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millimononym · 2 years

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season 3 is inherently flawed(and a rewrite/how i would fix it)

warning:this post is LONG. like...really REALLY long. it took me so long to write that i think i genuinely lost my mind and patience half way through because of how angry i got so i kept writing more. you have been warned!also feel free to criticize and disagree.i'm not a writer,and i don't know if i articulate my thoughts in the best way,but i tried.

so most of us agree that s3 is def the worst season of Galactik Football, right? The art and animation got worse, the editing was weird, and because the original writers of the series werent involved, the entire season was written like absolute shit: everything goes way too fast or way to slow, the characters are all assasinated or just act like braindead robots who do things for no apparent reason(aka because the plot is incapable of being organic so it needs to FORCE its characters into doing things they would never do if they had 2 braincells...) etc etc. But something i often find brought up as a positive is the concept of the season(NOT the execution) but honestly....im not sure i agree.

the concept of the season is that because of this new tournament, players with any kind of flux are allowed to play in any team! Now this sounds cool on paper...but in execution? not really. and thats not just because s3 is incompetent.

I think this concept doesnt work because it has nothing to do with the snow kids. Theyre the main characters, they should get the focus. Every SK already has the breath of akillian and they care about each other very much,they also work very well together because of this, so they dont have a reason to recruit new people, especially ones with different kinds of flux. Now, theres a solution to this: the dreaded moment where a character(or multiple characters) decide to leave the team to make way for the new character. But theres also a problem with that: people dont like it when you replace beloved characters with new ones(especially ones as bland and uninteresting as Lun-zia). SO the solution to THAT would be to show what that last character was up to after they left,just like before,in the previous seasons. but then that doesnt fix anything AT ALL actually,because the problem of sharing screentime is still there. You see the problem? for every problem solved at least 3 more show up. You cant fix something that wasnt broken,aka the SK team.

the characters that leave the SK are Mei(shadows), Yuki(electras(a team that we never heard of before so theres also that)), and Djok(who joins Paradisia,the most basic,boring rivals and villains this series has ever had. they are actually so bland that the writers made them part robot to justify just how 1 dimensional all their decisions are). The 1 who joins the SK is Lun-zia, a basic,bland character with no personality who only serves as a way for the writers to introduce the 500th boring ass love drama that goes nowhere. wonderful. You would think that after they set up that idea earlier,and with how bland Lun-zia is,that they would at least do something interesting with the concept,right? WRONG. They do absolutely nothing interesting with the mix flux idea in every team. It might as well not have been there.

[The reason why mix flux teams arent allowed in the cup is very simple, everything makes sense because the world pre s3 made sense. A person can join any team they like,as long as they switch to the flux of the team they are joining because they will be representing THAT PLANET. Its also the reason why the pirates dont use flux even though they probably have it: they represent Shiloe, a place with no flux of it own. If they were to use the flux,they would be using a flux that another team already has and is using to represent THEIR planet. (OH and yet another thing about s3 that doesnt make sense , if the pirates can use the flux now, WHY DONT THEY?? jfc every time u think u hit rock bottom this season suprises u with how horribly thought out it is)]

this all isnt even MENTIONING the fact that the tournament was USELESS. actual time wasting for almost the entire season. Because later on, after Paradisia gets fucked, Harris(the ACTUAL villain that HAD setup unlike the generic,out of nowhere, dumbass, out of place oc that is “Lord Phoenix/Magnus Blade”(god thats such a stupid fucking name)) forces the flux society to hold the GFC 3 years early(cuz the cup takes place every 4 years and s3 is set a year after s2) AND THEY DO. so....WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THE TOURNAMENT????!!!

I am actually going insane.this season is so bad. never have i seen such misuse of plot,worldbuilding,characters and setting. You have no idea how long this post is taking to write because as i keep writing i keep finding worse and worse things to say and keep coming to even more horrifying conclusions. its like a never ending pit, full of plot holes and ruined characters.Someone was paid to ruin this series.Let that sink in. But i think i will just give you a rewrite now. A basic fix that whatever lobotomite who wrote s3 couldnt be bothered with. Its very barebones so feel free to add on or tell me if its shit

HOW I WOULD FIX IT:

just drop the mix flux idea entirely. The cup would never allow it and in my universe the tournament wouldnt exist because it had no prior buildup and was completely useless. Instead of wasting time on that,empty romance subplots and annoying unfunny jokes, i would focus on the aspect of people leaving the team to join another that was never fleshed out. Also build up(in s3 Djok and Mei had their arguments basically off screen and the decision to leave was robotic and would absolutely never happen that fast, Also Yukis decision made no sense too and had no build up.)

The season would start with the GFC taking place 3 years early, everyone is confused and frustrated and unprepared. It would be a mystery until its revealed Harris blackmailed the flux society like he did in s3. Under the pressure, Djok would be an asshole which would then cause Mei to leave to join the shadows,albeit more slowly.Perhaps have her be manipulated/persuaded by Sinedd,he did always hang around people at their lowest points (Djok,Rocket).Plus i think Mei would be a lot more comfortable joining the shadows since she got used to coach Artegor in s2 which would help pursuade her. I always felt that the shadows should have gotten more focus for being the main rival team, and now we have a chance for that now that both Mei and Sinedd are there. Have the team interact! Show how Mei is adapting to the team/enviorment/flux. Also Mei and Sinedd dont need to date each other. Mei can be single,dammit.

Mei leaving because of Djok(and also dumping him) would be devestating to Djok as he can never admit to his wrongs. Yuki takes her place, but ultimately decides to leave because of the pressure and stress Djok is putting her in as well(in s2,he was being an asshole to her just for replacing Ahito while he was unwell,can you imagine how he would be if she were replacing his ex girlfirend instead?). Mark ends up taking the defense position and everyone, especially Micro Ice chew out Djok for one last time,telling him to stop being a selfish prick and that hes pushing everyone away(SERIOUSLY WE DONT NEED HIM TO LEARN THAT FOR THE FIFTH TIME). Rocket is the captain again because hes responsible.

We would focus a lot more on Yuki and Mei,as well as everyone dealing with the fact they will have to compete against their friends. Mei would be trying really hard to intergrate with the shadows even though she knows the smog is harmful to someone as emotional as her(maybe have her mom put pressure on her again because shes the defender in a new team which is bad for popularity,as well as Sinedd because hes just Like That.(yes,Mei is staying a defender in this.she has been established to be the best in defense and im not having Fulmugus pushed out of attacker position,hes still an attacker and captain)). Combine the stress of leaving her friends,breaking up with her bf,her mom putting pressure on her and joining a new team, and Mei is an emotional mess which isnt good because of the smog. Eventually she gives up and tells Sinedd (who she has formed a friendship with)as well s the rest of the team that she just cant deal with the smog and that she knows its bad for her,and that shes going back. Sinedd doesnt take this well because of his abandonment issues(i mean cmon...hes been abandoned by p much everyone except the shadows at this point) and basically starts a fight with her in the middle of traning. Sinedd blows up at her,calling her a coward and a quitter(because in his mind,the side effects dont matter,the most important thing is the tournament and he thinks shes using it as an excuse to abandon him) and Mei yells back at him that hes pushed everyone away just like Djok(OOO PARALLELS) which pisses Sinedd off more to the point where both of them are either on the verge of tears,or on the verge of fighting each other. The only thing holding them back is the other shadow players who have basically just been watching them like :0 this entire time. Thats when Artegor asks Mei if she wants to leave and go back to the SK. She says yes but doesnt know how to. Artegor gives her advice based on his own experiences(OOO PARALLELS EXCEPT WITH AARCH AND ARTEGOR THIS TIME). Mei would come back,but Djok is still cold towards her,except he regularly gets chewed out by the other SK for this which makes Mei feel better.

That entire yelling fit that happened with Sinedd would kick off his arc. That plot point in s2 where Artegor is being responsible with the smog and is worried for Sinedds health wouldnt be wasted. S2 didnt have time to show Artegor being a better coach and person to his team but I DO. Have Sinedd confused with how much better he treats them(kind of like in the fanfic “consequences” on ao3) and also kind of upset because he doesnt know how being cared for feels like!! he just thinks artegor has gotten soft and weak because he actually cares about sinedds health now. The shadows are confused too but mostly just concerned with Sinedd instead. Like...”yeah its normal for coaches to look out for ur health...we didnt tell u because we thought you knew and were just cool with Artegors harsh teaching methods”. So OOPS!! Sinedd finds out what having a family feels like and he doesnt know if he likes it !! feeling vulnerable and having people and parental figures care about you? disgusting...hes crying now and it kicked off his personality redemption arc

As for Yuki, i dont know what team she would join,or even if she would join a team at all. She doesnt do well under pressure. I would focus on her feeling like her only role in the team was being a replacement, first for Ahito,then Tia, then Mei. Those kinds of thoughts are a BITCH to deal with alone, so i would have someone in the SK(perhaps Mark,since he knows how it feels) seek her out and reassure her that the team still cares about her even if she left.

MORE THINGS HAPPEN IDK HOW TO CONTINUE

now u might be wondering how im ending this...im genuinely sorry but i have no idea. i havent finished watching s3 yet so i have nothing to work with or compare things to...again im sorry but im not a writer. The entire point of this post is to show i think s3 sucks so hard its actually mind numbing. I spent what feels like hours writing this post and my fingers hurt. Feel free to add on because im so tired i have no more steam left. Just so u know,i could GO ON about why s3 is horrible,i could fill one of those 3 hour youtube essays just with that,but as stated i am SO TIRED. s3 ruined a good show...its characters,worldbuilding,setting, EVERYTHING. And why? because instead of giving this last season to the og writers and ending it deserved, they got some fucking rando who writes worse scripts than i did in kindergarden. They ruined it. There probably should have been a clearer conclusion to this post but WHAT IS THE POINT. We all know s3 sucks ! it just sucks so hard that none of us can quite articulate all of it without our fingers falling off. Again,sorry for not ending this properly but i have lost what feels like all of my patience with s3 inhabiting any space in my mind...and also my fingers hurt

#long post #galactik football #ranting about gf season 3 #i have a feeling i will be using that tag more in the future.

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suspicious-whumping-egg · 2 years

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I posted 15,547 times in 2022

That's 14,912 more posts than 2021!

609 posts created (4%)

14,938 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@killorbekillian

@that-gay-jedi

@incoherent-introspection

@wizard-email

@wolfeyedwitch

I tagged 5,269 of my posts in 2022

#important - 625 posts

#obikin - 270 posts

#yep - 213 posts

#the sandman - 157 posts

#save - 140 posts

#whump art - 136 posts

#kenobi spoilers - 135 posts

#pride - 120 posts

#fave - 114 posts

#goncharov - 114 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#his whole thing it’s just a thing abt him and it impacts him but his arc isn’t focused on the “tragedy of disability” or anything like that

My Top Posts in 2022:

As per @painsandconfusion's suggestion im starting a picrew chain with this picrew! (Shea consider urself already tagged for the chain)

(they/them)

Tagging: @spookyboywhump @loki-the-mad @brutal-nemesis @b0amagination @galaxywhump

151 notes - Posted December 31, 2021

Betrayed, Part 2

If people rly like this I’ll make it a series! Continued from here!!

Supervillain frowned, shifting a hand to the holster at their waist. “As easy as that, hm? I don’t buy it. If those heroes put up with you for that long, you must have some kind of a backbone. You’re planning to betray me, aren’t you? No one likes a turncoat, little hero. You’ve already been double crossed once, there’ll be no one to look out for you if you turn on me.”

Before Hero could interject the stammering explanation that they simply just didn’t want to be hurt, Supervillain struck them hard across the face with their gun in a sharp burst of pain across their cheek.

“No one agrees that quickly if they’re not up to something,” they snapped. “We both know I have my methods to keep you in line— I could have you constantly chained up or strapped down, order Healer to keep you paralyzed until we build a bit of trust between us, break your legs so we have six uninterrupted weeks to see where your loyalty lies— I’d rather cut to the chase. You’re one to do so, I’ve noticed. Not like Superhero with their useless monologues.”

Hero shook their head weakly, trembling against the chains that bound them. It was too late to beg now, and they knew it. There was nothing else to do but hope the villain would make it quick.

“So I’m assuming a show of power might be best, nothing more,” Supervillain continued. “You’ve never been up against me alone, little Hero. I won’t hurt you if you become my protege, but you must understand my hesitance. For all I know, you could be a spy. Hell, they could have left you as bait, meant to be snatched up by my henchmen and planted right where you could get all the information you need.”

They paced the room, plucking a weighted baton from a rack of weapons against the wall. “Don’t try to tell me you’re innocent, that’s for me to decide,” they added coldly. They tossed the baton from one hand to another, testing its weight, before swinging it hard at Hero. It cracked hard against their side, right over the scar left by the healed stab wound, and Hero hissed in pain.

They soon lost count of the blows, as Supervillain rained a volley of hits over them, one after another. The pain was sharp and stinging with every strike, and they were blinking back tears after mere minutes.

At long last, the villain paused and stepped back to take a look at them. Other than the defeated look on their face and the fresh blood streaking their bare torso, they were the same— no signs of a cracking facade.

Supervillain nodded, content of Hero’s loyalty for the time being. They reached down to unlock the wrist cuffs, keeping Hero’s legs secured to those of the chair, and strode from the cell.

They let themself break down as soon as they were alone, burying their face in their hands and allowing their tears to fall in broken sobs until they gasped for breath. So it was quite a surprise when Supervilain tapped them on the shoulder, alerting them to their presence. The villain wore the twisted little grin that was only brought about by watching others suffer.

“Stop crying, you have work to do,” they snapped. “I want you to write down everything about those traitors that might help me— base locations, personal connections between team members, powers, weaknesses. You don’t know what I already know, so I can guarantee I’ll catch you on something if you lie. Give me enough information and I’ll consider your innocence.” They shoved a paper and pen at Hero’s face, then stormed from the room.

Hero’s unsaid words stuck in their throat, and they heard Supervillain bolt the door behind them with a heavy click. I won’t lie to you, I want them dead as much as you do. But they’d have to convince Supervillain with more than empty words. With no other choice, they began scribbling down every detail on their betrayers that they could remember.

~~~

Part 3 is out now! Link here

181 notes - Posted March 25, 2022

A not-so-gentle reminder:

If you are a TERF, support TERFS, or platform TERFS, get the fuck off my blog. Platforming TERFS (yes, including JKR) sends the message that you do NOT support trans people. You don’t get to pick both sides. Trans women are women. Trans men are men. Nonbinary people ARE nonbinary, they don’t just identify as such. Transmeds can fuck themselves, and neopronouns are essential for all people to express themselves. Gender binaries are a social construct and true feminism, true EQUALITY; includes all sexes, gender identities, orientations, races, beliefs, and levels of ability. True equality doesn’t EXCLUDE.

212 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

Trope Talks: Forced Affection

Tw: intimate whumpers

Whumpers who force their whumpees to play along with their convoluted games of obsessive love. Whumpees who hate that they find it easier to act like they love their whumpers.

Whumpees who who kiss back. Whumpees who lean into whumper’s hand when their hair is stroked. Whumpees who return an embrace from their whumper because they’d rather have twisted comfort than none at all. Whumpees who picture their lover touching them instead of whumper, because otherwise the unwanted intimacy is unbearable.

Maybe they hate it, maybe they shove down the urge to fight every time they’re touched. Every time whumper whispers another sweet, possessive thing in their ear. It’s better than being hurt, so they force themself to endure. Maybe one day they do fight, and they’re punished so horribly for their defiance that they go back to silently upholding the facade of love. Or maybe they decide that the pain is better than the sickly sweet imitation of kindness. They‘ll take a dozen lashes, a hundred cuts, before they’ll accept whumper’s touches without fight.

Maybe whumpee can’t help but enjoy it. Whumper is despicable and they know it, but when they’re picked up bridal style and held to whumper’s chest, they’re too touch starved to care. They melt into every touch, silently pleading for affection because they’re so desperate to be loved that they can’t be bothered to be picky. Whumper’s twisted praise is a relief to them, they want to please whumper if it means being loved. They’ll be hurt either way, at least this way they can be comforted after the fact— even if by the same person who did the damage.

250 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Writing Characters with Chronic Pain and Disabilities

PSA: Writing characters with disabilities and chronic pain is great for representation, but I’m seeing harmful tropes and portrayals perpetuated in the way chronic pain and disability is treated in parts of the whump community. Abled people need to stop using chronic pain and/or disabilities purely for “fun and whumpy” purposes. To help address the (hopefully not ill intended) ignorance that likely causes perpetuation of hurtful tropes and harmful portrayals of disabled characters, I’m sorta writing a guide on what to do and not to do when you write a character who is disabled or has chronic pain. I am disabled myself (connective tissue disorder that causes chronic pain among other debilitating symptoms) but obviously all disabled experiences differ so take this all with a grain of salt.

What to do/what is okay to do: An injury causing chronic pain and that being just a part of a character, or a character who becomes disabled (or has been from birth). Their struggle is/can be obviously present and a significant part of their life BUT they must still be a rounded/whole character (background, personality, relationships, etc) if the narrative surrounding their disability was omitted. Writing characters with disabilities and chronic pain is good for representation! I’m not saying it’s bad to have chronic pain be caused by injuries for a character, including whump sustained injuries. A good example of a disabled character done right is Kaz from Six of Crows (Leigh Bardugo is disabled herself tho which obviously plays into why he’s done so well). Kaz uses a cane and has chronic pain caused by a wrongly healed broken leg. His pain and his cane are mentioned often throughout the novel and influence his life experience and perspective. However, his narrative doesn’t focus on his chronic pain: he’s not looking desperately for a cure, his goal is not to someday stop using his cane, etc. (These things are harmful tropes because they portray disability as something completely and totally bad, to be avoided at all costs). Kaz is a badass and competent character, as developed as the other (able bodied) main characters of the story, and his disability is one of many trait about him. If you wanna write a disabled character as an abled person, try to keep those kinds of things in mind (make them developed, make sure their narrative doesn’t focus fully around their disability even tho their disability can/could be a large part of their life, don’t use the “looking for a cure” trope as their whole motive, don’t present disability as a fate worse than death or similar.)

What not to do: What I’m sorta mad about is when someone writes a character who’s constantly suffering from chronic pain/disability and is written in a way where they’re constantly miserable from it and can never feel anything other than the constant sadness/pain their disability causes them. (Perpetuates the trope that disability is constantly horrible and sometimes creates the idea that a life with disability isn’t worth living- which is harmful because it creates the idea that people with disabilities can’t be happy/successful/etc unless they’re faking their disability). It is harmful when their pain or disability is their only trait and/or is only used to make them suffer for “fun” or whump (perpetuates harmful stereotypes around disability- gives the idea that it’s impossible to be happy/a successful person/etc while disabled or having chronic pain, makes light of disability.), Do not write a disability unrealistically and do your research to prevent from ignorance turning into harm. When a character is written disabled/in pain purely for whump, harmful tropes usually end up being perpetuated (the search for a cure trope, the idea that a disability is a tragedy and must be avoided at all costs, etc). Chronic pain is not fun, disability is not whumpy. If you want to write it, do it respectfully. Putting it as the focus of a whump story or as the only trait of a character, especially if you’re an able bodied person and just want to write suffering is not okay. Doing so mitigates and makes light of the real shit people with chronic pain and disabilities live through every day.

Abed people don’t clown on this post. Do not start discourse on this post.

564 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #tumblr year in review

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iwadori · 3 years

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When they neglect you for another girl Part 5 (Kuroo)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Word count: 1.3K

Genre: angst, fluff

masterlist

You and Kuroo have been dating all throughout highschool and now your in you first year of university

It’s a bit harder to see each other because of your conflicting class schedules

But when you did see eachother kuroo has been acting a big suspicious, ‘secretly’ glancing at his phone or always needing to head out early.

And you were going to get to the bottom of this.

You were just finished with your class, and you had plans to meet your boyfriend at the library so he could tutor you for your chem test that you on Tuesday. On your way over there, you got boba for both of you and some study snacks to get you through the session.

You arrived their first, which you didn’t really mind as Kuroo was usually a bit late to your study sessions (especially recently with his dodgy behaviour.) You decided to go over your recent class notes as you were waiting, which was pretty useless as you didn’t understand anything.

You actually met Kuroo bonding over chemistry, since it definitely wasn’t your best subject so in your first year your chem teacher suggested getting a tutor and recommend Kuroo Testuro the self proclaimed best ‘chemist’ in the school.

It’s been half an hour and Kuroo hadn’t shown up, you were about to call him until you saw a quite disheveled looking Kuroo who is heaving out of breath.

“Tetsu, what happened to you?” you exclaim with amusement.

“Umm I kind of got in a fight?” he said questioning himself “well not really a fight but a disagreement.”

“A fight? With who?” you said a bit too loudly, as the librarian gave you an obnoxious ‘shusshhhh’ glaring at you.

“It doesn’t matter babe.” he said nonchalantly “I see you have your electrolysis work out, why don’t we get started.”

“But what abo-”

“So what is positive, the anode or the cathode?” he asked distracting you from asking him about what happened.

You spent two hours going over all the topics that were going to come up on your exam, and you can’t lie and say Kuroo didn’t help you. However, you weren’t as focused as you were wondering what happened to him.

After your study session, you both went to your dorms. Sadly, you couldn’t share a room since your University didn’t allow co-ed dorms (and maybe if you did live together, you’d be able to understand his odd behaviour.)

Even though he was still in highschool, every Friday afterschool you and Kenma made sure to spend atleast an hour playing a game online together, and today it was minecraft.

“Kenma help, theres a creeper outside my door!” you screech frantically running around on game.

“One second Y/N” he murrmed

“Kenma, do you know what’s going on with Kuroo.” you inquire.

“What do you mean, isn’t he being his loud cat-like self?” he responded

“Well yeah of course, but recently he’s been on his phone ALOT, and always leaving our dates early or showing up late and stuff so I don’t know I thought maybe you’d know something.”

“Oh maybe it’s just that he’s been pretty busy with Hana right now.” he said nochalantly

“Who’s Hana?” you say, your eyes squinting.

“Oh you don’t know Hana,” he said a bit surprised “Ooops Kuroo’s going to be so mad at me.”

“Mad at you, what do you mean mad at you?”

“Um, I got to go by Y/N!” he said quickly

“But Ken-” the sound of him leaving the party cut you off, and now you were in more of a confused slump then you were before. What is Kuroo hiding? And who the hell is Hana?

Since you couldn’t go over to Kuroo’s dorm right now because of your universities weird curfew times, you decided the only thing you can do right now is call him. After a few rings he finally answered and you could hear his background was really loud.

“Um, Y/N this isn’t really the best time right now – ow shit.” he said frantically.

“Kuroo, what's going on it sounds like you’re at a rave. Wait are you at a rave?”

“No I'm not at a rave I'm just – Hana stop doing that.” he said trying to whisper the last bit.

“Who’s Hana, Kenma mentioned her on PlayStation tonight but he didn’t explain.”

“Kenma did what? God – Ouch “there was ruffling in the background before Kuroo finally “Sorry Y/N I got to go..”

He hangs up before you could respond. What is wrong with these boys today?

It was your study week break, so you don’t really go into school to do classes you just have to prepare for studying. Which was great for you, since you could actually get revision done without being distracted and you can avoid Kuroo whilst thinking about what happened a few days ago.

Kuroo didn’t message you anyways, which kind of sucked, since these chemistry notes aren’t going to learn themselves. You went over each of your topics that you need to learn and you’d say you were pretty much ready for your exams. So for the rest of the week, you didn’t have much to do. Kenma was pretty busy with volleyball and his high school life and your boyfriend was still being odd and you didn’t have any real close friends at Uni since you’re only a first year and Kenma and Kuroo were mainly all you needed anyways.

You chose to go on a date, by yourself, to your favourite bookstore café to have some ‘self care’ time. On the way their you heard a familiar voice shouting down the street, looking in that direction you saw your boyfriend yelling “HANA!” “HANA!” repeadetly.

Going over to him you said, “Kuroo, are you okay?”

“Umm hey Y/N...” he said awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“The pleasure of being my boyfriend properly again,” you said smartly.

“Oh Y/N shit, im sorry about that” he apologised “I’ve just been really busy right now with Ha-”

“Hana.” you say rolling your eyes “Who is she?”

“I can’t really say Y/N, it was meant to a be a surprise.”

“A surprise for who?” you say

“Well fo-”

Before you can finish you say a loud ‘HISSS!’ Come from near your feet. “Hana! Thank god!” Kuroo said picking her up, but then dropping her again when she did a even louder HISSS at him. “Umm I really need to work on that..”

“So this is Hana.” you say a bit stunned “She’s a cat.”

“Indeed she is.” he said “ surprise...”

“You got me a cat?” you said still very stunned

“Indeed I did.”

“A feral cat?”

“Feral!” he said shocked “What do you mean feral!”

“Tetsu! She’s obviously feral!” you say reprimanded him.

“No she’s not! Look” he tried to pet her again and she nearly bit him and then sped off “Okay...maybe she is.”

Kuroo explained that he saw this cat one time outside of his dorm building and wanted to adopt her and give her to you as a gift. He’s been spending his time trying to ‘train her’ but every time it would result in Kuroo getting scratched up or him having to try and chase her around the city. You did appreciate the sentiment, however you reminded Kuroo that if he would’ve told you, you could’ve easily shown him that she was feral or if he listened to Kenma, then Kenma would’ve told him (which he did) that she was feral.

Kuroo did feel bad that his big plan didn’t work and he ended up looking like an idiot, not knowing the difference between a stray and feral cat. But you took him to a cat café as a little ‘pick me up,’ and promised him that for his birthday you’ll adopt a real cat for him.

An: this is basically a shit post but who cares 😃 Also am I the only that thinks that hana being a feral cat in the end is funny? Or is my humour that dry😭

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyu scenarios #haikyu headcanons #haikyu #kuroo testuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo angst #signedwithane😌

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yuichi-ro · 2 years

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i absofuckinglutely love that pegging baji you posted and now im dying to have more😧

orgasm denial with baji🥰he's all tough and he can take everything but i think he definitely hate having his orgasm denied. i wanna make him cry and spoil him after that😤😔he's so pretty I FUCKING LOVE HIM

pretty teary eyed Baji 🥺💖 cw: fem!Reader, dacryphilia, edging, sex toys, bondage, praise kink, use of safeword (blue), cockwarming, nursing 'n aftercare for best boy, unedited ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

The gloss in his eyes was almost as beautiful as his pleas.

"No no no-" Baji shook his head. Every muscle on his neck and shoulders twitching with life as he fought against the bindings keeping his arms neatly tucked behind him. Even at his strength Baji was useless against the cuffs.

Legs spread as he knelt. Every muscle in his body as tense as the ones in his neck when he fought the bindings. He really didn't want out. But the way his body jerked and reacted to your touch was out of his control.

"Hush now," You soothe his crack voice with your own talking over him, "You lasted longer the other time. Are you telling me you can't do it baby?"

The it you spoke of, was Baji's nightmare and heaven rolled up into one.

How he squatted over base of the suction toy. Just its last few inches the only part of the smooth curved silicone that hadn't disappeared into him. Baji could fight it but with how you bound him up there was just no physical way for him to lower himself any further. Craving more of the toy inside him to alleviate the ache simply wasn't in the cards tonight.

Sealing the torturous deal with the personal massager you had his cock twitching on top of. Held out in front of you. With your sweet smile as you simply let his cock rest a top the humming toy turned to its lowest setting. Baji could twist and contort all he wanted. But like this he simply was kept at the very brink of his sanity.

"-can't-" Baji shook his head. Tears brimming in his eyes as he tilted back. Shaky breath leaving his rosy lips as he bit back down on them. He couldn't cum or stop the tears dribbling down his cheeks. All at once it was too much and he choked on his sob, "Blue! Blue- I can't-"

You switched off the massager immediately. Tossing it aside with little care for it's safety. Only concerned about undoing Baji's bindings and helping him off the toy as quickly as you could. When his hands were released from behind him the man didn't even hesitate to grab onto you. Sinking his face into your chest as his shoulders shook. Not a full on sob. Thankful that he said something before it got too bad.

Hands reaching up to tangle their way in his hair. You brush them slowly throw his black locks with a gentle hush. Tucking him under your chin and holding him tight to your chest without asking him why he wanted to stop this time.

Baji's death grip on your sides loosened. As did the rest of him. His breathing returned to normal and matched the strokes you ran through his hair. The dampness on your chest was evident but you didn't sweat it. Simply putting your lips to his temple and kissing him gently.

"...do you wanna snuggle baby?"

Shaky but Baji replied with a quiet, "Yes." Before sitting back up. Blotchy red eyes even as he smirked a little and wiped at them.

Together you let him situated himself in front of you. Face planted squarely in your tits. While his hips lined up with yours. The cock you'd spent hours torturing moments before. Now still twitching and hard. Allowing you to sling your leg over his hip and slip down on his cock.

Baji's breath hitched against the tops of your breast. His hips pushed up and he sunk himself deep inside you. All while his lips found your nipple finally. Catching it between his lips that he suckled earnestly. Content to be in your embrace.

"You did such a good job." You hum quietly with your fingers making their way through his loose waves, "And told me when it was enough. I'm so proud of you. Such a strong baby boy. One that I love so much."

Still unsure of himself. Baji squeezed his eyes tight. Pressing even more so into your chest as he insistently nursed. Cock twitching inside you as you continued to pet him. Gentle to take care of him because Baji really was the strong baby you'd ever met. And you got to call him all your own. ⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

#my wife asked me who my baby was off tokyorev when we finished watching it #and honestly my baby is baji <3 #he's my little subby baby I'd never get tired of having <3 #sub tokyorev #sub tokyo rev #sub tokyo revengers #tokyorev smut #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyorev baji #tokyo rev baji #baji smut #baji x reader #baji keisuke smut #baji keisuke x reader

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angelmichelangelo · 2 years

Note

As a fellow ex phan here for the drama, tell me why you dislike Dan hehe I want to see if it's the same reasons I have

oh ive been waiting for this lmfao

there’s an entire plethora of reasons as to why i now find dan rather unbearable. i’ll go ahead and say my experience in the phandom was not a particularly good one. and maybe that tainted my view? probably. but it also contributes in a fair enough way for me to go “yeah, this guy ISNT great”

one reason that i’ll start with is: his fanbase. this man is literally the equivalent to a wet yoghurt lid. flaccid and useless, literally nothing about dan is special in any way. he’s not funny, he can’t act. his style of videos is very outdated (hence why he probably won’t return to story times any time soon) and yet.. the phandom will suck his dick for so little in return. he wrote a mental health book? because he suffers with mental health issues? okay. once i was constipated so now i guess im a doctor of the bowels. his humour is… god. it’s fucking horrible. he’s literally stuck in 2014 with his “im a walking funeral” jokes and “i wear black like my soul” persona like damn you got the whole room laughing 😐😐 but of course, phannies will go feral for that shit and he believes he’s good at everything he does, so now we’re supposedly being cursed with a dan howell comedy tour so… thanks world, i guess. the whole class suffers mentality.

he takes zero accountability for anything and yet is often hailed as one of the unproblematic youtubers of his time. so okay, he didn’t fuck a cat or do any shane levels of terrible, but omg dan and phil ARE problematic. i don’t care or believe in cancel culture so like, it doesn’t matter, but dan and phil have done stupid, bad, shady shit in the past AND in recent years. they have bad management with their merch line, they fuck up orders and constantly rip off their fans and have never ever made a single comment about how badly it’s being run, or ever offered an apology to the people who have been ripped off. literally in the height of the pandemic phil was selling the most ugliest, most bland, primark looking ass pjs for like £50 or something stupid like that. and dan does the same. doesn’t give his fans any content but WILL charge you £40 for a walmart journal and some cards with loopy sparkly writing on it for your daily affirmations ✨✨ but phannies dismiss this because “it’s my money i can do what i like with it!!” like damn girlie get yourself a bank employee to help you it’s okay lol

he is a personality vacuum. this kinda ties in with my first point about him being a 2014 tumblr post in a white mans form but yeah. dude is straight up BORING to listen to. dnp worked as a brand, cool. alone they suck. literally phil is a buzzfeed machine that can’t stop making 😲 faces in ever thumbnail because god forbid he does something creative and original for once (spoiler: he’s not that funny either) and dan talks in this droll, monotone voice, sprinkling in a few edgy jokes then talks about sucking cock, then bitches about his sad, sad life (another spoiler: his life isn’t that bad like babygirl shut up) and then ANOTHER joke about how a dick in his ass (tasteful) and then tops it off with a joke about wearing black.. something something, he has depression and was closested so im not allowed to be mean to him. waaahhhh idc.

he also made jokes about having so much gay sex that he caught every disease possible whilst hosting a charity livestream for AIDS… and of course every phannie and their girlfriends wet themselves laughing whilst i was straight faced like. how is that remotely funny? but of course as it says in the phannie handbook of god: im now allowed to make comments about dan and his sexuality or however he decides to present himself on the internet because he has depression…………,,., even though Dan said in his depression video he doesn’t want it to define him. but alas, what do i know! im a bitter ex phannie who is mean and evil 🤧 he’s also made jokes about lesbians and also been pretty racist and never apologied or even acknowledged it. i think he just quietly deleted old videos and phannies were cool with it whilst in the same breath they were screaming about shane dawson for doing the same (and rightly so i hate his guts too btw)

he’s lazy, unfunny and pretty spoilt, imo. he has a “me, me, me!!!” attitude to everything and wants everything with very little effort on his end. and why do phannies go wild for it?? beats me. white skin and curly hair maybe? idk, i hope they find a cure for them soon ❤️❤️❤️

#i AM bitter and i AM evil and mean #this was long and rambly but yeah that’s it pretty much #idk he just grates on me #if you knew me when i was a phannie… no you didn’t #that emmy is dead 💔#ask #anon #phannie #dan howell #Phil lester #dan and phil #phan #phandom

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probably-haven · 3 years

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Hello!! After seeing what you wrote about xiaoven fics I went to see what things you usually write and omg, your archon Venti headcanons????? I am absolutely in love. So if it isn't annoying, could you talk about xiaoven or Venti or Xiao or whatever ship or character you like? I don't care what you are going to say, I just want to know more about your thoughts ^^

I- is this... bestie, this is essentially a free ramble pass- kerujsgheskdfug. Trust me when I say that in no way is this, and in no way will it ever be annoying in the slightest- i literally- lets just say rambling off thoughts is kind of my specialty, especially when provided a topic to branch off of because otherwise I'm just- really indecisive about it so- iujskdh yeah- 100% definitely down to talk about Venti, Xiao, and/or Xiaoven XD. Also, yes- it may have been awhile since i last posted one(cuz again, indecisive about which direction to take part 5), but the Archon War Era Venti headcanons are still without a doubt my favorite posts I've made. It's just such an interesting topic with such endless potential that so few people actually think about or consider or even realize is there, so i always just get really psyched whenever i see someone interact with them lol.

.... this ended up being a bit of a mess: warning in advance

Anyway! onto the actual content!

- You see the thing about Xiaoven is that there's a lot of different ways that it could end up working out, and just personally my favorite way of portraying Xiaoven in my mind is as an unlabeled relationship because if anyone in genshin would give off that vibe its these two. And a number of other reasons.

- Firstly, I heavily headcanon Venti as being an aroace polyplatonic or perhaps heavily demiromantic. However, regardless of this I just don't think that Venti is really the kind of person to worry about how he should label his feelings, thinking it's silly to try to put them in one box or the other, especially with feelings and emotions being as fluid as they are in general. Plus it fits his whole God of Freedom vibe. I just- dont think he's the biggest fan of labels or social categorization in general.

- And secondly on the hand of Xiao... his defense mechanisms are very much ingrained in his personality. It's probably hard enough for him to not go into fight or flight(the answer is fight) at the slightest affection at first, at the slightest feeling of vulnerability. Even further down the line, with his fierce dedication to Liyue, I cant help but get the vibe that the moment he recognized that he was falling for Venti he would begin avoiding him, not only to avoid distraction from his duty, but to avoid corrupting him or losing him in general like he has with like basically every other person he gets close with(even believing that the cycle had repeated once more when he first heard of Morax's death)... now imagine Venti tryna slap a label on their relationship and tell me Xiao would have a positive reaction.

- The thing with Xiaoven.... honestly, i feel like theres more ways that it can go wrong than it can go right, but if they do manage to make their relationship work out, it's just simply beautiful in all terms of the word.

- Lets talk about killing. - During the Archon War, both were forced to kill a large number of people and gods alike- Venti out of a need to remain alive to protect Mondstadt, it's freedom, and the nameless bard's legacy by extent- and Xiao out of servitude to the god that was once his master

..... actually- break here- ive talked a lot about Venti on this blog but I havent actually spoken about Xiao all that much- so i should probably do that a bit first... do note though that my characterization of Xiao is pretty flexible actually- this is just- the possible characterization of him that i tend to favor as being the most- uh- "realistically complex"

Theres a line I saw this one time in a certain story: "He is a trained weapon. That's what he is, was, and always will be. You cannot change that so stop trying." And i just- think its a really interesting concept- that applies pretty well to Xiao now that i actually think about it. - the concept behind it is this: After spending more than a vast majority of his life killing or otherwise in battle, it's become a part of who he is, a normalcy that after centuries and centuries would be near impossible to get rid of or reverse, and even if it was possible, with his karmic debt constantly eating away at him its unlikely he has enough time left for that to happen. - it sounds like a cruel thing to say about him- but in context it's actually pretty layered and i think about it a lot. It's not as much a "he's a killer lol, that his whole personality" its more of a "The centuries of trauma he experienced have conditioned him into a constantly alert and battle ready mindset while also shaping his dehumanizing inferior-in-worth-but-superior-in-capability view of himself that would have likely been necessary to get through those time, and at this point he's been under that conditioning for long enough that it's essentially ingrained itself in his personality."

- the main idea is- it's a part of who he is, that needs to be accepted as who he is because its not something that he can just up and change. It's not all he is of course but his constant battle mode, as though always waiting to be ambushed or to be granted a new target to eradicate.

a couple character story quotes:

-"His past of service under the evil god had rid Xiao of his innocence and gentleness. All that remained within him was the means to kill and the weight of his sins. The only way he could be of service to mortals was in combat." -"Xiao does not feel any hatred. Having lived for over two thousand years, no single karmic debt constitutes anything more than a fleeting memory. No grudge can last a thousand years; nor is any debt so great that it cannot be paid off in this time. Xiao has spent many long years alone. But his battles have never been in vain." -"where did Xiao have to return to? He was merely leaving the battlefield." -"since Xiao wages a constant war against dark forces powerful enough to devour Liyue in its entirety, any bystanders who witness him in the heat of battle are likely to end up as collateral damage." -"The war he fights can never be won, and will never come to an end." -"Because ultimately, the one with whom Xiao wrestles is himself."

i feel like at some point this very nearly did consume his whole personality, almost turning him into nothing more than a being of slaughter under Morax's control, devoid of any "humanity" at all, consumed and corrupted by his karmic debt like his fellow yakshas before him. - until he experienced a moment of clarity- a song in the wind, the peaceful melody of a dihua flute. - and pulled back from the border of something he wouldnt have been able to return from, there a was a shift in his mind- a concept grown unfamiliar enough with time that it took him a great time to identify what it was; a curiosity. Something that there was no place for on the battlefield, something that by all means should have been completely useless to Xiao, and yet he held onto that curiosity, slowly regaining over time, a sense of who he was and who he could choose to be with each song that the wind chose to carry towards him every once in a blue moon.

and eventually that curiousity turned to longing. Longing "for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amid a sea of flowers"

...... uh- heh- if you couldn’t tell already i have a tendency to make my characterizations/analyses of characters more serious that i probably should.

to summarize: Xiao is constantly toeing the line between his ingrained nature and his humanity- almost as though still trying to decide how much of that humanity he deserves to have, how much he is allowed to have, and how much is safe to have.

^looking back after writing this, i think the best way to explain it is that this is the view that i keep in mind/the lense that i tend to most enjoy looking through and refering back to while examining and/or analyzing his character, actions, story, lines, and overall personality.

idk- i kinda got off track but i just think its a really interesting interpretation to think about because it has some really interesting implications ig- it’s not the full extent of how i view him of course, but i kinda got ahead of myself and its long enough as is so ill just elaborate as i go- Lol i actually have in progress playlists for both him and venti and just- vibes- i could ramble about the playlists alone for hours explaining everything... It’s probably a problem- uh- ill keep going now lol.

anyways! stepping off the angst path for a brief break! Brought to you by their lines in the snow: both waiting for it to get thick enough, Venti for the purpose of a snowball fight and Xiao for the purpose of a tasty and nutritious breakfast.

but its actually something of note that Xiao doesnt actually need to eat so anything he does eat is usually out of obligation or enjoyment- so like.... snow.... like i dont blame him, but of all things- an adeptus who refuses to eat basically anything but almond tofu looks at the freezing-cold-floor-water that yeeted itself from above and decided at some point- damn- that seems more edible than basically ever single actually edible thing ever.... im gonna eat it- like- im glad if eating snow makes him happy but- at the same time...

He probably convinces Venti to eat snow too though and Venti wouldnt even resist I mean he’s wind and has probably consumed worse things in his time so- 2 anemo cryptids with glowing tattoos sitting in Dragonspine monching snow in the dead of night is an amusing thought to me.

- kay, now back to more serious-toned thoughts

One of the things about the ship that i really like is the different contradicting parallels between them:

A lot of how i view Xiao’s character is someone formed largely by the things he cant control and who was forced to accept that accepted that and learned to thrive in it as much as he can. Venti on the other hand is surrounded by things he cant control and is ever adapting to control as much as he can while embracing whatever he cant as being part of the unpredictability of the world, seeing beauty in it.

both of them have lost people and do what they do to honor their memory: Xiao continues to do what the Yakshas once did And Venti chooses to do what his friend couldn’t

Xiao’s power coming from himself and Venti’s from others And both seem to appear to use their power for their own gain while truly helping others behind the scenes

both have killed a lot of people during the archon war Xiao views it as another necessary event out of his control and Venti would likely view it as a tragedy he chose to enact himself

and this is where we meet out balance

Xiao- contrary to how i think a lot of people view him as thinking of himself as a monster- seems canonically to have accepted this as part of his duty, as long as those he killed are not mortals. I dont think he enjoys it no- but someone has to do it and he’s just accepted that its a part of his duty Venti on the other hand-

See the beauty of the ship- as someone with an angst-centric mind- is this- these are two of the most traumatized mfers in the game

Xiao is by far the one who needs the most help and who can serve to benefit most from the ship- but he is nowhere near self aware enough to recognize that there’s anything wrong or unhealthy about his mindset in the slightest-

whereas you have the contrast with Venti who sorted through most of his trauma with the nameless bard alone during the archon war and while the result appears more healthy- is still really not- but he’s not self aware of that either because i mean- who’s going to tell him? nobody even knows.

however- venti is aware enough to notice flaws in Xiao’s mindset and “Venti” enough to want to help them through it-

Xiao- while not aware enough to recognize the flaws in Venti’s mindset, can recognize where it contrasts with his own, and is blunt enough to point it out- and then it’s out there to be mulled over-

they’re so similar and yet so different and a feel just conversing between the two of them, being in each others precense, just being exposed to two mindsets that are so very different could do both of them a whole lot of good.

GEEE THAT BIT OF RAMBLING HAD LITTLE TO NO DIRECTION AT ALL- LET ME-- LET ME MAKE THIS START MAKING SENSE- WITH... DYNAMICS OR SOMETHING

I don’t think Xiao needs to sleep really- and i dont think that sleeping would do anything except make him uneasy at first- he’d probably just get nightmares after all he’s been through- but with Venti he would soon learn that it doesn’t have to be that way, lulled into the first peaceful sleep he’s had in... as long as he can remember.

anywho back to not making sense cuz im fickle and i think most questions about ships are best displayed through character interactions so like- a possible exchange thats cliche but cliches exist for a reason

Xiao: Why do you try so hard to help me, it isn’t easy. I know that much Venti, with the most adoring expression: Because you’re worth it, obviously Xiao: But surely there are others more deserving of- Venti: No Xiao, everyone is just as deserving as the next person, you included Xiao: Then why me above others? Venti: ehe, cuz ur my warrior of course [O//////O oh shit, hes right] Xiao: My contract is with Morax alone [gay panic but in broody yaksha]

it’s kinda difficult cuz neither of them really address their feelings. I mean Venti does but he does it very indirectly and its rare that he ever does it with like- genuine directness- even spilling his backstory was in the form of a song- and told in the third person- so a lot of their interactions would often have some deeper meaning, especially with Venti being the bard he is.

I come up with a lot of- errant thoughts about Xiaoven- but this is making me realize that a true analysis of their ship is rather difficult because it just encompasses so many dynamics so its hard to settle on just one and not go rambling about who knows what bouncing from one end of the ship to the other- Because you truly can and thats the beauty of it

within one moment you can be having a heartfelt conversation about the archon war the impact of lost friends and times past, and the next moment Venti is trying to forcefeed Xiao an apple while Xiao screams about disrespecting the adepti and its just- so lovely

so while they have picnics with nothing but apples, dandelion wine, and almond tofu they can sit down and talk about the dreams Xiao once devoured, and the dandelion wine and apple cider that the first Ragnvindir invented from the plants that never could have grown in Old Mond. The foods that tasted of familiarity, or of the grilled ticker fish Pervases always used to eat, foods that tasted of friends and frankly family that had since passed, glaze lilies and cecilias and qingxin flowers scattered in the surroundings and woven into Xiao’s neat braids and Venti’s now messy ones, rebraided by the steady and inexperienced hands of one unused to gentle action.

and then of course Venti steals Xiao’s tofu once the mood becomes too grim and replaces it with a bottle of wine that Xiao refers to as “vile poison,” a remark that fatally wounds Venti as he collapses on the floor, proclaiming how he can only be healed by a Yaksha’s kiss. Xiao ignores this of course and simply takes back his tofu with a slight smile on his face, but as Venti persists he soundlessly places a kiss on his own palm before intertwining their fingers and pulling him back up from where he was dramatically sprawled on the floor, grumbling about how such action was “unbecoming of an archon.” A sign of affection only Xiao would ever know about. But Venti is literally wind and I hc his senses work differently anyways so he definitely knows- plus Xiao’s face is red as the blood of his enemies and the way he is pointedly not looking at Venti at all really speaks volumes anyways.

-Venti playing epic battle music whenever Xiao goes into fights in what looks like a ridiculously extra performance to anyone else but is actually doing wonders to keep Xiao’s karma at bay

-Venti preaches the practice of “kissing wounds better” and Xiao is unfamiliar with this medical treatment but views it as unnecessary regardless because adepti have accelerated healing, doesn’t mean he’s going to stop him though.

-Messages whispered on the wind

-Venti’s 1000 year sleep- an accident, not a fun time for the yaksha, and not a fun time for Venti once he woke up. Venti is actually more afraid of restful sleep than Xiao is, hence the sleeping in trees thing, but when Xiao is there, he can sleep restfully with faith that Xiao wont let another millennia slip through his fingertips.

- Xiao tends to make excuses when doing things that aren’t necessary to his duty, like in his birthday voice line “Have this, it’s a butterfly i made from leaves... Okay. Take it. It’s an adepti amulet -- it staves off evil” because at the current point in his progress it helps him to feel like he’s allowed to do these things. Not wanting to put him off from progress, Venti never comments on his excuse but never fails to whisper a quick reminder of how proud he is of how far Xiao had come.

- Xiao’s karma saddens Venti greatly- not only because of how it effects Xiao but also because its a reminder that as much as Venti tries to honor the memory of those he’s killed, there will always be those who resent him for it, and when he took the option of living away from them, he truly can’t blame them. - And when he gets too wrapped up in thoughts, whether around this topic or similar ones or otherwise, eventually, he’ll hear the sound of a flute on the wind. It’s not divine by any means, but as his own wind connects him to the source, he gets the sentiment all the same. “What impact does one individual’s remaining wrath have on the present. You have done much to help the living in the present” the unspoken idea that Xiao has included himself in that statement, because now, with Venti’s help he’s beginning to learn just how to experience living for himself.

- Venti’s form and Xiao’s mask are off limit topics though because if either mentions it the other will counter with the opposite and the mood will turn immediately bitter at the idea that both know that what they’re doing is destructive but neither are willing to change

- Venti who has different tells for negative feelings than most people because as much as he likes to pretend it is- this form isnt his, and Xiao who is able to identify those

- many fanfics and headcanons have Venti recognizing when Xiao is uncomfortable and getting him out of those situations. I see that and I love it but i raise you: - Venti taking Xiao to Mondstadt, careful that he doesn’t get to the point that he’s uncomfortable. And nothing goes wrong exactly, but Xiao notices the the way Venti’s cape is blowing in the wind, the way he’s holding his weight, barely on his feet so much as floating on the wind, connected with the ground only for the sake of appearance, all the while he looks just as happy go lucky as ever. And without a word, he grabs his hand and teleports them both out of Mondstadt. - turns out it was just a slight thing that reminded him of the archon war (cuz i will die on the hill of him having more tragic backstory than just Decarabian), and he of course gives a sincere if not flustered thanks to Xiao, because he’s really not used to people noticing.

- Venti trying to vent sneakily through fictional stories and Xiao is just like “Didn’t that basically happen to you” and Venti is just like “<_< shit”

- Venti once said affectionally that he wished he had met Xiao sooner and Xiao immediately and seriously shot it down by saying “If you had, I would have been forced to kill you” and both of them now stay up at night wondering who would have won that fight, not sure which result would have hurt more. (because honestly I have no idea who would win in that fight and that terrifies me- I like to think it would have been one of those legends that end with “and the fight persists to this day” or something along those lines)

- “How long have you been together?” “Adepti have no need for-” “1000+ years T^T how dare you deny our love” “O///O our...? ...useless”

- its disney- let me explain- i have this- i have this headcanon inspired by watching too many animatics- - so venti has a human form that isnt his- which he would have had to get used to moving in- and he’s a bard- - uh- anyway- as a third degree black belt in mixed martial arts, i can speak as an authority on this(not really an authority since i havent gone since quarantine but lets pretend). We have a thing referred to as the big three(most things do), and those things are martial arts, gymnastics, and dance. The idea is that they reflect really well off of each other and the best in any one category are good in all three. Timing, balance, form, discipline, technique, hand-eye coordination, grace, ease of motion, they all play a part- anyway-

- Venti taking Xiao’s prowess in martial arts and acrobatics and teaching him how to dance, and as someone who’s extremely skilled in the first two, the third comes easy to him, almost naturally. And it’s delicate and beautiful and lovely and it isn’t hurting anyone. And Venti points all these things out and more and despite how much Xiao insists that he feels ridiculous he truly does enjoy it and it goes a long way towards helping him form more healthy views of himself and his worth. - Verr Goldett walked in on him once and made a joke about performing at the inn. unfortunately Venti was there and agreed on Xiao’s behalf before he could protest and- and it wasn’t as bad as Xiao thought it would be... he still wouldn’t do it again though without reason, but with good enough reasoning he could probably be convinced.

- anyways point is he likes dancing to Venti’s songs and i just think that’s really cute - just picture the idea that all the animatics you see actually have the potential to be canon- ugh

- venti tries holding something out of Xiao’s reach since he’s taller and Xiao just fucking teleports

- both need their space but when they dont, all they have to do is speak the other’s name and they’ll be there.

- and because i just had to.... love languages

- lets start with Xiao- i don’t think he’d view acts of service or quailty time as a love language tbh, and he blunt but really bad with words so affirmation is out, leaving gift giving and physical touch. However, he seems to view most material things as meaningless so- - Xiao who’s love language is in his fleeting touches, something he’s only recently grown comfortable with because of Venti, and now is giving back, which he knows he doesn’t have to do, but that he want’s to, though he’ll still continue to make excuses for each one. “you were shivering” “The inn is high up, you could have fallen..... I said what I said, you’d question an adeptus?”

- and as easy as it is to say words of affirmation for Venti- he does that for everyone- i want to say his is actually acts of service - its the acts of service that let him see just how much Xiao has progressed afterall, from teaching him to dance, to playing another song on the flute, to supplying him with the almond tofu he seems to enjoy so much. Every little thing he does helps Xiao to grow and he couldn’t be happier about that.

- of course most of my headcanons for the ship do take place latter into the relationship because- y’know the less serious unhealthy vibes allow for greater range of thought, but i do still love to think about the serious implications so i kinda hopped back and forth. So sorry about how messy it is btw, i kinda- got carried away- it kinda got some kind of structure near the end tho so- maybe it’s okay. anyway- back to... lol something, we’ll see where thought forests lead.

#genshin impact #genshin xiao #genshin venti #xiao #venti #xiaoven #genshin analysis #genshin headcanons #xiaoven headcanons #xiaoven analysis #this is a mess i really shouldnt be putting all these tags but oh well #oh wow the grammar and spelling here is truly repulsive #sorry to all my english teachers i have failed you all

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chocolate1721 · 4 years

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Hello chocolatiers here is a new idea, and this is one of my altime favorites so far.

Ok so, Marinette and Jason are siblings who got separated. Jason is adopted by Bruce and Marinette is adopted by Tom and Sabine. Jason becomes Robin and dies. Marinette is informed of his death but isn’t able/allowed to attend the funeral. She never meets Bruce. Marinette is bullied by Chloe and then Lila and the class. She becomes ladybug and chat is useless.

Even though things in class are tough. Marinette makes a fabulous class trip. She has them set to go to New York (with tours of Stark Industries, and New York Times along with Broadway production tickets), then they are to go to Starling City (where they get to tour Queen industry, and their parks), next they go to Central City (they have some basic tours of some museums and stuff), finally they will end in Gotham (tour Wayne Enterprise and the gardens).

Marinette had a good time in New York, Lila lies all day every day, but she ignored it. They had a fligh to Starling City and Marinette had to use the restroom or something before they left, but when she got back to the gate the plane was gone, and so was her class. She had no clothes (those were on the plane) and she didn’t have a lot of money. She was having a hard time breathing when all of a sudden Tony f*cking Stark struts his way over to her and helps her breath again (couldn’t decide if she has a panic or anxiety attack).

Tony and Peter were coming back from Wakanda. Peter knoticed Marinette and points her out to Tony, making some joke of if she is a lost Stark or something. Tony looks at Marinette and immediately knows she is having an attack, he knows how that feels, so he immediately goes over to her and helps her through it. He finds out that Marinette got left behind by her class and this pisses Tony off. He then tells her he can/will help her out. All three of them then head to the Avenger’s Tower.

[[More]]

She meets the Avengers, and she is totally normal. No stuttering, spasming, tripping, or anything but treating them like they are normal. This intrigues the Avengers. They invite her to watch some of them train while Tony looks into getting her back to her class. While she watches them train she ends up handing Steve his shield (like it was a piece of paper), and Thor his hammer (like it was nothing), this shocks everyone.

Steve: Hey Thor, does this mean this kid is now the new ruler of Asgard?

Thor: . . . . . I must introduce her to the Allfather. Come child of earth.

Tony: *runs into the room, body slamming the door on his way in* DONT GO WITH HIM!!!!!!! IM ADOPTING HER!

Pepper: *appears from nowhere* no you’re not

Peter and Marinette become close friends. The hulk also meets Marinette. The team is worried, but Hulk just kinda picks her up and says “Baby” and tries to burp her. . . . . . . . Tony gets plenty of pictures of this. Marinette is a grumpy sunshine child, and she threatens Tony and Peter if they post any of those pictures.

Tony tells Marinette that he has a friend in town that lives in Starling City and he has agreed to take her with him when he returns home. Marinette will be getting picked up in a few hours, so Tony, Peter, Steve, Thor, and Pepper take Marinette out to get some clothes. This ends in chaos, mayhem, emotional trauma, and the Avengers learn how truly terrifying teenager girls are. Pepper is now wanting to adopt Marinette.

Later that evening Oliver Queen and Roy Harper show up at Avenger tower to pick Marinette up. Roy thinks she will be like all the other girls he knows, shallow and a gold digger or a super hero. He isn’t prepared for the absolute angel that is Marinette. He is love struck, and he becomes the gentleman that Oliver has tried to teach him to be. The only thing Oliver is thinking is “did Bruce get another one?”

Marinette and Roy hit it off very well (roynette is endgame people) they talk for hours. They exchange numbers. Oliver finds out that no, she isn’t adopted by Bruce <not yet anyway>. But she was born in Gotham, she had an older brother who died when she was younger. Oliver found out she is MDC and immediately wanted to commission a suit. She agreed and they were talking suit styles and colors until they arrived in front of her hotel in Starling City. They told her not to hesitate if she needed anything.

Her class didn’t even knotice she was missing. She got her room key and went to sleep. The next morning she was the first one up and downstairs. The breakfast pasteries were gross so she went to the kitchen and taught the staff how to make a good crossaint. She was putting a fresh batch out in the buffet area when her classmates arrived. Lila pauses when she saw her. How had Marinette gotten here? She made sure to destroy her plane ticket. Anyway Lila lies the entire trip as well. She convinces Max to hack into Marinette’s phone and change her alarms. On the day they head to Central City, Marinette’s alarm goes off 30 minutes after the bus leaves.

Marinette sighs and calls Roy. Roy is pissed that her teacher left her behind AGAIN. So he calls up Barry Alan (I watch the Flash tv show so those are the characters I will be using). Roy tells him about how the teacher is incompetent and left a student behind. Roy arrives to pick Marinette up, only to see two guys hitting on her. Roy stops that sh*t real quick. Then they head to Central City. They swing by Star Labs and Marinette meets Barry and his friends. They fall in love with Marinette. She is sweet and kind and adorable. Barry sees her as an innocent sister who must be protected. They take her to her class. He convinced the chief to let the class come visit the precinct. Lila is taking credit for everything, while Marinette gives out pasteries that she made at Star Labs. The officers love Marinette, especially Joe. He sees his daughter in Marinette. Some of the officers offered to teach the class some self defense, in case they were in trouble, and they refused to say how scared they were when Marinette took them down. It was way too easy for her to take them down. The tall kid with frosted tips didn’t do half as well as she did. Roy and Barry only seen that level of skill on hero’s or black belts. Lila started gushing about how she trained with some famous martial artist but had to stop due to her arthritis. The class got held hostage by Captain Cold. Marinette distracts him long enough for the hostages to escape, and the police and hero’s to arrive. She talked about everything from how he could make more money by hiring himself out as a ice machine to people in third world countries to his lack of fashion. By the time the hero’s arrived she was redesigning his entire wardrobe. He was just confused. The officers that arrived on the scene recognized Marinette and were horrified that her class left her in the hands of a criminal. Marinette just brushed it off as no big deal, she was used to it. This had them in near tears. The Flash helped her get back to the hotel. Barry was freaking pissed, so he took a couple pictures with Marinette, took her to get ice cream, and then took her back to her hotel; all before the class arrived.

When the class did arrive at the hotel they started accusing Marinette of working with Cold, but then they saw the Flash. Alya immediately started interviewing him. Only for him to snatch her phone out of her hand and delete the video. She wasnt happy about that, but Barry didn’t care. He stalked over to Bustier and started tearing her apart for abandoning a student. He then went to the police chief and let him know what happened.

Joe finds out what happened and knows that the class’s next stop is Gotham. He calls an old friend, Gordon, and tells him what’s going on and to keep an eye out for Marinette. Gordon agreed but doesn’t think that any teacher can be that stupid.

He is proven wrong when he goes to greet the class only to find that Bustier left Marinette behind. Gordon is dumbfounded, then furious when she said that Marinette can handle herself. Gordon then calls for a manhunt for this child. 15 minutes later he gets a call from Bruce that he has Marinette in his custody. He has permission from her parents to take care of her while she is in Gotham. Gordon starts compiling evidence of criminal neglect to send to the French Board of Education.

Roy was woken up to a call from Marinette. She got left behind again. He calls his friend Jason and tells him about what’s going on and if it’s ok if he stays with him until Marinette goes back to France. Jason,doesn’t know this is his sister, says yes. Roy and Marinette become an official couple on the way to Gotham. Bruce is trying to get everything ready for a non hero to come to their house, even if only for a few hours.

What no one expected was, when Alfred led them into the house. For Marinette and Jason to lock eyes, and for Mari to body check Jason. They also didn’t expect for Marinette and Jason to start crying, or for them to be siblings. Marinette slapped Jason a few times for making her think he died.

Roy pales when he realizes that Jason is her brother. Jason is furious at Roy for dating his sister. Marinette tried to keep her brother from killing her boyfriend, which is a struggle. She tells Bruce what happened with her class and he excused himself to go call her parents and inform them of what has happened. They give him permission to take care of their daughter while she is in Gotham. He also sets up future visits for Marinette to come to Gotham.

While Bruce is away, Damian arrives, sees a new dark haired minor, and immediately concludes his father has adopted another. He then proceeds to attack her, but Marinette takes a sword from a nearby knight and parries him. She barley keeps him at bay, when he realizes that she has some very basic knowledge of swordsmanship. He stops attacking her and starts teaching her. Thus an impenetrable sibling bond has formed. She cookes with Alfred. Dick teaches her how to trapieze. She gives Tim her illegal coffee recipe. Her and Jason talk for hours.

She also finds the Batcave. Only because she went to the library and tried getting a book, that happened to be the hidden enterance. She chews Bruce out for not dealing with the Joker in time to save her brother. She was just letting out her frustrations and everyone knew it. She met Louis and Clark, who she pulled to the side and told him to find a better disguise because it is obvious he is superman. She pats his shoulder and walks away. Louis slips Bruce $10.

Bruce invites the class to the Wayne Gala and provides clothes for them to wear. Marinette refuses the offer and makes her own dress. She also makes gifts for the Batfam.

Marinette is finally able to see Lila’s lies fall apart, at the Gala, and she refuses to forgive the class. What they did is not something that she can get over that easily. All of the abuse, the lack of loyalty, the manipulation, and demand for her time, energy, and supplies to give them what they want. She. Is. Done. She burned those bridges.

When the class is heading back to Paris their notifications go off. They are getting tagged in pictures of Marinette with the Avengers, Oliver Queen and Roy Harper, of the Central City Police force, with the Flash, with the Wayne’s, and Louis and Clark. They were shocked. How could Marinette get the opportunity to meet all of these people when she was with them the entire time. That’s when they realized, she wasn’t with them. The only time they remember seeing her is when they were on tours or she suddenly appeared in the places they were heading to. She was never with them when they left.

#maribat prompt #big bro jasonette #roynette #roynette is endgame #mlb x dc au #mlb x avengers au #mlb x avengers #class salt #lila salt #alya salt #adrien salt #bustier salt #caline bustier salt #the police have marinette’s back #she is the only one who is capable to take over the world

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1990jeevas · 3 years

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Braid Me a Home

summary:

"Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.”

A story about the Sleepy Bois being family, told through braids.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: child neglect, hurt/no comfort, canonical character death, implied/referenced mental health issues (like it’s obvious but there isn’t much detail to it), brief blood mentions (ik this fic sounds kinda angsty as hell but its not? imo its light angst)

a/n: first dream smp fic and im ALREADY projecting? christ. anyways. go easy on me pls this is far from my best work i just havent written a fic in like 5 months (more if you dont count the fucking chat fics) mm also i may have posted this like a week ago on ao3 just to test the waters and its already gotten way more comments and kudos than any fic of mine usually gets this early on so hopefully tumblr enjoys it too :]

—

When Wilbur Soot was born, he came out crying, as most babies do. Covered in vernix and blood, he weighed just barely above the seven-pound mark, gasping out sharp cries that only a parent could truly stand, or worse—love. Though he was the second baby born into the family that day, he was fussed over far more than he would ever be again.

Technoblade, on the other hand, had barely made a sound when he came out, a trail of blood smeared across his forehead, almost as if it was meant to be there. He made small noises that were more akin to confused mumbles, weakly grasping at his father’s hair when he was eventually passed on for the second child to be welcomed into the world.

Only when both boys were held in their father’s grasp did Wilbur quiet down, his soft head leaning into his father’s beard as he stared wide eyed at the boy across from him. Though they looked similar enough, Technoblade’s nose was squished further back into his face, appearing almost snout-like to Philza. Of course Wilbur noted this, wiggling until their father somehow managed to get them pressed right up against each other with minimal damage done. Though Techno never stopped squinting like an annoyed old man at Wilbur, he allowed the other to press a fist against his nose, his eyebrows unfurrowing just the slightest bit at the touch.

From that day on, Philza was the father of two twin boys—a loud boy who cried easily, but always calmed down for his older brother, and a rather monotone one, who’s face seemed to be permanently stuck in a scowl, unless said face was being smushed around by the younger. And things worked like that for a while. Not forever, but...a while.

—

Philza taught Wilbur to braid on a hot Monday afternoon.

It had been a rough day for the boy, though Phil hadn’t a clue why. Maybe he had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed? Or maybe he hadn’t slept enough between bedtime and the time Tommy had started crying again, the youngest boy’s crib being right beside his head and all. Though it might’ve seemed cruel from an outsider’s perspective, Wilbur had been the one to ask for it. Something about Tommy being his little brother and how he needed to teach the boy the ways of the world in the same way Techno had taught him—because apparently that was all Techno’s doing now, not Phil’s.

Regardless, Wilbur had been a bit too snippy for Phil’s liking that day, complaining about every little thing they did until finally, the day was over.

Well, as over as it could be with Techno leaving mid foam sword fight, an annoyed shout of ‘I quit!’ leaving his mouth before he snatched up Tommy’s carrier and brought him inside for god knows what reason.

It had only been around four P.M. by that time—too early for dinner, yet too late for Phil to really demand the boy stay outside and continue to entertain himself with a brother who was clearly not entertained himself.

Details aside, Phil isn’t really sure how they got to braiding. He just knows at some point they did and by the end of their outside time, just before the clock struck six, Wilbur had made two thick, messy braids in his hair. They stuck out awkwardly, looking all too similar to Pippi Longstocking’s iconic hairdo for his comfort, but he’d be damned if he took out the braids his son had so happily rushed inside to show his older brother before demanding to do his hair as well. After all, Wilbur didn’t have long enough hair for braids, but Technoblade sure as hell did. It was only at his shoulder blades back then, brunette curls wrapping around his narrow shoulders and thin arms like thick vines.

Wilbur had always enjoyed brushing it out with his fingers and putting cute, handmade clips or flowers in it at random, decorating the waves for his brother who was more than happy to let the boy do as he pleased. Though he would never admit it, Technoblade liked how it felt when Will played with his hair. He was always careful not to tug too hard, prioritizing the comfort of his other half more than the beauty of his work, as he so often referred to it.

So when Will had presented him with the mess that was his first two braids, he wasn’t hesitant at all to let the boy practice on him. Instead, he walked to the couch with a small smile, removing his glasses gently and getting comfortable before his brother plopped down into the space behind him. Long legs draped over long legs with no warning, thighs pressed together as if they were meant to be like that all along—and they might as well have been, for how often they did this.

Phil had watched them from the doorway in content silence, Tommy sitting behind him in a wooden high chair looking bored, but not making a fuss for once. And as he left that doorway to begin dinner, he listened to their muffled conversation and soft bursts of laughter with a small smile on his lips, for he knew things wouldn’t always be this way. They would have to grow up eventually, and when they did, things would change. Phil could only hope it was for the better.

—

When Tommy turns nine, Wilbur teaches him to braid under circumstances not too different from the ones he had learned under himself.

Well. Not too too different.

Philza and Technoblade had been...busy as of late. In the house for three days, out for a week, in for a week, out for three more, over and over and over again. Wilbur had become more like a father to Tommy in recent months than he should’ve been, his fourteenth birthday fast approaching as their father took Techno out for yet another job, one that Wilbur couldn’t come on because he was too fucking weak to do anything Techno could do, too fucking stupid to learn all the techniques Techno did, lacking all the strength and agility his older sibling possessed, like the useless prick he was-

Right. This is about Tommy.

When Tommy was nine, his hair rested gently against his collarbones in the exact same cut and color as their father wore. If Wilbur was a lesser man, he would’ve hated the kid for it, but it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t see what a selfish git their father truly was yet. All he knew was that their dad was busy a lot and that, for some reason, Techno needed to go with him. Apparently, that was enough for him to keep holding onto the idea that one day, the man would stay longer and maybe, just maybe, show him some of the same care that his older brother did.

If Wilbur was a better man, he would tell Tommy the truth. He would tell him all about the way Philza had called him useless in a fight, forcing him to instead stay home and care for a child while still being one himself. He would mention how Philza had given him no instructions on how to care for a developing child, how he left out key details to parenting on his own as a goddamn thirteen-year-old, yet remembered to tell him things would be better this way because god forbid he does his fucking job as a father for anyone but Technoblade—

Who he missed. He missed Technoblade, his other half, so fucking bad it hurt sometimes—so bad it left him gasping for breath at two A.M., his head pounding in tandem with his uneven heartbeat, lungs burning as his snot and tears soaked into his brother’s cold, cold sheets. And it made him feel fucking pathetic because the truth of the matter was that...Techno had left him behind too. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the older boy, no matter how hard he tried. Couldn’t hate Philza either, if he were to be honest with himself, but it was a lot easier to pretend he did when his father was the one putting them all in this position to begin with.

So, Tommy was nine when he learned how to braid.

Phil had promised him and Techno would be back Tuesday morning.

It was Wednesday afternoon.

Tommy didn’t fucking understand, and as frustrating as it was that the prick decided to take it out on Wilbur, he couldn’t blame him. Who else was he supposed to take this shit out on? Certainly not the man who had yet to return.

Wilbur had started the braid as a way to distract him. It was simple, really—tell him you know something he doesn’t and that he won’t get to know if he doesn’t sit the fuck down and listen.

When he had started tugging the boy’s hair back from his face, his immediate reaction was to jerk away, swatting at the hands that hovered over his shoulders. This only happened once or twice more before he let it happen naturally, his posture stiff as Wilbur ran his fingers through the boy’s hair with practiced ease.

Though it may not have seemed like it, Tommy was significantly more averse to touch than Techno had ever been. The only reason Techno even seemed averse to it was because of his hesitance to initiate, something he and Wilbur had discussed in depth. Rejection was one of the few fears Technoblade truly had and Wilbur held that fact close to his heart, ready to die with it if need be. Tommy, on the other hand? He was very particular about where and when and why someone was touching him, and it had taken Wilbur a long time to get used to that fact. But, he wasn’t about to make his little brother uncomfortable just so he could be happy and, eventually, he learned the ins and outs of how to touch TommyInnit without causing issue.

Pulling a few of the shorter strands towards the front of Tommy’s face loose, Will separated the blonde’s hair into three sections. They were rather small, what with how thin and short his hair was, it just barely being long enough to even have a proper braid in it, but Wilbur knew he could make it work.

“Now, Toms, you gotta listen to me here, because I can’t show you this bit, yeah? Phil and Tech aren’t here, and my hair is too short, so you’ll just have to feel it out for now, but...this is how you braid hair-” Wilbur had said in a soft voice, brushing the pad of his thumb over the boys neck slowly to ease the tension out of his shoulders. The effect was immediate, the boy slouching forward as if he had just noticed he was holding himself so sternly. Smiling softly, Wilbur instructed him on how to weave the strands together, answering questions and pulling lightly at Tommy’s hair so he could feel exactly where everything went. After he was done, Tommy had reached back to feel the bumps in his hair, all his earlier anger seemingly gone as he gave a small smile. And then he tried it himself.

Of course he got a bit of help at first, Wilbur’s larger hands guiding his own with gentle corrections, but after that Tommy worked on it alone, his older brother watching in silence from a patch of grass beside the porch step.

That night, Tommy and Wilbur slept in Techno’s bed, a soft, blue blanket wrapped tightly around them. And if another body woke them up at some point that night, shoving its way into the mess of limbs, their chest pressed right up against the youngest boy’s back, then that was only for them to know.

—

At eleven years old, Tommy takes a pair of scissors to his hair. With flushed cheeks and salty lips, his hands shaking and his eyes foggy, he cuts, cuts, cuts, until he can no longer braid his hair—until he can no longer look like fucking Phil.

Even though Wilbur had once said he hated Tommy’s long hair—hated how similar he and their dad looked—he felt like crying as he ran his fingers through the uneven strands. He didn’t tell his brother this though, instead grabbing his face and planting a wet kiss on his freckled forehead. In a fierce whisper, Wilbur had said, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Tommy. So fucking proud.”

Tommy never forgets the way he felt that day. He doesn’t forget Wilbur’s words either.

—

When Wilbur loses his last life, Technoblade tells Tommy to braid his hair.

It wasn’t a question either, but a demand forced out between gritted teeth, his face red, his nose stuffy and his lashes wet with unshed tears. Still, his words were clear as day.

“Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.”

Tommy sniffled, but did as he was told.

Maybe it was because he was too tired to argue with the only person he even had left. Maybe it was because he could tell Technoblade was mad at their father for the first time in his life, and he knew how bad his first time had felt. Or, maybe, it was just because he knew Techno fucking cared. Nobody else seemed to, but he knew Techno did and...that was enough for him.

As long as someone else cared—as long as it was fucking Technoblade—that was enough for him.

Just as Tommy had finished the braid, curling his finger around the light pink tail that tied the whole thing off, Techno yanked it forward. Before he could even register that the hair had left his hand, the older boy had taken an axe to the top of it, letting the rest of his hair fall around his face in uneven curls. Though it was a good ten minutes of work wasted, Tommy couldn’t say a damn thing as he watched Techno pocket the braid, muttering a thank you and heading in the direction of Wilbur’s unofficial grave.

In that moment, he felt relief for the first time in a long while.

—

Wilbur Soot was born covered in vernix and blood, weighing just barely above the seven-pound mark, and he came into the world much like he left it. Everyone had heard his cries—even if they weren’t there, even if they didn’t know him well—they had saw the way he spiraled, desperate and afraid and paranoid, searching for help, but never receiving enough.

And though he was the second child born, he left the world first, returning in a yellow sweater with a small braid tucked behind his ear. He didn’t really know why he had one, but he remembered braiding Techno’s hair and he remembered teaching Tommy how to do his own and he remembered, he remembered, he remembered the braids.

#dream smp #/dsmp #dsmp #sleepy bois inc #sbi #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #technoblade #philza #ph1lza #fic #fics #fanfic #fanfiction #the dream smp #shit self #dami writez #/rp #dsmp fic

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whumpzone · 4 years

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Tomas and Rowe Interval: Clumsy

this is unbelievably self-indulgent because i swear i have written variations of this scene about 100000 times but who CARES! such is the joy of writing. i fell on my keyboard and this appeared so im posting it

Master was working on a big project. Had been for almost a week, now. He spent most of the daytime holed up in his office, and Rowe had taken it upon himself to make him cups of tea throughout the day. It was to please his Master, of course, and keep him calm. A stressed out Master often came up with particularly sadistic ways of letting off steam.

But Master never seemed too stressed when Rowe disturbed him. Every time Rowe knocked on the door and Master saw the mug in his hand, his face just lit up. Like he was surprised by it every time. Rowe had to admit that seeing his Master so happy made him feel happy. Master was always so kind to him, even though just because Rowe was bringing him tea, he was still troubling Master with his useless self.

"Rowe! Thank you so much!" he would say. And then, "Did you make one for yourself?" or "Here, have a biscuit. Dip it in your tea like this." or "Thanks for coming up, pal. Breaks up my boring day, seeing you."

It made Rowe feel good. He was making Master Tomas happy. He was being useful. At the end of every day Master would slope downstairs, giving Rowe a tired smile and stretching until his joints cracked.

Master’s house was warm, and Rowe’s bare feet made little noise as he padded forward to kneel at Master’s feet, to beg for Master to let him eat that night.

"Rowe- please, please pal, you don’t have to beg."

You always say that! thought Rowe, not budging from his submissive position on the floor. But I will, Master. Because I’m good. To show you that I can be a well-trained Pet.

Master didn’t seem to expect much of Rowe, he had realised. Rowe wasn’t surprised- he had been tossed out, after all- but he always did his best to prove to Master Tomas that he knew how to behave.

Rowe sometimes wondered if Master had wanted a disobedient Pet, to have the fun of breaking them again, but then if he wanted to hurt and break Rowe he could anyway. Master could do as he pleased, and Rowe was certainly far from a perfect Pet. In fact, he messed up all the time, but Master hardly seemed to notice. It confused him to no end.

"Of course you can eat, pal" Master said, and Rowe’s chest lifted with relief. He had done enough- he had been obedient, and useful, and Master was pleased with him. He was allowed to eat.

Dinner with Master Tomas was still incomprehensible, but Rowe thought he liked it. Master let him sit at the table, and eat when he ate, and he gave him proper food! Food that was warm and tasty and good enough for Master, since he always ate the same. Rowe promised himself he wouldn’t let it go to his head. He was still only a Pet, after all.

After, Rowe washed up. He liked it- it was simple, and easy to do correctly. That was- until his hands, slippery with soap, lost their grip on a plate and sent it crashing to the floor. The smash was sickeningly loud.

Rowe’s eyes widened as he stared at the shards scattered across the floor. He started trembling, all his training flashing before him. He was so bad. He had broken one of Master’s things. Breaking something of Master’s meant being punished. It meant being hurt and bleeding and sobbing for forgiveness that never came because how could such a useless, insolent Pet ever earn mercy?

He saw Master approaching him and backed away before he even realised what he was doing (trying to get away- that was an extra punishment), and time seemed to slow down as Master’s face twisted from mere surprise into something much worse. And then he was rushing towards Rowe and grabbing him roughly, swinging him off the ground and pinning him to his chest. Rowe cried out in fear- it had all happened so fast!- and went limp in Master’s arms.

. . .

"Whoa, there," Tomas breathed, hoisting Rowe off the floor and away from the sharp pieces of ceramic. "I’m sorry for grabbing you, pal. You were about to step right on it and your feet are bare."

Rowe didn’t reply, which didn’t surprise him. It unnerved Tomas every time he felt Rowe go pliable against him, even though he knew he couldn’t help it. He had who-knew-how-many years of training under his belt, all telling him that if he slipped up, made any mistake at all, he’d be beaten until he’d learnt his lesson.

It made his heart ache, to think about it. That for Rowe, one little plate was worth more than him. Master’s possessions are not to be broken- unless that possession is a human being.

He sat down on the armrest of the sofa, Rowe still held tightly against him- too tightly, Tomas suddenly thought. What he could interpret as comforting Rowe would certainly interpret as entrapment.

"You’re okay, you’re okay," Tomas said, gently lowering Rowe’s skinny legs to the floor. Rowe collapsed to his knees, about to scramble away but then seeming to realise that that would only get him into more trouble. Or so he thought. Tomas wished he could snap his fingers and make Rowe’s conditioning melt away.

"I’m s-s-sorry M-Master, I’m s-so-orry p-p-please f-f-forgive me," he whimpered, tripping over every word and shaking like a leaf. "I w-won’t d-d-d-do it again I p-promise, I-I.. I-"

"It’s okay, it’s okay," Tomas soothed. "Shhh."

Rowe fell silent immediately, and Tomas kicked himself, because of course he would. He realised Rowe was crying, big fat tears sliding down his cheeks, and he was clearly doing everything to not make a sound.

"I mean- you can cry. You can speak. But you don’t have to beg."

Rowe sobbed miserably. No begging meant he just had a very scared Pet kneeling before him, waiting for his punishment. God, he wasn’t very good at this. How do you get through to someone who associates the smallest accident with unimaginable pain? Try to use language he can understand, I guess.

"Did you mean to smash the plate?" he asked gently. Rowe’s eyes widened and he flinched violently.

''No! No, n-n-no M-Master please no I d-didn’t, I didn’t I swear, I sw-wear please b-b-believe me, I w-wouldn’t-"

"I believe you," he said. "I believe you. So it was an accident, yes?" Rowe nodded, swallowing thickly through his panic. "Can you say that back to me, pal?"

"It was- was an- an accident, M-Master."

"Okay. I don’t punish accidents." I don’t punish, full stop. "It wasn’t your fault, so you haven’t done anything rude, or naughty, or bad. Okay?"

"B-But the plate…"

"It’s just a plate. I have plenty more."

He could see Rowe slowly working this out. It must be hard, hearing something that went so entirely against everything he knew.

"Just a plate," Rowe murmured.

"Exactly, pal."

tagging the T&R crew but as always, let me know if you’d only be tagged in main chapters! <3

@sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @ghostcomit @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lave-e @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly

#i realised i had never actually written the QUINTESSENTIAL trope #of whumpee breaking smth and freaking out #this started out as smth different....#hence the lengthy description of tomas working on smth #but hey ho #tomas and rowe #whump #whump fic #pet whump

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firefly464 · 4 years

Text

The Real World - Chapter 13

"Oh Im gonna take a small break and go easy on this chapter :D" - me the other day. i then proceeded to write the longest chapter so far for no god damn reason.

ALSO YAY COOL SYMBOLISM IN THIS ONE

Thank you @i-have-this-now for helping me with transitions because im a complete mess Thank you to @rivys for beta reading and editing!

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~~~

“They WHAT?!” Wilbur yelled, wheeling around to stare at the teenager behind him.

“They uh, they’re going to try and bring our Tommy and Dream back?” Tubbo repeated, taking a step back. “Is that bad…?” Hadn’t this been what Wilbur wanted? For their own Tommy to come home? Why was he acting so aggressive about it?

“Yes that's bad! Thats really fucking bad! Not Tommy obviously, but Dream?! Tubbo, Dream could come and break the peace treaty. He might start a whole new war, just out of spite. I cant… We can’t do that again. We just don’t have the resources.”

Tubbo paled as he realized what Wilbur was saying. Yes, they might have a chance to bring Tommy home, but at what cost? They would have to go back to living in fear, terrified that at any moment, Dream would come up behind them and try to kill one of them. He took another step back, shaking his head. He couldn’t go back to living like that. He just couldn’t.

Wilbur walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, crouching slightly so that he was at eye level. “Tubbo, I need you to tell me something, and I need you to tell me the truth. Where are they going?” Tubbo shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. On one hand, he had promised Tommy that he was going to help him get home. He had given his word. But on the other, he couldn’t go back to living in constant fear. He just couldn’t. “The eastern dark woods…” he muttered, trying to push away the guilt that gnawed at him. He had to do this. For his friends. He had no choice.

“Got it.” Wilbur stood to full height, his eyes set and determined. “Go get your things together. We’ve got quite the trip ahead of us.”

~~~

“You can’t be serious. This is all you have? Why are there- why the hell do you have so many buckets? How on earth are you going to carry them?” George shook his head as he looked over the meager pile of supplies that Dream had gathered.

Dream just shrugged as he rolled up the bedroll he had found in one of the chests. “You never know what might happen. I’m just trying to be prepared.”

“Right. So you decided the best way to be prepared was to pack 3 buckets, but not pack any food or actual fresh water. You don’t even have a flint and steel!”

A snort of laughter sounded from behind them. Dream turned to see Tommy, snickering to himself quietly. When the teenager noticed that they were looking at him, he wiped the grin off his face and stood up straight, trying to look serious. It didn’t work.

“You know, you could be actually helping instead of just standing there and laughing,” Dream remarked.

“Aw, but where's the fun in that? It’s much more entertaining to sit back and watch you struggle.”

“Oh really? I would love to see you do a better job.” He clipped the bedroll to the base of his pack.

Tommy stepped forward with a smug grin. “Ok, I will, since I’m just so cool and awesome. First off, you need coal for torches and shit. Second, toss the buckets out. You’re not going to be pulling any epic mlg moves here. That's just not how physics work.” Dream grumbled to himself as he took the buckets out of the pile.

“Shut up, both of you!” George cried out, bringing the bickering to a halt. “Clearly neither of you have any idea what's going on or what to do. So instead of arguing, why don’t you just listen to me and do what I tell you to do. We’re on a timer, aren’t we?”

Dream and Tommy looked down guilty. They had forgotten about the 48 hour limit, and had ended up falling back into their carefree habits. “Right, sorry.” Tommy said.

“Alright, Dream, I want you to go and gather some water. Once you’ve got a bucket full, I want you to boil it and bottle it. We can’t have you getting sick from dirty water. Tommy, go and gather some wheat. We don’t need too much, just enough to make enough bread for if we can’t find any animals. I’m going to go and get the horses saddled.” George’s voice was calm as he explained what each of them was going to do. The other two nodded and quickly rushed out of the room.

~~~

“Alright I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve never rode a horse before. I’ve got no fucking idea what I’m doing,” Tommy admited as he tried to find his balance atop the large animal. The three of them had gathered up all of their materials rather quickly, and were now on their way towards the forest. “Seriously, how the fuck do people do this?”

“By shutting up and not complaining.” Dream seemed to have figured out how to ride his horse pretty quickly, and was now spending his time taunting the younger teenager.

“Yeah, well maybe if you weren’t so damn annoying, I would have less to complain about.”

"C'mon, Tommy, hurry up. The sun's setting." George said, while Tommy almost fell off his horse.

The three of them rode across the rough wilderness, as the moon rose slowly along the horizon. This was going to be a long night.

~~~

“We can stop here to make camp for the night,” George said as they came across a small clearing. The three of them had been traveling for hours now, and found themselves in the middle of a birch forest.

"Eugh, birch. This is literally the worst kind of wood." Dream said jokingly.

"Agreed." Tommy nodded.

"What? Oh come on, birch isn't that bad." George relatiated as he set up a fire.

"What?" Dream laughed. "George, have you seen these trees?"

"Dream, they're just trees. Plus, we aren't gonna be here for long. We'll keep travelling as soon as the sun rises." George rolled his eyes.

“Ughhhh, really?! But that’s so early!”

“Tommy, shut up. Stop acting like a child. You’re just lucky that we found a place to stop at all.” George handed both Dream and Tommy a couple of torches. “Here, set these up along the perimeter. The last thing we need is a bunch of mobs trying to kill us while we sleep.”

Both Dream and Tommy stared at him in shock.

“What? Do you guys not have mobs in your world?”

“Wha- No of course we don’t! I didn’t think that they were actually real here, holy shit…” Dream exclaimed.

“Damn… A world where you don’t have to worry about getting eaten alive in the middle of the night. That honestly sounds really nice.” he shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “Never mind that right now. I need you guys to set up the torches.”

~~~

The sound of a netherite blade slicing through the air echoed across the quiet forest. It had been several hours since they had set up camp, and Dream had long since given up on sleep. The events of the day had played over and over in his mind, making it impossible to close his eyes. And so, he had quietly gotten up and snuck away to a small open area where he could practice.

Over the past week, he had found that practicing sword fighting helped him to calm down. The simple, repetitive motions helped to quiet the intrusive thoughts that continued to plague him. He had started to grow quite reliant on it to stay sane. Maybe, when he finally got home, he would join a fencing class.

If he got home. No. No he couldn’t think like that. Pessimism wouldn’t get him anyone. He needed to trust Tubbo and Wilbur. They were going to get him and Tommy home. They had to.

“You know, you’ve really gotten a lot better,” said a voice from behind him. A squeal of surprise was torn from Dream’s throat as he spun around, his sword at the ready. “Pffft, what on earth was that?” George stepped out from the shadows of the trees into the light of the torches that Dream had set up.

Dream placed a hand on his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. “Jesus man, you scared me. What the hell was that about?”

The shorter man chuckled as he stepped further into the light. “Gotta keep you on your toes. What's the point of learning how to fight if you’re not constantly aware?” He drew his own sword and held it out in the form of a challenge.

“You are actually the worst,” he said, raising his own sword in response.

With a grin, George rushed forward in attack. Dream raised his sword to block the incoming strike, allowing his instincts to take over. He had learned that if he simply didn’t think about what he was doing, he often did quite well. And so he let his mind go blank, instead focusing on surroundings. The stars, the leaves, the trees, even the man before him was all taken in as they sparred.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” George asked, most likely hoping to distract his opponent.

Dream only shrugged as he feigned an attack at his friend's leg, only to come up and create a small cut on his cheek. “Couldn’t sleep. I was hoping that doing some practice would help calm me down.”

“And? How's your success rate?”

“Well it was pretty good, until you arrived and scared me half to death.”

“Aww, I didn’t realize compliments scared you so much.”

“Yes, I’m quite shy.” Dream couldn’t help but grin.

As the two of them joked back and forth, they continued their little duel. It had been going for a couple minutes now, and they seemed to be at a bit of a stand still. A rush of pride surged through him. In roughly a week, he had gone from completely and totally useless to actually able to defend himself. Now, he just needed to set himself apart.

His mind began working overtime, analysing every small detail. Quickly, he reached back with his free hand and pulled out a loaded crossbow. George’s face transformed into surprise when he saw the weapon. The bolt flew past his face, only just barely grazing the side of his head.

Dream quickly threw the weapon aside and pressed his advantage. Suddenly, the favor was tipped towards Dream. George was unbalanced, startled by the use of the crossbow. Still, he managed to raise his sword just in time to block another strike.

With his free hand, Dream reached into one of the pouches around his waist and pulled out a small sphere, roughly the size of a marble. With a slight squeeze, the sphere expanded to the size of a baseball. While George was distracted with blocking the strike towards his face, Dream tossed the sphere behind him. With a crash, the sphere shattered against the ground.

Suddenly, Dream appeared behind George in a shower of purple. With a sweep of his foot, his friend came falling to the ground. With a final motion, he held the sword above his throat, his green eyes bright with exhilaration and delight.

“Alright alright, you win. I surrender,” George said with a laugh.

“Did you see that?! That was so cool! Oh my god that was so awesome!” Dream exclaimed as he helped George to his feet. “That was so damn cool!!” he started jumping around the small clearing in excitement.

“How did you even do that? I’ve never seen someone use a crossbow in the middle of a sword fight before”

“I’ll be honest, I’ve got no idea. I have no idea what the hell I just did. I just know that it was cool as fuck!”

He shook his head, chuckling as he watched his friend dance around the area. George had never seen Dream show any sort of emotion before, much this level of excitement. Even though he knew the reasons why, he couldn’t help but feel a bit weirded out by it. Watching the pure joy flash across Dream’s face was strange. Still, it was nice. “You are such a dork”

He only responded with a wide grin.

A thought flashed through George’s mind, causing him to frown slightly. Dream stopped his playful jumping and walked over, his eyes now filled with concern. “Hey, you alright?” He asked. “Oh shit, you’re bleeding! Hold on I’ve got a few bandages on me I think…”

As Dream pulled out a couple white bandages from his bag, George let out a slight chuckle. “Do you even know how to use those?”

“Uhhh, not really? I’m sure I can figure it out. How hard can it be?”

He wasn’t impressed. With a roll of his eyes, George held out his hand for the bandages “Here, just let me do it. It doesn’t really hurt, I think it's just a small cut. Probably just needs to be cleaned.” Taking a bottle of water from his bag, he quickly wet the bandage and started to clean the blood from his face.

Dream pouted. “Well what if I wanted to help?”

“Then you can go and wash the blood out of these,” George said, tossing him the now stained bandages. “No point in wasting perfectly good bandages because of a small cut.”

He caught them easily, but otherwise didn’t move. “Nope. Not until you tell me whats wrong.

The brunette cursed under his breath. Since when had he been so easy to read? “I uh, I was just thinking about… Stuff,” he waived his hand vaguely.

“You wanna talk about it?” Dream plopped down onto the grass and patted the ground next to him. “Here, take a seat.”

He sat.

“Spill.”

“I’m just… Worried, I guess? I mean, in a few days, you’re going to be gone and… the other Dream will be back. I guess I’m just scared about what he's gonna do.”

The smile faded from Dream’s face as he considered what to say. “What was he like?” he asked after a few seconds. “The other me, I mean.”

“He was… Scary. All he cared about was the thrill of the hunt. The mask made it impossible to tell what he was ever thinking, which made it ten times worse. Of course, it only covered his eyes and nose, so that you could still see his grin.” He shuddered. “I watched as he blew up the gates of L’manberg with a massive smile on his face.”

“So then… why did you follow him in the first place?”

“I had no choice. When Sapnap and I showed up, he was the only other person here. It was either join him or be left out to die to the mobs. After a while I guess I just didn’t realize how cruel he was. He was a good leader, and super charismatic. Not to mention a really good actor. By the time the war started… I guess I just trusted him, if that makes sense. He had kept me alive ‘till then, so why would anything change?”

Dream nodded. He wasn’t going to pretend like he understood what his friend had gone through, but he could still try and help in his own way. “He taught you sword fighting, how to survive. You felt like you were indebted to him, right?”

“Yeah… Pretty much. God, its so stupid! I should have been able to realize how messed up he was. Why the hell did I not realize?!” He took off his round sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tight. “I was so fucking stupid.”

Hesitantly, Dream reached over and placed a hand on his friends back, trying to comfort him. “Hey, that’s not stupid. You’d be surprised at how easily our minds can trick us into thinking we’re doing the right thing. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's not your fault.” A stab of guilt shot through him. He had been the one to add George onto the server. If he had waited a bit, would things have been different? Maybe if he had acted differently on stream, or not sent the declaration of war, maybe things would have turned out different. The other Dream might have turned out to be a decent guy, not someone that people trembled before and feared.

“I should have been smarter… I should have joined Sapnap when he went off on his own.”

The weight of George’s words finally sunk in. The other Dream was a monster, a killer. He was the living, breathing version of the mask Dream sometimes wore in his videos. The act of someone who enjoyed the hunt, and nothing more. These past two weeks had been peaceful and calm compared to what everyone had normally lived through, and it was all because the monster was finally gone. But now… now they were about to bring him back. They were about to bring everyone’s worst nightmare back to life.

What choice did they have? It was either that, or let the entire world get destroyed. Either way, the other Dream was about to ruin people’s lives. He sighed. “It's going to be alright, ok? We’ll figure something out, I promise. You’re not going to go back to living like that. I promise.”

Now, it was just a matter of keeping that promise.

~~~

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#alright can i just say #im so proud of that sparring scene #it turned out really cool in my opinion and i really like it #Tubbo_#tubbolive #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #dreamwastaken #dream team #dreamsmp #sapnap #georgenotfound #The Real World #The Real World AU #my writing #fanfiction #l'manberg #tommyinnit

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hayleysstark · 4 years

Note

For your prompt event: Merlin accidentally hurting Arthur with his magic post-reveal and freaking out about it? (I love your writing!)

oh my god op YOUR MIND!!!!!!!!! im losign it,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Arthur had all of ten seconds to get out of range and, as it turned out, ten seconds wasn't nearly enough.

To tell the truth, he knew it was all his own fault—he hadn't tried or, at least, he hadn't tried hard enough, mostly because he didn't want to get out of range, he didn't want to run away, and he certainly didn't want to leave Merlin behind to face the mad old witch entirely on his own. For all his magic, for all his power and know-how and strange, old-soul wisdom, Merlin was a right idiot most of the time and, while Arthur trusted him to take down an obviously mediocre, middle-of-the-road sorceress alone, he most definitely did not trust him to be smart about it. He didn't trust Merlin to be smart about most things, come to that, but magical battles with evil sorcerers was settled firmly at the top of the list.

But it didn't do an ounce of good, because Arthur couldn't get near enough to land a blow on the old woman, and he couldn't even get near enough to watch Merlin's back like he should, like he usually did in these sorts of situations—the spells flew far too thick and fast around the quiet green grove, blinding bursts of color and light flashing like suns and stars in the deep shadows of the wood, curses rebounding like stray cannonballs off the trees and boulders and branches—no, he could only stand there, sword in his hand, out on the edge of the battle, completely useless.

All of a sudden, the old witch stopped, her wrinkled hands still held out in front of her, and she said something—it didn't sound like magic, it didn't sound like a spell, and it didn't look much like magic, either, it looked like she was talking to Merlin, like she was talking and she wanted him to talk back, but Arthur couldn't hear the words over the whispers and rustles of all the sorcery in the grove—and it must have been magic, he realized, hardly half a second later, because a high, howling wind whipped up, right in the middle of the forest, on a cloudless, sunny day.

She must be a bit better than mediocre, then, she must be a bit more than middle-of-the-road, if she could call up storms like Merlin could—

The wind picked up, stronger and stronger until the shriek of it was all Arthur could hear, until the force of it nearly ripped his cloak from his shoulders and clawed the sword from his hand, until it pushed him back, farther and farther away from the old witch, away from Merlin, until it finally grabbed him up in its screaming grip and slammed him, with a nasty crunch, back into the nearest tree.

As near as Arthur could figure out, from the flashes of blue sky rushing past over his head and the fleeting glimpses of Merlin's bone-white face and terrified blue eyes, he had come back 'round on the way back to the castle, but he hadn't stayed awake long enough to remember much, and Merlin had, apparently, defeated the old woman mere moments after Arthur had blacked out, but he never heard the whole of it, and Merlin never told him.

All he could say for certain was, when he had finally opened his eyes to find himself in Gaius' chambers, in the rickety white cot reserved solely for the very ill, the old man had forced him to choke down a vast number of horrible potions and medicines before he had allowed Arthur to settle back in his own bedchamber.

It had seemed an awful lot of fuss for nothing but a broken arm and a few bruised ribs, and, if he had to make a guess, he would say the whole thing had upset Merlin rather more than he had thought it would, and certainly a great deal more than it had any right to—the idiot had turned into the perfect servant in the week since, nothing but yes Sire or no Sire or let me get that for you, Sire, not one gripe or grumble or complaint to be had, and never more than ten steps from Arthur's bedside.

And he didn't make a face when Arthur told him to muck the stables, and he didn't breeze in to work a half hour too late Arthur's breakfast in one hand and a sheepish smile on his face, and he didn't throw the curtains wide and shout good morning like he wanted to wake the entire castle, and he hadn't spilled wine in Arthur's lap even once, and he hadn't used his magic to heat the bathwater, or scrub the floor, or make the bed, and Arthur's armor had literally never shined brighter, a dazzling silver gleam out of the corner of his eye, glinting and flashing in the light of the sun through the open window.

It was absolutely unbearable.

And it was obviously much more than the usual mother-hen impulses Merlin fell into when Arthur got hurt, because he certainly hadn't acted like this even when Arthur had gotten a bite from the Questing Beast, when Arthur had, very literally, cheated death, and survived the unsurvivable!

No, this was bigger than all Merlin's girlish little fits and frenzies of fear, this was more than his everyday panic over nothing, and Arthur was not going to put up with it one moment longer.

"All right," he said, eight days out from that fight in the forest with the old witch, his arm still wrapped firmly in a simple white sling, and the bruising on his ribs a touch lighter now, and certainly less painful, "out with it, Merlin, what is it? What's gotten into you lately?"

"Sorry?" Merlin said, flatly, and he didn't even look up from where he had crouched down to pick up all the dirty laundry scattered 'round the chamber. "Not sure what you mean."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't be an idiot, Merlin, you and I both know that suits you a bit too well."

"Yeah," Merlin said blandly, stuffing Arthur's brown trousers in his basket, "just one of my many gifts, Sire."

"Merlin," Arthur sat up a little in his seat, and put down his quill with a soft swish of the long white feather on parchment, "what's going on?"

"Nothing," Merlin said at once. He tossed a pair of socks in the basket, too. "It's nothing."

Arthur waited.

Merlin straightened up and turned his back on Arthur to pluck a red tunic up off the floor and plop it down in the basket with everything else.

Arthur waited a bit more.

All of a sudden, Merlin stopped, with the basket perched on the end of the bed, his hands still clinging to the wooden rim, and finally, Arthur thought, with a rush of relief, finally, he's going to stop being such a girl and just tell me—

Merlin sniffled.

Arthur's insides turned to ice. Oh, God, no, this was a mistake, this was a terrible, awful, horrendous mistake, and now Merlin was having feelings, and what if Merlin wanted to talk about those feelings, couldn't he just give Merlin the day off and let him sort it out on his own time, wasn't that a thing he could do, or would that be "insensitive" and "rude" the way Guinevere always told him, would that make him a "bad friend" the way Guinevere always told him—? "Um," he said, a little blankly, and a lot desperately, "y-you don't need to—you shouldn't—erm—"

"I—" Merlin wiped at his face with the back of his hand, and turned to look at Arthur, his eyes red and puffy, his cheeks sticky and stained with tears, "—I-I'm sorry."

"For crying?" Arthur said, rather weakly, and also rather hopefully.

"I should have said it sooner, but I thought you were going to—to bring it up, and I thought you were going to be angry, so I-I just waited and waited, but you didn't—"

Not for crying, then, Arthur concluded dismally, before he scraped up the last remnants of his dwindling-in-the-face-of-a-crying-Merlin courage. "Why on earth did you think I'd be angry with you?"

"I did this to you," Merlin said, looking for all the world like a deeply repentant puppy left out in the pouring rain, waiting to be kicked. "I hurt you. I-I used my magic to h-hurt you."

What? Arthur blinked a bit dazedly at Merlin while he waited for the words to make some sort of sense. "Hang on," he said, slowly, mostly to make sure he had this absolutely right, "you were the one who called up that wind? You were the one who—?"

Merlin blinked back, just as dazedly. "Y-You didn't know?"

"I thought it was the witch!" Arthur said, thoroughly baffled now. "What in God's name did you do that for? You never do storms unless it's—!"

"I got angry," Merlin said miserably. He sniffled again and wiped at his nose now. "I—I got so angry, she—she said some things that made me realize she was—she was somebody that had done really awful things, she had—she had hurt someone I know, she'd hurt her really badly, and I lost my temper, and—" he flicked a mournful glance up at Arthur from under his wet lashes, "—and it just happened, and Arthur, I'm so sorry!"

Arthur almost crumpled right back down in his seat again. Merlin had conjured up that wind, not the old witch, and oh, that made sense now, didn't it, he had thought, even then, the old woman hadn't seemed strong enough for magic like that, he had thought she hadn't had the power for a thing like that, and he had been right, and—

—and if she was so mediocre and middle-of-the-road, what on earth had she done in her past, to make Merlin so furious with her? "Is she—?" Arthur raised his head to look at his friend on the other side of the room. "Is she all right? The friend that the witch hurt? Is she all right now?"

Merlin stared blankly back at him, blue eyes wide and wet. "That's—?" he scrubbed at his nose again. "That's what you're worried about? Not the fact that I almost killed you?"

Arthur almost laughed. "It's a broken arm, Merlin, and it's not even my sword arm! Honestly, I hardly think I'm going to drop dead all because—"

"It's not funny," Merlin snapped, his every word sharp as a knife when it rolled off his tongue. "It's not funny, Arthur, this isn't a joke! I almost killed you! I almost killed you because I lost my temper! Because I lost control!"

"Yes," Arthur conceded, "but everyone loses their temper at some point, I wouldn't worry about it if I were—"

"Well, you're not me!" Merlin bit out. "And count yourself lucky on that, because when you lose your temper, you don't have to worry that you'll wipe out the entire kingdom, or—or level a whole forest, or put all your friends in danger just because you can't—!"

"M-Merlin," Arthur said, too startled to stay silent any longer, "of course you're not going to—"

"You don't know that!"

"No, I don't know that!" Arthur said sharply, a bitter burn of fury in the back of his throat, because what the hell was wrong with this idiot, why the hell couldn't he see—? "You're right, Merlin, I don't know that, I don't know for absolutely certain that you are never going to do something horrible, but I trust that you won't! I don't know, I can't tell the future, I'm not a Seer, but I trust you to do what's right and to never take it too far, and isn't that enough for you?"

For a moment that felt very much like forever, Merlin only looked at Arthur, his eyes still red, a few stray tears still trailing lazily down his wet cheeks. "But look at what I did to you," he whispered. "You can't honestly tell me you're not angry with me."

Arthur let out a soft, heavy sigh, and rubbed a hand down the side of his face. Yeah, sure, he was a bit put out, but mostly he was put out that he had gotten stuck in bed for three days straight, and that Merlin had decided to hedge around the problem for so long when he could have come to Arthur and told the truth straight-out, but it was like he had said to Merlin—everybody lost their temper now and then, it was hardly some sort of bone-deep sin Merlin had to atone for every day for the rest of his life.

"You can't honestly tell me," Merlin said, and even softer than a whisper now, softer than a breath, "that you're not scared of me."

Oh. Arthur's chest squeezed with something almost like pity. Oh, that's what this is, that's what he thinks, that's what he's so worried about— "Merlin," he said, and he meant it, "I'm not scared of you. There's nothing in you to be afraid of."

"Except the magic that could have broken your neck," Merlin snapped, voice high and tight and still thick with tears. "You don't have to pretend, Arthur, you don't have to put on some kind of front for me, I understand, I get it—"

"You can't swing a sword without almost impaling yourself on the blade," Arthur pointed out. "You can't go an entire day without tripping over your own boots and falling flat on your face. There's nothing in you to be afraid of, and trust me, I'm not flattering you when I say that."

Merlin stared at Arthur like he had never seen him before, his eyes enormous in his tear-streaked face, one hand halfway up to dry the damp trails on his cheeks again. "Y-You're not—?"

"For God's sake, no!" Arthur rolled his eyes. "One time, I heard you say sorry to a butterfly!"

"I startled her," Merlin said, at once, and scrubbed at his eyes again. "I hit the branch she was resting on with my elbow, and I startled her."

Arthur had to bite back a smile. "Yes, I'm absolutely terrified. Shaking in my boots, Merlin, please don't kill me with your evil temper and big bad sorcerer powers."

Merlin turned a little pink. "I'm sorry," he said, hoarsely. "I really didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yeah, I picked up on that, believe it or not."

Merlin went a touch pinker, but he pushed on valiantly. "I-I didn't realize you were near enough to get hurt. I should have been more careful with you."

"Careful with me?" Arthur echoed incredulously, half-offended and half-amused. "Tell me, Merlin, how is it that I'm the one who got thrown into a tree, you're the one crying about it, and you still manage to make me sound like the delicate maiden in this situation?"

Merlin wiped at his nose again. "Should have known you'd be all right," he said, finally, and unless Arthur was very much mistaken, he could swear he saw a small smile tug at the edge of the idiot's lip. "Should have figured your thick skull would cushion the blow."

"Merlin—!"

#merlin #bbc merlin #fic #filled prompt #sweetteaanddragons #this is uh. bad. but on god we're posting it lads

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 4 years

Text

Arranged Chapter I (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: None for this chapter (series: E)

Word Count: 4,004

Summary: Prince and Princess of your respective planets you both agree to wed, not for love, but for advantage and the public cannot know. But there’s only one problem -- the two have never met, not until your wedding day.

A/N: so this has been several months in progress. I’ll be tagging folks who liked my original post (if you don’t want to be tagged, just shoot me a message!). there’s a lot of set up in this chapter, but i promise it will pay off. I hope you give this series a read b/c its really something special to me. Special shoutouts to @laneygthememequeen, @bucky-of-the-opera, and @mrsrafaelbarba for all the support!!!

"Come on Poe, you cannot have seriously agreed to this," Poe Dameron did not bother to look from the mirror, eyes concentrated on delicately tucking the wide end into the knot before pulling it down into a nearly perfect loop. But why then, why did it feel like he was tying the noose around his neck before his long walk to the gallows? The dread his stomach certainly sat like it - twisting his guts into a kriffing useless knot, much like the one around his neck.

"I already agreed to it, Finn," the knot hung a little crooked - well perfect enough - just as his life was, "long time ago."

Was it that long? It was an instant. An instant that he went from sitting in his mother’s lap in her x-wing, listening to her hum, as she flipped switches and steered the ship across the sky over the Queen’s palace. The quiet buzz of the engine lulled him sleep, until she would rouse him as they swooped in for a soft landing after the daily patrol of the perimeter. The oranges of the sky now inky black, nothing but a glittering scattering of stars and distant planets he knew nothing of.

And now, he was stuffed in a stranger’s all too stuffy suit, tying a tie, and his feet cramping in tight shoes - and as he stared at himself in the mirror - he barely recognized himself. Probably because he definitely didn’t choose these clothes. A tradition - the bride’s family chooses the groom’s clothes. As he resisted the urge to squirm in his aching feet in his shoes, he wondered if they were hoping he couldn’t run with blue and purple feet.

“Two weeks isn’t that long ago,” But two weeks wasn’t when he decided. Two weeks ago was when he confirmed it - confirmed that he would do anything to please his Queen, the person who took him in when he had no one - when he had lost everyone. And this - this wasn’t a loss - it was a gain. A gain, of another at his side.

Finn shook his head, heaving a sigh, “Just tell me, tell me you’re not just doing this for the agreement.”

Was it the agreement why he was doing this? Yes, the troops the neighboring planet of Shar could give could end the war, the relief from supplies could stop millions from starving, and the bloodshed, the one that had stained his hands for all too long, could stop. He could finally stop — stop waking up in cold sweats from the images of broken children haunting him, the ghosts of families poking and prodding at his subconscious, until he begged for mercy. It could stop.

An offer like this didn't come around twice. Except that it did — and she had said no.

His Queen.

Queen Leia Organa, his mother by all intents and circumstances, received an offer for an alliance a long time ago, and all that was needed was a hand in marriage - and since Ben's hand was already promised - it only left him. It was considered and mulled over and examined time and time again. The Queen couldn't deny the offer was favorable — especially with forces stirring, plotting, scheming in the background. But in the foreground was her son. Barely old enough to read, much less decide on an offer of marriage. She said no, because at that time, she had the choice.

But this time, she didn’t. And neither did he.

“I’m not just doing it for the agreement,” he intoned, mustering up a small smile, “Even if I am, as my advisor, shouldn’t you be trying to make sure I go through it?”

He saw Finn frown at him in the mirror, “As your advisor, I’m trying to assure you aren’t making a rash decision,” he paused, before adding, “and as your friend, I’m trying to make sure you’re not being a kriffing idiot.”

“According to you and Rey, aren’t I always?” he laughs, but it echoes hollowly in his chest, and for a moment he allows himself to feel the weight of his decision - he would spend his life with a stranger. Would they grow used to each other? Would they hate each other? Or worst of all, would they mean nothing to each other? And then the counterbalance weighed in - the war, the shortages, and his mother. He turns to face Finn, “I know it’s the right decision.”

“How do you know?”

He only smiles, “Because Queen Organa wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise.” And he hopes that’s true, hopes it’s enough.

“We should get going,” Finn says, but his words don’t register. Not really. Instead, Poe stares out the window, and nearly just out of sight, the very tip of the pavement of the landing strip peeked through, the end of an x-wing barely visible. It would be so easy. Too easy to sneak out of here, feet pounding down the pavement, slipping past every guard, until it was too late to stop him. His head against the rest of the pilot’s seat, thrum of the engine buzzing in his ears, and he would be gone. He would fly somewhere, anywhere he did not have to be responsible for the lives of so many people, somewhere he did not have to follow his duty — somewhere he just could take care of himself. Instead of everyone else.

Finn claps him on his shoulder, and he's ejected from his fantasy, “Hey, you okay?" And a small voice nags at the back of his head, after the war, after the war, after the war. Maybe things could be different - maybe he could be free. Things change. People too. As do commitments to treaties. Alliances fall and rise with only the flick of a royal’s finger, and why couldn’t his life too? “We can’t be late, it’s your wedding after all.”

Then why, he thought as he steeled himself, pushing himself to take one step after the other, why did it feel like my funeral?

~~~~

The march from his quarters to the hall was a lengthy one. One in which every doubt rears its unwelcome ugly head again, whatever seemingly committed front he had put up to Finn shattered in its wake. Now his eyes just looked for exits. Whatever instilled duty and steadiness he had long abandoned him as he left his room, now leaving only with traitorous thoughts and antsiness in his fingers. But eyes — eyes were watching him. Even now as he walked towards where the procession was waiting for his arrival, he felt the gazes of every guard he passed, every servant, every nobleman fall upon him with smiles and well wishes. And imagine what those smiles would be if they could hear his actual thoughts? How quickly those smiles would turn to scorn at his own selfishness? How fast those well wishes would turn to hissed sneers? The math was simple. A single hand to save many. A choice with only one right option. But why did he want the wrong one?

But why was it wrong? Why was it wrong to want to want to have a choice? Why was it so wrong to want to choose who to love?

It wasn’t wrong, he swallowed the lump in his throat as he spotted the procession standing at attention, the colors of the Resistance in full thrust, he just didn’t have a choice.

Or rather he did. His family and his planet or a chance at an unknowable future.

He gave Finn a nod, before facing the procession, striding forward to take his place. And he would choose his people - every time.

~~~

“Add more color to her lips,” The Empress of Shar ordered sharply, smoothing her tone over with a saccharine smile that only assured you that this servant would be fired by the end of day, “We want her husband to be completely enraptured by her — anything less will not be tolerated.” Or perhaps, it would be something worse than a simple dismissal.

Instead, your eyes remained concentrated on the delicate designs that had been drawn on the backs of your hand, patterns of vines and leaves intertwined around each other, bound in the same fate. These same hands that saw battle, bruised and battered and bloodied, were now dressed up in rings and bracelets, drawing eyes to the designs that adorned your skin. And while these tattoos were ephemeral, the passage of time scrubbing them from your hands, the ceremony they represented were not.

That knowledge weighed on you, heavier than the weight of your wedding clothes against your body. Your mother had you dressed before dawn had broken, and even your muscles nearly buckled under the weight, the clothes embroidered to the point of absurdity. And now in the sunlight, you could see it clearly, ornate designs painstakingly stitched into shimmering waves and complicated lattices upon the ivory fabric. You resisted the urge to finger the designs, knowing your mother would lose her mind if even a single bead was out of place.

The fingers of the servants tugged and pulled on the strands of your hair into an intricate braid, weaving ribbons, golden thread, and flowers into the complicated knots. You bit your tongue as they yanked particularly hard. Complaining would only incite the Empress’s wrath - and you didn’t wish that upon even your worst enemies.

The Empress of Shar left no enemies behind. And those she did, she left with their heads on a pike. It was in the name of duty. That's what she told you, anyway.

"Duty first, mercy second," and you learned quite quickly that mercy often didn't come. If ever. Mercy was reserved for only those situations where the Empress had something to gain — and was assured she had nothing to lose. And your wedding was one of them. It would have been all too simple to storm the planet of D’qar, beaten into submission after attack upon attack by their enemies. All it would have taken was one unit — the im’petis — the force users and their army would have been razed to the ground. But war is messy. War never ends. Even when all said and done, the seeds of revenge fester in the crevices and cracks of a broken kingdom, until blooming into swathes of rebellion. Too many warm bodies lost. Too much wasted time.

No, it was better - better to forge an alliance, quell any hint of impropriety, instead two planets become one kingdom. And D’qar and the Resistance gain the support of Shar’s vast resources, while Shar’s gains the aid of their technology. The only cost? Your freedom.

Or your hand in marriage. All the same to you.

You couldn’t run. You couldn’t escape. It was a choice of your family or your life.

And you choose your family. Always.

“Now, it is time for you to meet your husband,” The Empress waves the servants away, and as quickly as they came, they disappear through the double doors, “We will bring you out. The ceremony will be performed separately at first, and then you will be brought before each other as husband and wife,” her lips curl into a smile, “and darling, this must go well, for both our sakes.”

“Yes, I understand,” she raises a brow, “my Empress.”

She nods, “Your ladies in waiting will escort you to the procession, and then you and Poe will live on this planet for a time, before returning to Shar. I expect to hear from you, at the end of every month. Especially before your return to Shar."

You would spend a few months on D'qar, here, as the kingdom prepares for the transfer of power from Queen Organa to Prince Ben."

“Yes,” your throat tight, you give another nod, “I understand.”

“I imagine you will have little trouble. The prince is flighty - weak minded and eager, in both romantic and unromantic pursuits,” she stops in front of you, staring, and you wonder if she can see the weakness in your heart, every thought in your mind telling you to run now, to refuse. But she says nothing, only winding a curl framing your face around her finger, tugging on it harshly, a thread of pain running through your head, “but may I remind of the stakes of this. All of Shar is relying on you, as is your mother. Do not forget your place.”

She lets go and the curl bounces back into place, as she turns to leave, her hand pausing on the door handle, “And don’t forget,” she smiles at you warmly, which only makes your blood run colder, “you two fell in love on a diplomatic mission, and now are being wed,” a ploy - to garner support from the public - it was far better in the eyes of the simple folk to marry for love rather than power. Love sells after all, “So don’t forget to smile at your betrothed - you are in love with him after all.”

The door closes with a click. Yes. Love. Of course.

No tears well in your eyes nor do you scream. You sit there, staring at your luggage. You had been flown to D’qar night before last. The air was lighter here — less humid, somehow sweeter than the aridity on Shar. But now, it felt strangling. You rose, bracelets clanging against your wrists, lifting your skirt as you strided forward. You unzipped one of the bags, stuffed with gowns and dress shirts alike, the material heavy as your arm waded through the sea of silk, until your fingers found the false bottom to the bag. Your fingers snaked through the opening, until they closed around what you sought. You pulled the lightsaber from the bag, staring at the intricate design of the hilt, its weight a comfort in your hands. Only days ago you had spent cutting down Shar’s enemies, and now - you would do it again.

Only this time — there was a knock at the door, and you buried the saber as quickly as you could in the luggage — the deaths would not be on the battlefield, they would be in a palace.

~~~~

Poe’s stomach twisted. He did not like this.

A thousand eyes watched him atop the platform set up by both the people of D’qar and Shar alike. All of whom were watching him now as he sat - trying not to fidget in his throne. Drapes of colors of both kingdoms hung - some separately and others in unison, representing the merging of the two planets and of this union. And they hung all around the stage as well, a barrier from the public’s eyes - but only barely - as he could spot their eager eyes between the parting of the banners.

He did not like this at all.

A lone soul, his stomach lurching as he waited for the ceremony to begin. A million eyes on him, and not a soul he knew beside him. He wished Finn or Rey - someone could have joined him. He resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut - at least the Queen. But they were following Shar's traditions, down to the dotted line - part of the agreement.

A neutral expression would suffice instead of a smile, hoping he appeared to be an anxious groom rather than a miserable prince. The officiant would be joining him soon enough, but it did not make him feel any less lonely by himself. Usually, the men of the bride and groom would join the soon to be husband, but - his stomach twisted again - neither of them were around were they? The one thing he knew that he shared with you - the lack of a father, or perhaps the fleeting memory of one. More a ghost than anything now.

The corners of his eyes stinged, nails digging into his palms, the nagging thought in the back of his head wrenched to the forefront: what would he think of his son? Marrying a stranger he had never met. Would he be proud of his dedication to the kingdom he had lost his life for? Or would he want something more for him? Something like he and his mom had.

The chatter outside grew, and he readied himself for the officiant. But did it even matter? He was alone in the end - in life and in marriage.

“You look quite sad for a man on his wedding day,” his head snapped to attention, as he moved to get up, but his Queen waved him off, “It is your wedding day, you need not rise for me.”

“But don’t I always anyway, Your Majesty?” he gave a weak smile, rising to his feet as she sat, wrinkling her nose at his formality, but holding her tongue (knowing he would use her title anyway), “How many Sharians heads’ did you have to bite off to allow you to be here?”

The corner of her mouth twitched, “Only one. And I did not bite anyone’s head off - I only had to ask, and made it clear to the Empress I was only going to ask once to be at my son’s side during his wedding.”

Son, his throat tightened, swallowing the feelings that rose with that word - the word that wasn’t a word, but so much more - it was the very reason he had agreed to this. More than the scorn, the hatred he would engender, maybe even the crushing guilt of the lives lost - or maybe he couldn’t — but he knew only for certain: that he couldn’t bear the thought of his mother being disappointed in him.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he says quietly, and she looks over, lips curled in a smile now.

She raises a brow, “No remarks to be made?”

Poe looked to the audience as all rose for the approaching officiant, and he knew he wouldn’t run - not because he couldn’t - but because he could live with marrying someone he didn’t know, but he couldn’t live without his home.

~~~

You didn’t want to have this ceremony. You liked the beauty of it all, the elegance, but only from an outsider’s perspective. Not when you were the one sitting like a shyyyo bird in a cage. You hated all the eyes on you — dressed in bright plumage to draw their gazes, as they watched you take part in this forced mating ritual.

Maker, it was your wedding day and all you want to do is take a nap. Especially as the officiant's droning voice led you through the vows, you felt your mind wane, though you kept the outer mask of a bride carefully stitched into your features. Even so, you doubted they could see your face through the thick veil of flowers tied around your head, the string digging into your skull. Even through the thick perfume of flowers, sweet and heady, you could smell the distant aroma of dinner - savory and ambrosial - stewing in pots and warming until this ceremony was over. You almost didn’t care if your stomach growled - after fourteen hours in this outfit and being poked and prodded and watched - you were ready to eat.

And it would be soon enough - as the vows came to an end, with only a word of affirmation needed from the groom and from you. A comlink hooked up to project sound throughout the building - as one was offered to you and most assuredly to him, as so everyone could hear you affirm your love for one another. And it occurred to you, this would be the first time you heard his voice. Curiosity edged in at the corners of your mind - what would his voice be like? Would it be gruff and low? Would it be smooth and dulcet? Would it be pompous and orotund?

It was one Sharian phrase, but you repeated the word over and over in your head - knowing that a second of hesitation (or Maker forbid a mispronunciation) would look suspicious.

You hear the officiant ask, “Hal’e turbi hayatak bihah?” Do you bind your life to hers?

“Nam 'uqad hayati,” Yes, I bind my life to hers. The Shar words rolled off his tongue with clumsy vowels and exaggerated consonants. You had no expectations, and yet his voice was different than you expected. It was neither gruff nor pompous, you supposed it could be smooth or dulcet, but it was still something more than that - and you realized, it was the conviction in his tone.

For Sharians, arranged marriages were second nature - a tried and true practice that made for marriages that would last a lifetime, most by choice, but others by obligation. You thought nothing of it - it was the same risk anyone took when marrying for love, and the same traps that anyone could fall into in a bad marriage. But for D’qar? Their people have married for love almost as long as they have existed. Even Prince Ben, whose hand had been promised to another, it was because he had fallen for another. So for the precious prince, it couldn’t have been easy to agree to this. And yet, he seemed sure - that it gave you pause - when was the last time you had been so sure of anything?

You weren’t even sure when you had agreed to this - though it wasn’t like you were given much of a choice. You were perfect after all - the perfect stand in for the princess, one that didn’t exist. There was never a choice that was yours after you agreed to join the Sharian Guard - and even that was a choice between certain death and indentured servitude.

“Hal’e turbi hayatak biha?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, all hope of running dissipating, as you feel the Empress’s gaze on you, “Nam 'uqad hayati.”

The crowd cheers in time with the band, the low notes a quiet boom in the background, as you and your groom rise from your chairs and are led down the steps of your individual stages — you by the Empress and him by his mother. Other instruments join in with each delicate step you take, building to an inevitable crescendo when the two of you finally see each other for the first time.

The first time.

Your throat is dry, and swallowing does nothing to soothe the very much throbbing heart tangled in your vocal cords. You realize that he’s before you when the Empress’s guiding hand stops, drifting away from your shoulder. Thousands of eyes pierce you from every side, your knees threatening to knock together, but you will them to be still. Princesses of Shar did not shake — but of course, you thought mournfully, you were not one.

“Please lift the veil and allow your eyes to meet your betrothed,” the officiant orders.

Gentle fingers part your flowered veil, lifting it over your head. You blink.

Brown. That’s the first thing you notice when you see them. They were a softer brown than expected. You had heard the rumors about the prince — about his thrill seeking as a pilot and his disregard for the rules (authorizing an attack the Queen had explicitly objected to). You expected more fire, more darkness, and it was there — but there was something more you couldn't place. His eyes blinked as he saw you too, his lips parting, a gentle gaze caressing your face, instead of raking down its sides. His brow only ruffled for a moment, before he smiled Lips pulled wide into a smile and that's when you remembered — oh yes. You were supposed to be in love.

You match him in time, chiseling your expression into a shy gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. And his hand found yours easily, his fingers intertwining with his to face the crowd. Even as your stomach stuck to the soles of your feet, why was it that, even with a thousand eyes piercing you, you couldn't help but stare at him?

~~~

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#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagines #star wars imagines #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron fanfiction

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words-for-holland · 4 years

Text

Happier (10) | T.H.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: After the events of last night, Tom and Y/N are completely heartbroken. More threats are thrown out. Tom leaves???

Masterlist

A/N: WOW 10 CHAPTERS ALREADY?! If you made it this far..Thanks for sticking around! What has been your favorite part in the series so far??

Anger

There was no way to describe it. The unsettling feeling erupted between Y/N and Tom after last night. At that point, they weren’t sure of where to go from here, but I guess that’s what happens when one lets their guard down. Once thinking they had a second chance to rebuild what was lost, has now drifted further and further apart.

Y/N knew she should be angry at Unknown, for being the reason why she had to experience heartbreak a second time. Yet, she also couldn’t help but feel anger towards Tom. There had to be a reason behind the kiss, but something inside her didn’t want to let go of the fact that he did kiss Natalie in the end. It wasn’t staged, it wasn’t questionable pictures, it was real and Y/N had the displeasure of seeing it up close.

The images wouldn’t leave her mind, and no one was there to look out for her. Kate was gone, and Harrison and Harry took a weekend for themselves. For the first time ever...it was just her against the world.

Y/N hadn’t moved from her position since she yelled at Tom. Crouched on the floor, her back leaning against the door, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Her mind and her heart had left her body, while she was very much alive, her current state might as well deem her dead. She was waiting for someone, something to give her a sign that everything was going to be okay.

Thats when she heard the soft knocks. Three knocks at a time. Once. Twice. Then a third time. Y/N refused to open the door, thinking it was still Tom, but the more she waited the more the enfuriating knocking would not stop. After a couple more, she was ready to open door just to stop it. Another part was also curious to know what Tom had to say about last night. Maybe just maybe they’d get through it again like they did before. Y/N wiped her tears dry, and turned the doorknob.

It wasn’t Tom.

Natalie with her neatly waved, dirty blonde hair appeared at the door, her hand in mid knock. She gently placed it down and gave Y/N a tight-lipped smiled. “May I come in?” She asked in her robust english accent.

“Let me think about it. You’re in a PR relationship with my ex-boyfriend, you stole my ex-boyfriend’s clothes without permission and posted it all over social media when you said you wouldn’t...and let me see I know there was one more thing I was forgetting...” Y/N sarcastically ponders the thought, tapping her finger on her chin. “Oh yeah..you managed to kiss him right in front of me when there was no need for the PR. So if you asking to come into my room as if you’ve been my best friend all my life..You’re out of your fucking mind.” She speaks out bitterly.

Natalie looks at Y/N surprised at the attitude thrown at her. She knew Y/N was one for being a forgiving and generous girl, but today she saw a whole side of her. Natalie smirks at the comment and the result of her stunt. “Okay, then I won’t play the nice gal anymore. Now this is your last warning. Stay. Away. From. Tom.” Natalie threatens, jabbing her finger into Y/N’s chest as she emphasizes the last four words.

It clicked for Y/N as if a lightbulb when off in her head. She always had her assumptions, but Natalie’s threat was enough to prove her theory. “It is you...You’re Unknown. This whole time...From the moment I started to drift away from Tom..It was because of you!” Y/N yells out in frustration.

Natalie laughs manically. “Oh babes. You’re funny if you think I’m Unknown. Im only a part of your nightmare. And it’s going to keep on going and going. I’ll make sure you never wake from it.”

Y/N glares at Natalie, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this..if you’re not Unknown, who is?”

“Like I’d ever tell you who Unknown is. I wasn’t lying about that part though. Unknown is on to me as well if I don’t play my role in this game.” Natalie scoffs as she looks at her fresh pressed manicure.

“If Unknown is threatening you, then why don’t you stop them? Why help make my life miserable when you know all of us are being pulled by the strings?” Y/N interrogates Natalie, furrowing her eyesbrows in confusion. No human being would be that cruel to ruin somone else’s life for no apparent reason. She assumed that Natalie was lying for the sake of keeping herself safe from Unknown, but from what?

“Because you took the one thing I ever truly cared about. Tom and I were doing fine, until you came into the picture.” Natalie glares at Y/N. She wanted to make sure her message was loud and clear. “I want to make you feel the pain and loss I felt when Tom left me.”

Y/N looks at her with digust, almost sick to her stomache the way Natalie talked down to her. “You cant change the way he feels Natalie.”

“No, but it seems like you’re doing that just on your own. Honestly Y/N, how much longer do you think he’ll take the more you push him away? Unknown and I are just the boost, you’re insecurities is what’s doing the magic. God, I cant wait to see how far it goes.” Natalie smirks as she turns toward the door.

“Then why keep going Natalie? You have Tom, the publicity, the looks. What more do you want?” Y/N challenges her.

“Acceptance.” She simply states. “And I wouldn’t bother bringing this up or trying to make ammends with Tom. You know Unknown will continue to pull more strings. In fact, I heard he got so sick of everything, he’s leaving on the next flight for Germany.” Natalie emphasizes, hoping to hit a trigger point for Y/N.

Y/N remained frozen, feeling so defeated as she looked at Natalie one last time before she made her way out shutting the door. Tom left. He left because of her and now she was truly alone.

Natalie skips her way downstairs to see Tom on the phone with his agent. He’s clearly distressed about last night and sitting down with his phone in hand. “Germany?! Now?!” He asks. “I..I cant. I have something going on right now. I have to fix this. I cant leave.” He speaks out as the voice talks over him. Tom was in no mood for games and he certaintly wasn’t ready to pack his bags and leave for an emergency shoot while Y/N locked herself in her room thinking he cheated on her with Natalie.

“Please...I need to set this right. I can’t think about work right now—.” Tom pleads.

“Tom, I get it. You’re heartbroken. Y/N’s heartbroken, but this is important. Not coming through with this could damage your career and cost you millions under contract.” His agent regretfully shares. “Trust me I tried to find a way out for you, but there’s no loophole. Natalie’s agents have it in their control and breaking it could mean all your money goes to them.”

Tom placed the phone on his forehead as he tries to channel and calm his anger. Natalie was getting on his nerves by the second. If it weren’t for this stupid contract, he would have never agreed to the PR stunt, let alone..let her live in their house for as long as they had. “Don’t tell me this all because of the fucking stunt.” He grumbled, trying his best to contain the frustration.

“Yes and no. It’s for the movie. They want to start filming and start setting up interviews for behind the scenes. Natalie will be there too, but I can make sure you are allowed to go alone...if it makes it any better.”

While Tom’s agent tried to make his job less difficult...it really didn’t make it any better. He’d avoid another stunt, but it also meant being far away from Y/N, right when she needed him the most. She had to hear the truth of what really happened that night.

Speaking of the woman herself, Natalie padded her way innocently towards Tom. Her arms crossed, her hair slightly fluffed, almost as if she were trying to show the world how soft she was. “You should go.” She says sweetly in her accent.

Tom looks at her in disgust as he tries to back away. “Not like I had a choice.” He leaves Natalie alone, making his way to pack his things. He knocked on Y/N’s door one last time to see if she would answer, but nothing. However, that didnt meant it would stop him from saying what had to be said. “Y/N, look...I know youre extremely pissed at me right now and you have every right to be. But you have to believe me when I tell you that it meant nothing to me at all. I..I..I have to go right now, and leave for Germany, but when Im done with this stupid contract Im coming back for you. I promise.” He laments, sliding a folded note under her doorway.

Unfortunately for Y/N she did not hear a single word that came from Tom. Her body and mental state had made her so overly exhausted, it put her in a state of deep sleep. If she couldn’t face the problems in the real world ar the moment, at least she could escape it in her dreams. So there it laid on the hardwood floor just hidden under the purple tapestry rug, Tom’s heartfelt note waiting to be read.

Tom made it to Germany in two hours time. The whole plane ride, he couldn’t help but wonder if Y/N had listened to anything he said, if she even bothered to read his note to her. He couldn’t worry much about his projects when the woman he loved was hurting again, right after he swore he’d do anything to protect her. The first two days passed ever so slowly. Tom’s anticipation to go back home moved quicker than the seconds on the clock. But here he was, sitting down in a green room waiting to be interviewed, feeling completely useless.

Light footsteps click clacked in the hallway, and the noise started getting closer, it became louder and clearer. Out of the shadows of the hallway was Natalie, dressed in a gold floral dress, with looks that could kill and make any woman envious. “Umm...we still got 30 minutes before we go on.” She smiles, talking ever so gently. Natalie takes the seat beside him on the couch, trying her best to hold on to his hands.

Tom rolls his eyes, yanking them out of her reach. “Stop it Natalie. Im tried of this shit already.” He reacts, distress straining his voice.

Natalie’s smile drops the moment she hears him say those words. “Tom...I was just..”

“No! You are taking this stunt way too seriously. What you did back in London is really shit of you. Taking my clothes, and kissing me without my consent?! What the fuck Natalie?!” Tom raises his voice, the lines on his forehead creasing.

“I thought it was a rather cute thing to do. Besides the people loved it, and don’t act like you didn’t love the kiss. I felt the passion in there.” Natalie justifies, flipping her golden locks as if her action had no consequences.

Tom laughs in disbelief. “Natalie. You ruined my chances with Y/N. I pushed you away the moment you pressed your lips on mine.”

“Why her? Why are you so caught up on Y/N? I told you so many times that she’s not good for you. She’s not even British. I meant what I said about the both of us being great together. Look at the pictures, the reactions. People love us. Thats why we got this lousy interview in the first place.”

“But Natalie...I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this. I love Y/N. I dont care what the whole world thinks. It will always be her.”

Natalie looks at him with teary eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to work. After everything she’s been through, after all the things she did for Unknown, Tom was supposed to be with her. “I don’t understand. You were supposed to love me!” She screams, her eyes burning with fury. “I was supposed to win in the end!”

“You can’t force someone to love you Natalie!” He screams back, his face turning redder by the minute. “Im not some prize to be won.” There’s silence in the room. Breaths heaving and panting as they try to recollect themselves. Tom takes another breath before he continues, “Look, we may have been childhood friends and gotten close, but this doesn’t mean we were endgame. Y/N came into my life and my whole life changed for the better with her. It’s like I can breathe, laugh, see the world in a whole new light because of her.”

Natalie sniffles, looking away as she hears the truth that she can no longer deny. Tom was truly in love with Y/N and no amount of backstabbing, threats, PR stunts, or fights could break them apart. They were meant for each other. “I just wish it was with me.” She whispered.

Tom shakes his head, now talking more gently. “I know, but believe when I tell you, I’m not that guy. Somewhere out there you’ll find someone who makes you feel the way I feel about Y/N every second of the day.” He places his hand on her shoulder as she gently touches it and pushes it away. She could no longer be angry, all the anger had left and was replaced with sadness. Natalie couldn’t help but wonder if this is how Y/N felt after everything she’s been put through. Maybe worse more or less, but was this what a broken heart felt like?

It was time for the interview, and as Tom made his way out, Natalie stayed behind. A change of heart was taking place inside her, and with everything that’s happened, she wanted to set things right. “What are you still doing here? Get your arse into that interview.” Her mother grumbles as she yanks her daughter’s wrist to the door.

“Mother...he doesn’t love me.” Natalie, whispers, her voice almost disappearing.

“I told you, he’ll learn. If you weren’t doing such a lousy job, maybe he would learn to love you.” Her mother rolls her eyes, still trying to drag her out to the room.

Natalie shakes her head holding back. “He won’t ever love me. Tom..he’s truly in love with Y/N, and that’s not something we can ever break. Every obstacle makes them stronger, and even now Tom is still willing to win her back. We can’t win mum.”

“Don’t tell me you’re growing a soft heart now. You’re more to blame than me. Naughty girl, always trying to break them up for your own good. If you weren’t so keen on —“

“No mum! That’s what you wanted! You wanted me to get the fame and fortune. I wanted love..but not like this. Not if we’re forcing Tom to love me when he doesn’t.” She wipes the tears from her eyes before continuing, “Im done with this. With everything. I’m going through this interview and that’s it. I want to set things write.”

“Then I’ll just ruin you and your friends with all the secrets and blackmail we’ve collected. You really want to be a part of that game?” Her mother threatens.

“You cant hurt us anymore, mum. No secret and blackmail will ever be big enough to break them. Every stone has been unturned.” With that Natalie makes her way into the interview where she sits next to Tom, in a very platonic way.

“So Tom and Natalie, tell us about your relationship. How is it going so far?”

Tom and Natalie looked at each other, smiling. Almost as if they were telepathically telling the other it was time to tell the truth. No more secrets. No more blackmail. This was it. The end was near.

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#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader

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