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clnriswood · 4 years

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DRACO MALFOY X CEDRIC DIGGORY X READER

Something Different | Part Four

a/n: so glad to be back! things start getting a bit more, uh, intense -- but stay tuned for p5 bc it’s about to get vv steamy hehe.

tag list: @call-me-banana-bandit @pillowjj @truly-insatiable @natsiboo @justmesadgirl @boredoffmebox @jjjmaybank @jejegu @ superpowereddonut @irritantive @salemlilly @marshmelloyellow02 @puffymints @is-it-really-a-secret @i-mmunity @sebastiansass @hisoldlover @kyobien @averagefangirl21 @inurealiyah @fuzzzwald @lesfleursmonet @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive

If matters had been bad between Draco and the girl before, it was safe to say that the strength of their bond now was at an all time low, underground, even. On his end, she was a thieving traitor who was joined in Potter’s ranks against him, and in hers, he was a treacherous snake who was incapable of trust and had been solidified into his cruel habits. Their last encounter, at quidditch tryouts, had been the worst yet. It went something like this: Draco, as he left the field of Slytherin’s recently finished tryouts, jeered some nonsense about “any old fool who can swing a bat (Y/N played the role of beater) being allowed onto the team,” which was met by a swift reply from Y/N, who suggested cooly that Draco’s groin should be her bat's next target. This had led to quite the eruption of bickering between both of the teams, one which Madam Hooch, who was entirely fed up with both houses, abruptly put an end to. After that, the girl simply rode the wave of Draco Malfoy induced rage, and during the tryouts, envisioned the barrelling quaffles to be differing versions of his arrogant head. Shockingly, by an act of God, it had worked. Or, not really. Really it was months of training with Cedric over the summer that won her a place on the team, but, well, the rage certainly helped. And yet, despite it all, a nagging truth scratched relentlessly at the back of her brain. And this truth was that somehow, despite it all, Draco Malfoy was the thing of which she was apparently most attracted to.

“Whaddya reckon?” the voice of Ronald Weasley interrupted the girl’s drifting thoughts.

She and her three Gryffindor comrades had just escaped to the side of the Great Lake following the end of their first week of classes. Desperate to get the last of the sun before the soon to come autumn leaves and grey skies, the quartet had stripped free their thick robes and laid out a crimson picnic blanket upon which they sat surrounded by goods. Around them, other Hogwarts students of every year had done the same. With bellies now full, they’d thrown themselves happily back, their chins all turned towards the bright blue sky. As it was, Ron sat beside Hermione, who sat beside Harry, who sat beside Y/N. As they watched the ginger, he jovially made a stream of rainbow colored bubbles fly forth from the tip of his weathered wand.

“What’re you going to kill Voldemort with multi-colored bubbles?” Harry choked on the last pumpkin pastie with a snort.

“Harry!” Hermione scolded, poorly attempting to conceal her own giggles.

“Laugh all you want,” Ron said, “some girl is going to fancy this, I’m telling you.”

Suddenly Hermione wasn’t laughing at all, and she’d gone quite pink, the girl noticed. Next to her, Harry turned into his elbow to cough, which was really just an attempt to cover the big stupid grin he was wearing. The girl chuckled and batted him away with the back of her hand. He winked in reply.

“I want to go for a stroll,” Harry beamed suddenly, sitting upright in a flash.

“Lovely, shall we come?” Hermione began to stand.

“No!” he protested quite loudly. Then, “sorry, just want a quick chat alone with Y/N, if you don’t mind.”

The girl arched a brow at the jet black haired boy beside her, reluctantly standing and throwing Hermione a confused stare as she padded slowly alongside Harry and away from her other friends. The boy drifted farther from the patch of red blanket and closer to the water’s edge, where the grass was long, green, and swampy around their shoes. For a moment, the girl caught sight of one of the Giant Squid’s long tentacles, and she watched as it went sweeping against the surface of the black water and sending ripples across its inky surface.

“What is it then?” she said when they had gotten far enough away.

“What is what?” Harry said stupidly.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she replied gruffly.

“Ah,” Harry scoffed and shook his head, “just said that so we could give Ron n’ Hermione some time alone together.”

“Oh?” the girl answered quizzically.

“Totally fancies him,” he continued excitedly, “not that she’s ever going to admit it, mind you.”

The girl felt her lips split, “really?! I did always wonder… though I couldn’t be sure.”

“I’ve spent the last five years watching those two fight, believe me, I am,” he wrinkled his nose with a grin. “Duck,” he added.

Without hesitation, the two friends bent their knees, covering their heads as the Giant Squid sent a tentacle soaring into the air and slapping the water, making millions of airborne droplets come cascading over them. Knowing the system well by now, the girl snapped her wand up, creating a clear arc above herself and Harry. The dazzling white stream of magic sheltered them safely from the Squid’s tidal wave, repelling all liquid outwards from its top. From around the shore, the sound of unsuspecting student cries of surprise echoed loud in reply.

“Anyways,” the girl stood cooly, like nothing had happened, “I assume this means I shouldn’t be saying anything of it to Hermione?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, “she’d throw herself into the lake if she knew we knew.”

The girl laughed. He wasn’t wrong.

For a few minutes they walked, quiet as they enjoyed the hot sun on their skin. Behind them, though she only snuck a quick glance, Ron and Hermione were bickering; apparently Hermione had made bigger bubbles than Ron and he’d taken it as a personal attack. The girl shook her head, letting the moment pass her and the fresh air flow through her lungs before she spoke again.

“Harry,” she started nervously, “there er, is something I actually wanted to speak to you about.”

He stopped walking, sinking his hands into the pockets of his pants as he sighed deeply with understanding, “you mean you causing a row with Malfoy?”

The girl froze in her tracks, “you knew about that?”

“Well apparently you weren’t too quiet about it,” he smiled half-heartedly. “I just… don’t understand what you were doing with him in the first place,” he admitted.

The girl felt her throat go hard, “dunno that myself, really.”

He blinked at her with his big green eyes, awaiting her explanation patiently.

“I- I just,” she started unconfidently, pausing to think. “I’d noticed there was something off about him. I just wanted to see what it was about.”

“And you think Malfoy’d tell you if there was?” Harry said, voice thick with doubt.

“Well, yes,” she admitted. “I know because he -- well, because he kind of told me so.”

Harry’s mouth dropped, “he did?”

“Yes,” she repeated, feeling her face prickle with warmth.

“So what does he,” Harry began, bewildered, “does he fancy you or something?”

“No!” the girl blurted, tucking her windswept hair behind her ears and finding her eyes suddenly glued to the muddy ground. “Of course not!”

“That’s brilliant!” Harry realized, ignoring her completely as he came quickly to an understanding of how this newfound information could play to his advantage, “and what did he tell you?!”

“Erm,” she gave a weak sigh, eyes back on him, “he said he knew I was working with you and told me to shove off, basically.”

Harry’s expectant smile faltered, “oh.”

“Yeah,” she gave him a reluctant glance.

“But you’re not,” he said confusedly.

“Yes I know that,” she echoed.

“Oh,” he said again.

Harry began walking once more, letting his thoughts brew a little before he continued. The sun’s rays were hitting his glasses hard, sending bright beams of light refracting off of them. The Gryffindor chewed his lower lip thoughtfully and gave his head a scratch.

“So then, if that was all, what was it that you’d wanted to tell me?” he said at last.

“I wanted to ask you how I could help,” she said, folding her arms over her chest and keeping her eyes forward on the nearing edge of the lake.

“You want to help me?” he asked.

“Course,” she shrugged. “I still believe he’s off, or up to something at least. And you seem to be the only other one around here who's noticed it, I’ve heard.”

“You’re right,” he affirmed, “and given that Malfoy’s got some sort of soft spot for you or something, I bet you’d have more luck than me finding out what exactly that is.”

“Er, yes,” she voiced hesitantly. “Only, I think I stomped the soft spot out when I called him a fool,” she said. “And he seemed to have taken it a bit personally.”

“Has he?” Harry said with mock surprise.

“You know he spat on me in the hallway the other day?!” she recalled suddenly. “I mean, literally spat on me. Him and his goons were by the courtyard when it happened,” she recounted sourly.

“Ah, the Malfoy rain,” Harry grinned knowingly.

“The what?!” she gaped.

“Ron calls it that,” Harry continued without hesitation, “because it’s like rain… but from his mou-”

“Disgusting!” she gave her friend a shove, making him cackle.

“I’m surprised this is only your first time,” he chuckled, “I’ve been getting the treatment since my first year.”

“That’s foul,” the girl curled her lip.

“Yes, well,” Harry shrugged, unfazed.

The boy-who-lived adjusted his glasses, pushing them up his skinny nose before stopping at the water’s edge. The surface had gone completely still, making the water look like nothing more than a black sheet of paper. It was beautiful, she thought. Harry stared too, before turning back to her, his smile gone and his face hardened with seriousness.

“Y/N,” he started softly and gave a stiff sigh. “Whatever he says, or whatever he does, that soft spot is still there. Vulnerability like that doesn’t just go away, y’know?” he said. “If he had it before, he can get it again.”

The girl looked at him. There seemed to be some kind of knowing in his green eyes. It made her heart lurch nervously.

“And how might that happen?” she asked.

Harry shrugged, looking her dead on, “you’ll just have to make him get it back.”

. . .

“Well,” she tried, “how do I look?”

The girl stood before a large gold framed mirror in her room, her other self glaring steelily back at herself from within the reflective surface. It was late in the afternoon now. Yolky orange light rays seeped from the half-circle windows that encircled the girl’s bedroom and filled the space with a hot haze. One window, with its peeling paint flakes, had been forced open, providing a comforting breeze and the smell of fresh grass to the dormitory room. The circle shaped room, with its exposed brick walls, thick cream carpets, and vine stuffed walls, seemed like the nicest place for her to be at the moment. But, with Slughorn’s unfortunate dinner party approaching at an alarming rate now, the girl was soon to depart and had found her stomach turning faster and faster the closer her deadline approached. Truthfully, she’d take reading an old book whilst tucked sleepily away into her thick sheets over this charade any day of the week. And, judging by the look on her face, this feeling wasn’t one she was successfully concealing. The girl curled her fingers over her faded wooden dresser, sucking in a slow breath as she reluctantly brought her glittering eyes back up to the mirror before her.

She wore a flowing sheer cream dress, one with long sleeves and little patterns embroidered into its circumference. Wanting to stay casual, she’d thrown on her usual scuffed black boots, but swapped her school socks out for ruffle trimmed white ones that peeked over her shoe’s tops. Her hair was in its usual messy state atop her shoulders, too. Behind her, Hannah Abbott stood with her arms crossed, her head tilted as she looked her friend over.

“Erm-” Hannah started unsurely.

“Oh no,” she said, turning around with wide eyes, “is it that awful?”

“No!” the blonde assured her with a wave of her hand. “Just, well, come here.”

The girl stepped timidly closer, nervous as her friend procured her wand, looked her over, and then gave it a flourish. First, the girl’s hair started magically flattening, before finding itself lifting dreamily from her shoulder tops and into a thick bun, one with a huge loose french braid on its side, and with stray pieces dangling at the front to frame her face. Smiling with like, Hannah then stuck her tongue cheekily out and shortened her friend’s dress a noticeable chunk of inches, so that it stopped flirtatiously at the tops of her legs.

“Oi!” the girl laughed in embarrassment, throwing her hands nervously over her front.

“Oh loosen up,” the blonde giggled, looking pleased with her work.

“I’m rarely out of robes,” the girl huffed, turning back to the mirror.

“Exactly,” her friend said from over her shoulder. “You only get so many chances to show those legs off to Cedric Diggory.”

“WHA-” the girl clapped a hand over her mouth in shock, spinning around. “HANNAH!?”

“Oh please,” Hannah said, sinking down onto the plush yellow quilts that were draped over her bed. “Like I haven’t seen him trying to sneak a peak before.”

She felt her face go red quite suddenly, “excuse me?”

Hannah smirked, leaning against one of the four oak posters that closed in around her bed. She twirled her hair around a finger with glee as she blinked slyly at her friend. Wordlessly, she closed her eyes and waved her friend off towards the Common Room.

“Well,” she shrugged, “go on then!”

The girl glared daggers at her unattentive friend as she cautiously approached their room’s door frame. She stuffed her hands in her dress pockets nervously, her feet feeling as if they were sinking through the now goo-like floor with every step. The green vines that trickled down the large woody door waved their tails in an encouraging goodbye.

“Well,” the girl decided with a smile, “I’m going to throw up.”

“At least wait til’ you’ve gotten out of our bedroom,” Hannah said, leaning back in bed with a sigh. “I’m not cleaning up your vomit.”

She snorted, shaking her head as the door slammed tight behind her, and she went tapping quietly down the stone staircase and out into the Common Room. There weren’t many students around, as many of the non Slug Club members had the luck of eating their normal meals and going about their usual after-dinner-weekend plans, unlike her. Cedric was already awaiting her however, and he looked incredibly dashing in his white button up shirt. The shirt was peppered with little black dots, and had its first two buttons undone, so as to expose just a hint of the god-like collarbones Cedric was sporting. His gold streaked chestnut hair was stood just a little straighter than usual, like he’d attempted to neaten it before giving up shortly thereafter. Still, it was quite cute.

When he saw her, Cedric’s face became the sun, his lips splitting into that dazzling smile, and dimples coming to life across his lightly bronzed skin. From above her, one of the hanging plants whistled, not for the first time that year, she noted.

Cedric tilted his head towards the creature, “yeah, what it said.”

The girl chuckled, off put by the flattery and finding it hard to keep looking at the deathly attractive boy before her.

“Ced,” she protested bashfully, worming her fingers nervously around in her dress pockets.

He smiled wider, if possible, and put his own hands timidly into the pockets of his black pants.

“Sorry,” he chuckled warmly, letting her come to him. “You look lovely.”

They met in the centre of the Common Room. With the sun practically set now, the only light was from the flickering of the massive fireplace’s flames, which cast shadows over the hollows of her friend’s cheeks, jaw, and lips. For a moment, neither said anything. Instead, they just looked at each other. It was Cedric who cleared his throat first.

“Erm,” he said, “shall we?”

“O’course,” the girl responded awkwardly, trailing Cedric out of the Common Room and into the deserted halls.

The two were quiet as they made their way around corners and over moving staircases. Neither spoke, or looked at each other, really. Halfway up a moving staircase, Peeves had attempted to toss a water balloon onto the two, but Cedric stopped the thing midair and sent it flying back at the ghost, who cackled as it went through his stomach and splattering against a wall. The two friends couldn’t help but give a laugh there. One of the portrait’s, which was just nearly missed, screamed defiantly at the friends in protest. Then, about a minute later, Cedric and Y/N turned into the corridor outside Slughorn’s, where they ran into none other than Harry and Hermione.

“Hullo,” Harry grinned.

“Mate,” Cedric scrunched his nose with a smile, the two boys clapping a hand together in greeting.

“Y/N!” Hermione beamed, “you look lovely! You too, Cedric.”

Hermione was wearing a pale pink blouse, Harry a black button up. Both looked nice for the occasion. Also, both looked a little nervous.

“You as well,” Cedric and the girl replied in unison.

Hermione smiled, mumbling, “nothing really,” or something like that.

Harry, uninterested, had jerked his head towards the girl, “I take it you’re not interested in being here, either.”

“How’d you know?” she chuckled with a roll of her eyes.

“Well, me n’ you are only here because Slughorn fancies our dead parents-” he began.

“Harry!” Hermione gaped, slapping her friend upside the head so as to shut him up.

The girl let out an explosive cackle, going weak in the knees with laughter, “he’s not wrong you know.”

Harry rubbed his head as he flashed his teeth at her and raised a hand for her to slap hers against. She did, making the two only laugh harder.

“You two are awful,” Cedric said with alarm, gaining a supportive nod from Hermione.

It had seemed that the group’s commotion had drawn the attention of Professor Slughorn, who poked his head out from around the entrance of his room. He wore, on his body, a quite excessive frayed brown blazer with his black pants, and on his face, an almost terrifyingly supportive smile. When he smiled in such a way, his forehead creased with a set of expressive little lines, and he looked somewhat like a happy frog, she thought.

“Dear boys and girls, you’ve arrived!” he declared loudly.

“We have,” Harry echoed in an obvious reply.

“Come in! Do come in!” Slughorn chuckled joivally, ushering his students into the room he’d cleared for them.

It was an interesting sight to see. In the middle of the room, a huge polished oak table had been set up, around which just over a dozen large and eloquently carved wood chairs stood. Students of every house had gathered; notably, Blaise, one of Draco’s henchmen, and Neville, their friend. The table had been filled with large glass mugs, which were topped to their brims with seven massive scoops of decadent chocolate ice-cream each, atop which were further chocolate shavings. Neville, who looked just about ready to faint, sighed in heavy relief as his friends pulled aside chairs next to his own. Instantaneously, Slughorn began his unsurprising fire of questions. First he spoke to two dark haired Ravenclaws the girl was unfamiliar with, then the boisterous Marcus Belby, and finally he landed his beady little eyes on Hermione.

“My parents are dentists,” Hermione blurted nervously when Slughorn asked of her.

The girl slid her mug forward, dipping her silver spoon uninterestedly into the dessert and swirling it around dismissively. Beside her, Cedric was taking polite tastes of his desert, and, beside him, Harry was uncomfortably shoving spoonfuls worth of ice-cream down his throat. The girl snorted, elbowing her friend, who snapped his gorgeous hazel eyes to hers, his lips crinkling into a little smile as he shifted his attention over to Harry. Cedric nudged Harry, who lifted his chocolate covered face up slowly.

“What?” he said defensively, his voice low so as to be unheard as Hermione continued speaking.

“Is that a dangerous profession?” Slughorn asked the frizzy haired brunette.

“Erm… no,” Hermione said awkwardly.

Everyone, including Cedric, stared at her in awkward silence.

“What’s a dentist again?” Cedric said through the corner of his mouth.

On either side of him, Harry and Y/N tried miserably to stifle their giggles. Luckily for them, a perfectly timed interruption shifted the attention away from the two, and instead to Ginny Weasley, who had just entered the room sporting a cute black dress and some unfitting red eyes. Harry scooted loudly back in his chair, emitting a deathly screeching sound that matched perfectly with the absolute silence of the room. Hermione put a hand over her mouth, a smile spreading beneath her fingers.

“Ah, Miss Weasley,” Slughorn beamed, “come in!”

“Sorry,” she replied through a mumble, “not usually late.”

Harry let out a loud grunt and scooted back forward in his chair as if unaware he’d done anything odd. The girl looked first at the-boy-who-lived, then to Ginny, her brows furrowing in confusion as her eyes travelled. Next she looked to Cedric, who mirrored her expression, and finally to Hermione, who flickered her eyes indicatively at the two Gryffindor’s before turning her nose back to her food.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” Slughorn said loudly, refocusing his attention once again to the girl.

Her eyes darted forwards to her professor, “yes, sir?”

“Your parents,” he said, “tell me a bit about them, will you?”

It had been expected, of course. But she’d dreaded it nonetheless.

“I’d rather not, sir,” she tried.

“Please,” the old man quite literally begged.

“Uh, well erm, she started awkwardly, not knowing where to begin. “They both died when I was quite young-”

“Yes, actually about that,” Slughorn fed in, “how was it your father passed? There was little heard of him after he joined You-Know-Who’s ranks.”

The girl was quite taken aback. How bold of him. Actually, how rude.

“Er,” she blinked frustratedly, “an explosion, I think.”

“Go on,” the professor encouraged.

Everyone, not just Y/N, it seemed, wasn’t comfortable with such a discussion. What was the point of asking such things? How did this add a shine to his little collection of trophy students? Mostly, though, how was it that the man was so oblivious to his indiscretion?

“The Ministry notified me about it when it happened. He took out a bunch of muggles with himself, they said. Only, they didn’t do much reporting on him because...”

“Because?” Slughorn persisted.

“Sir-” she tried again.

But the professor looked absolutely carefree as he took a large spoonful of ice cream in with a wave of his small chubby hands, “do tell us, Y/N, we all want to know.”

The eyes of every student in the room were glued eagerly to her, whether in mild interest, discomfort, or both.

The girl felt her whole body heat up. She’d never disclosed the second part of that story with anyone before, let alone a whole damned Slug Club. Flustered, she blinked rapidly, turning her head left, right, and back left again, as the left was where the door was. And by God, did the door look good at that moment. She could feel the blood rushing to her ears, her feet preparing to bring her to a sprint, a nervous glimmer soak her brow, and yet, just as she’d decided to stand and run, something stopped her.

Beside her, the girl felt one of Cedric’s large hands snake under the table and take a reassuring hold of her wrist. It caught her off guard, the way he’d so swiftly done it. The boy’s long fingers dipped straight into her own, first landing on her wrists for a soft little rub, then sliding right up into her palms, where he closed his fingers in on her own. His hands were wam. Warm and rough. This settled her hard beating heart, if only for a moment. And that was all she needed.

“Sorry professor,” she responded flatly, “but no.”

Her eyes scanned those of her classmates more confidently, and most all of them glittered back proudly in reply. Across from her, Slughorn released a disappointed sigh, before continuing on his little train of questions and peppering Cedric with his next rounds of interrogation. Of course, Cedric was as cool, calm, and collected as ever. The boy put on his most handsome and proud lopsided smile as he answered the professor’s questions of -- well, honestly she wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. For while he spoke, Cedric had released her fingers and found himself absentmindedly tracing the patterns on his friend’s hand, not that anyone could have known. And she, incredibly flustered, but more comforted than anything, let him. Only when dinner ended did the boy retract his touch.

. . .

“Excellent,” Harry declared, the second they’d stepped foot outside of the dungeon. “You were excellent, Y/N.”

The jet black haired boy gave his friend a huge slam of appreciation to the back. He, Cedric, Hermione, Neville, and Y/N were making their tired escape from Slughorn’s party. Together, the group made their defeated and slumped ascent out of the dungeons.

“Thanks, Harry,” she half laughed and half grumbled. “I couldn't have done it on my own.”

Her large bright eyes flickered up to Cedric’s glowing ocean ones, and they twinkled adoringly at her in silent communication. Beside her, Hermione raised a quizzical brow, though, truth be told, Y/N wasn’t paying her much attention at that moment.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be getting an invite back, though…” she’d muttered dryly.

“It’d be his loss,” Cedric fired back confidently, earning a half smile from his favorite girl.

She’d gone to say something else, but her lips had hardly opened when she saw him.

Draco. Draco, with his snow white skin and blue-grey eyes, was heading their way. This was unsurprising, given that they were on Slytherin’s side of the castle. Honestly, he was the last thing she’d wanted to be confronted with at that moment, and judging by the look on his sallow face, it went both ways. As he drew nearer and nearer, his hands stuffed into the black folds of his robes, she waited for the blades of his sharp words to slice her, for him to mouth insults her way as he had so frequently loved to do. But, shockingly, the boy was quiet. In fact, it seemed he had no plan to say anything, but rather to snake right past them, silent and unheard, like a figment of their imagination. He’d almost done it, actually, but the girl had other plans.

“What?” she said, stopping dead in her tracks.

Draco had just passed her, and gone deathly still.

She turned on her heel, asking again, “what? Not going to say anything?”

The boy turned slowly to face her, his icy eyes narrow with dislike, his teeth clenched so hard she could see the definite pulse of his hard jawline beneath his porcelain skin. Beside her, her friends all warily stopped walking, their faces clouding with concern. Apparently, they all thought it better to not acknowledge his existence. The snow white boy blinked silently, keeping his pale lips pressed harshly together.

“What? So now that you don’t have any goons around, you’re no longer interested in making a show out of us?” she asked with a bitter chuckle.

Malfoy’s nostrils flared, a hard grimace taking shape on the curvatures of his perfect mouth.

“You know what I think, Draco? I think you don’t actually care for it. I think you only do it for others to maintain some sort of facade. And I think, you’re too cowardly to face us alone.”

“Y/N,” Hermione tried, “don’t fire him up.”

Draco flickered his narrowed eyes to Hermione, then settled back on Y/N’s. Finally, he spoke.

“Much to Granger’s disappointment,” he started softly, “you don’t have the power to fire me up.”

Her lips split into a sour smile, “don’t I?”

“Y/N,” Cedric huffed with concern, “just drop it.”

Now Draco’s eyes were on Cedric.

“You, however,” he drawled, “are all very easy to fire up.”

Y/N opened her mouth to retaliate, but, as she should have expected, was beaten to it.

“Diggory,” he began, “congratulations on giving your little girlfriend an express pass onto the Hufflepuff quidditch team. I expect she returned the favor nicely with her mouth.”

Cedric flushed a bright red, his nostrils flaring, and eyes growing cold with distaste. This enraged Y/N, yes, but it enraged Cedric more. Before he had the chance to fight back, however, Draco was onto his next target.

“Mudblood,” he mouthed, addressing Hermione. “Did it hurt when Potter here beat your pompous, self righteous self to the Felix Felicis? Is that why you’ve told everyone that he cheated his way to it?”

“N-no,” Hermione replied unconvincingly.

“Shut up,” Neville added.

“You,” Draco chuckled, snapping his attention mechanically to Neville, his lashes fluttering to the beat of his laughter. “Longbottom, please. You’re so pathetic, I could almost find the sympathy to feel bad for you. Everyone can. But, I really needn’t say anything for you to know that, do I?”

Harry had a hand on his wand now.

“Go ahead,” Draco dared, focusing now on the boy-who-lived. “You’re awfully more of a milksop than one would expect of a Gryffindor,” he said, “so you won’t. Especially not on my side of the castle, where you’d be under professor Snape’s jurisdiction.”

He had a point. About that second part, of course. Slowly, Harry released the grip on his wand.

And then Draco’s eyes were back on the girl, and they were a cold stormy gray, touched lightly with a hint of mild intrigue. The girl felt her fingers shaking now, practically aching to take form into a fist. But she had to stand her ground. She had to prove his lack of power over her.

“And you,” he finished with a heavy sigh. He brought his eyes up to her friends before saying his next words. “As of late, this little thing has been of most interest to me.”

Everyone seemed to have frozen in place, including Y/N, who was capable only of blinking up angrily at him, her jaw tilted up so as to be able to reach his searing and curious gaze.

“And d’you know why?” he arched a silver-blond brow, stepping closer to her.

He looked like he wanted to touch her. Wanted to force her jaw up within the tight grasp of his hands. Wanted to step close enough that her heaving chest would bump against his own. But a flicker of his eyes to her friends stopped him, and instead he just stood there, about a foot apart from her, his hands still buried in his pockets.

“Because,” he continued bemusedly, “unlike everyone else here, you have a secret.”

“And what’s that?” she dared lowly.

Draco’s lips split into an awful, cruel, smile.

“You like having me put you in your place.”

There was silence.

The girl wanted to speak. She’d tried. But only a mute and incoherent stutter toppled forth from her agape lips.

“Fascinating,” his lips stretched wider yet, his voice dropping lower yet, “isn’t it?”

And then his hands withdrew from his pockets. Draco let his slender and silver ring clad fingers find themselves on the bend of his knee as he lowered his height so as to be level with the girl’s fiery stare. For a moment, he just let the blazing blue sear of his scrutiny make its way across her face. She could smell his cologne invading her lungs, the inexplicably alluring scent of Draco Malfoy growing vile to her. He lowered his voice, then, so that only she could hear his almost inaudible murmur.

“This little game of ours,” he whispered. “I quite enjoy it.”

Then he raised a finger, a long and slender index finger, and tapped the tip of her nose.

She just stared at him, and it was a long and wordless encounter. His icy blue eyes pierced straight through her own and into the depths of her soul. He seemed eager to see her either crumble beneath him or expel with rage, but what he did not expect is what she said next.

“Incendio.”

Suddenly, her dress was on fire.

Draco leapt back in surprise, his brows knitting as the base of the girl’s cream colored clothing went up in flames. Around her, her friends all gawked and toppled back in shock. In her right hand was Draco’s wand, plucked straight from his pocket only a moment ago.

“Catch,” she grinned, throwing the boy his wand.

The blond chuckled in bitter surprise, “and what does that achieve?”

“A spell search will reveal that you just casted a fire charm on me,” she gaped in mock shock as she extinguished the flames on her dress with a newly learned Aguamenti charm.

Beside her, the faces of her friends told her they were utterly lost. But it was alright, they’d soon find out what had happened.

Draco let loose a chuckle, “and you think Snape is going to believe that, from you?”

“Sure I do,” she shrugged, “because I also did.”

“What-” he began.

“Incendio!”

Now it was Draco whose clothes erupted in flames. Quickly, he stifled the orange licks up his robes with his own water charm. Now it made sense. The boy’s pale face had gone flush with rage upon realizing what she’d done.

“Oh no,” she shrugged sarcastically.

And then they heard the footsteps. No doubtedly, Snape was on his way to see what the commotion was about. From behind her, her friends all gaped, impressed. Then, on her command, they took their cues and bolted, cackling as they disappeared down the hall and away from the scene of the crime. In front of her, Draco’s mouth trembled with a newfound sense of rage. His white and slender figure slumped slowly with defeat, knowing he’d been outsmarted.

“What?” she teased.

He practically snarled, his eyes alight with a blazing hatred.

“I thought I couldn’t fire you up, Draco?”

. . .

“Our detention will be next week!” the girl exclaimed.

Beside her, Julian, Hannah, and Ernie all roared with approval, the group meeting their large mugs of butterbeer together in celebration. After being issued a lovely disciplining from professor Snape, the girl had headed back to the Common Room in her tattered dress, only to enter a hero to her friends, who’d heard of the encounter from Cedric. Together, by the light of the dying fire, the group celebrated the girl’s triumph over Draco Malfoy. She could only assume that somewhere, on the other side of the castle, a set of Gryffindors were doing the same.

Now, by the dim light of the fire’s embers, the group had jovially devoured a set of gooey celebration biscuits and leaned back lazily in the overstuffed armchairs of the Hufflepuff Common Room. From above and around them, plants snored lazily as they embarked upon their nightly slumber. Slowly, one by one, her friends departed for their beds, until it was only Cedric and Y/N who remained in the Common Room. Cedric was unusually quiet as they left. In fact, he’d been unusually quiet the whole evening. It’s not that she hadn’t noticed, but rather that she didn’t want to. And so, upon being left alone with him, she said nothing. Finally, after a minute of deathly awkward silence, he spoke.

“So. What was all of that about then?”

He’d said it softly. And not the way he usually did when he spoke softly to her. No, he sounded outright disappointed in her.

“What d’you mean?” she arched a brow at him.

Cedric sat stiffly upright on the squashy yellow couch, his ocean blue eyes set forward in thought. His previously neat goldish brown locks had found themselves resuming their usual messy state atop his head, with one little curl springing forth attractively upon his forehead. He still wore his button up, but his hands were folded gently upon his lap in an odd manner.

“I mean,” he continued softly, “why would you do what you did tonight?”

He turned now, his stare intense as it bore into her own. The girl found her throat closing up, and her chest tightened with uncomfortability.

“You went explicitly out of your way to rile Malfoy up. And then- and then you make some feat of landing yourself in detention with him.”

“It was about time someone stood up to him-” she began.

“No, but that’s not why you did it,” he interrupted, hurt.

She didn’t know how to respond to that, or to him, really. The boy looked weakened, his handsome figure bent over with a sort of sadness, casting a rather sad looking silhouette over the dark wooden floors of the Common Room. She’d opened her mouth, but upon meeting his eyes, stopped. They were strained. They were strained and ever so softly moistened with hurt.

“Is it?” he asked, more quietly this time, the look on his face desperate for her next word to be ‘yes.’

But it wasn’t.

“I don’t know,” she admitted begrudgingly, her shoulders falling. “Something about him just gets me going, Ced. Now more than ever. It’s- It’s because I know he’s capable of better.”

“Is he?” Cedric said with a raise of his brows.

Cedric, more than anyone, knew how to see the good in people. And Cedric, now, voiced doubt for the redemption of Draco Malfoy.

“There’s just something different,” she exhaled, feeling far too guilty to hold her friend’s gaze.

“I see that now,” Cedric agreed. “I do.”

She blinked up curiously at him.

There was an eerie silence. Aside from the faint chirping of crickets, the rustling of the flora and fauna upon the stone walls, and the gentle crackles of the dying fire, the only thing to be heard was her own faltering breath.

“But not about him,” he said. “About you.”

Her heart sank.

“I see it, you know?” he murmured lowly. “I see the way you look at him.”

“Ced-” she tried.

But he wasn’t having it.

“And I know in that… in that look, you know?” he continued. “There’s something different.”

Her heart was racing now. Cedric had never talked like this to her before, and the feeling was one she was unfamiliar with. And then there was the way he was looking at her, which hurt. It hurt because he was hurting. It hurt because she didn’t know why it hurt him. And then, this certainly wasn’t a revelation the girl had either expected or wanted to be confronted with, of course. But more to the point, to have it told to her like this, by the person she loved most in the world, was too much.

“How would you know that, Ced?” she murmured, the sound of hot blood in her ears making her dizzy.

“Because,” he started.

Then he stopped. His lips quivered and his lashes fluttered, a tell-tale sign that this next act was going to injure him further, that his next words weren’t ones he could take back.

“Because it’s how I look at you.”

#cedric diggory x reader #draco malfoy x reader #cedric diggory imagine #draco malfoy imagine #cedric x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #cedric diggory fanfiction #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco x cedric #draco malfoy #cedric diggory #draco malfoy imagines #cedric diggory imagines #harry potter fic #draco fic #cedric fic #harry potter x reader

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le-loup-et-lion · 4 years

Text

I know I talked about this on Discord once ages ago but did I ever tell you guys about my absurd harvest-mouse!Javert au?

Basically it's brick canon until Javert says to Valjean "I will wait for you here", at which point due to inexplicable fairy tale-esque 'you told a lie for the first time in your life' magic curse bullshit Javert is transformed right in front of Valjean into one of these lil guys:

Conceptually it's completely ridiculous, but what makes it funny is that's it's played completely straight.

"Autumn, you seem like a fairly serious person when it comes to this fandom so why on earth would you come up with something this silly" you say? well. you see. it literally came to me in a dream (no, seriously).

I imagine it as a very terrifying and painful transformation, which starts out almost like the pangs of a heart attack, with Javert clutching his chest and doubling over with a grunt as Valjean is walking away, causing Valjean to turn back around and kneel down with him, grabbing him by his shoulders and trying to assess what's wrong with him, ending up bewildered as Javert begins to glow with an eerie golden light which eventually engulfs him (but not before Javert can look up and meet his eyes one last time with an utterly petrified, vulnerable, pleading look). Then this blinding luminous form shrinks in Valjean's grasp until it is naught but a small floating orb, at which point the light begins to fade and whatever is left of Javert starts to fall. Valjean catches it in his hands and, somewhat horrified and awestruck, opens them to reveal the tinest little mouse he's ever seen curled up in his palms within the faintest fading golden glow.

Javert goes unconscious during this transformation, leaving Valjean to trudge back to his apartment in complete confusion with him (very gently) in hand, highly questioning his own sanity the entire time until Javert is able to wake up again and respond to basic yes/no questions.

(Javert of course absolutely loses his mind at first and tries to run away as soon as he begins to process the situation, but is unused to his new body and runs right off the edge of the table without thinking, forcing Valjean to panic lunge across the tabletop and grab him midair to prevent him from falling and hurting himself)

Anyway they are both very rattled and perplexed by this and Valjean keeps him at his apartment because they don't know what else to do.

Their whole hunter/prey antagonist/protagonist relationship gets pretty immediately and completely derailed by this, but not in like, a neatly resolved way, because they can't really just have a conversation about it at first, leading to ... a pretty weird mental state for both of them for quite awhile.

It also levels the playing field between them in a way because Javert was the only one who "knew" Valjean, and now Valjean is the only one who "knows" Javert.

Javert can't talk obviously but he CAN dip his little tail in an inkwell and write with surprisingly humanlike penmanship. (Also harvest mice have prehensile tails which they use to climb around vegetation; so it's more useful than he initially realizes—I wonder if they would be dexterous enough for him to write with just the tail itself, without having to grasp it like a pen in his front paw?)

His top hat fell off while he was transforming so it didn't transform with him (thereby remaining the only real proof of the situation, sort of) and Valjean sat it on his bedside table and filled it with bits of fabric (I like to think they're different colored cravats) for Javert to use as a hiding place/bed, which is just. the cutest thing ever if you picture it.

People on Discord were laughing about the idea of him wearing, like, a little waistcoat from a doll or something bc he's nakey and embarrassed about it lmao

I was thinking that shortly after this Valjean might fall ill, perhaps due to some wounds he received at the barricade (bullet grazes?) becoming infected by all the sewer muck he was wading around in, leaving him bedridden and unsure of the future (hmm, just like Marius). This would give him plenty of time to talk openly with Javert without anyone seeing, but also mainly force him to worry about Javert's immediate future as well, perhaps in his own absence (though he doesn't die in the end, of course). And then, their overwhelming mortality would probably make Valjean start talking about things he wouldn't otherwise have brought up.

Eventually after a long time of living with Valjean and watching him interact with others, and realizing the kind of person he is/that people can change/that the law and justice are two separate concepts/that he has spent his life helping to oppress people who often didn't deserve it, Javert manages to tolerate/accept and even appreciate Valjean in a sort of backwards Beauty and the Beast type au, and would turn back into his old human self again. But I haven't figured out exactly what the specific caveats of this "curse" (and therefore the breaking thereof) would be yet.

Like. Is it about being honest with oneself and others? Is it about learning to love? Is it about how seeing the humanity of others and treating them humanely is fundamental to what makes us human? What would break the curse, exactly? A kiss? A confession of some kind? A selfless act? Certainly it is more about him learning to love than it is about him becoming loveable; but then, are those two concepts not inseparably intertwined?

And why did he turn into a mouse, specifically, to begin with? (The real answer here is that my subconscious picked it while I was asleep, so I'm not sure; but) I feel like, in a metaphorical sense, Javert is a mouse who wholeheartedly believes himself to be a lion.

By which I mean, he was born into a position of powerlessness in society due to classism, racism, moral persecution, and economic inequality, and because of this he sought respect and power; but instead of trying to gain these things by fighting against the oppressive system he faced (as he believed it to be an unwinnable battle), he caved into it entirely and chose to become a servant of it, in return for a scant amount of personal security and the illusion of authority.

At the end of the day, however, he is still impoverished, disrespected, and distrusted. He is lying to himself in that he believes that through his self-sacrificial and self-stifling choices, he has fulfilled his goals to rise through the ranks of society, becoming his "morally best" self—but the reality is almost exactly the opposite. He has become the self-same monster that would gladly oppress people like him and his family. And he makes the choice to continue being that monster every day, because at least now he feels powerful; at least now people fear him enough to pretend they respect him.

Perhaps it is fitting, then, that his illusions finally break around him as he chooses to knowingly lie, not just to himself this time, but finally—and for the very first time—out loud. And in the admittance of his dishonesty to himself, he transforms physically into what he truly was all along—meek and small, voiceless and powerless; an inconvenient and easily forgotten pest in the eyes of society.

Would the acceptance of this truth, and the embracing of true humility, be what breaks him of the curse then; restoring to him his physical humanity at the restoration of his spiritual humanity?

I never fully figured out the plot direction for this au but I still think about it now and then and try to add to it in my head. So possibly, one day longggg in the future, you may see. a very silly little fic on AO3

#Valjean #Javert #Les Miserables #Les Mis #Valvert #harvest mice #long post #I'm on mobile and I couldn't figure out how to put a readmore lol forgive me #fic writing #AU ideas #Fanfic

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herohotline · 4 years

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Can I please have a Shigaraki who's dating a male s/o that's part of the LoV but has to break it off because of All For One disapproving (either bc he's homophobic or thinks the s/o is too moral or doesn't want Shigaraki to be distracted from his goal)? Maybe with the s/o trying to leave bc they don't want to get Tomura in any trouble while Shigaraki insists that he should stay??? Sorry if it's too specific

A/N: yes yes yes! I hope that I wrote this well- I’m not sure how I feel abt it just yet, so I suppose the notes will tell me if it’s good or not! Might rewrite and try again if it doesn’t hit. It’s not exactly what you requested, i’ll admit, but it has some elements??? So if I have to rewrite it one day then that’s okay jfdhgjg

— — —

What made you fall in love with a man like Shigaraki? On the outside, he was villainous, cold, immature, and harsh. A man like Shigaraki fights very hard to be in control and not let anyone come close to him- but things have a tendency to happen naturally over working with each other over a long period of time.

Though he doesn’t show it often, he cares for the entire League. It might be minimal, and his way of caring for others might be a little twisted and considered abnormal, but Shigaraki has his own way of doing a lot of things. And even if it wasn’t the way that people normally loved friends and family- at least he still cared for the League at all.

And he cared for you, too.

It was hard to tell at first, especially since your relationship started out rocky. You weren’t the most evil type- you had fallen into the villain category over reasons of ‘justice’ rather than ‘revenge’ or even just a thirst for blood. You didn’t like the feeling or thought of hurting innocent people- and that’s why you didn’t attack the innocent.

You helped the League when you felt it was right to do so. You wanted justice- you wanted society to change and be a more fair, even world for everyone to live in. And if this was the way to do it… then this is the way you would do it. But only when your heart found it just to do so.

Shigaraki was disgusted by you at the start. The fact that you sounded like a typical, roundabout hero from around the block made him despise you. But his feelings about you were trivial since All for One thought you were essential to their cause because of your tactical thinking and useful quirk. Shigaraki’s feelings about you were negatively intense, but nothing that would make you run away.

Though he hated you, you never hated Shigaraki. You could tell right after meeting the League leader that this man- this boy- was wildly manipulated and truly naive. He was being used. You knew you couldn’t change this- you couldn’t help him, not with the way things are right now. But the least you could do was treat him fairly even when he spit in your direction.

Eventually, he asked with an angry tone why you didn’t lash out on him. Why were you always so calm? Why won’t you at least fight back?

You told him that you weren’t here to make more enemies than you needed to. You said that you didn’t want to be enemies with him, but allies.

He rolled his eyes at your answer, saying that you were already allies, whether he liked it or not. But you noticed how he changed his tune around you after that. The two of you became closer from everything you experienced in the League- all the missions, all the close calls, all the trials and tribulations.

It was a rush of pure adrenaline after a successful raid against heroes that made you kiss Shigaraki for the first time- and you were lucky this even worked, considering his face was usually covered by dead hands. He was, of course, caught off guard and somehow offended that you would do such a thing. The kiss only lasted a second before he jumped away from you and cursed at you for being disgusting and disrespectful to your leader.

Such a harsh rejection would have discouraged you if you didn’t already know how Shigaraki worked. You knew, that once he had time to let what you did sink in, he’d either reject you normally or hopefully come and accept your advances.

Which- he sort of did. Quietly at night, he sneaked into your room, and basically told you he had no idea what your intentions were- what his intentions were. He didn’t know a thing about romance, especially anything about romance with another man, and he doesn’t like not knowing things.

(This was a summary of what he said to you- the actual version of it had a lot more petty insults, sarcastic comments, and harsh words mixed in)

That same night, in order to help him understand, you told him your feelings for him and how to kiss someone. You taught him everything you could about what love and affection feels like- what it looks like. And over the course of that night, the two of you secretly grew closer.

It took a few months until Shigaraki eventually stopped caring about the anxiety of being with another person. After kissing you, loving you, and feeling at least somewhat confident in your relationship, it wasn’t really a secret from the League anymore.

The League reacted in an expected way. No one cared that the two of you were men- some of them had already figured out you were together, and others just didn’t care (also known as Dabi). After that, it was a common sight to see the two of you kissing, your hand wrapped around Shigaraki, or having him sit on your lap. Shigaraki really could care less about being worried over PDA- he was too touch starved to care, really. Not like you minded at all- you were just happy to be with him and provide your leader and lover with comfort and a stable person to rely on.

Throughout your relationship, it wasn’t uncommon for you to try and pry things from him if he was willing. It took a lot of coaxing, a lot of convincing, but eventually, he began to open up. And you loved him even more for it.

One evening after you had slept together, you got into the topic of his hands that he wore. “Why do you wear them?” You asked. It was a simple enough question.

“Because I have to,” he replied.

“Why?”

“Because… Because I have to,” he said again, as if confused that wasn’t a good enough answer. As you often did, you tried to elaborate for him to get him to understand what you meant.

“Well… how do they make you feel, when you wear them? What do they do?”

Surprisingly, Shigaraki actually thinks about his answer as he taps his fingers on your naked chest. “…They keep my mind dark. Focused. They remind me of what I’ve done, and what I need to do. They ground me… to the past.”

You hum at his answer, one of your hands moving to stroke and play with his strands of light colored hair. “…And how do you feel without them?”

“Like I can breathe,” he says much quicker this time. “Like I can see what’s right in front of me. Without the hands… I don’t feel as heavy.”

“And isn’t that better?” You ask him, quietly in his ear as you look into his eyes. “Isn’t this better?”

After that night, he begins to wear the hands around his face, throat, and arms less and less. He begins to think clearly like he couldn’t before- it’s almost as if the longer he lives without them, the more he becomes a different kind of person. Granted, he’s more anxious than before, but he’s also more empathetic, considerate, and puts more time and thought into his plans with the League instead of acting hasty and impatient.

And this development doesn’t go unnoticed by All for One.

All For One… Technically, you were hired by him, and technically, you were a villain. But you never liked that man. He seemed to so easily manipulate those around him, including Shigaraki, and it was clear that he was evil to his very core.

He did not fight heroes and cause chaos for anything other than the sake of doing it. He didn’t do it for a sense of justice, personal gain, revenge…

All for One loved to create chaos and he loved to be in the eye of the storm, plain and simple.

And the fact that you were ruining his plans, ruining his problem child who was doing all the dirty work for him- the fact that you were corrupting his broken mind with morals and a sense of ease- well, All for One didn’t like that at all.

All for One, though, wasn’t one for simply showing up at the bar you hid out in, giving out orders. He worked a bit more slyly than that, of course. So, instead, he had a private conference over his little television and intercom with Shigaraki when no one else was around.

When you weren’t around.

“How are things going? I’ve noticed you haven’t made any moves against the heroes recently…” His voice is smooth and even, his broken face shadowed and hidden by the darkness in the room. “Is there anything else you need?” He offers.

Shigaraki stares at the screen in front of him clearly. He isn’t wearing the hands of past regrets like usual- and it gives him an uneasy feeling not to wear them in front of his master. “No, things are running smoothly, for once. We’re just trying to figure out the best way to-“

“We?” All for One interrupts. “Have you started feeling more comfortable with your teammates now? You used to be so stubborn about them…” He chuckles, a dry and halfhearted chuckle that makes Shigaraki inhale shakily.

“They’ve been doing their job,” he says. “It’s better now that we’re all working together. I didn’t like it, but I’ve realized I can’t accomplish our goal all by myself. I need to work harder than that.”

All for One nods. “And how did you come to realize this?”

“Does it matter?” Shigaraki deflects, and his eyes fall away from the screen.

“Will you not answer my question?”

“…My teammates helped me realize this, master. I’m sorry.” The young man frowns as he sees from the minimal light on All for One’s side that his lips break into a grin.

“…___. That is who you mean.” He says knowingly. Shigaraki quickly opens his mouth but his master holds up his hand, making him silent. “I have seen what he’s been doing to you. I think it’s time we had a discussion about our dear ___.”

A cold feeling crawls up Shigaraki’s back, and suddenly he wishes he had his hands- they would cover his face, hide the fact that he’s almost scared right now. But why should he be scared? There’s no reason. How irrational. “What is there to discuss? He’s a good member.”

“Surely, you think so. But he has been corrupting you, young boy. I think it’s time we considered… letting go of him.”

Killing him.

There’s a sense of panic filling Shigaraki as he realizes this, but he can’t show it to All for One. He knows that wouldn’t be wise- he can’t speak too quickly, he can’t act too emotionally. As evenly as he can, he tries to object. “I can’t be so easily corrupted, master. We still need his powers, we can’t-“

“No, I think you can, Tomura.” All for One’s voice raises for the first time during the entire call. It’s minuscule, but Shigaraki hears it. “He has been corrupting you with his mind and his body. He’s been using you, and I cannot allow such things to happen to you. You are too important, Tomura- so you must dispose of him.” The man sighs deeply at Shigaraki’s silence, slowly continuing with a deeper tone. “I am worried for you, Tomura. I only want what is best for you.”

…Does he?

Shigaraki frowns. “Yes, master. I know- I just need to think it over.” He bows slightly at the screen. “I’ll talk to you again soon.”

For the first time, Shigaraki ends the call first, and that action alone has him feel a sense of empowerment.

If you really were changing him, Shigaraki has a feeling that it’s probably for the better. Besides… This is his organization. All for One said as much- he can do as he pleases.

And that means you’re not going anywhere . Not while he can do something about it.

——

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey, Tomura,” You look up at Shigaraki as you lie on your bed. There’s a comic book in your hands as you hold it over your head, your hair messy and knotted from lying on the pillows. Shigaraki observes you silently from your doorway until he walks toward you, toeing off his sneakers before he falls onto your bed and next to you.

You laugh as he tosses and turns until he’s got his head on your chest, looking up at the comic you’re holding. His hands are carefully placed around you in fists, as they usually are when he wants to cuddle with you. “What’s up, Tomura?” You nuzzle your cheek against his shaggy hair and flip a page in your comic.

Shigaraki realizes that he likes it when you say his first name. He was hesitant and felt odd letting you know it at first, and letting you even say it was another hurdle in itself. But after talking with All for One- he likes how you say his name much more than how his master does.

“…Nothing.” He says. “…Where’d you get this?”

“The comic? Twice snatched it for me when him and Toga were raiding for supplies nearby. It was sweet of him to think of me, but I think you’ll like it too.” You look down at him as much as you can, but the position is a little awkward and you can only barely meet his eyes. “Want me to start from the beginning?”

“No,” Shigaraki says and looks back up at the pages. It’s around the middle of the story, not much is left. “Looks like it’s getting interesting.”

You hum and flip another page. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s pretty good where it is right now.”

His arms wrap around you a little tighter as he hums. He agrees with you silently, making his decision without you even knowing what he was deciding as you flip another page.

Things are good right now. Why change that?

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queeranesearch · 4 years

Text

@harutheestallion Thank you so much for the tag, Arthur!! I kith you, mwah!

(This ended up being way longer than I thought it’d be bc I got so caught up in talking about OTHER people’s writing lmfao, so I’m putting a ‘keep reading’)

Prompt - share your:

First fic: Uuugh god..When I was 11/12 I was really into Attack on Titan, and in my Year 8 English Lit class we had lessons where we did creative writing so of course I wrote an Armin-centric high-school AU. It haunts me to this day but it was so funny to read again later on. But the first fic I actually posted online was a Moomin one, back in 2019. Moomins was (and still is thb) a big comfort media for me, and it always helped me feel better when I was going through some really bad anxiety. I was also very insecure about my writing and hadn’t written anything in years, but I was very attached to the characters and there wasn’t that much content of them so I thought “Fuck it. This is gonna be very self-indulgent. If other people like it then great, but really this is for me.” I did end up getting way more kudos and comments than I thought I would and loads of lovely comments. I read it again a little while ago and the writing is a but rusty, and my paragraphing isn’t great, but it’s really sweet and I had a lot of fun writing it and I think that shines through.

Favourite fic: Dude, I cannot pick one favourite fic, so I’m gonna list a few that came to mind: Hooked by @listless-brainrot - aka THE jetru fic. I will forever scream about List’s writing. The way he’s able to take such a character with one episode, and see the potential pour so much life into him is amazing. He writes Haru with so much nuanced realness, and seeing things though his perspective makes for such an immersive read and gives beautiful insight into his thoughts and wants. I cannot recommend it enough.

Sing a little louder, laugh a little softer by @chief-yue - Such lovely fic exploring the music of cultures ATLA was inspired by. I had the biggest smile on my face reading this; Katrina really captures the dynamic of the Gaang wonderfully, and her descriptions are vivid and heartwarming.

Two Sturdy Oaks by @rileyblxu - A Dead Poets Society fic and one of my comfort fics ajklasd. The author writes Neil and Todd perfectly; Like if you told me this fic was actually deleted scenes from the movie I would believe you 100%. The dialogue between all the characters is spot on, and the trusting relationship both Neil and Todd have with Mr Keating is so heart-warming to read, and the descriptions were so tender and full of so much love and pining,,dude I actually cried a little. PLUS the use of poems at the beginning of the chapters?? Absolutely iconic for setting the tone. Love it.

Not Ready To Make Nice by @harutheestallion - Tagging you twice hehe. Arthur’s characterization of Jet kills me DEAD. They have so many little nuanced details about Jet, but also how he sees other people and the world around him. They have such a strong grasp on his character; every action he makes in this fic is written cleverly wand with such clear thought put behind it, and Jet’s perseverance and bitterness but also his kindness and desire to protect others really shines through. And HAMA. She’s written perfectly too; so similar to Jet in many ways but also more ‘jaded’ and less hopeful. Their dynamic is so interesting to read and watching them become gradually closer is so lovely.

Henna by @miannmian - I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; Simran is the QUEEN of fluff. This is one of their shorter works, but it’s packed of such tender characterization. The descriptions are written with so much care and warmth, you can practically feel the love these Jet and Haru have for each other. It’s sweet, it’s domestic, and it makes my heart swell each time I read it.

Can’t Make An Omelette by @citron-ella - A Good Omens fic, but focused on The Them! GO fics that aren’t primarily about Aziraphale and Crowley are hard to come by, so I was delighted when I came across this one, particularly as The Them are my personal faves from the book/show. This fic is so sweet and funny in little nuanced ways. Children are hard to write, especially slightly older ones, but this author wrote them wonderfully; they really captured the lovely curious and mischievous nature of The Them, and each one of the kids was written perfectly in character. The descriptions set the scenes well, and they have a sweet, nostalgic sort of tone to them; it reminds me of what kid’s books used to be like years ago, there’s an Enid Blyton(and I’d even say a Terry Pratchet) like charm to it. And I adore the little detail of Brian being curious about Pollution being non-binary, and recognizing something similar in himself; it was so heart-warming. I also loved the bit at the end where Pepper knowingly acknowledges Brian’s interest in being non-binary; it’s a nice subtle way of showing their friendship and how they pay attention to each other.

Most Recent fic: A jetru oneshot, “Kiss Me?”. It’s pretty simple and fluffy; the lads having their first kiss. To be honest, it’s one of those fics I have a love-hate relationship with; looking back at it there are so many ways I’d rewrite it and make it better, but there are some nice bits there too.

Fic with most notes: My moomin one I mentioned earlier. It’s called “To Have a Family is an Awfully Complicated Thing”. A VERY wordy title, and again, there a loads of things I wish I could change and do better( I have actually been contemplating rewriting it) but it’s very close to my heart, and I’m glad other people liked it too.

A line or two from a wip: Man, I have SO many wips it’s embarrassing. Here’s a modern Yueki thing I was doing: They didn't know how Yue spent lunchtimes at school in the library, hidden behind the back shelves, reading poetry books held together with thick brown tape; Shakespeare, Dickinson, Keats, Wordsworth, their words lovely yet so disconnected from her; how within the whole breadth of the romantics she could not find one to attach to; how with no great authors to turn to, she put her own pen to paper, spilling thoughts of brown hair and dark eyes, of a face that freckled in the sun, of a laugh that filled her stomach flip with a delightful queasiness, of how her heart ached for the girl that cleaned her grazed knee for her when she was six. ‘Oh dear.’ Yue fiddled with the bag in her lap, zipping it up, zipping it down. ‘There’s no going back now, is there?’

Favourite character to write for (and why): Hmm, I think Yue and Jet, both from ATLA. Something about them just clicks with me; I love Yue to bits and wish we could’ve had more of her in the show, so I love exploring her character beyond being the Moon Princess. I also adore Jet and will forever be angry about how he dirty they did him in the show. Writing him is actually quite challenging, but in a way I enjoy, and I enjoying pushing myself to explore the nuance and depth he had in the show.

Character(s) you find hard to write: Hm.. I’d say Toph. I love Toph so much but I find it difficult to really capture her strength and rowdiness, but also her compassion and her softer side.

I’ve tagged a few people in this already, so if they wanna do this feel free to! Also you. Reading this. Consider yourself tagged; I wanna hear about your writing.

#shush jas #jas has a pen #note to self: finish wips

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firebirdsdaughter · 4 years

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Small things that kill me…

… The look on Vergil’s face when Nero gives the ‘Dante’s not going to die up here and neither are you’ speech.

Honestly… Just all of his interactions w/ Nero in that scene.

Vergil’s a fucking dumbass who has no clue how to person at this point, he’s a complete wreck who may or may not have known he had a kid before the whole incident w/ Mundus, but now he’s even less equipped to deal w/ it, he has precious little if any practice not being at the least indifferent at the most hostile…

I think one of Vergil’s big issues is indifference, to the consequences for his actions, especially for others, for what others think, for himself in many ways… While V did develop a bit, enough to realise splitting himself in half caused massive, destructive consequences for countless people. Sure, maybe he couldn’t have predicted (which I don’t think he did) that Urizen would go that bonkers, but setting half a demon loose on the world would generally be a bad idea, to say nothing of ripping someone’s arm off in order to do so (the extreme indifference again, causing him to be unable to properly ask for help—I don’t think he enjoyed or ‘wanted’ to ‘hurt’ Nero, but the consequences never crossed his mind; to him, it was just something he had to do to survive, that was all that mattered). And that’s all a result of what he went through ever since the attack—I have this whole ramble about how I think his and Dante’s fighting styles reflect the (both unhealthy in their own way) way in which they reacted to that traumatic event—but bc he’s been fending for himself since eight, w/ only the Yamato on hand, he’s downright dangerously/extremely self sufficient/obsessed with being completely self reliant. Like the Phantom of the Opera’s ‘the world showed no compassion to me’ except really. His entire life was just about getting through the day, he had it drilled into him by experience that he could only truly trust himself, that he needed to be able to do things entirely on his own—to the point that even after being ripped apart, pretty much literally, by Mundus, he still can’t ask for help. It is a result of his trauma, but it means he has very limited skill in thinking of other people. Like, if we get a future game w/ him as one of the protags, I feel like that would be something he’d absolutely struggle w/, being more aware of others. That it would take him twice as long to react/do things that might take others like Dante or Nero a moment bc he has to actively make himself think about others, forcibly train himself to do that.

Anyway, I’m going off topic. My thought is… Vergil’s definitely not, at first glance, or even second glance, or third, parent material. I love the character, he’s a walking disaster. He’s no good at thinking of others, and is indifferent to what others think of him. I think he still loved Dante in his own, very damaged way, but he’d rallied himself against that feeling for so long, considered it weakness and shut it out, that he likely won’t be able to express it in any understandable way for a long time. And on the inverse, he can’t conceive of, for instance, Dante actually caring about him—like… He doesn’t think he matters to anyone either, puts no emotional value in himself. If that makes any sense? Like… Even when he does encounter compassion, he rejects and suspects it… Dante is a weird case, but I do see Vergil not understanding that he matters to anyone. He’s indifferent to everyone, including himself, and he doesn’t expect any more care or affection from others than he shows—like he’s not one of those jerks who expects people to like him despite being a jerk, he’s just largely given up on relationships (he either thinks they only bring pain, or that, like his softer feelings for Dante, they are weakness).

And I think he went up there to die. Pride and stubbornness prevented him from surrendering, but he had at least some idea of the enormity of the consequences of his actions. At the least, he knew he’d majorly fucked up and caused a lot of pain. I think his intentions were similar to that of Griffon and crew—face Dante one last time, fight all out bc his own pride wouldn’t let him do any less, and leave it up to fate. I don’t think he expected to kill Dante, just that he couldn’t not fight his hardest, out of respect and bc it was his nature. But he had no illusions over his probability of survival. The only reason he did throw the sheath away this time was that it wasn’t a ‘suicidal blaze of glory’ like I think fighting Mundus might’ve been, but more of a trial by combat, to him. Dante, meanwhile, was just assuming/accepting that he was going to have to take his brother out again, and he likely wasn’t planning on ever coming back from that, either (which I don’t think Vergil realised), either by dying in the fight, too, or going into hell on his own.

But then Nero shows up. Now I think V and therefore Vergil were at least aware that Nero and Dante mattered to each other, bc Dante’s the kind and caring one and Nero’s a good kid. Like, I’m sure he was aware of that.

I don’t think he’s surprised Nero interrupted (that form probably was unexpected, but Nero objecting in general or trying to rejoin the fighting wasn’t completely unthinkable) or that Nero was defending Dante.

I think what catches him off guard is the ‘and neither are you.’

He ripped Nero’s arm off and then knowingly deceived him as V, and on top of that, turns out Nero is his son who he pretty much abandoned (like we don’t know the details of when and why Vergil left, or if he knew, but the fact is, he made choices that resulted in him not being there for Nero). And that’s to say nothing of all the hell Urizen caused. Basically, a list of things that would generally result in Nero falling into the same category as everyone else—another burned bridge, another person who hates him, and Vergil is quick to close doors. He expects no consideration from Nero, no more than he’s shown, and V was aware they had horribly hurt Nero (esp since V was weaponising Nero’s issues surrounding that).

But instead of just completely writing Vergil off like Vergil expects, Nero extends this declaration of ‘not dying’ to him as well. Sure, Vergil immediately tries to throw up the usual prideful walls what w/ that ‘if I beat Nero I win by default’ stuff, but then he later tries to get Nero to stand down rather than continuing the fight, saying it has nothing to do w/ him [Nero], and then his reaction to Nero’s ‘it has everything to do w/ me’… He just doesn’t know how to react to Nero? He expects one thing, but Nero just keeps defying his assumptions (which takes some mighty powerful heart and compassion on Nero’s part bc while I do see Vergil as incredibly tragic and don’t think he’s fully ‘responsible’ for Urizen’s actions, Nero doesn’t have a lot of that info, but he’s making the decision that this is fucked up and no family of his is going to kill each other—so anyway while I do love me the angsty drama dads, let me just say I love Nero, too).

It’s with Nero that bits of his awkward, ‘tsundere’ side come out, ever so slightly. He and Dante have trapped themselves in a pattern, Dante bc he’s Tired and has just resigned himself to the necessity of it an wants to get it over w/ and Vergil bc at his core he’s afraid to try anything else bc he sees it as weakness. But I said this before, I think Nero being his son and Nero being… How Nero is, all heart and and good and warm and compassionate, to the point that he’s defying not just the ‘inevitability’ of Vergil and Dante being at odds, but literally fighting to save him, after all he’s done… I think that meant something.

Obviously, it’s not going to be simple or easy, and I do think that, now that he’s been given hope that he can get through to Vergil and not have to kill him (which I think he’d concluded was a sort of mercy kill?), Dante is the best person for Vergil to get used to his emotions etc. w/ bc they have that deep understanding of each other and what happened, esp now, but… I love how Nero cracked his shell there? Like… He’s not really prepared for it, but I think I can see Vergil wanting to at least try to be some kind of parental, esp after he’d recovered a bit more? And I do think he’d also respect if Nero ultimately told him to get lost (although I can seem him, like, watching from afar or something), even now, bc again w/ the whole I think he has no expectations of what others think of him, but… I do see him wanting (and maybe having trouble accepting that he wants it, at first) to be part of Nero’s life in some way? Esp in a vein of… Wanting to preserve Nero’s ‘goodness’ for lack of a deeper word? Bc I can see a slightly more recovered post dmc5 Vergil not wanting his son to fall down the same holes he did. Like, they’ve all gone through trauma, and lost people, but Vergil is now very aware that he ended up hurting and even killing people and very nearly destroying himself and going absolute monster, to the point his twin brother, who understood him on another level, in their own way, resigned to having to kill him to stop it (I genuinely think for all his talk, Dante did see it as a bit of a mercy kill, the only way he could preserve the last shreds of the brother he loved and keep Vergil from actually going Full Urizen [V even existing means that Vergil wasn’t completely gone, but I think he was on thin ice]). Dante’s already dragged into this by the very same events that placed him there, but Nero has a chance not to be, which I think was part of his ‘this has nothing to do w/ you’ thing, and I totally see Vergil following that sentiment and wanting to keep Nero from ever turning out like him.

Vergil’s probably never going to be ‘nice’ or very good at empathy or things like that. It may forever take him more willpower to think about others. He may need to start small (like just Nero and/or Dante). He’ll probably still be insensitive for years to come. He’ll never be able to be as easily open and compassionate as Nero and Dante. And he knows he can’t change the past, can’t undo the Arkham incident, or what he did to Nero, or the fact that his stubbornness, pride, inability to ask for help, obsessive habits, and indifference/inconsideration for consequences had calamitous results. He’s not magically good or saved bc he has a kid, but I think even just knowing about and seeing Nero act the way he did resonated w/ something he thought he’d lost a long time ago. Nero and V’s interactions have a whole new light for him now. I absolutely think if Dante’s willing the twins should stick together bc they balance each other, Dante can watch him, won’t take his shit, and wants to help him be better, but… I think even if that didn’t happen… There’s a chance just knowing Nero exists and is so… Good could enough of a catalyst for Vergil to find a different way to live, even on his own. Like there’s a sense of pride? Not in the vein of taking responsibility for Nero turning out as good as he did, but, like, in the way people sometimes say ‘I’m sorry’ like ‘I’m sorry that you are sad’ as in ‘I am expressing sympathy for your sadness.’ Pride that Nero has achieved this, and is strong in his own right. If that makes sense.

He will always be rather an asshole. But, esp if he has some support for his issues and someone watching him… He can do better. Like… Do better. He’ll always be stiffer and pricklier than everyone else, he’ll probably be more pragmatic, think more w/ logic than w/ heart. Emotions and empathy and compassion will always be hard.

But those interactions (and, honestly, that whole ending, even more honestly, the themes of the whole game), def gave me the impression that he could absolutely do better.

… I just went on a total stream of consciousness ramble, so, uh, virtual treat of your choice if you read all that.

#DMC #today on Fire was looking at gifs and had Feelings #TT^TT #I'm not gonna tag much bc I typed SO MUCH in this post DX #I should really give the fam precious tags I love all three of them so much #Demon Drama Fam

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julictcapulet · 4 years

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[ smile ] for blake & camille & [ sing ] for aaron & willow bc apparently i love to suffer!!!!!

NONVERBAL MEMES. written for @asystcle even though this is over a year late ♡♡ hope you still love me ♡♡

[ smile ] for your muse to smile at mine from across the room

By the time the watch on Camille’s wrist said 10:30pm, she was already itching to leave. It was an engagement party for the grandson of one of her mother’s longtime colleagues, a boy Camille had gone to high school with, and it was true that she usually would have begged off the invitation, but she remembered that he had been sweet, and while she made it a point to show up to as few of her parents’ social gatherings as possible, the invitation had come directly to her own front door, with her name on the envelope.

Of course, with her parents there, she decided to avoid direct eye contact, but where she usually would have turned to Blake to cure her boredom, he had disappeared into the crowd. She didn’t know where he was, and she didn’t go out of her way to look for him. If she asked him to call for the car, he would tell her to wait another half hour just to be polite, and she wasn’t in the mood to be polite. The closest person around that she could stand to talk to was Victoria, leaning against the bar and eyeing the crowd with something like a vicious disdain for those in celebration.

“It’s not going to last,” she said in greeting to Camille, offering her a warm smile that contradicted her harsh words. “He’s still in law school where he’ll be up at all hours of the night and then he’ll go on to work for his uncle because of course he will, and she’s a model from the midwest who doesn’t realize that her career is going to be over by the time she’s twenty-six if she keeps snorting cocaine in hotel bathrooms.”

Camille smirked at her friend before casting a glance over at the couple standing with the photographer. “His grandmother is going to kill him before the wedding,” she replied with confidence. “It’s a shame. He’s a nice boy.”

Victoria eyed Camille knowingly. “Exactly. He’s a boy. He doesn’t know the first thing about marriage.” She happily displayed her ringless hands. “Not that I know what marriage is like, but I know they’re not going to be happy.” She cut a look sideways and narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be happy, either.” A part of Camille automatically readied herself to answer I’m not, but she couldn’t let the words out. She stared back at Victoria wordlessly, one eyebrow raised in a challenge to continue her sentence. “You are, though.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because I’ve known you since you were eight, and I know when you’re pretending to be annoyed at the world for dramatics, and when you’re actually ready to burn it down.” She looked over Cami’s shoulder and jerked her chin. “And he’s probably doing something right because whenever you talk about him to us, you don’t stop smiling and you don’t realize it.”

Camille followed her eyes to find Blake standing at the opposite side of the room, a glass of scotch in his hands. It was almost finished, the ice in his glass practically melted, and he was looking directly at her with a smile on his face that told her he’d done something that would make her very happy. And Camille felt something heavy in her chest right then, something like paranoia and acceptance all at once, this feeling of wondering whether she was actually happy or if she was just allowing time to pass her by, but she smiled back at him anyway and felt the paranoia ebb away, little by little.

He held up the hand that wasn’t holding the glass, but he was holding his phone. Camille couldn’t see from this distance, but he motioned towards the door, and she knew that he had called their car to come back around. She looked back at Victoria, who had returned to scanning the crowd with a detached shrewdness that told her she wouldn’t ever be seeing a wedding from her, and gave her a soft smile. “I’m going home.”

[ sing ] for your muse to sing to mine

It could have been any other sort of night, but there were times when hours spent sitting side by side in peaceful quiet transformed into something like a session where truths were laid bare. The kind of moments where nothing felt pressured or rushed—everything was done at its own pace and no one had to hurry towards any kind of finish line to show that they had made it just in time, that they had passed the test and they were now ready to move on to the next stage of being a couple.

That was what it was tonight. Aaron and Willow, laying together on the couch like they so often did, just barely keeping their eyes open as they waited to see if the other had anything else to add. Aaron should have seen it coming, really. Willow was always asking what he was working on, and he figured it was only fair, considering he was constantly trying to steal glances at her camera to see what had captured her attention that time. Singing in front of her was nothing new—singing something he hadn’t shown anyone before was.

The reasons why she wanted to hear wasn’t important to him. He did it because why not, because he did this for a living and what did it matter if she heard, because she was the subject of many lyrics written across many notebooks and didn’t that give her a right to hear some of the words he’d dedicated to her? Sometimes, Aaron wondered if she actually believed she was the basis of his songs. Not all of them, of course—there had been girls before Willow, and there had been girls between their friendship and this stage that they were stumbling their way through together that Aaron so hesitantly called a relationship, but he always thought it was easy to tell the difference.

The songs about Willow were always about them. The songs about any other girl that had passed through his life were simply about her. He’d never been able to truly envision anything else about them, but with Willow, it was easy to write about the two of them, them as a unit, them as a whole.

He wasn’t sure if the song he was singing to her would ever be finished, or if he would ever release it. He didn’t even know if he would ever even show it to the band and make something out of it. A part of him—a very large part, truthfully, liked the idea of no one except them ever knowing about its existence.

By the end, Willow had her head on his chest, facing away from him. He wanted to ask if she’d liked it, what she thought, but he knew he couldn’t. He knew there was a reason she wasn’t looking at him, and he knew that to interrupt the silence that had followed would be to ask her to talk about something she wasn’t ready for just yet.

He hoped she would be eventually.

#this was sent in on january 10 2020 #CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS #i have never once been punctual #the fact that this was sent in before we even had lucille and monty #wow i'm so emo #💖 mutually assured destruction 💖#(meme. mine)#(meme. camille)#(meme. aaron)#my writing #(aaron clarke. the kaleidoscope heart)#(camille ferri. the princess scorned)#(camille and blake. the stupid truth is i'm so bad for you)#(aaron and willow. two punch drunk souls all tangled in the wind)#asystcle #answered

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sebastien-le-booker · 5 years

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I just finished elite and here are my thoughts

I saw people saying omar deserves better. Now, idk if they were talking about his home life, in which case- 1000% agree with that. His dad made him sacrifice his studies and even if he wasn't the best student, doesn't mean he has to give up school if he doesn't want to, he was forced to work in the store all day, his relationship with ander is shaky because they have to hide and can't see each other properly and when he finally has the courage to stand up to his dad, he's thrown on the street. He's a fucking teenager, it must have been scary as shit to go through this

If people were talking about ander. I don't really agree, i mean yeah, sometimes ander was shitty, like with the Halloween costume, but it's understandable. There's probably some internalised homophobia and then it's the "my nest friend killed my other best friend's sister" thing, which is probably the only thing he thinks about and he probably can't sleep, he's obviously not feeling well and when you're super stressed, i assume you tend to be kinda shitty with the people that are close to you.

I like how both seasons ended with omander hugging. Keep this going in s3, have a "will always be together" or "i love you so much, I'm so happy to be with you" hug

Idk how to feel about cayetana. On one hand she's annoying, when she talks about all the rich shit that she supposedly did, it's annoying as shit. She's exactly like those people "i don't wanna brag, but here's my 10k ring" while completely bragging. On the other hand i kinda like her. She basically tried to steal those people's money and then she went and found the trophy, which I'm pretty sure it's against the law, don't know how it's called what she did but yeah

Speaking of cayetana. What if she gets together with Polo and they become criminal boyfriends? Sort of Bonnie and clyde. I want this, bring me all the drama in the next and possible final season. Make it big, bring in betrayals, bring in all the possible drama

It was really nice of her to check on polo after she saved him and polo was really sweet, especially when she told him he's cute when he smiles and then polo tries to hide. It was cute

I'm conflicted about Polo. Back in s1, i was like "throw him in jail!!! Murderer!!!!!" I was like those peasants, back in the days, when they were yelling "WITCH" at a poor lady. But now i don't know how to feel about him. I feel like he was easy to be played and he was really unstable in s1 bc of carla and christian and marina told him stuff that weren't doing any good, so he lashed out (not saying what he did was ok). This season he shows a lot of faces, on one hand he's feeling horrible about everything, he has these horrible panic attacks, he wants to confess to guzman and to the police, he even tries to end his life, but at the same time he acts like he's heartless, in the last 2 episodes, when he tells ander and carla that they learn to live with it, and when he's being interrogated by the cops after being arrested.

Moving on from polo to guzman. I actually felt bad for him because all he wanted was for them to be like they used to and he kept talking about marina's possible murderer while polo was there... urgh that shit actually hurt

I wasn't the biggest fan of guzman and nadia because of the way they started. But i gotta admit, they know each other and this boy is gone for her

I still love nadia 😍 i liked her friendship with rebecca and with val. I seriously wasn't expecting nadia and val and i was expecting val to pull some shit like lu, since they're from the same family, but all he wanted was to annoy lu, and nadia knows and she still accepted to tutor him, so i guess they got along. Also val was affected by the fact that lu shared the video with nadia and guzman and he seemed like he actually believed Nadia was his friend.

I want to mention nadia's family. While omar is the black sheep of the family and his dad thinks omar is and embarrassment for them, nadia is seen as perfect and that affects her because she doesn't see herself like that and she's put on a pedestal and it's probably difficult to keep up that image because she's not perfect, she's also a teenager who makes mistakes.

I don't know what to say about carla. She just seemed like she's done with everything and i don't really care about her and samu and i care even less about samu, but i did like him and rebecca. Although rebecca likes him and he doesn't like her and she's sad about that and i don't like that.

Get rebecca some love. Get rebecca and cayetana together. Yes! This is better that cayetana and polo. Criminal girlfriends that could run rebecca's mom empire. Like polo's moms, but more illegal.

So the "you really jacked off while i was passed out in the bed" conversation did happen...

Lu and Omar friendship. YAAAS QUEEN

Nadia and Val friendship. YAAAS

Also, isn't it funny how Lu can't stand Nadia, but is friends with omar and Nadia can't stand Nadia but is friends with Val? I wonder how Omar and Val would work

I like that Rebecca is friends with omar, nadia, Samu, Val

I like that oart where Lu asks Nadia what she's doing when they're taking the exam and nadia leans closer to Lu and tells her that if she doesn't fail her exam, everyone will know about Val and then gets up, with a smile on her face, looking powerful, and then the camera shows Samu who looks to nadia and Lu and smiles knowingly. Idk if he heard the conversation, i doubt it, which is why the scene is even better. Because samu doesn't know what the girls talked about, but he knows Lu just got fucked over by Nadia and his face is like "you go girl"

I forgot something, omar and nadia coming back home from the party, both looking at each other and being giggly because omar spent time with his boyfriend and kissed him and danced together and had fun and nadia, i think kissed guzman? Or at least she had fun, for sure and i love that scen so fucking much

I loved how everyone is wearing red and in the middle it's omar and ander wearing white and making out

#elite spoilers #elite netflix spoilers #elite netflix #elite #i know some people complained about everything but I'm loving this show #it's just a bunch of drama and i live for the drama #and on top of that they have some pretty cool characters #they're not black and white most on them are grey and that's what makes it awesome #and I'm looking forward for the next season

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peterpcrkcr · 5 years

Text

new but familiar | p.b.p. imagine

Pairing: third person female readerxpeter (bc it’s clearly a self insert, i’ll say it)

Words: 1.6k

summery: peter is taking a walk, thinking to himself about the world around him, when karen alerts him to some trouble ahead.

ENDGAME SPOILERS INCLUDED BELOW THE CUT!

So this was the new normal, a phrase that had little meaning before the big snap. Well, the big snap and then several smaller, but equally significant snaps that came after. Whatever the case, whatever situation, the world was forever changed. People lost only to come back in this new normal. Their loved ones five years older, five years moved on.

The trees were taller. The wind had changed. With less people the air was cleaner, the water too. But everyone came back.

Peter walked down the street, headphones in his ears trying desperately to get lost in the old 80’s hits. Something about that time period felt familiar. Maybe it was just the good music that felt right. The rest of it was rough, if he was being honest. Not like he was there.

Peter was now 16 again. He hadn't not been 16 during those five years, he'd just been in a sort of deep sleep. A resting place until it was time to wake again. Now he had to adjust with the world that had aged around him. Luckily, most of his friends had also been sent to the resting place. He wasn't left to graduate as the new kid.

Liz Allen was now 21. So was Lincoln and Cindy. Sally was 20 because she was a year younger than everyone else. But the point is they'd grown up in the half a planet while Ned, and MJ, and Peter, and Flash, and Betty had rested.

He shook his head at the thought. To be paused. Life halted. If he had the choice would he have wanted to age? Would anyone want to live in the world where you couldn't hit the breaks and wait for someone else who would never catch up?

“I could just travel back and-” he shook his head again. And what? Grow up again? Going back before the snap wouldn't change the fact that he got snapped in the first place so that idea was stupid.

Maybe he could change when he was born. No, stupid. Then he'd never have met Ned, or MJ.

Maybe his parents would've survived. Maybe Uncle Ben, too.

“No.” He said out loud, gaining the attention of someone at the corner of the crosswalk he waited at. They went back to the attention of their newspaper. Peter peered over their shoulder, the headline:

Avengers Bring Everyone Home, but at What Cost?

Peter grinned, let out a puff of amused air from his nose. That headline was a bit too on the nose itself.

Of course he'd want to have gotten out of the resting place. Right? Yes. Can't be selfish and ask for more time away. The population returning to normal also meant the return of bad. Of evil. Whether he liked it or not, he had to come back. The world needed him, and he'd never admit that, but it was the truth.

Peter made his way across the street, nearly got run over by someone in a car so eager to turn the corner they didn't look out for him. He was quick to adjust, though.

Once across the street he scanned the faces of people. Noticing rather easily if they'd been snapped or not.

People who had been look relieved. Almost excited to be back in the game of Life. Those who hadn't? They looked tired. Still sad, but relieved underneath the exhaustion.

Aunt May looked that way when Peter came home. Smothered him for a week before letting him go to school. Called off of work for the first time in 16 years to care for him, even though he was fine. In all honesty she did it for herself. The one thing since loving Ben that she did only for herself. Her boy had returned. Her sun.

Her son.

A puddle he hadn't noticed soaked his shoe and sock inside. Nothing worse than walking around with a wet sock in a wet shoe. It wasn't like he had been doing anything in particular anyway, so changing into the old suit for the rest of the day wouldn’t be a big deal.

An alley or a porta potty, it didn't matter so long as no one saw him go in. He just figured since the world was so wrapped up in itself and getting by that he could basically get away with changing whenever. Just about wherever, too.

He shoved his clothes in his backpack. Ditched his socks in a dumpster, set his shoes on top of his clothes, like a dork. He didn't think about it at the time, but doing that was just going to make his clothes dirty and wet too. Classic 16 year old boy.

16.

He sighed. Always 16. It felt like he had been 15-16 for years even before the snap, and the snap really just cemented that he would forever be stuck a teenager. Whoever was writing his life really should've figured out how to make what was usually the most upsetting and confusing years in a person's life go by faster because this was getting old.

Thwip.

Out of the alleyway and through the streets where whoever looked up and caught the site of him cheered. It didn't matter if they'd been snapped or not, people cheered when they saw him. He didn't live for the fanfare. He lived because he was lucky enough to. Too many people he loved had been lost to not appreciate every second he was gifted.

Thwip.

Around a corner, another. This was much easier than waiting for the crossing signal. Less death defying, if one could believe it, than using a crosswalk.

The music played in the mask, kept him from focusing too much on his thoughts. The mask was a really a gift in more sense than the literal one. If he didn't have it the world would be too much around to function.

Blue sky, not a cloud in sight. Birds and New York rats and tourists and cabs. A bustling city waiting to burst again. Peter sighed. This was home.

“Trouble ahead.” Karen's voice sounded over the music she'd lowered for Peter to listen. He stayed quiet, followed the ping she'd put on the screens. “Looks like a robbery of an old Oscorp Laboratory.”

“Of course.” He landed near the open hole that'd been blasted or busted in by who he assumed was the bad guy. “Nothing like a universal genocide being reverted to bring out the bad guys.”

He took three confident steps toward the entrance before feeling a shiver course through his body. He spun slightly on his left foot to stand sideways as a body flew from the hole. He watched the man in classic black robber garb roll over on to his stomach to cough.

“There's still three people in there.” Karen alerted to Peter who was just finishing up wrapping the man in webs. When he stood back up again to make his way inside, two other men dressed in black, ski masks and everything, flew out of the open hole in the wall. “One person now.”

“Who is it?” He asked as he webbed up the other two men, head turning periodically to keep an eye on the hole in the wall.

“I don't know. They're not reading on any of my databases. Maybe they're not from this planet.” Karen said, sounding a little worried.

Peter felt that shiver once again and stood, hands at the ready to shoot preventative webs at whatever came from the old Oscorp Lab.

A couple bits of rubble adjusted as the figure came out of the darkness and into the light.

Peter's furrowed brow softened. His eyes widened. It was a girl. Broad shoulders, strong arms. A mask over her eyes a la The Incredibles style. Just a navy blue ribbon with two holes in them to reveal her eyes. She stood at the top of the mount of rubble, hands on her hips, taking in a breath to release it contently.

“Scanning.” Karen said as Peter stood there silently taking the mystery girl in. He started to sweat. Hands shook a little as he relaxed his battle stance. It almost looked like her hair was blowing in a little bit of a breeze. He got lost in it. “She's 17. Her DNA is a match for-”

“Hey, Spider-Man!” She shouted almost accusingly as she stepped down from the accidental stage. He looked around as if searching for who she was talking to, like there was more than one Spider-Man. When she was close enough to for him to notice she was a little bit taller than him he blushed. “What are you doing here?”

“Fighting bad guys?” He suggested, looking around and the three unconscious men webbed up around the two of them.

“No, I just did that. I meant what are you doing in Brooklyn?” She tilted her head, hands still on her hips triumphantly. He finally met her gaze and felt warmth in his heart. Her eyes. They were familiar. Not the color or the size or the shape, but the person behind them. The soul inside.

New, but familiar.

“Where should I be?” He asked relaxing his shoulders.

“Queens.” She said knowingly.

“I mean, Queens has it's crime, but I think I'm allowed to go outside every once in a while, and I do my best work outside of Queens anyway, and what makes you say that i should be in Queens anyway?” He talked a lot when he was worked up. And he was worked up because she knew something she probably shouldn't.

“My grandfather told me about you.” She admitted.

“What about me?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“Peter-” Karen said, but he shook his head to stop her.

“You were snapped.”

“Everyone knows that.”

“Does everyone know you're 16?” She asked.

“Wait a minute…”

“Peter, she’s-” Karen tried again, he spoke over her.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“I'm the daughter of Michael and Jean Rogers.” She said. His eyes widened even more. “Granddaughter of Margaret and Steven Rogers.”

#peter parker #imagine #endgame imagine #not a fix it a continuation #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker x female reader #spiderman x female reader #spiderman #endgame #avengers #karen mention #karen #my writing #lol!#spoilers

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jaggedwolf · 5 years

Note

For the meme! The tscosi hogwarts au ficlet. I think the entirety is around 500 words.

You are probably correct, haha. The ficlet is here

“Looks like your admirer’s here for the show again,” said Brian. The only indication of a direction was a quick dart of his eyes in the direction of the broom shed at the opposite side of the field. Then he went back to his Ancient Runes reading like he hadn’t said anything at all. He was only a fourth-year and he studied like it was him who had O.W.L.S to take this year. Well, only if it was Ancient Runes.

In which I forgive myself for the recurring awkward sentence structures/flows that happen with ficlets, because the whole point is that I write them with little thought and for fun. Also, will find a way to translate Brian being a linguist into any universe.

Sana rolled her eyes. She ran her wand over her broom, finishing up the last layer of the new enchantment. “Not an admirer. Honestly, she’s probably been showing up to see Krejjh make another attempt at the Wronksi Feint.“

See: adapting Sana tinkering with her flying device. And my fervent desire to see Sana and Krejjh be adrenaline junkies together, because it’d be so good.

“I’m telling you Captain Tripathi, this time’s the charm.” Krejjh grinned, already floating in the air on their own broom. “And then we’re gonna crush you Hufflepuffs this year.”

Sana raised her eyebrows. “As long as our Seeker doesn’t literally get crushed. Though, honestly, he should know better by now than to follow you into a dive like that.”

Krejjh and Sana would be friendly opponent captains and you can’t convince me otherwise - they are good sports! I think Krejjh in this AU only addresses Sana as “Captain” when it’s fun trash talking time.

The Gryffindor team had Krejjh, sure, but no other stand-out players. And as great a Seeker they were, Sana had a feeling that Krejjh mostly thought the responsibilities that came with the Captain title were 1. Be really good at Quidditch 2. Schedule practices. So, Sana wasn’t too worried about Gryffindor this year. She swung a leg over her own broom, ready to take off.

I imagine having Krejjh as your sportsball team captain is very fun and inspiring and exhilarating! But not particularly consistent! (In Krejjh’s defense - I also picture this being their first year as captain. Sana, while also a fifth-year, has already had a year under her belt, because she’s just Like That and the ‘puffs recognize a good thing when they see it.)

Sana is very ready to win this year :)

“Also, she hasn’t been watching Krejjh at any of these practices. Mostly you.” Brian said out of nowhere.Krejjh’s grin grew wider. “Jeeter. Were you concerned I had an admirer?”“Wha-no,” Brian sputtered. “Sometimes I finish the work I bring with me before you guys are done, so I started trying to figure out why a third-year would skip Hogsmeade weekends to watch you two.”

Are these two already dating in this ficlet??? They don’t know either, pal. I just like the idea of Brian doing his homework in the stands while Sana and Krejjh practice (in addition to their regular house practices, mind you). Brian’s also bad at letting inconsistencies lie.

“That is a good point about the weekends.” asked Sana, glancing over at the broom shed. It stood far enough away that sound didn’t carry, but close enough that Sana could spy the corner of a red-edged robe peeking out from behind one of its walls. “Krejjh. She is in your house. Any ideas?”

As may be very obvious, I went with everyone’s primary houses from my sorting post.

“Sorry, fellas, I’ve only really passed by her at meals and the common room.” Krejjh shrugged, now slowly looping around Brian and Sana on their broom.

Krejjh in any universe: mmm jock brain flying good (stole this phrasing from @shrimpeggroll). They’re not really paying attention to random tiny third-years. (Sana, however, you may note, already knows Arkady’s name.)

“Maybe she wants to talk to a prefect? I haven’t heard great things about the Gryffindor ones this year,” Brian ventured.

Sana frowned at him, and then sighed knowingly. “Violet?”“Yeah,” he said uneasily. “I think she’s okay now, though? Even if the prefects weren’t much use.”She hadn’t seen Brian’s new third-year shadow recently, so that was good news. An implied subplot of lonely Muggle-born Violet possibly getting hassled by some Gryffs while the Gryff prefects didn’t do much. It’s resolved, so she isn’t constantly trailing Brian anymore. Also, c’mon, isn’t the image of fourth-year Brian taking third-year Violet under his wing the cutest - bet those nerds spend a lot of time the library.

“It’s going to get dark soon.” Krejjh had transitioned from horizontal loops to vertical ones, their expression looking like that of the world’s most impatient child.

“Sorry, let’s get going.” Sana shot up into the air without a beat. The wind rushing past her face, the feel of the new charms she added, the familiar quick gain in altitude were all the only things on her mind. Nothing about the team or O.W.L.S. She’d missed this. She leveled out at the top of the hooped goal posts, waiting for Krejjh to catch up so they could do their usual race. Sana took in the view. Brian was watching Krejjh’s ascent into the sky with rapt attention, as always. More and more of the red-edged robes behind the broom shed creeped out till Arkady herself was leaning on the front of the shed. Couldn’t make out much of an expression from this angle and altitude.

These two just like flying :D

Sana was midway through going over her knowledge on the Patel family when her broom jerked. And then jerked again, and again. Sana gripped tightly with one hand as she went anything that could have gone wrong with how the new enchantment interacted with the broom’s magic, simultaneously reaching for the wand within her sleeve. Always good to have a quick way to undo things.The wand slid into her hand and then just as quickly out of it, latching itself to the broom of it’s own accord. What? The broom stopped a jerking for a brief moment and Sana tried to scrape the wand off of it as well as guide the broom down. Neither attempt seemed to do anything.The broom dove.

I fully confess action/description is the weakest aspect of my writing, haha. And yeah, Sana’s aware of the risks of her messing with the magic a broom already has, but she’s gonna do that anyway.

She held calm even as the bright green of the field rapidly came closer, going over everything she knew about the field’s cushioning charms and crash landings.Then the broom stopped so suddenly she lost her grip, flying head over heels off of it. She was still really high off the ground. Not good. Wind rushed past her as she fell, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Krejjh changing course to fly towards her, but Sana had a feeling even Krejjh couldn’t close this gap.

Sana: realistic and not prone to panic even as she’s about to crash into the ground.

“Arresto Momentum!” yelled a voice she didn’t recognize, and suddenly instead of plummeting she was floating downwards instead. Sana swallowed a gulp.

Way to save the day, kid. (Who again, you might note, Sana has never heard, thought she knows of her family.)

Arkady wasn’t by the broom shed anymore, instead she was right on the field, arm outstretched and wand pointed right at Sana. Arkady was breathing heavily, and also…scowling? At Krejjh? Who had finally reached Sana and flew next to her as she slowly came to a stop on the ground.Sana turned to Arkady. “Oka-”“I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be all ‘honorable’ and ‘chivalrous’, what’s so honorable about hexing someone’s broom to hurt them?” interrupted Arkady, shifting her wand from Sana to Krejjh, her oversized robes swinging a little as she did.

Arkady hates a hypocrite, even more so as a kid. (Has perhaps witnessed some of the Gryffs-behaving-badly nonsense that Violet dealt with? Will latch on to suspicion at the clearest potential suspect?) Also has hand-me-down robes bc the idea of the Patels as a scrappier version of the Weasleys in this AU makes me cackle with glee.

“What? Sana tries out new enchantments all the time, and sometimes they go a bit wonky. I don’t even know how you hex a broom,” said Krejjh, looking confused.“Krejjh wouldn’t hex my broom,” Sana leveled a look at Arkady, wondering what on earth she had to do with anything, and also what level of house baggage they were dealing with. “But something did grab my wand away from me, which is making me thinking that a side-effect of my enchantment isn’t the right answer here.”Brian ran up to them, panting. “Is…everyone…okay?”

Sana’s firm but honest about her assessment of the situation. Poor Brian, he just had a gazillion different heart attacks at witnessing all of that happen in the sky, realizing too late to do anything himself.

Arkady paid no notice to him, still pointing her wand at Krejjh. “I’m not saying you did it. That’d be stupid. Having the Captain do it, even if you have regular access to her broom since you hang out. I’m saying you got your teammates to.”A rare flash of anger crossed Krejjh’s face. “I wouldn’t-”“I heard them talking about sabotaging the Hufflepuff captain, I followed them, and I saw them break into the broom shed.” Arkady’s scowl deepened.

What a tiny distrustful spy! Weirdly effective! (Krejjh does not appreciate the suggestion that they would hurt Sana. Also, they play fair, how else can glorious victory be an accurate assessment of one’s skill and talent?)

“Dude,” said Brian, “that’s not really proof Krejjh told them to do anything.”Arkady deflated a little. “You saw all that, and decided stalking Sana and Krejjh’s practices was the best plan?” continued Brian.Arkady dropped her wand arm, muttering something indecipherable.

Brian’s here to point out Arkady’s ridiculousness. Arkady talked over her plan with absolutely no one. Just went full speed “Make sure unsuspecting Hufflepuff captain doesn’t get hurt”.

“What?” asked Sana.“I didn’t have any proof,” grumbled Arkady, crossing her arms. “I didn’t know how to figure out what they did or undo it, and I figured it’d make sense for them to activate the charm in one of these sessions instead of the Hufflepuff team practice because there’d be higher chance of you getting injured with only one other flier.”Brian’s jaw dropped. “Okay, I know she saved your life, but I’m a little scared of this third-year now.”

I don’t know that I’m a fan of this Brian line anymore - I just wanted to communicate how truly thrown by this level of quidditch conspiracy and paranoia he was.

Arkady glared at him. Sana shook her head, and smiled at Arkady. “So, this is a mess. For the record, Arkady, you could have told me.”Arkady squinted. “Why would you have believed me?” “Why wouldn’t I have?”Arkady kept squinting at her, saying nothing.

Sana is pretty impressed. Arkady has no words for Sana-patented honesty and openness XD.

“Pals, I don’t know about you, but I am starving!” said Krejjh. “What do you say we grab some food from the kitchens, and then our new friend and I can discuss who exactly I need to have a little Captain-y chat with?”“Sounds good to me,” said Sana.“I’m in,” said Brian.They turned to Arkady, whose arms were still crossed and expression was still suspicious. “I am kind of hungry.”

Yay friendship and conspiracy-cracking and food! And uh, Hufflepuff Prefect and Captain Sana Tripathi may have gained a new tiny shadow. It’s fun to think about an AU where Arkady being the last to join the gang.

Also fun to think about - Krejjh looking at Brian-Violet and Sana-Arkady, and going: when do I get a underclassmen trailing me when is it my turn. (Somewhere, in the Slytherin dungeon, second-year RJ sneezes.)

Finally, I like the idea of Sana’s prefect partner being Park. What a pair, y’know? Golden girl Sana alongside Park who is…Very Tired.

#commentary meme #tscosi #this just turned into more hogwarts au opinions hahaha #asks #anonymous #Anonymous

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hellaheckingay · 5 years

Text

2019 in a nutshell

The end of 2018 literally ripped my soul in all sorts of different directions.

The beginning of this year was no fucking better. I was in such a bad and dark place. Nothing anyone told me could save me from the path I was on. Self destruction. Self annihilation. Self mutilation.

My father always tells me “there has to be someone in your life to tell the truth to or you’ll destroy your soul.”

So, dad, here’s the truth; I spent the beginning of this year moved back into my fathers house,, ragged and broken. So depressed that self care did not exist. I used the greens to cope with the life I ruined. My own. My brother moved back in for a short time. I finally felt as if I wasn’t alone and used all of my resources to help in getting both my brother and myself as fucked up as possible bc the thought process was always “get lit until you can cope with reality.” We got so dysfunctionally attached that it could rival dean and sam. I became best friends w his unofficially gf. My brother started taking his drunken anger out on us and lashing out like a wild animal. I got so cocky and angry I was fighting every ounce of help with teeth and nails. My soul was corrupted and drowning in the dark abyss which consumed it. My brother and I quit talking. He moved out. Blamed me as I blamed myself for his actions. So, I became best friends w his ex unofficial gf. A friendship I knew would ruin me but damn I wasn’t about to be broken alone and her soul was just as crushed as my own. We got so toxically close. Even now we’re stuck up each other’s asses trying to figure out how to get out of here while not ruining our futures. While spewing venom at each other. I isolated myself randomly. Damn healing is so fucking messy. I went through all the stages of grief. I’ve been stuck in one stage for so long that it took a reckoning to move onto the next. I started focusing on work again. I finally pushed myself to quit blowing my money on drugs and get a car again. Still traumatized behind the wheel. I began hanging around the old gang that helped push me. For better or worse I don’t know. I spent so much time with one of my cousins that his sobriety helped me finally see some semblance of my old self. He went to jail recently and it was like an awakening. Seeing someone seek out god for months and just get shit on broke me. But we confided in each other. I helped him heal. As he did me. A true brother. I quit the drugs except the greens but haven’t smoked more than once every two weeks. I quit getting hammered every night. I haven’t smoked nor drank in a week so far. Sobriety hurts. The fact that I knowingly ruined myself breaks me. With this knowledge I have accepted and repented and take full responsibility for my actions. No one did this but me. Other people have fucked me over for sure but I allowed myself to be fucked over. Again and again like a damn merry go round. The cycle didn’t stop. I jsut got a call tonight at kidnight saying I got my job back from a year ago that I was told I can never return to. They’re giving me a chance. Again. I know that the things I will achieve takes patience and time, two things I despise but need to learn. So, this is the year of keep going. No money, no family, no job, no support, no good mindset. Keep going until you figure that shit out. I prayed last night for the opportunity at this job and it is with my beliefs that whoever or whatever runs this universe has heard my pleas. God is giving me another chance to turn my life around. And I want nothing more than to take this change and run with it. My familial bonds and my bonds with those I cherish are healing slowly. I’m learning to forgive myself. I’m learning to accept what I am and that the changes don’t take place overnight. So here’s my truth. I utterly and entirely decimated who I once was. I have not and will not replant myself in the rotten soil which I began in. I’m wanting help for my mental health and I’m wanting to care for myself and quit dissociating to the point that I don’t even realize I’m real. That I exist. So here’s to me. In the hopes that I can get back in touch with reality and the adult world and stop the standstill for which I’ve been in for years. I want my world to start spinning again instead of being stuck in time. Here’s to hoping that by the end of this year I’ll have some semblance of my shit together and quit writing in this extended chapter. Here’s to creating a much healthier, happier, wiser, kind chapter.

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warmbeebosoftbeebo · 6 years

Note

Why don't you get your nose out of what other people are into kink wise?? Because even anal is uncomfortable and unpleasant for people and they would consider that violating and triggering. If you don't like the things someone says or posts then fuck off and unfollow instead of shame them for what they enjoy. Kink shaming is not cool dude. I'm sure there's plenty of people that hate anal and you wouldn't like being made to feel like a freak for liking it. Grow up.

oh, boy, buckle up.

i brought it up in a new post, not naming her or alluding to her post, because it is something seen so fucking often both in this fandom and on the internet generally. she also specifically said for him to squeeze his arm around her neck till she passes out. if she had said something like “i’d like him to stroke my neck while i hold my breath as long as i comfortably can and one or both of us plays with my pussy till i come” i would barely have cared, and it wouldn’t have gotten me back on my soap box again. she responded to my post in a reblog and i responded back. she initiated the conversation between us with that reblog. and i responded back, trying to explain my views clearly albeit longly, once.

men choking women is a common sexual act, a meme, and a threat online, and within this fandom. “if you don’t like it fuck off”? honestly, that’s telling women to leave the public square and go back to the kitchen and bedroom and laying back and thinking of england if they can’t handle “robust speech” or sexuality in media in public. i couldn’t be online or in this fandom if i couldn’t handle seeing it, or refused to see it.

here’s another link on the dangers of strangulation https://tonic.vice.com/en_us/article/jpnj5x/how-risky-is-it-to-be-choked-during-sex

this whole “anti kink shaming” thing is just.. if kink shaming is terribly wrong, then we literally cannot criticize anything ever, bc everything is “kinky” (a sexual turn on, a fetish) to someone somewhere. and this is an old joke, but what if your kink is kink shaming? thought we couldn’t criticize any kinks?

the reality is, almost everyone, at least those with any ethical discernment kink shames *something.* if they couldn’t find *anything* that was shrouded in “omg hot sexy stuff” objectionable, i’d honestly be scared of them, and would hope at least that victimized people would have to deal with them.

what about all sorts of dangerous things that are eroticized? i’m thinking specifically about purposely seeking out hiv (mostly men), unprotected pia, knowingly exposing another to a significant risk of contracting hiv (also men; women simply don’t pose the same risk both re “sexual” fluids other than blood and how it is contracted sexually, receptive pia being the highest risk, followed by receptive piv). re: you can talk about choking, being choked, say vaguely that you should do it safely, but not talk about WHY it’s dangerous, what stats are on injury and death, what can happen, etc is like saying you can talk about pia and condoms, but not hiv or other risks of injury from it. i didn’t focus on the danger/risk of pia in my initial post, but it is high, way higher than people think or want to believe. should we not be concerned with those who want to infect other people with hiv, and people who want to be infected or is that prudish, immature kink shaming?

i’m sure there’s things you kink shame. for example, let’s examine pseudo child pornography eg a 18-19 girl pretending to be and usually looking like a naive 14 years old or younger child, with a man in his 40s while they roleplay that he’s her father/stepfather/friend’s father/uncle/coach while he “introduces” her to sex, usually violently, with a focus on men “ruining” and “spoiling” “innocence.” is that fine and dandy? is a father with teenage or preteen daughters watching this and whacking off to it fine and dandy? considering the rates at which girls are abused by their mom’s boyfriends and husbands, what if a man living with a woman and her kids whacks off to this? what if he finds himself fantasizing about her 12 year old daughter?

how about necrophilia? what if a man can only get hard, turned on, come if the woman he’s with *pretends to be dead*? what if he strangles a woman “consensually” until she passes out, then either continues or starts to enter her with his penis? what if he tells women he can only be turned on if he inflicts enough violence on her that he could have killed her?

a few years ago, there was an rcmp cop in canada, jim brown, who was found to have a “kink” for the kidnapping, torture (including bondage and use of knives) and murder of women. he had porn of it, he looked for women to roleplay it, he posted porn he had made online, etc. one news story describes it thusly: “progresses from an apparent street scene of a woman walking past Brown sitting on a wall; he overpowers her; he hog-ties her, and he imprisons her in a cage.In one image, Mulgrew notes, Brown appears to be wearing only his regulation-issue Mountie boots and is aroused carrying a huge knife while the naked woman cringes in terror.” he also worked tangentially on the robert pickton case (a serial killer who murdered dozens of women, mostly indigenous and mostly in prostitution). was he a man who should work on such a case? should he be a cop hearing women’s stories of male sexualized violence? should he be looking at photographic and other evidence of rape, torture, kidnapping?

to get more obviously back on topic, strangulation is the third leading cause of male-induced/violent death for women, second only to murder with knives and guns. strangulation is the second biggest red flag for lethal male violence, second only to him threatening you with death. imagine if we eroticized other leading causes of death for other groups of people: shooting someone during sex, stabbing them in the torso, etc. carefully and safely, of course. how about complications during pregnancy and birth in teen girls? that’s the number one killer of girls 15-19 worldwide. why not turn that into something sexy too? car accidents are also a common cause of death. let’s sex that up too. heart disease and cancer are big killers too. lets look at the leading cause of violent death for young black men: homicide. for black boys, it’s unintentional injury. why not eroticize what leads to their deaths too?

interestingly, the “rough sex gone wrong” defense came to the public’s attention in another strangulation murder case https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/08/nyregion/consent-sexual-assault-rough-sex.html

and here’s a recent case, a rare one in that the man seems genuine in his remorse because he quickly confessed, of a young man strangling a young woman to death in seconds. she also had an interest in it and sought it out. she died anyway. https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-5492075/Killer-strangled-woman-death-sex.html “the pair had a ‘shared interest’ in ‘erotic asphyxiation’ …Chloe had died in 'seconds’ after he had seized her neck during sex.”

the ads i linked to featuring men strangling women: what do you think of those? how do you feel about how it’s portrayed in pornography? is opposing those kink shaming too, because lots of people, esp men, get off on it, and the men who make that porn generally want to make such pornography and usually have a lot of hatred for women. same with those who make the ads. they find it arousing.

it boggles my mind on how things that people would get raked over the coals for if they presented as humorous, gets a free pass because some guy somewhere gets an erection from it. like that rcmp cop? can you imagine if he was telling jokes like that in a comedy club? what the same people who defended him would be saying instead? but seek out vulnerable women when you’re a white male police officer, “roleplay” with them, make porn of it n post it online n you’re the bdsm martyr of the year, cruelly punished for your private life by prudish busybodies who need to mind their own business and keep their noses out of people’s bedrooms. there’s that public vs private divide. anything sexual is private, even when public, and you cannot criticize the private. rape jokes are bad, terrible, trivialize rape and sexual trauma and misogyny, but rape play is hot as fuck. you can humor shame and speech shame but don’t dare kink shame.

now onto why i referenced anal stimulation and entry, inc pia. i did so precisely bc most females experience of it with males is rape, painful, unwanted, etc. the more it happens, the more likely it is to be rape. the increase in college age people engaging in pia is treated like a big catcally joke and proof of sexual liberation and how awesome porn is and how it’s hot sex, but it is almost universally rape for young women and girls. strangulation and choking of women is seen similarly, and women and girls are expected to eroticize, engage in, and tolerate both. i brought it up precisely bc i like anal stimulation (as outlined in that post, excluding pia) but recognize that it is profoundly harmful in how it is practiced especially for girls growing up and young women, as well as women generally. if i was glib with anal entry of women (with a penis or something smaller) in my fic or posting about what i want to do with b, i’d want people to pull me up on it. it would be contributing to this coercive, painful sexual environment women and girls are in where they don’t want it and find it painful even though they are told they should, sex should be painful for women, women are a collection of openings for male use, etc. i purposely reign myself in and keep it to myself most of the time because of this.

you cannot read panic fic, surf tumblr, etc without certain “kinks” namely strangulation (and to a lesser extent choking), and daddy kink and dd/lg smacking you in the face. similarly, if i smacked someone in the face with how i depicted anal entry of women with men, i’d hope they’d rebel against it, tell me about it, etc. by all means, kink shame away. someone engaging critically with what i post doesn’t make me fucking melt or shivel up, literally or figuratively, and if you (general you, including me) post something publicly, we can expect reaction to it, esp if it’s not a direct confrontation but a “i’ve noticed this happening on tumblr/in fic/etc…” i’d say letting undue critique roll off one’s back, or engaging back n forth as two people wish to, is growing up. and hon, i’ve felt like a freak sexually, but not for that interestingly, but for my interest in tribadism and outercourse. not severely, but it was and sometimes still is there.

#strangulation

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