm.

He gave Tobias a mischievous wink, parting from bewildered (and frightened) Reverend to press his bloodied lips against the woman’s. In an instant, she went back for more but the man—who was frighteningly tall—pulled away and held a finger in front of her.

“Mina…” he said in the voice of a disapproving father. “You have your own. She’s in there, darling…”

He graced the blonde woman with a kiss to the forehead, watching as she practically skipped to the door of the library and slid gracefully inside the room. Still confused and dazed, Tobias barely registered the shrill screams, cries and pleas coming from within the library. He felt dizzy, weak, but still he made his way toward the door, rattling the doorknob with as much strength as he could muster in his state. His unwelcome visitor approached him calmly, peeling his desperate fingers away from the door with his sharp, pointed fingernails. He pressed Tobias against the opposite wall, forcing him to face the mahogany doors and to hear the continuing screams of his wife. He couldn’t hear his child. He couldn’t hear his daughter.

“What have you…” Tobias managed to choke out, breaking into sobs. The taller man with the dark hair placed a hand on Tobias’s shoulder as if he were comforting him.

“It’s all for a purpose, you dear thing,” he smoothed Tobias’s hair back as if they were about to attend a public engagement rather than acknowledge that clearly a massacre was occurring in the present moment. “See, I’ve got a wife and child to feed, clothe, and care for and we need a home… somewhere remote, not too many windows, lots of space for Sibella to grow… it was all a matter of fortune for you and I’m afraid you have none. Honestly, I do sympathise with you, I would despise the man who hurt my girls.”

Tobias was about to mutter how this man was a monster. How God would never forgive him from this act of pure evil—him and his wife alike. But Tobias could only stare into the man’s dark eyes, fear and fatigue consuming his whirring head, and then too died alongside his family on that holy Sunday.

The stranger, his wife and the baby they had brought with them—that the man had placed in the library with the mother and her own child—moved in shortly after the deaths of the Cooper family. The villagers soon became aware of the haunting of what was formerly known as Cooper Palace and strayed very far from its grounds.

ii. separate beds

“I never completely understood the dirt aspect of your myth.”

Dracula dragged a large, coffin-sized crate into the wine cellar of what was formerly the Coopers’ home. Their drained, pallid corpses laid stiff and unmoving on the cold, hard floor of the cellar, pushed to one corner like bits of waste waiting to be removed. At the top of the stairs wearing nothing but a loose, lacy robe left untied to expose her toned stomach and pert breasts, Mina regarded the sight she was witnessing with the slight of her head and an inquisitive expression. Dracula, still dressed in his suit with spatters of blood staining his shirt sleeves, continued to drag the crates across the floor into a sensible pattern. He flipped open the lids of the crate—the actual truth was he ripped open the ones nailed down with his fingers, not even flinching at his own actions—and knelt on the edge, resting his forearms on the edge of the crate.

“Not a myth, my love, it’s very real—unfortunately,” he glanced up at her, reaching for a handful of the soil from his homeland. “It’s necessary for my survival.”

“The same with crucifixes?” She inquired with a cocked brow.

They hadn’t known Tobias Cooper had been a reverend and while every home across England would contain some kind of religious paraphernalia, the reverend’s home was filled with the bloody things. Crucifixes, Bibles, statues of the Virgin Mary; it wasn’t a home as much as it served as de facto church for him and his family. Brilliantly, Mina had played the role of the lost, helpless mother to perfection; she had lingered outside of the kitchen’s back door, pinching Sibella’s toes to get her to cry (which had been difficult since the baby seemed to have an extremely high pain tolerance). Crying out that she had nowhere to go and was abandoned by her husband close to the grounds, the kitchenmaids took pity and invited her in. After their deaths, Mina had to go around and remove the crucifixes from any potential path they would make. She would have laughed at how absurd it was that she needed to do all of these things if she hadn’t been consumed with questions as to why all of this was real for him.

His black eyes met hers, holding her gaze unblinkingly. “The same with the crucifixes.”

Mina studied the crates a little more closely, pondering if they were going to scatter bits of home soil on the floor of the bedroom upstairs or stick some of the dirt in the mattress. But only when she truly observed the situation that she came to an angering realisation: he wasn’t even going to be sharing a bed with her. He was going to be staying down here, in one of those crates, sleeping in dirt while she would be sleeping either alone or with Sibella.

“You’re not staying upstairs with me, are you?” Mina snapped, straightening her posture. “You’re going to be down here the whole time.”

Dracula was always calm and casual about every little thing that others would consider obstacles or potentials for arguments. This time was no different; he stood with graceful ease from his position by the crate, wiping his hands on the front of his trousers.

“Yes, I’m going to be staying down here when I rest… but every other time…” he approached her, using his long legs to reach her quicker with his lengthy strides. Mina backed away from him, standing outside of the doorway, while he still remained inside of the cellar.

He lowered himself to his knees, smoothing a hand over her naked thigh and hooking it over his shoulder. She really tried to stay livid with him for being intentionally separate from her, but the man had his witchcraft that seemed to quell any rage she had. She bit her lip when he pressed kisses against the flat of her stomach and then lowered his mouth to suck at the swollen nub concealed below her curls. She made a low, breathless whine combing her fingers through his dark tresses.

“Manipulative cunt…” she whispered, laughing down at the top of his head.

“I agree,” he muttered against her flesh, grinning to himself.

iii. street kitchen

In the corners consumed by shadow, in the streets illuminated poorly by street lamps located every thirty or so meters from each other, monsters would emerge to indulge in insidious desires. None of these monsters ever appeared as monsters would in stories. None of them ever had heavy jowls dripping, large fangs sneering, fur sprouting from their twisted anatomy or beards made of slimy, pungent tentacles. The monsters that covered themselves in darkness also masked themselves as polite, clean societal gentlemen with nice suits and fashionable top hats. Some of those monsters were even women; typically, they were either the cause or the enabler. In the late 19th century, still no one knew better than to keep their doors open and to let their children play in the streets, unattended.

On a quiet summer’s evening, these monsters emerged from their beloved shadows to seek out a new meal for their awakening hunger. For one tall man with fierce red hair—he shall not be given a name—he had barely wandered the streets for more than ten minutes before he came across a potential. His lips pulled into a pleased little grin, stepping into the harsh light to greet the young thing chasing after the rats scurrying in the street. He tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, pursed his lips and whistled a tune to gain her attention.

The girl, small and pale, long black curls raining down her back and dressed entirely in black, glanced up from her play to acknowledge her new company. She was perfect, he thought to himself, and edged a little closer to her. A shiver ran down his spine when he noted how fixed her stare was on him and how rarely she seemed to blink. He also had only just noticed how dark her eyes were.

But the man continued to think to his depraved self: she’s just a child. It’ll be easy.

“Hello!” He greeted cheerily, making his distance between himself and the young thing shorter. “What might you be doing outside? Where’s your mother?”

He received a lengthy pause before the thing said anything at all. “Mummy’s waiting for me.”

“Is she?” His voice was high and friendly, but his eyes burned intensely. “Well, I would be very honoured to take you to her.”

The thing smiled at him, but her eyes didn’t seem to be congruent with the action. He was growing increasingly unnerved by this child. She was so very strange. But still, he pressed on; she was only a child.

She held her hand out to him and with a sinister sense of triumph, he took her hand in his own and began to walk with her. He could see the newspaper headlines already: ANOTHER CHILD FOUND BY THE THAMES. He would buy twenty of those papers, he thought pleasantly to himself.

“Down here,” she said sweetly, pointing down a shadowed alleyway, “My home is on the other end.”

“Well then,” he answered, feeling his insides do an excited little jig, “let’s make sure you make it to the other side.”

She guided him through the blackened alley, a distant glow at the far end indicating that there was, indeed, a residential street on the other end. One she will never see again, he thought, amused. He readied himself to attack, staring intently down at the young thing, her hand having slipped from his.

The wind was violently knocked out of him when his back connected with force against one of the walls forming the alley. He gathered himself together quickly, readying himself for whatever confrontation had just been initiated. His eyes snapped from one point to next until they landed on the person leaning against the opposing wall. As the dawning realisation occurred, his unease and startled bemusement filled his every being.

“That’s sweet. You remember me.” She giggled, swinging a leg back and forth.

He did remember her, it was very difficult not to remember the Count and Countess whom he met at a charity gala. They both exuded an air of cool confidence and any conversation with the Count himself was one hell of an experience in of itself. But the Countess—whose name he did not know—had been the most hypnotic and the most concerning as she always appeared to be absorbing more information than anyone else. He was about to learn why.

“I remember you, too…” she continued, lifting herself away from the wall, closing the small distance between her and him.

Sweat beaded his brow, a pained whine emitting from his lips as she gripped his jaw with a single hand, piercing the skin with her fingernails. Red crawled down her fingertips from his wounds, the young woman grinning widely.

“Can we eat him now, Mummy?” The little girl’s voice broke through the man’s fear-induced haze. How could this woman be so strong? He felt like he could barely move at all. What did this child mean by ‘eat’? Were they cannibals?

“Wait a moment, sweetheart. I’m just watching his face here…”

The moment the predator had become the prey, his temperature dropped and every part of him went limp with terror. He was going to die. He was going to be killed.

The Countess’ expression lit up like a bonfire in the night, like someone receiving an expensive gift—unprompted.

“There it is…” she sang, staring at the man for a little longer.

The last thing he saw was teeth.

#private (wwriting)

2 notes · View notes

eyecicles · 6 years

Note

Lawlight: 1,2,4,9,12,14,18,21,25 & 29. Sorry they are so many and thank you very much!!

1. Who makes the first move and how?

Light. I mean, it depends, but in most of my Lawlight scenarios I want Light to make the first move. I like the thought of L subtly teasing Light for months after he becomes aware of Light’s crush on him. One day, Light, even though he knows it’s technically a bad idea, confesses to L just because his pride can’t take it anymore & it’s something L wouldn’t expect him to do. He would probably do it while L is stuffing his mouth with some cake just to see him choke.

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?

Oh, that’s an interesting one. I don’t think either of them is insecure at all. Light canonically cares more about stuff like his image but if he were to start a relationship with L, he would fully commit to it. I doubt either L, or anyone else who might has to say something about their relationship, would make him insecure. He would more likely get angry. L, on the other hand, can be mopey and that’s probably the closest he can get to feeling insecure. And honestly, I think Light would be great at finding something that would reawaken L’s spirit. “I solved this puzzle in under 20 minutes - which means I just beat the world record, by the way - wanna try it?”

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

L. I think Light is much more methodical with his touches and he doesn’t want anyone to witness their more intimate moments. L doesn’t care at all what other people think. If he’s needy, he’s embarrassingly obvious about it.

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

L has no shame. He shits in front of Light, he cleans his toenails in front of him, he casually puts his hand inside his underwear when he’s lying next to Light in bed. He would just say that they already know each other’s bodies intimately and that there’s no reason to hide their bodily functions from each other.

Light gets used to it after a while and, after three years of being together, Light sometimes doesn’t close the door when he’s peeing. That’s the most embarrassing thing, in his mind, he would ever do in front of anyone.

Also, they have very embarrassing debates in private. Mostly about stuff that, in their eyes, is too high and complex for other people to understand. In truth, it would just make them sound very childish and mean-spirited - like edgy 12 years olds, haha.

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?

They don’t hide their genuine smiles from each other anymore

14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Light makes L soup and brings him medicine, all while excessively sighing, and forces him to go too bed if it gets really bad. L asks Watari to take care of Light and covers his mouth and nose whenever they’re in the same room because he’s a bit of a germaphobe.

18. When they fight, how do they make up?

As soon as Light isn’t angry anymore, he starts talking to himself in front of L, prompting him to say something. It’s usually about trivial stuff, like a newspaper article he doesn’t like. L just acts like nothing happened, puts his hand on Light’s knee or spoons him at night without mentioning their argument either.

It can be pretty difficult though, because neither of them like to apologise in a sincere way and the other one can see right through it. But they probably had some heated make-out sessions after fighting. I can’t really argue against this popular headcanon, lol.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

Light gets nervous when he first touches L intimately because it’s the first time he touches a man; someone he actually feels attracted to. And it feels different than he thought it would feel. He probably has a bit of internalised homophobia, and since he’s not particularly good at being honest with himself, it would be quite a lot for him to face his deeply buried desires like that.

L only felt nervous for one second; right when he realised that Light is serious & that he doesn’t mind because he’s serious too. He never imagined himself in a committed relationship before, after all.

25. Why do they fight?

They mostly argue about stuff like moral, justice, the justice system in general, tennis, vegetarianism vs veganism, how childish the other one is, how spoilt the other one is and how self-absorbed the other one. In my head, though, they don’t fight very often and very rarely seriously.

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

Stuff they learned about each other that made them fall in love with each other a bit more:

L flaps his hands when he’s excited

how L’s eyes reflect light (ha) in a very interesting way since they are so dark and large

L’s sense of humour is utterly disgusting and reprehensible, which is something Light secretly enjoys

L sometimes likes to watch shitty wildlife documentaries

after some years, L gives Light a file consisting of notes of L’s older cases and Light realises quickly that a) L was absolutely savage even as a teen, b) he still manages to surprise him with his insane little tricks, c) that the ache in his chest tells him that he wishes he could have known him as a child, or baby, or the soul he might have been before that

the first time Light ugly-laughed in front of L in an almost sadistic way felt like an epiphany to L

Light likes to play with his pen whenever he’s lost in thought

how carefully Light picks his socks while being otherwise quite effortlessly handsome, neat & proper

Light liked to get into stupid internet arguments as a teen and L is absolutely delighted when he manages to find some traces of them, because Light’s internet persona is quite fascinating

but mostly it’s that they, no matter how many people they met, just know that they won’t ever find someone like the other

#ask meme #anon #death note #lawlight #light yagami #l lawliet

46 notes · View notes

svtwish · 7 years

Text

♡ ; junhui | animosity (i.)

a/n: this was originally supposed to be only one part, but the plot was a little too long so i split it into two. this part is honestly pretty dry but i promise part 2 will be more interesting!!! oof i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it ((: (i’ll get back to requests asap i just needed to write something for my bby)

≫ words; 2582

≫ genre; fluff

≫ au; royalty!au

≫ pairing; prince!junhui x fem!reader

↳ in which you’re supposed to get married but you hate each others’ guts so your parents have no choice but to interfere.

Junhui loved everyone, and everyone loved him. He’d never fail to give friendly smiles to the servants who worked in the palace, and bring colour to the townspeople’s monochrome lives with his odd sense of humour whenever he paid visits to the local market. He didn’t just have a pretty face; he had an amazing personality and top-notch manners to top it all off.

Jun also loved his parents. He deeply respected the King and Queen for ruling the country so brilliantly and bringing the country wealth and prosperity as well as happiness; a feat he doubted he would be able to do. He loved his mother and father for giving birth to him and showing him so many things he’d never known before.

What the second prince didn’t love, however, was the fact that he was denied of the freedom to choose his spouse.

He recalled being summoned into the throne room many years ago, when he was still a young boy ignorant of the world and the many problems around him. His father — the King — broke it to him that he’d have to marry a Princess from one of the neighbouring kingdoms. It was something about maintaining peace with the kingdom to avoid war; Junhui didn’t really understand at that time. He shrugged the news off, treating it as another piece of information he didn’t really understand.

It was only after he grew a little older and developed a crush on one of his classmates that he realised the true impact of his arranged marriage. He would’t be able to marry anyone he fell in love with, unless it was, well, the person he was supposed to marry. He grew to despise the idea of having someone choosing for him; especially when it was the person he’d have to spend his entire life with.

He grew to despise the idea of having to marry a Princess from a neighbouring kingdom; the idea of marrying you.

At one point, Junhui’s mother thought it’d be a good idea for him and his “future wife” to meet. He was only nine at that time, but he really didn’t want to see you. Or talk to you. Or play with you.

Unfortunately, your mother happily agreed to the idea of you going on a playdate with Jun.

So the two of you were pushed together, left alone to your own devices in a random room in Junhui’s castle as your mothers went off for high tea.

The boy crossed his arms and strode over to one of the corners of the room, sticking his tongue out at you. “I don’t want to play with you.”

You huffed in response, stomping your way to the corner right opposite his. “Me neither!”

“I don’t want to marry you,” the second Prince announced, throwing a sharp glare at you.

“You think I’d want to marry you?” You rolled your eyes, glaring right back at him. “Who would want to marry a stinky brat like you, anyway?”

“I am not a stinky brat!” He shouted, balling his hands into fists. “You’re the stinky bimbo! I don’t need a dumb princess as my wife!”

The next hour continued that way, the both of you throwing insults at each other with no mercy. It ended with you crying and Jun on the verge of doing so; the only reason why you hadn’t had a physical fight yet was because the two Queens rushed into the room just in time to stop things from getting worse.

Your first meeting only fuelled your hate towards each other, and your reluctance to get married to the other.

You both felt this animosity towards each other; it was unspoken, but everyone knew.

Ever since then, it became Junhui’s tradition to feign sickness on the nights your kingdom held special events, and vice-versa. Heck, it didn’t even need to be an event your castle held. It could be any event; as long as the boy heard you were going to attend, he’d make it his mission to miss out on it. It was the same for you.

Both your parents were getting sick and tired of your childish game.

In fact, it wasn’t just Jun’s parents; his servant and close friend, Minghao, was getting irritated as well.

“I’m not feeling well, Hao. I think I’ll skip this one,” Jun said, sinking comfortably into the sheets of his luxurious queen-sized bed.

Minghao let out a tired sigh, pinching his nose bridge. “Look, just quit it already,” he groaned, glaring at the prince. “There’s no escaping the fact that you’ll be married one day, so you might as well just face her now.”

Jun frowned, his eyebrows furrowing together. “After that horrendous first meeting? No thanks, I’d like to avoid talking to that rude girl for as long as possible.”

“You were just as rude, Junhui.”

The said prince let out a frustrated sigh, sitting up on his elbows to look at his servant, who was leaning against the door to his grand room. “I don’t want to meet her yet, okay? It just sucks that I have to be forced into this. And she clearly doesn’t want to meet me either, considering how she hasn’t been turning up for our events despite the invitations.”

Minghao mumbled a yes, your majesty before leaving the room, feeling extremely ticked-off.

Junhui sighed and threw himself back onto the pillow, praying he wouldn’t meet you anytime soon.

“Y/N! Get up and start packing,” you woke up to the sound of your mother’s high-pitched voice. “We’re going for a diplomatic meeting in a neighbouring kingdom.”

Still blinking your sleep away, you frowned. “Why do I have to go?”

“You’re nineteen, Y/N. It’s about time you got some first-hand insight on how things work to add on to your knowledge.” Your mother rummaged through your drawers and pulled out a white suitcase. “No more objections. We’re leaving in two hours.”

“Wait — how long are we staying there?” You rubbed your eyes, trying your hardest to suppress a yawn.

“Seven days, six nights.”

Now you were fully awake. “What the hell are we staying so long for? A vacation?”

“Language.”

With that, the Queen exited your dwelling, leaving you to pack one week’s worth of clothes and get ready for a royal meeting in two hours.

You groaned, finally kicking the sheets off you and stepping out of your bed. It’s going to be a long week.

The royal butler helped load your now full suitcase into the back of the car. You thanked him with a small smile before climbing into the black car and inserting yourself into the corner, leaning against the window. Your mother slid in next to you, immediately criticising your choice of dress. It was a long, light blue gown, and not as fancy as your mother would’ve liked. After all, it was just another diplomatic meeting — it’s not like you were going to impress someone.

“You should’ve worn the yellow one I got you the other day,” she chided, tearing your body away from the corner and making you face her. “You hair is a mess! You should’ve at least dried it!”

“You gave me two hours to pack for a week-long trip and to get ready, Mother,” you mumbled, sighing as she turned you around once again and worked her skilled hands along your hair to try and straighten the tangled strands.

“A princess must always look presentable, regardless of how long she is given to prepare,” your mother started lecturing you as the car started. “Especially when she is about to meet people from other kingdoms.”

Nodding your head emotionlessly, you blocked the rest of her lecture out, returning back to your corner when she was done trying to make you look a bit more presentable. When she was finally done chattering about her mother and the beatings she had to endure because she wasn’t up to standard, you asked, “Which kingdom are we going to?”

The Queen smiled, an excited look passing through her eyes. “You’ll see.”

You were busy napping for about ninety-percent of the ride to the oh, so exciting kingdom named ’You’ll See’ , so you didn’t realise the roads that were taken were the ones that led to a horrid memory you couldn’t erase.

It only dawned on you on exactly whose kingdom you were in when your eyes blinked open as you arrived at the castle front.

Immediately, you shot awake, any remnants of sleep instantly disappearing as you looked around, not truly believing where you’d arrived.

“Mother,” you gulped, turning to face the woman who wore a pleased expression on her face. “Isn’t this — Junhui’s—”

The said woman beamed as the car halted and the passenger door swung open. “Yes.” She stepped out of the black vehicle just as the door on your side jerked open, making your heart fill with dread.

Oh, dear lord, please help me.

You gingerly got out of the car, hastily wiping away the drool that was on your cheek. Hurrying to join your mother’s side, you tried your best to straighten your slightly crumpled dress as she stepped in front of the doors, holding onto her purse.

Please, don’t open.

Much to your dismay, the grand double doors creaked open, revealing a —

Whoa.

You couldn’t help it when your eyes widened, taking in the sight in front of you. He was barely recognisable — half of his fringe was gelled up, and he stood devastatingly tall in a full suit, completed with a tie. Gone were his features that you’d criticised ten years ago— they were replaced by lips, eyes and a nose that were nothing short of perfect.

Wen Junhui looked gorgeous.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, eyes running up and down your figure. His mind was reeling, wondering as to why you were here, why his mother hadn’t given him a warning beforehand, and how you managed to look so stunning when he remembered insulting your bugs-bunny teeth in that damned room a decade ago.

If he were being very honest, Jun wanted nothing more than to stare at you all day and get to know you better over a cup of tea; perhaps even apologise for the snarky comments he’d made about your behaviour and appearance all those years ago. If he had known you’d transform into this beautiful girl, he would’ve treated you like a queen.

In that moment, he was more than grateful that you were going to be his wife.

Then he recalled your mean comments and constant death glares directed at him; Jun had to stop himself from pushing you out of the castle as the feeling of awe and wonder disappeared as quickly as it came.

A nudge from his mother reminded him where he was and what he was supposed to do, so he stepped forward to take your hand, pressing a light kiss onto the back of it. “Welcome,” he greeted with a charming smile, letting your hand go. Your breath caught in your throat when you realised just how more alluring he was up close, but you recovered quickly, turning the ends of your lips upwards to thank him with a small curtsy.

Your mothers exchanged hugs, and Junhui took a small step back from you. The silence was awkward as you fiddled with your dress, suddenly wishing you were wearing something fancier.

Once the two Queens had finished with their small reunion, a servant with cute elf-like ears led the four of you to the meeting room. You noticed how Junhui glared at the poor servant, and how the servant constantly shot the second prince apologetic smiles, mouthing something along the lines of listen, there’s more coming up.

Suppressing a yawn, you took your seat at the round table, bowing to the King. Junhui took his seat next to yours, clearly uncomfortable, as seen from how straight his back was.

The meeting went by depressingly slow, and you had half a mind to excuse yourself to the toilet and stay there till the meeting was over. Jun himself seemed to be dozing off, if not for the fact that his mother was constantly nudging him under the table, preventing him from falling asleep. You weren’t quite sure what the learning objective of the two-hour long discussion was, other than a. Junhui’s father was a terribly long-winded man and b. his servant with the cute ears went by the name of Minghao.

It finally came to an end when the King cleared his throat, announcing that he was to attend yet another meeting in about an hour, and that everyone was now dismissed. You stood up a little too excitedly, stretching your numb limbs after being in the same position for so long, eager to go home.

“Princess Y/N,” Minghao started, lowering his head politely, “Our butlers have already unloaded your luggage. I’ll take you to your room, unless you’d like Prince Junhui to?”

At that, your jaw slackened, the surprise evident in your face. You completely forgot that you’d be staying for a whole week. Blinking as you tried your best to wipe the shock off your features, you were about to answer him when Jun interrupted.

“What do you mean, take her to her room?” The disbelief was etched into his voice as he rose from his seat, walking towards you and Minghao. The servant watched as the taller Prince came to a stop beside you, the height difference between you two making you feel incredibly small.

“Our dear Y/N will be staying over for a week, Junhui,” the Prince’s mother explained, looking between the three of you with a disgustingly sweet smile. It made you want to puke as you took note of how forced it was.

“I wasn’t told of this,” the said Prince argued, clearly angry.

“That’s because you would’ve been completely against it, dear,” the woman’s smile stretched across her face as she gestured towards you. “How about you take Y/N to her room? It’s the one next to yours.”

Junhui looked like he was about to punch the living lights out of his mother before he caught his father shooting him a stern glare. Turning his head away, he sighed in resignation as he regarded you, the hate still evident in his eyes. It made you wince a little.

“Wait — then where’s my mother staying?” You asked, suddenly coming to realise that your mother hadn’t said a thing since the whole affair had started.

You shifted your gaze away from Jun’s and to where your mother was standing. She was visibly avoiding eye contact, and you could read her like an open book. She fidgeted nervously, guilt evident from her body language. The room was eerily quiet as everyone watched the mother and daughter.

She’s not even staying. Your confused eyes turned into furious ones as you tore your eyes from her figure, choosing to glare at the carefully polished tiles beneath you. She lied to me.

“Let’s just go,” you mumbled under your breath, knowing that you were inevitably acting like a spoilt brat in front of not only your mother, but in front of another kingdom’s King and Queen.

And your future husband.

Junhui seemed to catch what you said, leading you out of the tense meeting room as the both of you tried to brace yourself for the sure-unpleasant week to come.

#seventeen #say the name #svt #wen junhui #junhui #jun #kpop #kpop scenarios #seventeen scenarios #junhui imagines #svt imagines #junhui x reader #jun x reader #royalty au #prince au #prince!junhui #reader insert #svtwish #my prince

337 notes · View notes

aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

Star Trek: In Defense of Enterprise’s Worst Episode

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Don’t worry, this isn’t a defense of “These Are The Voyages.”* We’re here today to talk about the other “worst episode of Enterprise,” season two’s “A Night In Sickbay.”

“The episode that killed Star Trek.” “One of the worst episodes of the whole Star Trek franchise.” “Almost as bad as ‘These Are The Voyages.’” These and similar opinions of “A Night In Sickbay” are all over the Internet. The episode frequently appears on “worst episodes of all time” lists alongside “Spock’s Brain” from The Original Series and Star Trek: Voyager’s “Threshold.”

I have no intention of arguing that this is a great or outstanding episode of Star Trek – it’s not. But nor is it anything like as bad as those other two notorious examples. Does anyone turn into a lizard? No. Do any crew members abduct other crew members to have lizard sex with them? No. Does anyone’s brain get taken out and yet their body still, inexplicably, functions? No. It’s about time we went over a few of the more common complaints about this episode, to see if it really deserves its terrible reputation.

Complaint 1: Archer behaves like an idiot, and no trained diplomat should behave the way he does.

The episode’s events are kicked off when Archer takes his dog Porthos down to an alien planet on a sensitive diplomatic mission, and then gets upset when the aliens are insulted because the dog peed on one of their sacred trees, while poor Porthos nearly dies after coming into contact with an alien pathogen.

Viewers have complained that Archer’s behaviour in this episode is childish, that no “trained diplomat” should ever think it was appropriate to bring a dog on a sensitive visit, and that the episode makes the Captain look like an idiot. He spends most of the time railing at the aliens, the Kreetassans, avoiding taking any responsibility for what happened, and suggesting that he might refuse to apologise.

Bringing Porthos may not have been the brightest idea in the world, but it isn’t the act of total idiocy critics have made it out to be either. Archer himself points out repeatedly that they told the Kreetassans he was planning on bringing Porthos, and the Kreetassans said nothing about their sacred trees, plus they endangered Porthos’ life by not running proper checks on his genome. Should Archer have known better than to try to bring the dog with him at all, considering an alien species may not understand the nature of the dog-human relationship? Yes, and T’Pol tells him as much in the episode. Is he completely irredeemably stupid for thinking that he’d taken appropriate precautions and wanting to give his dog some exercise? No.

Archer’s reactions are also aggravated by the fact that the Kreetassans are, to put it mildly, gigantic pains in the backside. In their previous encounter, in the first season episode Vox Sola, the Kreetassans took offense because the Enterprise crew ate in front of them, which they consider vulgar. Except the crew didn’t just turn up to their planet touting takeaway – they were eating in their mess hall on their own ship. You know, the room set aside specifically for eating, an important social activity in Earth culture. The Kreetassans’ reaction is ridiculous and made worse by their reluctance to explain the problem, a reluctance they show again in this episode. Sure, Archer should grow up and get over it, but his frustration, while unprofessional, is very human.

It’s also worth bearing in mind the title of the episode – this takes place over the course of a sleepless night during which Archer is afraid Porthos is dying. He is stressed, emotional, and on edge, and he’s lashing out. By morning (and with Porthos thankfully having survived) he has cooled down and started behaving more appropriately again. And none of Archer’s complaints are actually communicated to the Kreetassans – he’s sounding off to his crew and his colleagues about a frustrating situation. He may not be the world’s best diplomat, but there are real life diplomats guilty of worse offences.

Complaint 2: Archer shouldn’t be whining so much about his dog.

How you feel about this one is going to depend partly on how you feel about dogs, or about pets in general. As a person who has slept in the lounge to watch over and comfort a sick dog, I have every sympathy with how Archer feels. If my dog is sick, you can bet I’m not at my best at work, especially if I’ve also had very little sleep. Archer’s way of explaining this, calling Porthos “my beagle, my pal”, may be a cringe-worthy way to put it, but those of us with “subservient quadrupeds” at home really are very attached to them.

Incidentally, given that Phlox’s bizarre treatment for Porthos involves drowning and reviving him, this episode initiates the dog into the grand tradition of Star Trek episodes that “kill” main characters only to bring them back to life again.

Complaint 3: Archer’s romantic feelings for T’Pol come out of nowhere and aren’t convincing.

While many viewers consider Archer’s romantic feelings for T’Pol in this episode to be a one-off story thread that was never picked up again, this is actually the end of a slight romantic thread between the two of them that started in season one, but largely fizzled out afterwards. Archer’s defence of T’Pol in “Fusion” could be assumed to be no more than a Captain protecting a member of his crew, but as well as several aside glances over the first season, they snuggle up together under a blanket in “The Andorian Incident”; in “Fallen Hero,” Vulcan ambassador V’Lar tells them she sees a “great bond” of “friendship” between them, and in “Shockwave Part 1,” T’Pol tells Archer she has his back. That may not sound like much, but in 90s Trek terms, that was practically a relationship.

The suggestion of an Archer/T’Pol romance would come up once more, in season three’s “Twilight.” Nothing to do with sparkly vampires, this episode had originally been suggested as a romantic storyline between Captain Janeway and First Officer Chakotay on Star Trek: Voyager, a couple who flirted mercilessly for seven years before Chakotay was inexplicably paired with Seven of Nine at the last minute. Re-written for Captain Archer and his First Officer, this episode is often considered one of Enterprise’s best – so it’s not the sexual tension between Archer and T’Pol itself that is the issue with “A Night In Sickbay,” merely the sloppy execution.

The main reason the idea of a romance between the two has such a poor reputation is that the way it’s brought up here feels rather strange, with Phlox insisting Archer’s concern for his dog is actually stress caused by underlying sexual tension, and some very dubious “Polarian slips” (“the breast I can,” really? With poor Jolene Blalock in that catsuit?). It’s true that the dream sequence in which Porthos’ funeral becomes a romantic moment between Archer and T’Pol, followed by yet more sexy “decontamination”, is rather silly, but it is just a dream. No one mated with each other and had lizard babies, and dreams are often weird – it’s not that bad a scene.

But the idea in itself isn’t inherently terrible – T’Pol and Archer do work well together and she is an obviously attractive woman. However, when she calmly tells Archer any kind of relationship would be inappropriate he does the right thing and moves on, and that’s the end of that. It’s a simple story of an attraction at work that isn’t pursued.

Complaint 4: The humor doesn’t work.

Some of the episode’s bad reputation is the result of its attempts at humour. The opening panning shot across Hoshi “decontaminating” T’Pol, who is “decontaminating” Archer, who is “decontaminating” Porthos, is presumably meant to be funny. The problem is, the exploitative “decontamination” scenes are so problematic in general, it just isn’t very funny, but rather makes it seem like the show is trying to sexualize the dog.

Similarly, the daft sequence at the end of the episode, where Archer has to go through a bizarre ritual in order to apologise to the Kreetassans, is a simple case of humour gone wrong. It’s too silly, his hairdo is bizarre, and it makes no sense. But again, no one turns into a lizard, or randomly picks a fight with some cavemen. It’s not great, but it’s hardly the worst Star Trek has to offer.

The main sources of humour in the episode are, of course, Phlox’s various shenanigans overnight in sickbay. He trims his toenails, he brushes his tongue, he and Archer chase a bat around. If you don’t find any of that funny, then sure, you may find the episode grating. Perhaps I just have a terrible sense of humour, but what can I say – I thought it was funny. Judging by this episode’s Hugo nomination, I’m not the only one.

This episode is sometimes accused of having “killed Star Trek” and blamed for Enterprise’s dwindling viewing figures and eventual cancellation. It’s true that it has flaws and it won’t be bothering any “Best Of” lists. But it doesn’t deserve its place on all the ‘Worst Of’ lists either. It’s a good chance to get to know Phlox a bit better, a fascinating and genuinely alien character who didn’t get the spotlight often enough. The interaction between Phlox and Archer here is genuinely fun to watch. It’s light and fluffy and silly, and maybe that’s not your bag, but that doesn’t make it bad. It shows Archer at his worst, at his most childish and petulant, but how can we really get to know any character without seeing them at their lowest? By the end of the episode, he has regained his sense of duty and is fulfilling his role as normal once again. He had a bad night – so do we all, sometimes. It’s about time we cut him, and this episode, some slack.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

*Though if that was a season finale, rather than a series finale, and if it hadn’t killed off a major character, it really wouldn’t be that bad either.

The post Star Trek: In Defense of Enterprise’s Worst Episode appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3EJgTaK

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

0 notes

niemernuet · 4 years

Text

The Victor and the Runner-Up

Summary: Alexis beat Marco in the 2021 men's overall racing. Luckily, Marco is a good sport.

Warning: explicit

Not to sound condescending but it was really for the best that he was the one who had won, Alexis mused. The crystal globe felt nice and heavy in his hand. He rocked it gently, weighed it back and forth then threw a glance towards the few forlorn photographers in the distance. Ah merde, why not? He lifted the trophy and planted a kiss on the cool surface. It would make for a nice picture, though he did feel stupid the moment he put his lips on the glass.

Whatever.

The biggest advantage, he continued his inner monologue, of having spent the majority of his career in the shadow of a legend (curse you, Marcel!), was that it had given him an almost Buddhist-monk-like serenity and a quiet sense of humour. Johan called it cynicism but Alexis was sure it was only his senility speaking.

So his family was not allowed here to celebrate his biggest success and on his birthday to boot? So the arena looked as if a deadly virus had ravaged the population in the last year and left the Alpine Ski World Cup like the last stand in a zombie film? So there would be no parties in the town, no masses who waited for him anywhere? So what? Alexis once spent eight years running like Wile E. Coyote behind the Roger Federer of his sport. There was nothing that could rustle him anymore. And it was exactly the reason why he had had to win and not Marco.

The photographers were still merrily clicking away on their gadgets and Alexis threw a glance to his right. Even with a mask and a hat hiding most of his face it was clear as day that Marco was not smiling, at least not really. Alexis knew Marco's real smile pretty well after all, the little wrinkles around his eyes and the golden radiance he emitted, the spring in his step and the candour in his shoulders that came along with it, as if he was just waiting for someone to come into hugging-distance. He was generous with that smile of his and nothing in the past season, not FIS safety protocols, not mile-long cotton swabs up his nose, not empty stands and last minute cancellations had been able to destroy it. Sometimes he had been the only one to smile and had looked like a rainbow in an otherwise dull world and Alexis probably should stop staring at him. He turned his head back to the front and lifted the globe once again though the photographers were beginning to slow down. Next to them, still unperturbedly clapping along with the rest of the team, Clément glared at Marco. Alexis' smile grew a little. He was so resentful, especially concerning perceived slights against his colleagues, and he had not forgiven Marco for his interview right after the second course of the giant slalom yesterday.

"The course was the same for everyone, dipshit", he had growled. "It wasn't the snow, it was you."

Alexis had shoved his elbow into his ribs. But not too hard. "Be nice! It's still raw for him."

"So what? I came in second too but you don't hear me crying to the press about Schwarz."

"He wasn't crying about me."

"He might as well have. Childish git."

Alexis really did not mind Marco's words, after all he knew too well what it felt like to come in second. It made you want to lash out to anything that crossed your path, and unfortunately in the arena that anything was reporters and cameras.

No, Marco did not deserve to win under the present circumstances, his entire being too loud and flashy for this subdued ceremony. He deserved to win in a normal world, with thousands of people shouting his name and waving banners with his face, with a parade through the village and music and parties all night long. This here, the barren place and the scrawny applause, this was for Alexis.

He did not mind.

_______

Alexis pitied the hotel keeper who was nervously stalking up and down outside the big hall, probably expecting the police any minute. The tables had been arranged according to the rules, spread far apart and with only four people per table and stands of plexiglas between them. The guests should have dispersed after dinner, preferably into their beds or at least into groups not larger than five people. But tonight the French team ignored all rules and stayed until long after dessert, chattering in one large group and toasting with the vinegar they produced in Switzerland and sold as wine because tonight they had a victory and a birthday to celebrate and Jean-Baptiste to bid farewell to.

Victor filled Alexis' glass again before he could even feign protest. Alexis raised the glass with a wink and took another sip.

They really should have brought their own wine.

He excused himself after a while, head swimming from the alcohol and the warmth of the hall, and fled outside. The village lay silent and abandoned in the cold night. Through the trees, Alexis saw the black mass that was the lake. It seemed as if the French were all alone in Lenzerheide. Or almost alone. One last person stumbled along the lake, their gait at once determined and yet unstable. Probably drunk. Suddenly the person stepped to the side and crossed the road, barely missing the only car that had come along in a long time. Definitely drunk.

Alexis' heart jumped in his chest. "Hey, idiot, watch where you're going!", he shouted from the patio. The drunk stopped, looked to the patio, then sped up. As he crossed the street light Alexis finally recognized the person and his heart jumped again. He ran over the terrace and through the small park and caught up with Marco just as he turned into the driveway.

"There you are", he announced.

"What are you doing here?", Alexis hissed and pulled Marco away until they were behind the wall that bordered the park of the hotel.

Marco looked at him as if he had asked the dumbest question in the world. "I've come to see you."

"And why?"

Marco sighed. "To apologise. See, yesterday I was in a bad place, and I said some things to a reporter that were not…mature. That alone gave me a guilty conscience but then today Justin confessed that Clément had cornered him and had forced him to translate what I had said and then I knew it would get to you and I really don't want you to go like that because I didn't mean it, the course was fine, I was just angry at myself for failing. You were the best this season, fair and square, and I just wanted to tell you this one more time and also I haven't wished you a happy birthday yet and I really wanted…"

Alexis smiled and held his hands up and Marco stopped rambling. "It's okay, really. I've been second too. I know how it feels."

Marco nodded serenely. "Good. Also: Happy birthday! I'm sorry we can't have a party. You deserved better."

Alexis waved him off. "It's fine, I don't mind. It's…" An unsettling thought crept into his head and he broke off. Marco stared at him curiously, head tilted like a puppy, golden eyes beaming in the street light. He was well and truly sloshed.

"Aren't you guys in the hotel right by the slope?", Alexis asked.

Marco nodded.

"And isn't that a couple of kilometres away?"

"Five point two according to google", Marco answered and pulled his phone out of the pocket of his sweater.

"And you walked here all alone?", Alexis shouted and Marco dropped the phone.

Alexis grabbed Marcos cheeks and felt his ice cold skin because he was a bit tipsy too and it felt somehow reasonable. "That's how people die, moron", Alexis scolded.

Marco laughed, and a few strands of his blond hair tickled over Alexis' hands. "Of course I walked. I'm way too drunk to drive."

Alexis bit his lips but Marco could always coax a smile out of him. He dropped his head a little bit, until his chin was resting on Alexis' palms, and laughed at him with little wrinkles around his eyes and golden radiance and oh so tempting lips and honestly, Alexis never stood a chance.

__________

They snuck by the desperate hotel keeper and the not-party in the hall and hurried to Alexis' room. Alexis studied the brochure that was in every hotel room all over the world and looked for the number of the local taxi company but before he even found the right page two cold arms wrapped around him and a cold body clung to him.

"That's not why I brought you here", Alexis lied.

"Of course not", Marco mumbled and softly bit Alexis' neck.

Shivers ran down Alexis' spine. "I'm serious. I'm calling you a taxi and then it's off to bed with you."

Slowly Marco forced Alexis around and kissed him towards the bed. At least his lips were warm again. Alexis' breath hitched when he felt something tug at his belt and trousers.

"Don't let me disturb you", Marco said when their lips parted again and shoved Alexis on the bed, pulling his trousers down to his knees with the same movement. Breathlessly laughing Alexis fell on his back and stared intently at the ceiling. The brochure was crumpled in his fist.

"As I said already outside", Marco explained between kisses and nibbles along Alexis' stomach, "happy 30th birthday! And congratulations on your victory. You deserve it."

Alexis focused on his breathing, tried to stay steady but his pants suddenly felt too tight.

"I'm sorry there's no real party", Marco continued and his lips and hands wandered down Alexis' thighs and they were not cold anymore, no, they were hot, scorching even and Alexis pressed his lips together hard. "But on the upside, there's more time for me to be a good runner-up." Marco's lips left Alexis' skin and he looked at him quizzically. "I am a good runner-up, right? I wouldn't know, it's my first time."

Alexis laughed uproariously and grabbed a handful of Marco's soft hair with his free hand. "Bien sûr, tu es un petit ange chaste et innocent."

Without breaking his smile or looking away from him, Marco pulled at Alexis' pants and exposed his hard cock. "I know, and I keep telling everyone but nobody ever believes me." He shrugged, as if he could not comprehend why nobody would trust his word, then he bent down and took Alexis' entire length in his mouth. Alexis' head fell back onto the bed and he ripped a few pages out of the brochure when he buried his hands in the pillow above.

"Marco, dieu…merde", he moaned softly and lost himself completely in the heat and the soft tongue that danced around his dick. First drops leaked out of Alexis and with overpowering lust he felt how Marco sucked it all out of him and swallowed. He worked relentlessly, determinedly, like he did on skis, like he always did, leaving Alexis no time to catch his breath.

"Fuck…merde", Alexis stammered. "Marco…putain…"

Appalled Marco let go of Alexis' cock and looked at him. "What are you calling me?" His lips had turned a burning shade of red and made him look like a literal angel.

Alexis laughed again, his fingers caressing Marco's hair without pause. His dick was throbbing and Marco stroked languidly along the shaft.

"My coaches want me to start participating in slalom races", Marco explained without taking his eyes off Alexis' dick. Pensively he rubbed the wetness that flowed out of Alexis. "So I can beat you next year." He looked up to Alexis and grinned. "Though I don't know why I just thought of that."

"A mystery", Alexis gasped and moaned shamelessly as Marco's lips started exploring his cock again. Familiar heat was pooling in his groin and he knew that he was close. His hips bucked upwards but Marco's strong hands kept them in place while his mouth sucked without mercy.

"Fuck, Marco…dieu!", Alexis groaned and suddenly it was too much and he lost all control. Everything turned a blinding white and Alexis came. Marco leant forward and swallowed greedily everything that shot out of Alexis until he could give no more.

When the world finally stopped spinning and Alexis could move again he found Marco standing in front of him, smiling again like the angel he was most certainly not. Alexis did not have to ask or guess, it was glaringly obvious. Slowly he sat up and pulled Marco closer by the hooks of his trousers until he could burry himself in Marco's crotch. Hungrily he bit along the stiffness under the trousers until Marco's gasps turned to moans.

"Alexis…", Marco panted, hands laid around Alexis' head.

Patiently Alexis opened Marco's trousers and shoved his damp pants down, revealing his erection. Marco's groans crumbled to a whimper as Alexis started sucking him off and his thighs trembled. It did not take much, too far was Marco gone, and his knees folded as he came in Alexis. Alexis wrapped his arms around him and held him steady until it was over. Slowly, Marco sank down on Alexis' lap and kissed the salt off Alexis' lips.

"I can't wait to race you again next season", Alexis whispered when they finally parted and caressed the lines and dimples of Marco's smile.

"Next time I won't be as nice", Marco warned.

Alexis laughed. "Try me!"

Marco grinned, planted one last kiss on Alexis' lips and stood up. Quickly he pulled his clothes together again then he inspected his phone. The screen had cracked on the frozen ground and Marco sighed.

"Could you order this taxi for me now, please? I have to be in Engelberg in…" he looked over to the television and read the time, "eight hours. I'm supposed to inaugurate a new gondola with the abbot of the local monastery."

Alexis, who had been scrolling through his own phone, let it sink and stared at Marco. For a few seconds nobody said anything, then Alexis burst out laughing.

#skiing #alpine skiing #marco odermatt #alexis pinturault #i have soooo much to do irl #but i will always abandon my commitments to lose myself in plot bunnies #sport rpf #mine

1 note · View note

ohstardust · 7 years

Text

Figure My Heart Out

I prompted myself a little fic about the group seeing The Ferryman on the readers birthday and her being excited over Fra Fee. They all head to a bar, reader gets talking to Fra about his work and Tom gets jealous. It was only supposed to be a short fic when I had no requests. It turned into 3410 words, oops. Oh, and I forgot to make Tom jealous, he’s just cute instead. I promise I’ll get onto my requests asap! TGC playlist can be found here. Title credit; Heart Out by The 1975

“She’s just unbelievable, I’m gonna be late at this rate,” Y/N stressed down the phone, her unusually calm best friend on the receiving end staying stoic for the duration of the young girls meltdown, “Jack’s just texted me and - get this - they’re all early, like what the actual fuck?”

Hannah snickered down the phone, all too aware of the groups track record, “I hate to be sympathetic towards the men, but you did turn down the offer of a lift to the restaurant.” “Yes, thank you Hannah, for pointing that tragic decision out to me, it’s good to know I can count on you in my hour of need.” She hissed, causing more of an amused reaction from her so called ‘friend’. “Well, my little aged drama queen, it’s your lucky day -” “I highly doubt that, and this 'aged' one only has 4 months on you,“ Y/N muttered as she threw the essential cosmetic items into her small red Gucci disco bag and pulled on her black rose print blouse. The few small buttons fastened down the center of the blouse and she arranged it to avoid showing off more than was appropriate. “- I’m 2 minutes away, I predicted your sister’s behaviour and I knew she’d rob you of the whole day no matter how persistent you were probably being, so be ready.” Y/N audibly sighed in relief before sitting on the edge of her unmade bed. Sometimes she was blindsided by how kind hearted her friends could really be, it didn’t matter how godawful her day was going or how stressed she had become, they were always on hand, ready to step in and relieve her from falling apart. “Have I told you lately that I love you and that you’re my best gal pal?” “You may have mentioned it once or twice. Right angelface, I’ll be there asap, so wipe away any mascara marks, get your lippy on and I’ll see you in a few.” “Thanks Han.” The phone was flung onto the bed a moment after Hannah had pressed end on the call and Y/N hastened to fasten the shoes that had been sat on her feet unattended to for the past fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes after pick up, the two girls arrived at the restaurant just past Piccadilly Circus underground, a decision Y/N had made based on the location of the theatre for the evenings performance of The Ferryman. She looked on in awe at the sight of her close friends, all of whom she’d only met within the past year, standing from their table with a plethora of balloons and decorations. “Jesus Christ, look at the bloody state of that,” despite her words, Y/N giggled at how thoughtful they had been and the effort made just for her birthday. She wasn’t sure what made her so special but she appreciated it all the same, the love and attention for her even though she always assumed everyone still viewed her as ‘Tom’s sisters best friend’. “Delightful isn’t it?” Her best friend patted her back and waved at the group, pushing the older girl forward towards their party. A round of hugs were exchanged, more ‘Happy Birthday’s than she physically knew how to cope with and a dozen cheek kisses before she could even take her seat between Jack and Harry and directly opposite a relaxed Fionn. Y/N crinkled her eyebrows and surveyed the group, “Wait, is it my birthday or something?” they all began to laugh and snicker at the small joke before she took a sip of the drink that apparently Aneurin so kindly bought for her. She raised it in acknowledgement to the Welsh man and smiled, “Thank you sweetheart.” “You’re more than welcome,” He replied, raising his glass too and clinked it against hers. "So what happened? I thought you were 'making your own way here'," Harry smirked, his eyebrow raised questioningly. "I have a ridiculous sister who flits in and out of my life as she pleases, so it only makes sense that she decides to come back and commandeer me on my birthday, which in turn almost makes me late to the only thing I had planned," Her eyes rolled as she retold the events, still feeling somewhat angry at her sister for being more of a hindrance than anything, "I'm just lucky that Hannah came to my rescue." The Scotsman beside her flung his arm over her shoulders and pulled her into his side, “Well, you've made it here and you're not allowed to think about her for the rest of evening, we're gonna make sure you enjoy yourself, darlin',"

It was just past 7 o'clock when Fionn realised how late it had gotten, he alerted the table and called for the bill. Everyone began to finish off their drinks, the girls heading to the bathrooms to touch up their makeup before they left. "Is everyone good and here?" Barry called out, causing amusement through them all as he began a headcount. "Yeah B, can we leave now, that wine has well and truly gone to my head," Y/N's cheeks were rosy and she started to fan herself as they left the restaurant.

Within 10 mins they were at the Gielgud theatre and she was becoming increasingly more excited as time passed. Although she'd been itching to see the play since she first heard about it months ago, she'd be lying if she said she was more interested in that than seeing her close friend, Tom Glynn-Carney. As far as she was aware, no one had caught onto her interest in him, but that didn't stop her feeling giddy at the thought of seeing the younger man. 'Pull yourself together' she'd often tell herself, scolding her mind for thinking that way about a boy 2 and a half years younger than her. That was not how she worked, she didn't date, or think about, anyone even a day younger than her. That was her number 1 dating rule. Which quite clearly Tom had broken all without knowing. "Tom is still giving me shit for buying tickets for this you know?" Hannah snorted, stuffing her purse back into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder, "He was very insistent that I didn't buy your ticket though, adamant that he wanted you on the list to get in." Y/N's cheeks flushed, unaware that Tom had done that, thinking that her friend had bought her the ticket as a present. "Can he just ask you out, already?" Y/N's steps faltered for a second and her face burned, did she know? Fionn fell into step beside her, "You okay Y/N/N (nickname)? You look like you’re burning up." His face was full of concern as he surveyed the older girls face. "It's probably the wine, I knew I'd drank too much too fast," she simply smiled at her friend, hoping it would ease his worries. The next second Jack stepped closer and put his arm on Y/N's shoulder, leaning behind her and whispering to Fionn, "or it's the hideously massive crush she has on little Tom." She could hear the grin in his voice and she stopped dead causing his footing to stutter. She looked him dead in eye, "I. Hate. You." He continued giving her that dimpled toothy smile and hugged her into his side, "Don't know how the hell ye thought I'd miss that babe, but I didn't," he looked back over at Fionn who was wide eyed, "fooled him though, small mercies and all that." The rest of her friends were making their way through the doors and into their seats. She hastily walked on before turning back to the two men, her eyes narrowing, "Zip it, Lowden. I'll hear no more about it." Y/N was mesmerised by Tom's performance, his talent exuding in waves and she felt so proud of the boy she'd known since birth. Her attention was also captured by Fra Fee & Paddy Considine, two actors she'd been a fan of for a number of years through previous roles on television, film & theatre. She couldn't quite process Tom being in the same production as either of them. That's not to mention Laura Donnelly. As the cast took their bows, their group raucously stood to their feet, clapping and cheering causing a blinding smile from Tom, his cheeks colouring under the stage lights. Y/N’s heart swelled and she cheered a little louder.

Fifteen minutes later Tom was exiting the stage door to a barrage of fans, screaming for him and sticking their phones in the air. The group made sure to stand in a more secluded area just around the corner on Rupert Street, away from the prying eyes of the swarms on Winnett Street. The September air still retaining a hint of warmth despite the time nearing eleven o’clock. Y/N turned to face Fionn and Barry, engaging in a conversation that would distract her from watching Tom and the way he was so kind and patient with everyone he met. The butterflies in her stomach causing her to feel a little nauseous, it was only as she saw him again for the first time in 2 months that she realised how much her feelings had increased. And she was very fucking unhappy about it, thank you. She could feel the constant gaze of Jack, constantly checking that she was okay as he noticed her literally turning her back on Tom and she almost wanted to apologise for being stern with him, immediately realising there was more bite in their last conversation than she’d intended. It’s just, at twenty-five years old, she didn’t find the humour in being teased, it was old and childish and she just wanted a relationship instead of feeling like a teenager with a silly crush. With or without her younger friend. The next time she felt his eyes land on her, she lifted her head and mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ at him. Jack just shook his head and smiled, settling back into a conversation with Aneurin. It’d take a lot more than that to ruin their friendship. A moment or two later, post-joke from Barry that had Y/N and Fionn in fits of laughter, she felt the strong embrace of another from behind her, the weight of a head as it rested on her shoulder, “Happy birthday, angel.” Her laughter had halted almost immediately but she could still feel her lips upturn in a soft smile. Y/N turned in his grip and threw her arms around his neck, grasping him tight, “I’ve missed you,” He whispered just before he pulled back and kissed her cheek. “Missed you too.” “Tommo!” Harry called out before slapping a hand over his mouth, “Shit, I didn’t think that through, hopefully no one heard that,” he warily scanned the area before realising they were in the clear. Tom stepped forward and slapped him on the arm laughing, ‘Bloody idiot,” he hugged Harry and made his way around the rest of the group. “Shall we make a move?” Hannah questioned, already advancing in the direction of the club just across the street that they had decided on. “Not much say in the matter really, is there” Fionn’s eyebrows raised as he started after her, causing them all to move. Tom hung back to fall beside Y/N, their feet moving in sync, “I hope you don’t mind but I invited some of the lads to join us, I know that Fra’s coming at least,” her eyes widened as she looked to Tom, “What?” “Fra? As in Fra Fee?” He started to laugh as soon as he remembered, “Oh bloody hell, I forgot that you’re a fan.” “Well, what a happy birthday indeed.”

“First round’s on me, lads,” Jack called over the music, “Just tell the lass here what ye’ want.” Y/N smirked at the look Jack gave the bartender as she set to work on the drinks order. “A bit into her are ye’?” “Shut the fuck up, Y/N/N, go and suck face with loverboy instead.” Y/N laughed and patted his shoulder before she left to join the group where Tom was introducing Fra. “And this one here is the birthday girl,” Tom gestured to her as she stood beside Hannah, “Fra this is Y/N, Y/N I’m pretty sure you know who this is,” the bastard grinned into his drink, silently laughing. “Ah, the infamous Y/N, I’ve heard all about you from this one,’ ah lovely, at least that shut Tom up momentarily she thought, his face had paled and he took a few more sips of his drink to brush it off. Fra took her hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, “Happy birthday, my love,” The ever-growing group made their way to a large booth, the one that had been reserved for their party, and they all sat with Fra landing beside the birthday girl. With everyone immediately immersing themselves in conversation, she was elated that she would actually get to talk to someone who she had really admired for a while and lamely launched into how her favourite musical, and piece of theatre, is Les Miserables, knowing he’d played multiple characters over the years. “It’s just the most rewarding show though, y‘know? Sometimes I wish I could go back to it, especially performing at the theatre next door to it like I am now. I do miss it,” He looked slightly mournful but shook his head. “I mean, look at Killian, he’s done it so who knows what the future holds, eh?” “Quite right,” He knocked back some of his drink before smiling and continuing, “that’s not to say I don’t love what I’m doing now. There’s something so magical about theatre compared to film though.” “Tom said something vaguely similar, said there’s nothing quite like the thrill of the stage. Or somethin’,” Y/N stole a look over at the blonde haired boy to see him glancing over and grinned at him. She turned back to Fra when she heard his voice, “Tom never mentioned how much of a Mis fan you are.” “Is it weird? Please just tell me to shut up if it is, sometimes my really nerdy side comes out.” ”God no, it’s interesting, that’s all, nice to talk to someone who understands it.” Y/N finished the next drink and within seconds Barry was stood with his wallet in hand, “What ye’ ‘avin’, love?” “Surprise me, B.” Grinning she rested her head atop of Fra’s shoulder, already starting to feel merry again, “Please tell me we’ve bonded and that officially makes us friends?” “Damn right it does.” She felt the older man’s laugh vibrate through her head and she felt content with her friendships. Unbeknownst to her, Tom was watching the pair very carefully, hardly taking in a word Fionn was saying.

An hour or two later, who’s really counting?, the group were in the middle of the dancefloor, moving to There Is a Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths and Y/N had sought out Jack to dance with for the sheer hilarity of the music. “Ye’ think ye’ so bloody funny, don’t ye’?” Jack rolled his eyes as she began moving his arms and singing along to the song. “It’s because I am, c’mon Steven, woo me with your vocals.” She teased. “You absolutely should not be able to see any of my work, you monster.” “Spoil sport,” she childishly poked her tongue out at him, and instead settled her eyes on Tom. To die by your side, is such a heavenly way to die “You’d be less obvious if you just went over there and told ‘im.” Y/N smacked Jack away and grumbled, “You’ve lost your mind in your old age, Lowden.” “Will you please just tell him? How Hannah hasn’t smacked ye’ both is beyond me.” As soon as the words had been uttered, Hannah had snuck up behind the pair, “I’ll tell you Jack, it’s been a fucking struggle,” the younger girl turned her head to Y/N and looked her dead in the eyes, “Just ask my brother out, would you? You’re both boring me now and I’m losing the will to live.” ‘C’mon Hannah, let’s leave her to stew,” the Scot took the other girls arm in his and walked away, leaving Y/N to stand there dumbfounded and a little irritated. Can everyone please just piss off? Her head was bowed when Tom’s unmistakable voice flowed in front of her, “My turn for a dance yet?”. She caught the hopeful look on his face and nodded, “Anything for you, babe.” The opening notes of Set the Fire to the Third Bar rang out through the venue and Y/N’s head tipped back, revelling in the music, her arms wrapped around Tom’s neck, “God, I love this song so much.” “I know, that’s why I requested it for you.” There was a missed beat of her heart before she softly smiled at the boy, man, in front of her. She realised just how much he had grown up, how quickly time was racing by and she didn’t know how to slow it down, even just for a few moments. “You look so beautiful tonight, y’know that?” Y/N shook her head and blushed, “I mean, you always do, but you really look divine tonight. I’m so happy I’m getting to spend your birthday with you.” “Tom, what are you doing?” the woman sighed and closed her eyes, she was in no mood to deal with him being so sensitive and loving, it wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve her heart being played with on her sodding birthday of all days. “What do you mean ‘what am I doing?’, can’t I give you compliment?” He weakly laughed but looked confused all the same. Her expression grew weary, as did her voice, and she glanced around the room before wetting her lips and looking back at him nervously, “Not anymore you can’t.” The boy’s face dropped and his hands left her body, his mouth gaped slightly and he looked like he hadn’t got the faintest idea what had just happened. “I don’t - what? – I don’t understand,” Tom had one hand placed on the left side of his lower back and the other running through his hair, his tongue working over his lips, “What have I said, or done, wrong?” “I really can’t do this anymore, Tom. I can’t pretend that we’re just friends when I want more from you than you’re probably willing to give me. It’s been going on too long.” She realised she’d said more than she intended to, but couldn’t help the sigh of relief once the words were out there, between them, floating around the air and out of her system. For a moment Y/N thought she’d maybe been subtle enough for him not to understand but that thought was squashed all too quickly. “Are you trying to tell me what I hope you are?” Tom placed a hand on her cheek, this thumb running over her skin as she closed her eyes. “I really hope so,” she whispered, Tom barely able to make out the words as he watched her mouth. Throwing all caution to the wind, Tom pressed his lips to hers causing her eyes to fly open and then slowly slip shut again. Her mind couldn’t process anything else other than the feeling of Tom surrounding her as they moved in time with the music, her breath hitching when he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and his hands slipped behind her neck. “Shit Thomas, I didn’t know you had that in you.” Her breathing had grown more ragged as had his, their foreheads rested against one another’s and ridiculous grins broke out on their faces. “There’s still so much you don’t know about me, Y/N. I’m not that little boy anymore.” “Trust me, I know.” He stuttered as she pushed his body flush against hers and quickly understood her meaning. “Cheeky. Reckon you’ll need any more proof?” “A lot more.” She whispered against his lips before capturing his again, I guess silly birthday wishes do sometimes come true. Their moving bodies were lost in a sea of people, however their friends had all managed to catch the supposedly intimate declaration between the two. And if it meant that they’d be in for a lot of stick tomorrow from their group, well, so be it.

#tom glynn carney imagine #tom glynn carney #tom glynn carney x reader #dunkirk imagine #dunkirk cast #dunkirk imagines

134 notes · View notes