#so sorry for any ooc-ness if you actually end up reading this

[hollabastiongirl]

Monday Six (thousand, minus about 5k)

tagged by @ornstein

I could indeed give six lines of a WIP I've been ignoring for months and months at this point, but instead I'm gonna post a thousand or so words of a piece that I never intend to finish, but amused me to write as an exercise nonetheless since I haven't written much at all for the My Hero fandom before. What follows is a strange mix of goofy and angsty, but I figure I may as well post it somewhere so it'll stop sitting accusingly in my drafts. Thanks for the tag, ornstein, and here I'll tag @nightfallrevel @snarkyauthor @castershellwrites & anyone else that wants to share six (or however many, go wild) lines of a WIP.

"Holy fuck," Katsuki blurts suddenly and rather loudly, because for all that he's been a fucking ace at everything he's tried since he was old enough to walk, he somehow still hasn't mastered the art of volume control, "I'm in love with that little shit."

From across the library table that they're (reluctantly, on Katsuki's part) sharing, Todoroki barely reacts. He scribbles down a few more meticulously crafted notes on the bullshit hero politics course they're being forced to take and says, quiet and distracted, "I should hope so. Haven't you been together for awhile now?" 

"What??? No?"

Katsuki screeching at near-maximum volume is apparently enough to actually get the bastard's full attention, as heterochromatic eyes deign to lift away from the neat scrawl on his notebook paper in order to level him with a look that's more flat than anything, but skirts the edges of annoyance all the same. Guy's a freak like that, and Katsuki can't figure out how he does it.  "Come on, Bakugou. I'm not blind. Or deaf. He gushes about you and your supposed 'manliness' all the time." 

"WHAT," Katsuki shouts, because seriously, what. The librarian shoots him a nasty look and he just barely resists the burning urge to give her the finger. That hag has some serious pull around here, as he unfortunately learned the last time he pissed her off and received two full weeks of detention for his efforts—most of which he had to spend being one of Dominatrix-sensei's personal bitch boys. And if that wasn't bad enough, Ball Head had served almost as many detentions as Katsuki had. He still shudders just thinking about that whole fiasco. Not fucking worth it. He manages to lower his voice to hiss, "are you actually talking about Kirishima right now," right at Todoroki's stupid, blank face.

"Well, yes. Who else would I be talking about?" IcyHot pauses with a blink upwards, as though an alternate answer will drop from the ceiling and bash him over his stupid candy-cane colored head if he thinks about it hard enough (likely not, but Katsuki might hit him anyway. On principle). None is apparently forthcoming, so he glances back at Katsuki with a shrug. "But from your reaction, I'm assuming I'm off the mark. So…Kaminari?" 

Shit, now that's just insulting. To both of them, even. Katsuki would be willing to bet serious cash that they'd both rather drop dead than somehow fall in love with each other. This idiot, he thinks. What a goddamn joke.  

"NO, dumbass. Not Dunce-Face."

"...Sero?" 

There comes a flash of something that could be interesting to consider in Todoroki's mismatched eyes as he mentions the Human Tape Dispenser, or would be if only Katsuki wasn't preoccupied with NOT leaping across the table to strangle this dumb bastard with his bare hands. Instead, he very calmly says, in his calmest voice, really, really calmly, "ARE YOU STUPID. NO. IT'S DEKU, YOU FUCKING HALF-N-HALF WIT."

"If I'm a half and half wit, doesn't that actually imply I'm a whole wi—"

"For fuck's sake," Katsuki cuts him off with a groan, letting his forehead drop against the cool wooden grain of their study table with a thunk. He'd rather glare a hole through the tabletop right now on the off chance he suddenly develops the ability to explode people (Todoroki, namely) with his eyes. He can't afford to add a manslaughter charge onto his current list of problems. Being in love with Deku is problem enough.

Actually, it's probably the biggest problem he's ever had.

"Are you….okay?" Turd-oroki asks him, seeming curiously wary but looking more constipated than anything. The words sound strange as they pass through the space between them, strained and sour as though Strawberry Shortcake is having some sort of sudden internal crisis about the idea of trying to comfort Katsuki, of all people. Can't really blame him. Katsuki doesn't know how to comfort himself, either. Never has. "You seem…off." 

"Off." Katsuki huffs, though he doesn't bother denying it. "Brilliant fuckin' analysis. Screw being a hero, you should be a goddamn therapist."

There's a pause, like either Todoroki is actually considering a career change or maybe just considering bashing Katsuki over the head with his textbook to put them both out of their misery, and then he says, quietly and with palpable concern, "you seem really off. You didn't even tell me to go to hell just now."

"Go to hell," Katsuki mumbles after the fact. Any vitriol that would otherwise sharpen his voice is tempered by the way his cheek is still smushed morosely against the table. Even Katsuki can't remain intimidating while feeling so pathetic, though he can't bring himself to care much. Not when he feels like this, sick and hot and twisted up inside. "Eat shit and die. Shut the fuck up and get out." 

Todoroki ignores all that, which…fair. "Do you…want to talk about it?" 

"No."

"Are you sure?" As Katsuki finally sits up, all the better to glare at him, IcyHot leans forward a bit and gives him the single most horrifying look of commiseration Katsuki's ever experienced in his shitty life. He's obviously trying to empathize with Katsuki in some way, and even seems to be managing it, and this is… Well, it's too pathetic to stand any longer. He doesn't want to have this conversation. He can't believe he'd been stupid enough to open his fat mouth and blurt this shit out in the first place. Why can't he ever keep his fuckin' mouth shut when it counts?

He does keep it shut, now. He can't think of a thing to say. Nothing that doesn't make him sound like a lovesick loser. Instead, he meets Todoroki's probing gaze and shrugs. He can't be sure of anything, anymore.

Under the table, Katsuki's hands ball into tight fists, fingernails digging savagely into his palms. It eases some of the tension in him as the skin breaks, as though the confusion and longing and misery he's stubbornly holding inside is escaping through the cuts little by little, like air from a sad, deflating pool toy. 

He feels a bit like that, right now. Collapsing into himself and wilting from the steady force of gravity. Inescapable. Inevitable. Inexorable. A weight that doesn't push, but pulls—a force that reels you in so gently that you barely even notice it's happening. Not until you're already falling. 

[radioisntdead]

Hello......... It is I......... The enjoyer .......... HARVEY X READER FIC PWEAAAAAASE!!!!! As your best friend I need it or I'm going to lose my mind. THANK YOU BOOKIE

Howdy folks! Introducing the infamous Moony! Say hi, I made em' read a couple of my fics during our sleepover and this is the result, not my best work since this is my first time writing for Stardew valley and I cannot write medical stuff, my apologies for any OOC-ness!

Harvey x reader

Warnings: Harvey gets called wife, reckless mining endeavors, reader gets injured, this was supposed to be angst but fluff prevailed, the reader is very Moony coded.

Song used

You arrived in stardew valley with nothing but a couple of bags filled with your belongings and 500g to your name, no one was sure what to expect from you, especially Harvey.

I have a question

You scared him a little at first when you waltzed on into his clinic, eyes bright, cracking jokes and a frozen tear lodged in your arm, it hadn't even been a full week since you arrived!

It might seem strange

You'd pop into the clinic twice a week after that, just to chat with him and bring him a steaming cup of coffee, or something else you thought he'd like.

How are your lungs?

Sometimes you'd be dragged in by Linus, Marlon or by a friend who ventured into the mines to drag your sorry behind out, injured and woozy, still cracking jokes.

Are they in pain?

You'd offer to buy him a drink or dinner when you'd run into him at the Stardrop saloon, dropping a cheesy pickup line or two.

'Cause mine are aching

Eventually the two of you drew closer, him showing you his plan collection, you freaking him out with Zombie movies or games.

And eventually you purchased a lovely colorful bouquet of flowers from Pierre's and matched right over to the clinic to give them to Harvey, he was ecstatic.

I Think I know why

After that It wasn't uncommon to see him coming out from your farm instead of his clinic, or you waltzing out of said clinic with the confidence only a farmer who's dating the town's only doctor can have.

I kinda like it though

The two of you would have coffee dates, or curl up watching a horror movie that'd scare him or a historical documentary that bore you half to death.

You wanna try?

Not that you minded, you'd scroll on your phone while laid against him since it didn't peak your interest.

Oh, would you be so kind, As to fall in love with me

Who would've thought the Town doctor would've end up with the new farmer?

You see, I'm trying

During the flower dance, he'd dance around with you, admiring how charming you looked in your white dress or blue suit.

I know you know that I like you, but that's not enough

You lit up Harvey's life, gone were the nights he'd be alone eating microwavable meals, instead he was with you, eating something from the saloon, raw vegetables or actually cooked, you nearly burned down the kitchen once.

So if you will, please fall in love

Gone were the days he'd watch historical documentaries alone, you were there with him, with raw vegetables.

I think it's only fair

Harvey did have some concerns about you, with how you had the remarkable ability to end up with bruises or with another crystal imbedded in your arm, that'd he have to take out.

There's gotta be some butterflies somewhere wanna share?

Did not help that he was reminded of your injuries since you put your arm crystals up on a shelf for display.

'Cause I like you but that's not enough

You did get temporarily banned from the mines a couple of times but that didn't stop you, you just switched from the local mines to skull cavern in the desert.

So if you will, Please fall in love with me

Not to mention you were somewhat loose with an axe, sure you hadn't had an incident with them yet but you never know!

He'd hate for you to come into the clinic with an axe in your shoulder or worse!

Let's write a story

He hadn't mentioned it to you but he had nightmares of you coming into the clinic, bloodsoaked, limp and unresponsive.

Be in my book, you've got to join me on my page

You spent a good majority of your time in the mines, so it was a possibility that his nightmares could come true no matter how much you reassured him it wouldn't and that you would be fine.

You practically knew those mines like the back of your hand!

At least take a look

It was a good day, a little rainy but a normal good day nonetheless.

Oh, where are your manners? you need some time?

You waltzed in carrying a thermos of coffee, one singular pickle and a container of espresso cake.

Let's swap chests today,that might help you decide

You called him your wife, dropped off the goods, gave him a smooch on the cheek and then left.

Oh, would you be so kind as to fall in love with me?

He should've asked you to hang around the clinic for a little while, it wasn't like they got patients every single day, and maybe it would've changed the outcome of what transpired that day.

You see, I'm trying, I know you know that I like you

It was the local mines, it wasn't the skull caverns or anything, it was supposed to be a easy day.

You weren't expecting for group of slimes to ambush you at the top of one of the ladders

but that's not enough

You weren't expecting to fall a several levels, a blooming pain spread out throughout your body as you fell onto the cold cave ground.

So if you will, please fall in love

You didn't know how long you were down there.

I think it's only fair

The last thing you could recall was Marlon peaking down and calling out your name.

There's gotta be some butterflies somewhere wanna share?

You were lifted up, put on a stretcher, and taken to the only doctor in town, Harvey.

'Cause I like you but that's not enough

It was like it came straight out of one of his less terrifying nightmares.

So if you will, please fall in love with me

You were limp on the stretcher, thankfully not super bloodied you just had cuts, slight burns and bruises scattered across you, you were semi-conscious but limp nonetheless.

Oh, do me a favour, Can your heart rate rise a little?

You weren't cracking any jokes, no goofy grin, no cheesy pickup lines.

Do me a favour, Can your heart rate rise a little?

You gave a small grin as he ran over to the stretcher.

Do me a favour, Can your heart rate rise a little?

"My wife, Hi!" You sputtered out between labored breathes.

"What happened to you?!" He asked as he rushed over to you.

"You took my breath away." You said with weak finger guns.

Do me a favour

He didn't take your breath away infact, you had a broken rib that was making it hard to breathe.

Along with a sprained arm and other small injuries.

Oh, would you be so kind, as to fall in love with me?

In Harvey's eyes there was so much that could've gone wrong, what if your broken rib had pierced one of your lungs? Or what if you broke your spine or anything else? What if Marlon never went to check up on you? What if he never saw you again? Or what if you died that day? A million unfortunate thoughts flashed through his head.

But thankfully none of them happened.

You see, I'm trying

You were patched up, put on one of the clinic beds and given painkillers to relieve the pain.

I know you know that I like you but that's not enough

And subjected to Harvey scolding you because your injuries could've been so much worse! You got lucky! Not to mention how much he'd be charging you for the medical bill, you don't have health insurance.

So if you will, please fall in love

You were stuck in the clinic, left with a couple of books, sketchbooks and drawing supplies, they kept you entertained for the first few days but you eventually got bored.

I think it's only fair

You yearned to go back into the mines but alas you were still injured and had nearly a month to go before you were healed,

you glanced over at Harvey who was sipping on his tenth cup of coffee that day.

With that you made a decision.

There's gotta be some butterflies somewhere wanna share?

"Hey Harvey? Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course, what is it?" He asked looking in your direction,

"Can you hand me my bag I just remembered something."

"Of course Hun."

Harvey got up and fetched you your bag, handing it to you with a smile.

'Cause I like you but that's not enough

"Thank you! also I have a question," you said as you dug into your bag feeling around for the object you were planning on giving to the object of all your romantic affections.

So if you will, please fall in love

"Of course, what is it?" He asked as a grin spread throughout your face, you held the mermaid pendant in the cup of your hands.

Oh I like you but that's not enough

"Marry me?"

You were causally proposing to Harvey in his clinic while recovering on a hospital bed, truly the most romantic setting.

"I accept! I'll set everything up, We'll have the ceremony once you've fully recovered okay?'' Harvey said with the sweetest smile one could have, he adored you and he couldn't wait to marry you.

Unfortunately for you though, marriage would not stop him from charging you medical bills related to your cave related injuries.

So if you will, please fall in love with me.

Good evening folks! I hope you enjoyed, with this I will be slowly pushing out more Stardew valley content along with my normal hazbin stuff!

As always thank you for tuning in, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your evening!

[messrsrobyn]

character bashing anon here !! i definitely agree with you in the sense that i also don’t really care about “bashing” characters so to speak. in fact i am willing to read just about anything 😭maybe it’s bc i’ve been in fandom spaces for years, but it doesn’t really phase me to see characters deviate outside of their canon personalities (or in the case of the marauders, universally accepted fanon personalities) and controversially (to some people) i think “character bashing” (or “ooc”-ness) can be done really well 🤷‍♀️ also, re: some people saying sirius dating mary pre-wolfstar is “misogynistic” DRIVES ME CRAZYY. bc that is actually an insane take if you put it into the context of real life. like if sirius, mary, and remus were real people it would be wildly disrespectful to insinuate that wolfstar are misogynistic just bc sirius had a previous relationship with mary BEFORE he entered into a relationship with remus. you definitely don’t have to respond to this but i just wanted to say that i agree with you & you worded your original response perfectly!! 🫶

I AM INFACT REPLYING RE: SIRIUS AND MARY ACTUALLY BC I HAVE THOUGHTS HERE !! (when do i not have thoughts)

it's the same with jegulus fics where jily ends up getting together !! it all comes down to quantifying love 😖😖

no, it's not misogynistic that sirius was with mary before finding out he was gay, the fact that this one couple is endgame doesn't mean that any love/feelings before it is invalid !!! it just wasn't the love, yk?

yapping fr but that's why i loved the heir to the house of prince !! because nearly all of the characters had past-loves prior and during the first war that they lost, and it's done so well !!

there's no "cedric was nothing compared to theo" etc etc it's just,,, love. in all its forms. in all its forms and all its permanence because it doesn't just go !!! it stays with us !!! we are all a mosaic of people we have loved in any way, shape or form and UGH 😖😖

"lily is used as a surrogate" they say, in canon compliant jegulus fics,,, bc??? bc james loved someone else first??? bc james, a person so full of love, loved more than one person??? like whyyy. whyyyy are we limiting love? why do you not want to explore it in all its capacities and let characters be Loved.

let sirius and mary get together. let their relationship Matter because it did !! sirius realising he likes remus doesn't take away from that, it doesn't make it misogynistic, it's just teenagers figuring themselves out !! let teenagers love. even if they don't figure out what Love means to them at first, that's normal.

SORRY I YAP SO MUCH BUT i have so many thoughts about the big fandom discourses because they're all 😭 so 😭 silly 😭 (and yet somehow i am dragged into all of them bc i post my face online 😖)

[iamanartichoke]

[please blacklist spoiler tags: #loki tv series spoilers, #loki series spoilers, #loki spoilers]

Yes, I did just watch episode 2 at 5:30 in the morning.

No, I am not sorry. Not at the moment, although when I inevitably crash later this afternoon, I will be.

Just some very, very quick - and scattered and messy - thoughts: That is a straight up lie; they’re definitely scattered and messy but not very quick at all.

Under the cut for spoilers and length.

I’m going to start with Loki’s characterization. My honest opinion is that Loki’s overall characterization feels like a fic characterization. He definitely is not Avengers Loki, like, at all. I don't know if Tom just, like, forgot how to play that Loki or ...?? That, or Loki was so much more mind-controlled than we realized and getting hulk-smashed just completely reset him back to zero but also fucked him up a little bit and affected his personality, kind of like how some people completely develop weird new personality quirks after a traumatic brain injury.

… yeah, I think that’s where I’m gonna land for now. TV series!Loki feels like a more-or-less canon version of Loki, but if that Loki got hit in the head really hard and now he’s just a little bit fucked up but overall no worse for the wear. Which - it may be that it’s so early in the morning, but that’s actually really fucking funny to me, lmao. God, I kill me. It’s not funny.

No, but, that’s pretty much how I feel. He’s ooc but he’s also ic, and the reason I’m not particularly bothered by the inconsistency, for lack of a better word, is because that’s what pretty much every fic Loki already feels like to me? (Including my own, so I’m not, like, saying that in a derogatory way.) Which is why I say Loki feels like a fic!Loki and to try to explain it better - there is always, for me, a little suspension of disbelief that I employ when I read fic. The reason for that is because the context, the plot, and the dynamics of the fic are usually pretty different than what we ever get in canon, so it becomes a matter of taking film!Loki and, like, bending him a bit in order to fit him into the perimeters of the fic.

The result ends up being that I don’t see the exact Avengers!Loki or TDW!Loki, and thus by definition the portrayal is ooc, but the version that I do see feels like a genuine extension of the canon version, possessing enough of Loki’s overall traits and characteristics that he feels authentic, albeit a bit pretzeled for the new context.

I honestly think that’s something that’s unavoidable, just due to the fact that in fic - and now, in this series - there are a lot more variables at play than there are in the films, wherein Loki is not just a supporting character but also the villain/antagonist and is therefore very limited in what he does/what the narrative allows him to do. When those limitations are taken away, what are we going to see? Probably a lot of different things, and yeah, a lot of them are going to feel a little ooc. And, like in fic, even if the characterization mostly lands, there are definitely bits and pieces (some fics more than others lean this way) where the author didn’t stick the landing or got carried away or otherwise probably forgot for a while that they were writing Loki, not their own OC.

That’s the point where it strays into cringe territory for me (and where the ‘heh, he’s Loki but with a brain injury’ aspect comes in), but while I had to consciously decide to just ignore those moments, overall the tone in this episode felt a bit more balanced between the new, the old, and the cringe, and less whiplash-y from the beginning of the episode to the end.

… I have no idea if that makes sense, but what I’m basically saying is that while I am enjoying this version of Loki, I do recognize all of the ways he’s ooc but, unlike how I feel about Ragnarok!Loki, the ooc-ness feels genuine and unavoidable rather than just a fundamental and careless misunderstanding of the character altogether. In other words, I feel like any ooc-ness here is happening despite the writers taking care to do their best, and isn’t just a result of Loki being lazily written by a person or persons who just doesn’t want to bother with him at all.

Again, I don’t know if that makes sense, but fuck it, there we are and I’m moving on.

I liked all of the little details, including again, things that felt straight out of fic, like Loki asking Mobius why he has the jetski magazine. (Also, if any of my thorki friends read this, was I the only one who noticed that when we see Loki reading the magazine, it just happens to be open to a page with a picture featuring a jet skier who looks like Thor? l.m.a.o.)

Loki interrupting things to explain the difference between illusions vs the other power (I can’t remember which one, off hand, and if I stop writing to go look it up I will lose my train of thought and not finish this) was great, but his overall input and contributions to the missions inspired very mixed feelings for me. On the one hand, I loved that the narrative, via Loki, is reminding us of all these things that he’s capable of that the films generally left out or brushed aside or ignored - but, every time he spoke, he was met with eye rolls and sighs and just a general feeling of “someone please shut this guy up” and I didn’t like the narrative treating him that way.

But also, it’s understandable bc none of the people on his team are actually on his team. None of them want him there (story of Loki’s fucking life), none of them trust him, and none of them are particularly interested in hearing what he has to say. So it’s like, I understand why they reacted the way they did, and I don’t think their reactions are meant to support an overall narrative undermining of Loki’s skills and input - but, the tone is hard to read for me bc I am very defensive and protective of Loki. I can’t quite determine the line between the TVA agents being unreliable narrators (ie, they’re annoyed by Loki bc of who he is to them, but that doesn’t mean the audience is supposed to feel the same) and the TVA agents validating that Loki is just being a nuisance (and, thus, the audience is supposed to feel the same).

That is, I know how I am consuming the narrative (that they’re unreliable narrators), but I’m not sure if that’s how tptb are intending for me to consume the narrative - and I guess it doesn’t really matter, but it’s worth mentioning.

In general, I really liked, again, Loki existing in his own space and watching the way he carried himself. I especially found it interesting that his hands were almost always in his pockets - for one thing it's a stance I tend to imagine him taking often in fic, but also it’s kind of a weird choice bc pockets don’t seem to be a thing in Asgardian clothing. It makes me feel like Loki is the kind of person who never knows what to do with his hands but is always conscious of them, as is common among anxious and self-conscious people, and I just find that relatable on a weird level.

I am really kinda torn on Mobius in this episode; when not interrogating Loki, he’s much less antagonistic toward Loki and therefore I’m more inclined to take-him-or-leave-him but I’ll go ahead and take him I guess. Yet at the same time, bc he’s not interrogating Loki he’s also not trying to put on a show for Loki and when you take that away, he really doesn’t seem to like Loki at all. It supports that Mobius only wants what Loki can do for him and doesn’t actually particularly care about him as a person, which is fine and more or less what I figured, but it contributes to me not really being able to decide how I feel about him in general. Idk, though, I kinda like their dynamic? Like I want them to end up friends?

Regardless, Tom and Owen have amazing chemistry and it’s really funny to me bc (not to be a jerk) I honestly didn’t know Owen Wilson could act. Like, I’ve never seen him in a role where he wasn’t just playing Owen Wilson. So for him to not only be playing Mobius so well but also having such chemistry and a sense of holding-his-own against Tom Hiddleston is like, color me surprised but pleasantly so.

I like B-15 a lot, even though she obviously hates Loki, so idk why I like her but I do. I like Renslayer less, but meh. (Side note - when I was in undergrad in Syracuse, I took the Amtrak from Syracuse to Boston and back more than a few times, for reasons that aren’t relevant, and that route always had a layover at Albany-Rensselaer and every single time I see Renslayer’s name, I want to call her Rensselaer instead.) Shout out to the guest appearance by Casey, sorry Loki stole your juice lmfao.

The moments from the trailer that were very cringe were less so in context (though still kinda cringe, tbh). I think we’ve seen most of the content from the trailers in the first two episodes now, though, which means going forward, it’s going to be like 95% previously unseen material (aside from the brief apocalyptic shots and so forth).

One thing I fucking loved was how Loki, reading about Ragnarok, was visibly affected and even teared up a bit, and you could tell he was in his feels about it, but then later when Mobius expresses sympathy, Loki is just like, “Uh huh, very sad, but anyway.” It was a subtle (well maybe not that subtle) but effective way to remind us that what Loki presents to other people is more often than not a mask and he keeps his true feelings close to the chest. It makes last week’s breakdown have even more of an impact, I think, bc clearly Loki was at the end of his rope to allow himself to show that much raw emotion and vulnerability, but also - for me - there’s a niggling little doubt there that wasn’t there before, in that there was probably more performance in it than I thought.

By which I mean, I think his reaction to the film of his life when he was alone was genuine but, while I previously thought his admission to Mobius later was also genuine, I now think was probably half genuine and half performative. I know others already figured that out, but I’m a little slow and, also, I don’t mind changing my opinion and interpretation from week to week.

Along the same lines, I wasn’t exactly surprised to see that Loki is “undercover” in the TVA, but it was nice to see it acknowledged fairly quickly. Not sure I buy that Loki wants to overthrow and rule the TVA - it’s still a little too “Loki only wants a throne” for me, but again, just because that’s what he told the variant doesn’t mean that’s actually what he’s after.

And, finally, I like the variant, I love Loki’s reaction to seeing her, and while I realize that the show has acknowledged Loki’s gender fluidity and we’re meant to assume that Lady Loki (I guess? Not sure if we’re going with that or not here) is Loki, I saw a theory somewhere about how this is actually not Loki-Loki, but - I wanna say her name Sophie but that’s the actress, again I can’t go look it up bc I will lose my train of thought - but it’s a character who is similar to Amora and who was created by Loki and models herself as Loki but she’s actually someone else.

Ugh I can’t remember the details of the theory, but I am kinda going with it bc I don’t think that Loki would look so - not surprised but just kind of “oh, well, I wasn’t expecting that” if he were seeing the female version of himself. Like, he doesn’t seem to recognize her the way I assume he would recognize himself, male or female. Not only does that make me feel like she’s actually someone else, but also not recognizing her as the female version of himself doesn’t necessarily mean Loki doesn’t recognize her at all. He may very well recognize her as this other Amora-similar character and, if so, I really want to see how that character fits with MCU Loki (as I think she’s a comic book character but, again, I’d have to go back and find that theory).

Edit: I found a version of it here.

Overall score, B-. Mostly solid, but needs moar Loki breakdowns and tears. (That's just me, don't fucking judge me.) Also, I really hate that we have to wait a week between episodes. I wish they were following Netflix’s method of dropping the entire season at once but, then again, if they did that, I’m not sure any of us would survive.

I gotta get ready for work and I deleted and rewrote so much of this and it still seems nonsensical to me, lmfao fml. Anyway feel free to interact/send me asks/whatever, it’s going to be a long fucking day with all of this on my mind. I’ll be working my way through my dash as best as I can.

Oh, also! Loki is so fucking pretty in this episode! The TVA suit is ugly, but he makes it work, and his hair's combed nicely and he looks like he finally got an opportunity to sleep and shower and eat something and, yknow, it's working for him.

[starlightbydaybright]

Bloom

Ace x Reader

They say love can be as fleeting as fireworks. Dazzling and bright one second, then extinguished by the darkness in the very next. But Ace wasn’t too sure if this feeling of his will dwindle as quickly as it came...

Year after year, it had always remained the same.

On that one special night in the middle of the summer heat, festivities would light up the decks of the Moby Dick. For what reason, no one was entirely sure, and when asked, a vague response would generally follow. Some says it’s to celebrate victory at some large fight years ago. Others claim it’s just their way of cooling down and relaxing from all the discomfort lingering in the air. Whatever it was, it didn’t really matter. At least not to Ace. What did matter, was that every year, your attitude towards the celebration remains the same. It seems as if you had a never ending plethora of excuses. One year, it’d be that you were feeling sick. Another, you’ll have a bunch of work to catch up on, even though none of the crew were given work a week prior. And sometimes, you’d just be already asleep, or at least that’s all Ace could tell from the dead silence coming from your locked room those nights.

But this year was going to be different, he vowed to himself. He was going to get you out of the room, one way or another, even if he’ll have to drag you by force. Now, Ace wasn’t completely heartless and ignorant to your needs. He knew you were shy and most definitely could not muster the confidence to mingle with the entire crew above deck. That’s why this year he took the time to plan out every single detail you could possibly use as an excuse to get away. Ace most definitely wasn’t a think-before-you-act person, so his efforts this time around was certainly commendable. Kicking out the newcomers that wanted to snag a seat in the crow’s nest, he secured a spot away from the crowds for you. Those newcomers could try again another year, plus, seniors first right?

When night fell and the jovial commotions only steadily increase, Ace couldn’t help the giddy look on his face as he headed towards your room. The majority of the crew were already above deck so the halls were unsurprisingly empty, making for a quicker trip to your cabin. Stopping outside your door, he knocked a few times, which was met with a muffled cry of surprise and followed immediately by a short sigh. The door opened slightly, and your face came into view.

“Ace...?” You questioned, a look of regret quickly dawning your face, realizing rather quickly what he was up to.

“S-sorry but I’m really not sure if I could attend this year either...” You apologetic tone was quickly cut off by Ace.

“I heard there would be fireworks this year. You always wanted to see those right?” He tried to contain his smirk when your eyes widen slightly in response.

That faint glitter in your eyes were gone as soon as it came, replaced by your typical anxious demeanor, “W-well... yes, b-but I don’t know... there’s just too much peop-“

Ace was quick to cut you off again, this time a grin clear on his face, “We got the crow’s nest all to ourselves tonight.”

While you were busy blinking in disbelief and asking how, Ace merely laughed and took the opportunity to grab you by the wrist and lead you through the hallway. Though your frantic, albeit quiet, calls for him to wait, he took the lack of resistance from your side as a sign to keep going. Eventually those were replaced with soft sighs of exasperation, to which Ace only smiled wider at.

The path to the crow nest was crowded with partying crew-mates before you two actually reached your destination. Settling down in the lookout, you yet again let out a sigh, though this time a sigh of relief, for getting through the mob.

“I’m not really sure if-“ Your uncertainty was gone in a flash and quite literally. Just as those words had left your mouth, a loud boom in the background had you turning to look behind you. The first round of fireworks had already begun, and the once pitch black sky was painted in streaks of nearly every color imaginable. Flowers of red, gold, green and blue blossomed in the sky before their lights were extinguished. Only to be replaced immediately with more and more fireworks that shoot in seemingly endless streams into the night.

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes wide in amazement. It’s not as if it’s some kind of once in a blue moon miracle, but fireworks were truly rare. Gunpowder usually went to the use of guns or cannons, so to actually use it for entertainment was a privilege of the wealthy or grandiose of a major holiday. You’ve read all about it in books and seen the photos, but nothing could compare to the real experience. None of the words could describe how the loud sounds would fade into background noises when your eyes are entranced. How the fireworks could brighten up the night sky and dull out even the brightest of the surrounding stars. The images and memory would be burned forever into your mind, that you were sure of. But even then, you didn’t want this to end.

Ace wasn’t looking at the fireworks, at least not completely. He could see them through the reflection in your eyes, but mainly he was staring at your wonderstruck expression. Just as you couldn’t stop looking at the blooming lights, Ace couldn’t tear his gaze off of your face. Your mouth slightly agape, but lifted at the corners to form a bright smile. Your wide eyes glistened in fascination, taking in everything you could. To him, you looked practically ethereal.

“Thank you...” Your voice caught him off guard.

It was Ace’s turn for his breath to get stuck in his throat when you turned to him with a beaming smile. The corners of your eyes crinkled in undeniable delight, and a smile stretched across your face. The new fireworks bursting into light behind you only served to emphasize your features, with warm hues of red, orange, and yellow dancing across your skin. But most important of all, was that your smile was aimed at him. He wondered to himself if the soft tint of pink on your cheeks was due to the lights, or if he had imagined it. Or perhaps...

Did Ace called you shy before? He wasn’t too sure of that right now. As you turned back to looking at the never ending fireworks, he finally managed to turn his head away, in an attempt to cover his burning cheeks. And it most certainly wasn’t due to the summer heat.

How do you make dividers- I’m literally so nervous since it’s my first time publishing, now time to find a way to delete my account and disappear off the face of earth forever :’)

This is for @tooweirdforyou and their Summer Collab event. Hopefully I did this right since I feel like I didn’t include much summer theme except the fireworks and simply mentioning that it’s the middle of summer 😞

If there’s any confusion about (Y/n) and Ace’s relationship, they’re kinda like close friends on the ship. Whether or not there’s any secret mutual pining... that I’ll leave up to your imagination 😊

Also, please excuse any ooc-ness of Ace in the story, I love him as a character, but my inability to write meant I couldn’t do him justice 🥲 rereads for the hundredth time and cringes at all the smirking and grinning I wrote

[cupidlakes]

Hi! New anon here ❤️ I’m starting my dnf writing journey and was wondering if you have advice for characterizations? Or people who you think write D & G well? Thanks!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

uhh i’m not a writer so i don’t know how helpful my advice will be :) but i’ll give you some things that to me make a “realistic” dream and george!! all of this can be /p btw and to write gen fics i’m just outlining things about them that stand out to me as defining characteristics

a “realistic” george to me will be where he’s equal parts jokingly snarky smug a little bratty and stubborn but also smart accommodating levelheaded and logical he’s not outwardly overly emotional and i feel like people tread into an area where they make him so drastically different because they’re writing about the ship (or friendship) and feelings come into play obviously but you can still have a realistic response to complicated feelings and yearning without any of the “i care so much about dream i’m crying everyday over it” that radiates ooc-ness it also generally takes quite a lot to outwardly affect george he isn’t quick to anger and the very few times we’ve seen him sad he’s been quiet and subdued but this could just be him not wanting to be vulnerable on stream

george is pretty witty and well liked dialogue where you can show him bouncing off others really well being will always make people’s writing stand out to me george also jokingly flirts and toes the line a lot i feel like it’s fun to play off that making him a flustered blushy mess is boring to me but i do like when people can do him being taken aback by the things dream says right to use an example loads of people might be familiar with, that one scene in heat waves is so good i think, it floored me when i read it for the first time

a “realistic” dream to me is one controlled by his emotions he can be rash sometimes acting out of impulse and what he feels in the moment he can be prone to getting jealous but he’s very sweet caring and earnest too he feels a lot and you can probably make him a crier because he’s admitted to being one many times

he’s also headstrong, self assured and very confident if there’s a goal in mind he’ll do whatever to achieve it he can get easily frustrated with the bumps along the way but he won’t give up

imo you can do slow burn with dnf really well because of how they are irl and how they constantly toe the line without actually crossing it they flirt and flirt but at the end of the day they’re just friends right but in fics if you wanna do that gradual realisation of feelings making it realistic is hard i think but if you do it right it’s really satisfying i think on georges side making him more affectionate in the way he shows affection (through quality time) is a good route, highlighting his need to be with dream and his want to bridge the physical distance (if it’s set in real life) is good, in general just making him want to spend as much time with him as possible and also getting jealous and attention grabby when something is occupying dream is all him and we can have clingy george as a treat

on dreams side making him more obsessed works, he talks enough about george as is where it can border on romantic but making it more and also showcasing the various ways dream shows affection particularly towards george with a boost in flirting is a recipe for obvious in love-ness

i definitely missed out some stuff but i hope this was helpful in any way!! i want ppl to know you can write dream and george however actually and if you wanna stray away from their real life personas i get that but these are the things i love to see in fics i just like when they’re fleshed out and you see the actual bits of dream and george there and replacing their names for example with any other people would make a difference

i don’t know about recommending specific writers because i have so many faves this seems like a cop out but it’s true and i also don’t wanna miss anyone but yeah sorry this was so long omg

[vadergf]

LET IT ALL OUT

So this is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. I'm sorry for any mistakes and OOC-ness. But I just wondered how he met Astoria and he says in the Cursed Child that she changed him and I kinda wanted to write how. Drastoria is seriously underrated compared to Dramione and Drarry so we need some love for this amazing ship here.

WARNING: Strong language and a lot of hurt. Mentions of physical abuse and torture. Slight nudity?

PLEASE DONT READ IF THESE THEMES MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE

Word Count: 3935

Characters: Draco Malfoy, Astoria Greengrass

****

He couldn't stay. He needed to get away.

The Dark Lord was dead. They had won, though he wasn't sure if "they" included him. He was alive. His parents were too. They had all lived. He should've been happy for being able to stay alive. Or he should've been mourning the end of the Dark Lord. But this, this was hollowness. He couldn't feel. He was afraid of what outburst would escape him if he tried to feel. And he was a Slytherin, and a Malfoy- they don't show their feelings. That was for lesser men.

He couldn't bear it. All those people crying or talking with their family. People rejoicing the death of the greatest Dark Wizard. His parents had left after the original mayhem. They had been overjoyed that he was alive and they were all together again. He wished he felt the same feeling. He knew it would only be days before the Ministry came knocking and probably carted him and his father, maybe even his mother, to Azkaban. But that was not what was eating him up.

He couldn't bear it anymore.

He walked down the halls of that place that he used to call home. He had hated it at first. He thought himself better than it. That was until the Carrows had spoilt the one place that he realized with a jolt, where he had actually been happy. He entered the Slytherin Common Room. There were damages all over the castle but somehow, this place had escaped unscathed. Sighing, he slumped down on one of the chairs and stared into space. One thought pounded in his head:

No one understands.

And that was the problem. No one understands what he, Draco Malfoy, had gone through. To the Slytherins, he had been their Prince. To the others- the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, he was the epitome of the Dark Side at Hogwarts. He was the bully who picked on people. He was the guy who had caused all of this.

Nothing would ever be the same.

Draco was tired, so very tired- of keeping up the façade that all of this didn't bother him; that he didn't give a shit about all the other non-Slytherins; that he was still faithful to the Dark Lord. He couldn't stand looking at himself in the mirror. He was a monster. He was vile, evil, a coward and repulsive, even to himself. He was even worse than Wormtail. He deserved Azkaban. He deserved much worse for all the suffering he had brought.

He was stuck in a stupor when he heard the click of the Common Room door being opened and in entered a girl. He blinked once, just to make sure lack of food and sleep hadn't made him start hallucinating. She was real, all right. He groaned to himself. He couldn't handle anybody right now, and definitely not some annoying junior. He looked closely at her for a second. Ah, the little Greengrass. Daphne's sister.

He scrutinized her for another second. She was OK-looking, he supposed. Could be classified pretty, if she dressed up and all, but right now-she only wore a T-shirt and jeans. Long blonde hair in waves which, right now, was covered with soot and dust. She had blue eyes that stood out from her pale complexion. She had an OK figure but he had been with way more gorgeous and voluptuous women before. She didn't bother him. "What was her name again?" he thought. Something with the letter A.

She was looking at him, and he was aware of that. But not in a way like he was something abhorrent nor in a way like he was an angel or something. She was looking at him with…. concern. And pity?

"What do you want?" He asked, sullenly. He was over anger or disgust or any feeling.

"Well, you were missing and they're taking a kind of roll call to see how many people survived and are not injured."

He replied, in that same sullen tone, "It doesn't matter. Let them think I'm dead. At least I won't go to Azkaban that way."

She shook her head gently, "Are you dumb, Draco? They don't blame you or your parents. They know you were coerced. Merlin, I thought you were smart."

He gave her a nod as acknowledgement. He wouldn't have to go to Azkaban. Good, he could stay here and complete his education. He hoped they would redo the whole year again. They hadn't actually learnt anything of use except the Cruciatus Curse and how to conjure up FiendFyre, which would probably become illegal again.

All of a sudden, a question popped into his brain. "I thought all of the Slytherins had left Hogwarts?"

"You stayed behind." she quipped

"Huh. Very funny! Didn't your sister drag you to safety?"

She pursed her lips. "Yes, she wanted to. But I wanted there to be at least one Slytherin fighting for Hogwarts, so that our name isn't completely tarnished after the battle."

He was surprised at her bravery-noble but foolish. Never mind.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, physical exhaustion taking over. When he opened his eyes, he realized she was still there and was still staring at him.

"Can you please stop staring, Alicia? It's getting kind of creepy." He muttered grimly.

She rolled her eyes. "It's Astoria. And you're hurt, Draco. You need healing. Look at you, you look exhausted. You need to come up to the Great Hall. There's a makeshift infirmary there. You can get treated."

He shook his head and said, "I'm fine."

Astoria placed her hands on her hips and gave me a look that was vaguely reminiscent of Weasley's mother.

"No, don't think of that!" he chided himself.

Draco saw the whole Weasley family huddled together, wearing identical expressions of grief. In the centre of the group was the lifeless body of one of the Twins, his face still having the ghost of a smile…

No, he couldn't think of that. He couldn't.

Astoria brought him out of her reverie by tugging at the sleeve of his robe. "You are coming with me! You are hurt, despite what you may say or think." She declared firmly.

He gritted his teeth. She was seriously getting on his nerves.

He stubbornly said, "I am fine. Can you please leave?"

"No, can you please stop saying that you are fine! You are not fine and I can see that!" Astoria sharply retorted.

Draco gave a defeated sigh, "Getting healed is for people who get to lead a proper life after being cured. Getting healed is not for people like me. It's for those people who deserve to live."

She placed an arm on his shoulder but he shook it away.

Draco looked up at Astoria's hurt expression and it made him feel bad. But he suppressed the feeling.

Just another thing for the list of regrets.

"I know that you deserve to live. You're not a bad person, Draco. You've just been…misguided," She gently comforted.

Draco shook his head. He wanted to believe what she said but he held himself back. He didn't need more lies in his head.

"You can heal anybody but me."

She smiled at him, "No, you will get better. I get it, you had problems but it's going to be OK."

Anger suddenly crept into Draco. Anger he hadn't felt in a long while. How could she just assume that she could take away his problems and make him better? How could she get it? No one could! It wasn't simple "problems". Greengrass didn't know anything.

He snarled, "I've got scars that you can't heal, Greengrass."

She raised her eyebrows in doubt but kept an even tone. "Everybody's got scars."

He saw red. How dare she suggest that anybody's pain, anybody's anguish came close to his? They would never, ever know how it felt!

He growled, "Oh really?!"

He rolled back his left arm sleeve to show her his Dark Mark. It was faded, more light than he had ever seen it but still visible. He expected her to flinch or wince. She didn't. She gave a slight gasp when she saw the mark that had been on the hands of all those people who had murdered her friends but that was all.

After a minute or so, he demanded, "Well?"

She tore her eyes away from the Mark and said, in a placid voice, "As I told you, everybody has scars, Draco."

Draco said, mockingly, trying to conceal his anger, "Uh-huh. What great scars do you have, Greengrass? A Quidditch mishap or did you spill a potion on yourself?"

Astoria smiled indulgently "Very hilarious, Draco."

Before he could respond, she had removed her T-shirt. His jaw opened slightly. He had taken in the sight of her pale, creamy skin and her periwinkle blue bra for hardly a few seconds before his eyes immediately went to the bruises all over her body.

Some of them were new, probably from the battle. But some were old, they were healing. They were ugly, yellow mars and some were purple. The new ones were turning a nasty shade of violet. Draco felt a surge of anger towards the Carrows when he saw the marks on her bodies. Astoria turned slowly and he could see the whip marks from Filch's equipment on her back. And there, near her shoulder blade was a carving on her skin:

Blood-traitor.

It was almost identical to the one Aunt Bellatrix had carved on Granger at Malfoy Manor except that it was deeper and much more shoddily cut. Draco got up, in half a trance and walked up to Astoria.

His voice was a hoarse whisper when he asked, "How?"

He could hear the barely concealed pain in her voice when she said, "Carrows. Alecto did it."

He brushed a finger over the cut and she shivered at his touch. He placed his palm on her waist and turned her around. They were practically face-to-face (she was shorter than him) and he could feel her warm breath on his face.

Draco could see that she was hurting, mentally and physically but there was no sign of tears in her eyes. She instead had this blazing look.

He asked her softly, "You're pure blood. Why would they do that?"

Astoria moved away, slightly uncomfortably. He shuffled awkwardly back to his seat and she sat down next to him.

She said, after a few minutes, "Well, the DA were all about overthrowing the Carrows and Professor Snape, but someone had to teach the little kids proper magic and not just the Dark Arts."

Draco stared at her, utterly flabbergasted.

He half yelled, "You did what?"

She smiled, in a guilty sort of way and said, "I found out that the First Years could barely Transfigure matches into needles. I had to help them and make them understand that Hogwarts isn't usually like this and that this was just temporary. I had to teach them that blood purity isn't important. The Carrows caught me and this was my punishment. The whipping. When I didn't stop, they used the Cruciatus Curse on me. And when they found me helping the Muggle-Borns, Alecto carved my skin."

He was astounded. How could someone be so damn righteous and moral and not give a damn about their own well-being at all? He would have to be lying if he said that this witch was not fascinating him.

He knew he was staring but at that moment he didn't care. She was looking so damn intriguing and he felt like he was getting to know a completely new person.

Astoria blushed a pale shade of pink as she noticed him staring and averted her gaze and looked down, which led to him looking down-and that wasn't helping his case at all, what with her clothes or the lack thereof.

He shifted in his seat and crossed his legs. She had seen what he was doing and blushed a dark shade of crimson. She slowly picked up the T-shirt she had thrown on the chair and straightened it. As she tugged it on, Draco decidedly looked the other way.

"No point lusting after her, Draco-she's not your type! She needs someone dependable, not you!" He mentally scolded himself.

She gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder and he turned to face her, all decent. And he was not expecting her to be an inch away from his face. Her hair hung in waves about her face and she just looked so damn… he honestly didn't know which word to use to describe her at that moment. The way she was smiling at him. The way she smelled- of dust, smoke, sweat, berries, the Forbidden Forest all forming something so intoxicating and numbing.

Draco turned away with Herculean effort. He would be lying if he hadn't been tempted to kiss her.

Why was this happening? Stop!

Astoria placed her petite hand on Draco's shoulder and said, softly, "Draco, what's the real reason you don't want to go up and face everybody? You're not scared of Azkaban, I know that."

He shook his head. He didn't want to open that box of hurt in his chest.

"You're not a murderer, Draco," Dumbledore's kind face peered at him, his blue eyes reading every molecule in his body.

No! No! No! He couldn't think of that! He shouldn't!

"Come Draco, we must give punishments were punishments are due. It's simple," Voldemort's cold voice sounded like mockery but anyone who was present would know there was nothing there but anger. "Simple-like this," The Dark Lord raised his wand, directed it at Bellatrix and shrieked, "Crucio!" Bellatrix twitched and screamed uncontrollably. Draco winced. The moment didn't go unnoticed by Voldemort. He said, softly, "Now Draco, do what I just did to Lucius and show him what happens when he disobeys his Lord." Reluctantly, Draco raised his wand and pointed it at his father's fearful face and whispered, "Crucio." Even the simple whisper caused Lucius Malfoy to writhe painfully on the floor. Draco shut his eyes. He had caused this. All of this.

He opened his eyes to see Astoria close to him, so close her eyelashes were brushing his cheek. She gingerly hugged him and said, "Its' going to be alright."

Draco leaned into the hug. Something about her was so comforting and reassuring. She was youthful yet motherly. She lightly stroked his hair and murmured, "It's OK, Draco. You didn't do anything. It's not your fault. Everything's going to be alright."

He wanted to believe what she said with every fibre of his being. But he couldn't and he knew that. He had ignored the faults of his parents for years, instead choosing to blindly follow their words and where had that got him?

He said, his voice muffled, "No, Astoria. It's my fault."

She pulled away and stared into his eyes for a long time. Then she said, with finality, "No! You may feel guilty but you did not do anything and I will go against the goddamn Wizengamont."

Draco looked away and vehemently said, "You don't understand! The year Dumbledore died-I'm the one who let the Death Eaters into the castle! I was there that night in the Astronomy Tower! I'm the one who disarmed him! If I wasn't there, Dumbledore needn't have died and all this- Voldemort taking over, the Carrows, none of it would've happened! All those people who're dead up there-the Fallen Fifty, they're dead because of me! Creevey, Weasley…" his voice broke before he continued, "All of them dead! Do you know what that can do to anybody's conscience? I'm a monster! A fucking monster and a coward to boot!"

He stared at her eyes which were wide with shock for a few seconds, tears rapidly creating a thin film. He yelled, "I knew it! I know you hate me because who was I kidding? No one is ever going to accept me! And you know what, I deserve it! I'm horrible! I'm despicable! ADMIT IT!"

Astoria touched his cheek gently. He tried to shrug her off but her grip became firmer. She turned him towards herself and looked at him with those goddamn blue eyes. She whispered, "It wasn't your fault. You're not a bad person, Draco. You're just a good person who bad things have happened to. Maybe it's to whom you were born, maybe it's the way you were brought up, maybe it's what you understood, but let me tell you this-You are not bad and any fucker saying different will have to deal with me!"

Draco's eyes welled up with tears. He was used to taunts and hardship from his teachers and peers. All his parents did was spoil and tutor him to be a 'proper little pure blood'. But kindness… that was unheard of.

She was looking into his eyes and he couldn't resist the temptation to stare back. They were blue. Beautiful blue-just a bit of sky blue to feel summery, just a bit of aqua to give it depth but not too much to make it look turquoise and there was a smidge of black giving her a mysterious aura. He could see himself reflected in her eyes-not cool, calm and debonair Malfoy but scared, remorseful and depressed Draco.

Suddenly she hugged him fiercely. He leaned into her touch. She whispered, "Draco, you mean something to people. Don't let your past define you."

He said, his voice croaky, "But I'm me! I'm never going to be accepted! Not after all I did!"

"Bull! You're fine!"

"No, I'm not. You don't know what I did, Astoria. I'm a horrible person!"

She sighed, "Fine, then fucking tell me what you did."

"I shouldn't. I can't just dump all my feelings and wrongdoings on you. You're not my shrink or something. I don't deserve your attention," he said, his voice cracking with emotional strain.

She gently rubbed his back and said, "Try me, Draco. Tell me! Let it all out!"

He choked out, "Don't hate me…please." God, he sounded pathetic. "I was the one who did everything. The year Dumbledore died-it was me. I'm the one who Imperiused Rosmerta and made her give Bell the cursed locket. She could've died. And it would've been my fault. The poisoned mead that Weasley drank, that was me. If Potter wasn't there with the bezoar, he would've died too. And the night Dumbledore died, I was the one who caused it. I left the Death Eaters in. I Disarmed Dumbledore! Without me, he would've lived. Voldemort would never have risen. All those Muggle-Borns beings tormented, all the people who died in this battle-it was my fault. And Creevey, Weasley, Brown, all those kids dead-because of who? Me!"

He was aware that he was half screaming now, "And Crabbe, Crabbe's dead too." She gave a gasp as he said that but he continued, "He died too. Because of me! I never called him Vincent or Vince or anything and he was one of the persons I was closest too. I never met his parents; I never treated him like a person and guess what? HE'S DEAD!"

He broke out into sobs-something he rarely did. Draco knew it, he was being stupid and pathetic and weak. But the strain of all the years and months and weeks of torture and fear were finally coming out and he couldn't stop. He sobbed on Astoria's shoulder, aware of her soft hands rubbing his hair.

She murmured softly, "It's OK, Draco. Let it all out. It's OK. Let it all out-you'll feel better."

And so he sobbed, sobbed uncontrollably but quietly, somehow into her shoulder. When the last sobs were done racking his body, he lifted himself from her shoulder, slightly embarrassed.

She smiled and said, "Salazar's snakes, are you actually embarrassed, you weirdo?"

He gave her a guilty smile and nodded.

She gently touched his hand and replied, "I promise I won't tell. It'll be our secret, 'kay?"

Draco grinned and answered, with a bit of mockery, "'Kay!"

She held out her hand, "So, you want to come up now?I promise no one's going to eat you," She giggled slightly.

He gave a slight beam and exclaimed, "Your faith in my manliness is shocking! I am hurt! I am very much hurt!" He feigned dying of a heart wound while she chortled.

Then, Astoria extended one petite hand his way and asked, "Come up with me?"

He took her hand and his and answered, "My pleasure!"

As Astoria led him out of the Slytherin Common Room, Draco had two thoughts in his mind: Maybe everything would be fine and two-Damn! This woman was something.

*****

So, yeah-not exactly a lot of Drastoria moments but this isn't the end! I'm going to write a sequel which I've already thought of but you know, need to write(ugh!).

Feedback is always appreciated. Maybe a reblog?

Tagging mutuals who might be in the HP fandom: @xstarsarewrong​ @im-ground-zero​ @kuuhakublank00​ @purpleskiesstorm​ @dragoncreek319​ @evolving-into-icarus​ @inspiration-in-progress​

If you want to be tagged in future fics, please send me a message or an ask.

MASTERLIST

Taglist

[crimson-snowfall]

Jealous hc for Comte, Leo and Theo please! Really appreciate your writing!

Sorry for the wait, and thanks for your kind message! Here ya go~

Ikevamp HC request: Jealous Theo, Comte, and Leo

Theo

Theo is particularly vocal when it comes to Arthur playing around with you. Even though he knows Arthur does it on purpose just to piss him off, he just can’t let the flirt do as he pleases with you, so he makes sure to give Arthur a piece of his mind every now and then.

Theo doesn’t really get jealous nor wary about you interacting with the rest of the mansion’s residents, because he’s plenty confident about his ability to keep his hondje satisfied.

The only time he ever feels jealous is during those occasional instances when you would end up spending a lot of time with Vincent for days at a time, and Theo hates himself for it.

He has always admired his brother, and Theo has spent all of his life believing that Vincent is better than him, and in a good way. He thinks of his dear brother as the best person in the world, so it made him sick inside as soon as he realized that emotions of jealousy have ‘tainted’ his love for his brother.

He is deeply confused as well, because sometimes he’s not sure whom is he truly jealous about. Perhaps he’s jealous both ways?

As soon as Vincent realized how Theo feels, he promptly apologized to him. Theo visibly paled upon hearing Vincent apologize to him, panic quickly taking over him.

“What are you taking about, b-broer? You did nothing wrong, you know you can never do wro–”

“Calm down, Theo. Look… I’m just really happy that you finally found yourself a woman to love in this life. That’s why I wanted to get to know her better, and love her the same way as I do love you, Theo. Because soon enough, she’s going to be my sister-in-law, right?”

Vincent had that kind smile on his face as he said all those things to Theo, and it’s enough to make the strength in Theo’s knees leave. He pulled his brother in a tight embrace, insisting that he should be the one apologizing for even feeling that way.

It’s not often that Theo shows his weak side towards him, so Vincent had been more than willing to comfort him and dispel his worries.

After that, Theo’s subtle jealous episodes became far less often. However, when you finally realized it and confronted him about it, you could’ve sworn he got incredibly flustered for a moment.

“Huh? What are you talking about hondje? Why would I be jealous? This is my brother we’re talking about here, do you really want to get punished?”

Unfortunately, he didn’t sound nearly as convincing as he had hoped to be, and while you would’ve taken this golden opportunity to tease him, you decided against it. Theo can play really dirty if you tease him so much, and you’re not yet really ready for another night of him just teasing you until you’re nearly in tears. Instead, you spent the next few days spoiling him with sweets and fluffier servings of pancakes.

Comte

At first, you thought that Comte just really loved to spoil you. But after a while and as you get to know him better, you eventually noticed a pattern to these shopping sprees and fancy restaurant dates he often takes you to.

While the fact that he indulges spoiling you remains true, you realized that he does this mainly so he can have a valid reason to keep you all to himself, at least for the day.

Lately, he’s been starting to spoil you way too often, almost every other day. While you do enjoy the time you spend with him, your closet is starting to get crammed with all the clothes and accessories he gets for you. You’re also conscious that you may be starting to put on some weight as well.

Unsure of what to do, you approach Leonardo. Comte is good friends with him, so you thought that Leo of all people would know how to deal with your lover’s behavior.

You came to him in the library and much to your surprise, the pureblood is actually awake and not passed out on the floor like always. You told him about your troubles.

“Have you talked to him about it, cara mia?” A soft smile graced his features as he regarded you with concern.

“No. The thing is… I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well, this is actually the first time I’ve–” Leo stopped mid-sentence, his expression as though he had sensed something coming. His soft smile turned into a mischievous one as he stood from where he was seated and approached you.

“No, I think I have an idea.” With those words, he closed the distance between the two of you, pinning you against the nearest bookshelf. He tilted your head up, your eyes meeting his that were dancing with mild mischief. Leo leaned dangerously close, and it really looked like he was going to kiss you when—

“Leonardo Da Vinci.” A heavy voice came from the entrance, and there stood Comte, golden eyes on fire. Leo was shaking– surely not out of fear, instead he looked like he’s trying to hold back his laughter.

In mere seconds, Comte has you in a protective embrace whilst his vicious glare remained on his friend. The other pureblood shrugged it off.

“There you have it, cara mia. Now’s your chance. Go and tell him. There’s no way he could deny it anymore.” Leo walked out of the library as if he had done nothing wrong, and the sigh that escaped Comte’s lips nearly echoed in the room.

“What was that all about, ma chérie?” He turned you around so that you’re facing him, the rage in his eyes replaced with mild sadness.

You ended up telling him everything, how you loved spending time with him, but how deep down you wished he didn’t have to resort to spoiling you that much all the time.

“I appreciate everything, Comte. But, you don’t really have to go that far every time, I… I already have so much of everything. If you’re jealous, we could just always spend more time together– just simply the two of us, together. It doesn’t have to be always extravagant.”

“I’m sorry ma chérie. I just couldn’t help myself whenever I’m with you. I want to give you everything.” Comte placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

He continues about taking up on your offer about spending time together without being too extravagant. He suggests taking you off from your household duties for the next few days, and the tender look in his eyes made it impossible for you to refuse.

“I can’t guarantee that I won’t end up spoiling you… in my own other ways though, ma chérie. I hope you’re prepared for that.”

Leonardo

Leo’s room has always been messy, but lately it’s just a disaster. For the past two days, Sebastian has been taking care of most of the other household duties while he left you in charge of your lover’s room.

On that particular day, the butler told you that your sole task is to attend to Leo’s room, and after that you can take the rest of the day off as some sort of compensation.

You came to his room, already dreading the mess that’s about to unfold before your eyes as soon as you open the door.

“Leo, how do you even manage to get your room this dirty? I just cleaned up yesterday!” You made no effort to hide your frustration as you began cleaning his room. Surprisingly enough though, this time, he helped you out.

Soon enough with his help, the room looked far more decent and actually habitable. “See? It’s much better now. You’re actually good at this, Leo. If only you would do it more often, then–”

You were cut off when strong arms pulled you into a tight embrace. “It’s been three days and you still don’t get it, do you, cara mia?” Leo planted a soft kiss on your neck before falling back into his bed and turning you around so that you’re on top of him.

He wore a somewhat lonely expression as he played with your hair. He took a deep sigh, the signature scent of cigarillos wafting on the air. “Lately… I found myself feeling rather jealous.”

“Jealous of what? And what does that have to do with any of this?”

“You’ve been doing nothing but housework lately, cara mia. You attend to everyone, and sometimes I just want to keep you to myself. That’s when I thought, what if I made it so that all the housework you’ll ever do is in my room? Then maybe I’ll get to spend more time with you.”

You looked at him in absolute disbelief. “Leo, I can’t believe you…”

“You don’t have to, cara mia. But today I helped you because… I want you to do something other than housework.”

Hope you liked it and sorry for any ooc-ness and grammatical error, my mind’s really a mess right now with all the university work piled up on me ;w; I haven’t read Leo’s route yet either so sorry if his is a little bit shorter compared to the others. I need to read more canon facts and be able to read more interactions between these characters so I can write them better in the future, but on the meantime thanks for your understanding! As for the other request (and future reqests that may be made), I’ll get to you on the 1st week of February~

[sparklingpax]

A Different Side (1/2)

Summary: Optimus comes back from an unsuccessful mission and seems to be out of sorts...but there’s more to that story. 

///

A/N: 

-This is a rather silly fic, so do not worry I promise there is nothing inappropriate or heavy in this one at all! It’s,,,a dumb idea I had in History the other day,,,I wrote most of it between/during class periods, and edited the rest when I was supposed to be doing homework at home! :’) 

-Please excuse any typos, grammar mistakes, ooc-ness, weird phrasings, punctuation errors, or really just anything that looks weird or isn’t right; I’m an amateur and I do this stuff for fun! So I’m naturally not the best at it....keep that in mind pls...

-WHAT IS THIS TITLE IM SO SORRY--

-Ok but this story is honestly kinda dumb goumen I’ll write better things soon

-Set in the TFP universe! 

-This only has two parts, so this be the first and the next update is the end of it.... 😹😹 ^^’’

Enjoy! :D 

///

“Eat my dust, Jack!”

“Not if I pass you first!!”

“No, you won’t!!!”

“Says who?!”

               Two cars raced around the base, one just barely passing the other.

               Miko and Jack had gone head-to-head, racing one last tournament before they had to go home—after the tie last round, they just had to know who, really, was the victor of the day. The two of them shouted competitively as they jammed the controls in one direction or another. Excited, Raf looked on. He, too, was curious of the outcome.

               At present, only Ratchet had remained at base.

               The others had gone out to investigate an abandoned energon mine somewhere in Maine. Optimus had visited the location once before but was not able to reach the source of the readings he’d gotten.

               Therefore, since there had been no Decepticon activity in the past week or so, he took his team to search the caverns.

               They were due to return in about 10 minutes, according to Ratchet. When they did, each guardian was then going to take their human companion home.

               It was a normal day at the Autobot base.

              “NO WAY—”

              “TAKE THAT!!!!”

              Jack threw his fist in the air triumphantly while Miko crumpled to the floor in defeat. Raf burst into laughter as she actually went and laid flat on her back.

             “The horror! I’ve let Jack win!!” She overdramatically wailed. Then, after a moment, sat up and giggled along with Raf and Jack. As the two went to retrieve their cars, Raf scampered up to Ratchet.

             “Hey, Ratchet. What are you doing?”

             The medic sighed, continuing to tinker with what looked like some kind of tool. “Fixing one of Bulkhead’s….accidents,” He muttered. With a sigh, he remembered the large mech smashing it while trying to reenact a fight he had, showing off to Miko. Naturally, the girl had been amazed, but it was short-lived as Ratchet, too, had witnessed that retelling.

              Raf fixed his glasses. “I’m sure it was just an accident, Ratchet.”

              With an eyeroll, Ratchet responded, “It was, but that doesn’t make it any less of an inconvenience, Rafael. It was quite immature of him, too.” He held it up to the light to observe a small detail of the frame.

              “Oh…I see.”

              “Thank the Allspark it’s not one of my more important tools,” he murmured, mostly to himself. Ratchet put it down for a moment to check on the progress of the rest of the team’s expedition.

              He pushed the comm button. “Optimus, come in. Have you found anything? Is everyone okay?”

             “Negative, Ratchet. There is nothing left in these caves,” he reported, a faint note of disappointment in his tone. “Though, everyone is fine. We require a bridge.”

              “Understood.”

              Ratchet tapped a few more buttons to lock onto their coordinates and pulled the lever, activating the groundbridge.  Miko and Jack broke off their conversation and joined Raf to stand by Ratchet, waiting for their guardians’ returns.

               Sure enough, after a moment, the team came through the portal with a swishing noise, Optimus the last one through. While the three kids gravitated to their partners, Optimus merely stood at the bridge. He remained for a moment, passing his gaze over his team.

              Then, without a word, he turned and headed down the halls—to his room.

              “Did you really think….” Arcee trailed off her snide remark at Jack as she heard Optimus’s heavy footsteps go past everyone and down the hall. She and Jack exchanged looks as everyone else, also, noticed this.

               After a short spell of silence, Miko finally spoke up.

               “Is he mad or something? Cuz I mean, geez—he didn’t even say hello.” She folded her arms.

               “No, Miko,” Ratchet responded, sounding a little exasperated. “What could he be angry over, if he were?” More silence followed his words. It was not often Optimus actually showed what he was feeling like this.

               Everyone was therefore concerned.

               “Do you think…he might be, like, really disappointed about not finding anything in the caves, then?” Jack asked, drifting from Arcee to the groundbridge area. “I mean, from what he’s been saying, you guys really needed that energon…”

               “He could just be tired, too,” Raf chimed in. The bots thought for a moment.

               Bumblebee shifted from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. ‘I just hope he’s okay…’

               Ratchet set his tools aside and headed for the hall. “I’ll go talk to him,” he said. The humans and bots exchanged glances, then nodded.

///

               “So!” Ratchet huffed frustratedly, emerging from the halls. “He won’t open the door, and will not talk to me, either!” He threw his hands in the air with a noise of exasperation, trudging back to his station.

               Rafael nudged Miko, who had her headphones in. Jack stood up and began down the stairs.

               “I guess something is wrong,” Arcee murmured, folding her arms. She caught sight of Jack, regarding her companion with an inquisitive gaze.

               “Jack?”

               “I’ll talk to him.” He heard his own determined voice, then touched the back of his head with an awkward laugh. “I’ll—I’ll try, I mean…”

               “Good luck,” Ratchet muttered bitterly, not taking his eyes off his current repair project. “If he even has the courtesy to acknowledge you at all.”  Jack flashed a thumbs up.

He uneasily began to wonder what could have put Optimus so out of sorts that he wouldn’t even speak to Ratchet. It was also rare for Optimus to do this kind of thing, apparently.

Something told Jack it wasn’t just about the energon…but he still wanted to find out for himself.

               “Later, Jack!” Raf called, scampering down the steps. Miko followed, slinging her backpack onto her shoulders. She waved.

               “Yeah, we’re gonna go home now, but you better text us later, kay?” Bulkhead and Bumblebee then transformed, and the two kids hopped in. Ratchet, remembering he had to bridge them out, audibly sighed, slumping over.

               “For the love of Primus, am I able to get any work done around here without constantly being interrupted?!”

               That’s my cue to leave, Jack thought. He quickly hurried down the halls, not wanting to be the next victim of Ratchet’s frustration. He knew the medic only meant well, and that his work was important to him.

               Still, he internally wished Ratchet had more patience. Even if he didn’t scare Jack, it was still unpleasant to be around the old bot when he was not in a good mood.

               Speaking of which….

               Jack came upon Optimus’s berth room, which was closed. He sucked in a breath, raising his arm to knock. Hesitation pulled his arm back after a second.

               What if he is just resting? I’d be pretty ticked if someone interrupted my long nap…

               A memory of Miko pushing him off the couch as a prank resurfaced. He remembered feeling frustrated more than anything else. Of course, she’d apologized, but that wasn’t really going to give him back those precious minutes of sleep.

               He rolled his eyes. “What can you expect when you’re friends with Miko Nakadai, right?” He murmured, raising his arm again. But for the sake of satisfying my own curiosities, at least—

               “Hey, Optimus?” Jack called, knocking lightly. When he received no response for a few minutes, he sighed and knocked again—this time, a bit louder. “Optimus!! Are you okay in there?”

               There was a rustling noise from behind the door, but still no response. Jack decided to stop knocking. He put his back against the metal and slid to the floor. Maybe simply talking it out would help.

               “You know, everyone’s kinda worried about you…” He sighed again, laughing a little. “Oh, and Ratchet’s kinda mad you didn’t even acknowledge him. So…you’re probably gonna have to apologize for that later…”

               The boy bowed his head a little. It was possible Optimus wanted to be left alone right now. Coming to bother him might have been a mistake. Jack began to think up other ways he and the others could figure out—

               “Jack.”

               Optimus spoke at last, his voice sounding calm—completely level, actually. Instantly, the teen sprang to his feet and answered.

               “Optimus! Ok, good. You’re alive, then,” he joked. When the Prime didn’t respond to his jest—naturally—Jack shook his head and chuckled quietly. “It’s ok, I was joking. Anyway—do you….wanna talk? Is everything ok? You seemed kind of sad when you came through the bridge…and you didn’t even tell us how it went…”

               Didn’t tell us anything, actually, but I’ll leave that part out. I’m sure Optimus doesn’t want to be guilted for stuff at the moment.

               There was another noise—it sounded a little more desperate before it abruptly came to a stop. Then, the Autobot leader’s hefty footsteps began to approach the door. Jack backed away, glad that his efforts seemed to have paid off. The large metal sheet slid upwards, revealing Optimus’ huge figure.

               His face was completely expressionless, but he mustered a somewhat warm look when he gazed at Jack.

               Well, at least Optimus said something and…opened his door, Jack consoled himself mentally. Even though I still don’t know what’s bothering him. Guess we’ll just have to wait for him to tell us…

               “I will go apologize to Ratchet. It was not my intention to offend him…” He started out the door and down the hall. Then, he paused to face Jack for a moment as he added, “And my apologies also to you, I did not mean to worry anyone. Thank you for coming to get me.”

               “Oh—no, don’t worry about that, Optimus. It’s fine.”

               The Prime nodded briefly, saying nothing more. Jack watched him go. Now, he was even more confused than before.

               So why were you acting weird when you got back to base?

               By coincidence, his gaze happened to wander to Optimus’ open berth room. Jack had the sudden realization that he’d never seen Optimus’s berthroom before. Actually, he hadn’t seen any of the bots’ rooms since he’d known about their base.

               He left the door open, it wouldn’t hurt to go take a look…I think?

               Quietly, he padded inside. Taking a moment to look around, Jack noted that it was quite a huge space—way bigger than he’d expected from the size of the door.

It was also very….bare.

               No posters, furnishings, or anything other than the walls, his berth, and a small shelf. On that shelf, there was nothing except for some mystery object shoved in the corner, covered by an old blue cloth.

               “Exactly what you’d expect from a guy like Optimus,” Jack remarked to himself. He sighed and began to walk away, when suddenly a noise snapped his attention back around.

               Back to the shelf.

               Back to the blue cloth.

               A noise that had come from….

               “What is that thing?” Jack murmured to himself as he drew close to it again.

               He jumped back as it vibrated and briefly glowed a bright blue. It seemed to come back to life as a steady humming filled the air of the room. The teen came to a halt right in front of the shelf, placing his hands on his hips as he stared at it, curious and confused.

               Was he trying to hide this? Jack wanted even more to know what it did—what it was.

               And while he stared at it, the object beneath the cloth made another noise.

               “Roadwork ahead?? Uh, YEAH, I sure hope it does!”

               For a moment, Jack stood immobile. Then, he burst into laughter.  

               Optimus was watching vines….he was watching vines….Optimus Prime was watching vines.

               He suddenly remembered what had happened to his mom when she watched vine for the first time. For at least two long, painful weeks, the only things she said were vine quotes—in a failed attempt to be funny. 

               Optimus was watching….vines….oh no.

               Jack turned on his heel and sprinted down the halls.

....

I’ll edit and fix stuff later; I’m in class rn lolol :’D

Thx for reading!! Feedback is always appreciated~

<3

[cescalr]

Why Is Draco Malfoy So Underrated?

A repost of a Quora answer because Quora hates me for some reason

@vivithefolle​ i take little convincing here I go -

SO!

You. Yeah, you. You, nebulous quora questioner, you think Malfoy is underrated, do you? Well I, CescaLR, am here to set the record straight. The following is the answer I posted to Quora, that was flagged with ‘answer may need improvement’, which means some asshole was trawling the answers to the question posted and didn’t like mine so they had the moderators hide it because said person doesn’t like differing opinions. This post is thereby an archive, so if my answer is never again allowed to see the light of day on Quora, at least my maths is visible elsewhere. 

Hopefully, this entertains you, tumblr user reading this post. Also, as fair warning, if you do like Draco Malfoy and somehow stumbled across this post, I recommend skipping it. 

Why is Draco Malfoy so underrated?

Fleur Lee-Ranger

Author of 857406 words of fanfiction and counting.

ANSWER:

HAHAHAHA.

Ha.

Ha.

hah…..

For god’s sake, I hope you’re not serious.

Let’s look at YouTube, first:

Does 2.2 million f*cking views on a woobie Draco edit seem like he’s underrated to you? Any character that gets 2.2 million views on an edit that interprets the character in a sympathetic, caring light…. Jesus Christ. They’re not underrated.

You could make a clear argument for them being overrated, by matter of fact!

The first result is his entire life story, and a redemption of the Malfoy family as a whole, and it’s… super popular!

look at that! 70k likes versus 1.7k dislikes. Let’s use my favourite maths thing once again: Ratios!!

(I hate ratios. The things I do to prove a point, eh?)

This video has 5201431 million views. It has around 70k likes, 1.1k dislikes. We’ll round 5201431, as 70k and 1.1k are both rounded numbers and I can’t be bothered to deal with numbers that are too complicated right now, it’s nearly nine pm. 5201431 -> 5.2 million. It’s the rounded number YouTube itself uses on the search page - check the first image if you don’t believe me, and since YouTube thinks that’s good enough, so will we.

5200000 : 70000 : 1100

52000 : 700 : 11

Divide all by 11 (and round awkward numbers, because we’re already dealing in rounded numbers anyway, which is kind of bad practice, but it’ll do for this context):

4,727 : 64 : 1

As I’ve proven before (not on Quora, you can probably find it in the comments of one of my fanfictions, I’ll end up moving it over here one day when I find the right question), fandom content engagement rates are always pretty bad. But honestly? every four thousand or so views, you get 64 likes, compared to just one dislike. That’s great! That’s incredible! I’d kill for those kinds of ratings!!

(Draco’d probably wimp out, though. hehe. Jokes, jokes.)

As for his woobie video:

2.3m : 152k : 715

2300000 : 153000 : 715

Nice, don’t need to remove any superfluous zeroes. Bad, for… well, your hypothesis, to put it nicely, since that means there are only seven hundred and fifteen goddamn dislikes on this video, what the f*ck, why do so many people like this b*stard child.

Ahem. Sorry, that’s rude to illegitimate children like myself. There is nothing wrong with having unmarried parents.

…Anyway, lets slim down that ratio:

3217 : 214 : 1

Holy sh*t. I would do more than kill for this ratio. Oh my god.

That’s some great engagement there. So many likes! Clearly, Draco dearie is a very popular boy! He’d love that. I hate this on principle. God am I glad 13 year old me didn’t really use YouTube (I watched gaming content and little else, didn’t even find fandom content until 2015) or I’d have contributed one of those likes, probably.

Oh wait, no! Never mind! I can’t have contributed one of those likes, because this f*cking video was posted last year!!!!!

LAST GODDAMN YEAR!!!!

Do you understand that? Do you - do you have any idea how - just how difficult it is to get that many views that quickly and with that good an engagement???? Do you???????? It has been, get this, seven, seven whole f*cking months, Less time than it takes to make a baby, and this f*cking video has 2,265,900!!! million!!!! views!!!! With a ratio of 214 likes to one goddamn dislike.

oh my god.

oh my god

oh my god

I’m having a minor mental breakdown. Jesus f*cking H Christ on a goddamn bike.

Look at these comments! Look at how many likes they have!! Oh my god!!!! Draco Malfoy might just be one of the most beloved characters ever to get this sort of reaction, for hell’s sake!

I don’t know what kind of dunderhead you are to not notice how f*cking popular this jackass little b*stard boy is, but god, the whiny little sh*t has more fans than oh, I don’t know. Someone really popular. Tom Holland? I don’t know celebrities. Sorry.

But my point is, for god’s sake, Malfoy isn’t underrated. I don’t know what rock you’ve been living under, my friend, but that sheer idolisation you so crave of your wimpy f*cking husband is right there in front of you! Just search his name, and you’ll see it front and goddamn centre. Those of us that don’t worship the ground he walks on are generally much more background.

For god’s sake, he’s a trope namer.

Draco In Leather Pants.

How much more evidence do you need than that?

Of course, I could be jumping the gun. You could be a fan of his that is frustrated by the fanon interpretation of his character. ‘Why is he reduced to a bad boy with a heart of gold when actually he’s a more complicated asshole with sh*tty morality and no backbone that gives a whole ass damn about his family but not much else?’ Good question! Blame Cassie Claire, though I suppose that’s my go-to for most things.

Seriously though; Draco Malfoy is not even remotely overrated. He’s a whiny, terrible, useless waste of space in the books; and in fandom, he’s transformed into a cool, collected, redeemable or outright good person who’s smart and talented and like, super hot you guys, doesn’t he look cute with Hermione/Harry/Insert Author’s Projected Character Here?!!!!

Also: Y’all are f*cking creeps for this shit:

THAT’S A SCENE FROM WHEN THE KID IS TWELVE, FOR GOD’S SAKE. I’m not even joking, half of you are nonces and I want nothing to do with you! ‘hot draco malfoy edits’ HE’S TWELVE

HE’S TWELVE

HE’S TWELVE.

Hot take time:

Draco Malfoy is overhyped, overrated, and oversexualised and I want all of this to stop, because you’re doing it to Tom Felton, when he was a child. A child! That’s creepy! Please do not make hot edits of children, thank you!!!!!

Someone call the police. I’m done with this f*cking fandom, oh my god.

(Also, if you think I edited that in like some sick weirdo might do, just go find that video and give it a watch. I wouldn’t if I were you, I’d believe me, because watching that video probably puts you on a watchlist somewhere.

It should.)

Okay. Deep breaths. It’s been a few months, this answer was flagged with the wonderfully opaque ‘this answer may need improvement’, and I’m back to refine this. I’m not taking anything out, but I’m adding some extra investigation. For posterity’s sake; the original answer only contained YouTube analysis. Let’s look through Archive Of Our Own, shall we?

As I showed in my answer re: the well-liked-ness of Lilly and Hermione, this is the number of total fics within the HP tag.

This is the number of tags when ‘Draco Malfoy’ is added to the ‘included characters’ filter.

So, in terms of ‘fandom work presence’ (AO3 is mostly fanfic, but it is not��all fanfic, there are a few vids and some art on there, too) Malfoy’s ratio is thus:

254603:65469

3.8889… : 1

4 : 1

So, rounding up, for every four works on AO3, there is one that includes Draco dearie. Good lord, he’s pervasive, isn’t he? Can’t turn a corner in the fandom without seeing his pasty ferret face plastered all over the walls… lovely.

Now, once again - that wasn’t the best ratio. I didn’t remove bashing, for example, so not all those works will be positive (as in, since you think he’s underrated, that means - I assume - you think people don’t like him enough) so let’s go the long mile:

I will find a ratio for Mr Malfoy Jr’s fans, versus his haters, in terms of - how many fics bash Malfoy, and how many greatly enjoy his existence?

Add the bashing tag, and now let’s see how many fics there are with a) Draco in it, and b) Draco Bashing:

hahahhahagag;k;asdkf

Oh no!

Oh my god I dodn’t…. one second… give me just one second….

Right. Laughing fit over, okay. 17.

So, 65469 works with Draco present, 17 of which don’t like him overmuch, and 65452 like him just fine/present him as he appears in canon! Awesome. Of course, people who present him as he is in canon may not like him the way you want him to, so, not awesome? Hmm. I’m not sure how to filter for that. I suppose you wouldn’t want people who write him OOC, though, because that’s not rating him properly, is it? Should we add OOC to the bashing, to get people who don’t appreciate his… many positive character traits… to the extent that you would like?

Yes, I think we should.

Now, there’s no tag for ‘OOC Draco Malfoy’, because that would make my life too easy. And, I’m not going through 151 works to figure out which ones have Draco being the one OOC. If they’ve written one person OOC, and they’re self-aware enough to tag it, then I’m going to meanly assume they’ve written Draco OOC as well. When one person’s out of whack, I’ve found everyone else is, too, so I’m not just doing this to be a dick, I promise, it’s for a real, good, understandable reason, one that is not only because I really don’t want to have to do any maths more complicated than basic ratios.

So. 151 OOC works, 17 bashing works. 168 works of not properly appreciated Draco Malfoy, coming up, which takes our 65469 Draco works down to… 65301.

Well, that’s a lot, still.

So, there’s still some tags to remove, like Evil, and Abusive, and all that lark. I’ll go do that quickly, and come back with the maths.

(okay, but I do have to show this:)

(fourteen works in the ‘Evil’ draco tag?? are you serious???)

(oh and you can’t filter by Abusive Draco Malfoy, like that’s not a tag, so I can’t exclude it, but it really adds to the general atmosphere of ‘Draco Malfoy? Yeah he’s cool I like him’ that this fandom has going on, doesn’t it?)

Alright so! We really only could take away those 14 works. Okay.

By the way, just so you know - I didn’t exclude tags like ‘Death Eater Draco Malfoy’ and ‘Bully Draco Malfoy’ (if the latter even exists), because those are things that happen in canon, and when I think of a character as being ‘underrated’ I include not acknowledging their canon actions, the bad and the good. A character is only as good as their complexities run deep.

So.

For the ratio, I guess;

65469 : 151 : 17 : 14

4,676.3571… : 10.7857… : 1.2142… : 1

4,676 : 11 : 1 : 1

…

Hmm.

For every 4 thousand 6 hundred fics Draco appears in, 11 of them have OOC tagged, 1 of them has Draco Bashing tagged, and 1 of them has Evil Draco tagged. That is…

That is unfathomably good. I’m really, genuinely having a hard time picturing it. I really, honestly, don’t think there’s been a character as unquestionably overrated as Draco Malfoy in all of fandom, because, good lord, look at that ratio! People love the guy!

Let’s see the good draco malfoy tag, shall we?

Now, to be fair, most people don’t bother tagging any of this sort of thing, usually, so that’s a minor flaw in my ratio-ing. We can’t actually know exactly how many works laud Malfoy, or hate him, or feel ambivalent, because people don’t tag their shit properly. But I’m hoping this helps, at least a little. Anyway, 905! That’s a few. Not many, but certainly more than Evil or Bashing or even OOC.

65469 : 905 : 151 : 17 : 14

4,676.3571… : 64.6428 : 10.7857… : 1.2142… : 1

4,676 : 65 : 11 : 1 : 1

Yep. That’s not bad, not bad at all.

So. Most people seem to like him, if we’re honest. As I pointed out above, he’s a trope namer. If you didn’t click on the link for Draco In Leather Pants, here’s a brief summary from the TV Tropes page:

[ Transcription:

Sometimes, a fanwork will portray a villainous character in a more positive light. It can be done out of sympathy for the character, for shipping reasons, as a part of a role-reversal story, several of the aforementioned or for the variety of other reasons.

The common subjects of this treatment are characters who are wicked in a classy or cool way. A physically attractive villain is much more likely to be subject to this trope than a physically ugly one; Beauty = Goodness, after all, and shallow as it may be, it seems that, for some fans, this is the case even when the character's beauty only extends to their appearance. All Girls Want Bad Boys may be a factor with male villains getting a female fandom that views them through this lens. A badass villain will naturally be preferred by many of these over meeker heroic characters at times, as well. Ugly Cute villains also get this pretty easily. ]

So! There’s that. He named a trope all about appreciating a character perhaps (usually definitely) more than they deserve, so I wouldn’t call him ‘underrated’ by most general definitions of the word:

People seem to mostly believe him to be quite good, actually! Certainly enough to write about him a lot, to draw him a lot, to edit him a lot, to theorise about him a lot, to ship him with the main character so much that the 99th filter ever on AO3 was Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.

Hey, actually, that’s a good idea! Which filter id is Draco Malfoy?

Now, if I’m not mistaken, it’s been a while since I had to do this -

Draco Malfoy was the 1589th tag canonised in the tag system of AO3. Let’s check the Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter tag (which I know for certain was 99) to make sure:

And lo and behold, I was right. That’s mad. That’s mad!!!!

Ooh, I’ve found a fun trick

To change which rss feed you’re looking at, copy the https:// link up to .atom in the speech marks, and change the highlighted number. That shows you what uses that tag_ids: - in this case, 93 is Draco himself. The 93rd tag, dedicated to Draco Malfoy. Good lord, that’s insane! I guess there really weren’t many other things to prioritize at the time, but that’s still silly to me.

Fluff and Angst appears to be the fiftieth tag canonised, for comparison. Sometimes when you replace the rss feed’s ‘tag’ in the address bar it takes you to the tag’s page instead of the feed, because that tag doesn’t have an rss feed. The more you know!

Anyway, back on track: I think all of that, rss feeds, youtube analytics, fandom presence, all kind of proves my point:

Draco Malfoy is not underrated. He is, arguably, overrated as a character, but unarguably very popular within the greater Harry Potter fandom. Unpopular characters don’t tend to get paired with the lead, at the very least - and you can’t turn around in the Harry Potter fandom without seeing Drarry somewhere, can you?

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

like a dark paradise (Tokoyami Fumikage X Reader)

I’M BACK FOR A BIT! WHAT’S UP MOTHER-TRUCKERS~?!

Ahhhh school is really kicking my ass you guys... >.< But I had this in my head and I wasn’t going to just let it go while the bug was still in me! I can’t get enough of dear Tokoyami so I wrote this! He’s one of my favorites!!

I apologize for any OOC-ness cuz my writing skills are NOT getting any better XD

Featuring... Birb boi!! 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ZwCu8u0bzA

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise... No one compares to you, I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side...

6 YEARS AGO

He was never treated like the rest of the other children. Then again, not all of the children had features as unique as his, some actually looked more bizarre but they always chose Tokoyami because he was an easy target. Ever since he started school he’d gotten a lot of stares, not subtle jokes made at his expense and he was a sensitive child back during those days so he spent a lot of time hiding in the bathroom, crying.

All he wanted was to keep to himself so he wouldn’t bother anyone with his presence as he sat outside, but they never left him alone and they always followed him just to torment him more. The boy cringed and whined when he felt little bread crumbs being thrown at him. Again. They always did this, any chance students got they would toss bread at him to ‘feed the bird’.

‘Let me at them! Come on!! I can’t let them hurt you!’

But he had gotten his quirk by that time, as Dark Shadow arrived in his life when he was 4 years old and has been with him for the past 5 years. Tokoyami was partially relieved to have a sentient quirk that made him feel a little less alone, but the shadow could be very willful at times and he didn’t have the best control over it yet.

‘No! Don’t! You’ll just make it worse!’

Tokoyami knew better than to fight back, the worst thing children could do at this age of childhood was to stir the pot and give bullies more reason to pick on him. On top of that he had gotten in trouble a few other times because of Dark Shadow’s intervention and he didn’t want a repeat of that because he always got blamed for it even if he and his parents knew that it wasn’t his fault.

“Hungry Tokoyami?” The voice belonged to a slightly older boy, maybe 12 at best with three other 6th graders beside him, all of them boys too. Tomo was the name of the ringleader he thought. The others were Katou, Goda and Maeda.

He slowly stood up where he sat. He could feel all of their judgmental, taunting eyes on him but Tokoyami didn’t dare say anything back to them though, because he feared if he did it would somehow give them more to tease him about.

“I love feeding the birds, but I don’t get why you don’t ever eat what I give you? I go out of my way to feed you dude.” Tomo asked him, leaning in a little closer as he kept his eyes to the ground and kept quiet.

“You need to show a little more fucking gratitude you stupid bird.” Goda then roughly raised his voice as the boy cringed and closed his eyes, his fists clenching from fear as he held them to his chest and trembled where he stood.

“Maybe he don’t like bread. Maybe he’d rather have worms instead? Birds love to eat worms.” Katou suggested with a small smirk, and Maeda had gone off, likely behind a rock to find said ‘worms’ as Tokoyami flinched and gasped a little bit, a hint of fear flashing in his eyes that the other boys noticed.

“Ooh! That’s right… sorry bird boy, I’m an idiot for forgetting that birds like to eat bugs… here we’ll give you something juicer…”

Tokoyami took a step back, but didn’t realize what a mistake that was as Goda hooked his arms under his shoulders and prevented him from trying to get away. “N-No…” He whimpered quietly as he saw Maeda coming closer, hands full of dirt and worms he could see slithering about as he gasped and tried to wriggle away but Katou helped Goda pin him to the ground and held his arms down.

“No… no please…”

He shook his head and pleaded with the boys to show mercy, but he knew that they weren’t as Tomo gave him a menacing grin. “Hee-hee-hee… calm down… just a little bite. It’s delicious… birds eat them all the time… and that’s all you are anyway. A bird we get to feed…” His smirk darkened as the worms Maeda gathered were set to the ground and the latter made sure to hold the 4th grader’s legs down.

“Please! D-Don’t… no…” Tokoyami shook his head, involuntary tears springing to his eyes as he squirmed in their hold but they were stronger than him, bigger than him and older than him.

‘I WANT TO COME OUT! I WON’T LET THEM HURT YOU!!’

‘DON’T!’

The young crow shut his eyes as Dark Shadow demanded to be released but he couldn’t let him, because then the whole school would be after him if he did. “Lunch time Tokoyami~.” Tomo held up two long, wiggling worms as Tokoyami’s eyes widened and he turned his head when those disgusting things were brought closer, and closer to his beak…

“N-NO!!”

Meanwhile…

You weren’t a particularly special student, and you didn’t have a particularly special quirk. All you could do was construct things out of light and you could barely do that. The most you could make was a ball of light, real awesome. You sucked at it…

And on top of that, everyone here at school was lame too, well… maybe except this one guy. He seemed like he was okay but he was a bit of a loner based on what you noticed from the boy.

Perhaps you were a cynical 4th grader but no one really talked to you and you couldn’t find it in you to talk to anyone else either so you decided to just go outside for a bit with your backpack to draw or something instead of being around the other students.

However, you froze when you stepped foot outside and the loud sounds of retching hit your ears as you cringed.  It sounded like someone was sick…

“OH HE PUKED!!”

“DISGUSTING!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

You heard voices, and they were yelling, and by the sound of it they were yelling at someone. Now the logical side of you was telling you to go and get a teacher, but the impulsive side of you instead forced you to run towards the sounds as the voices and the laughter got louder.

And you gasped and hid behind the corner, your (E/C) eyes widening as soon as you saw what was going on. There he was, that boy, hunched over with his arms around his stomach and a puddle of vomit in front of him with three other boys standing over him and laughing. They looked much older too, hell they were 6th graders! What were they doing picking on a 4th grader?!

It made you so mad you shook and breathed heavily, what the hell was wrong with those psychos? Whatever they did they made the boy throw up and it pissed you off to no end as you looked around the ground…

“Unbelievable… we give you food and this is how you repay us?” Tomo asked the smaller boy as Tokoyami heavily panted in an attempt to catch his breath after purging up what the force-fed him. 

He whimpered lightly as he made the mistake of looking at the thick, pale-yellow and chunky liquid that used to be his breakfast, along with the two worms that had been shoved down his throat, still wiggling and undigested. He couldn’t dare look at it anymore without fearing he’d throw up again as he fearfully peered up at Tomo’s face. He tried to glare at him but the tears streaming from his eyes hardly made him look threatening.

“You know… I also read somewhere that mother birds puke up what they eat to their babies.” Katou once had an evil idea as Tokoyami gasped. No, that wasn’t going to happen, he already choked down those vile worms and vomited them back up. He couldn’t take it anymore…

“No…!” He stood up on shaky knees to run away but Goda grabbed his shoulders and pushed him down to the ground. Clutching a fistful of his feathers. “If you don’t eat that throw up I’ll tear off all your feathers one by one bird boy…” The boy growled as Tomo laughed a little bit.

“Well Goda… go ahead… let him eat up his own puke… c’mon it’ll be funny. Do it!” He demanded of the boy and he smirked, picking up the boy and motioning him over to the vomit as Tokoyami shook his head, crying more openly as he pleaded and begged for them to stop, but they weren’t going to…

He shut his tearful eyes as he cried, he didn’t want to look at it, he didn’t want to…

“RAHHHHHHH!!”

Without warning you whacked the brutish Goda on his head with your backpack hard and made him shout as his hands released Tokoyami, making him hit the ground just inches away from his own vomit. Quickly he backed away with wide eyes of shock, gasping as soon as he saw his savior.

His classmate, he had seen you before but not once did he ever expect you to come to his rescue…

You were panting and carrying your backpack with contempt in your eyes as Goda growled angrily at you, while Tomo, Katou and Maeda looked at you in shock. “You bitch!” Goda shouted as he held the back of his head, obviously in pain as you glared at them.

“Go away! Why don’t you ass-clowns go pick on someone in your own grade?!” Despite being a fourth grader, you already picked up on some swear words, but that didn’t matter to Tokoyami. The second he realized that he was saved, he quickly stood up and ran from the four boys and hid behind you. He felt like such a coward but he couldn’t help it.

Tomo on the other hand, still had the gall to be smug as he laughed and smirked, “Oh look Tokoyami. It’s the princess coming to save you… it’s supposed to be the other way around though… hehe c’mon girly girl… what are you doing? Are you really going to try and mess with us? For that freak?” He asked with his hands on his hips, his smirk pissing you off so much that you grabbed one of the rocks you filled your backpack with and threw one right at his stomach.

“OH!!” The boy suddenly held his stomach, groaning and moaning in pain like a little bitch as his friends all gasped and backed away. “AH!” But then they all started screaming when more rocks and small balls of light were tossed as you didn’t hesitate to throw whatever you had on you at them. Unknowingly giving them a taste of their own medicine now that they were the ones getting pelted.

“What the fuck?! Are you crazy?!”

“Get lost Tomo!”

“Bitch!”

“Hey! Leave your mom out of this!” You exclaimed, grinning a little bit when you saw Tomo’s face turn red, and out of impulse you grabbed a very stunned Tokoyami’s arm to run off. The boy yelped a little bit, but he ran away with you as Tomo kept screaming at you both. 

“I’M GOING TO GET YOU BOTH!! I SWEAR IT!!”

Neither of you paid him anymore mind though as you and Tokoyami made your ways back into the semi-safety of the school building. Both of you were panting after such a brisk run, but you started to laugh a little bit as you leaned against the wall.

Not noticing Tokoyami looking right at you, his red eyes still wide as he stood stunned, almost marveled and in disbelief. You looked like a heroine in his eyes as he blushed warmly at the sound of your laughter. Such mirthful laughter sounded like a sweet melody to him. You saved him… why did you save him?

“Hey… are you okay…?”

He was so distracted he didn’t even hear you speaking until you waved your hand in front of his eyes. “Hello…? Are you all right?” You sounded gentle, yet concerned and confused especially since the poor thing got sick from whatever it was those assholes did.

Tokoyami finally noticed that you were talking to him, you were talking to him. “I…” He couldn’t quite muster up a sentence though, so he could only timidly nod at your question. “Good… do you need to go to the nurse’s office?” You asked again though, but Tokoyami shook his head.

“ ‘m fine…” He said rather quietly, voice full of trepidation as he averted his eyes shyly. 

“W-Why did you… w-why did you do that…?” Finally, he found it in him to ask you a real question, which surprised you since you hadn’t ever really heard him talk before.

“Help? I had to… I don’t know what they were doing but I couldn’t just let them hurt you.” You gave your answer, pretty simply too as if it were obvious. And it was to you, there was no way you could let that happen and not do anything.

However, Tokoyami was still surprised that someone, anyone, would even bother to help him at all. After all, he was just a creep and a weirdo.

“But… I… I-I’m a freak… aren’t I…? Just… some weirdo…” He quietly said, tearing up slightly when he repeated all the things almost all the kids he’s ever met in his life called him. You could see how sad the poor guy was though, so you wiped a tear from his eye and he perked up with a light little gasp, his face growing hot at the unfamiliar touch.

“Don’t show them your tears. We’re all freaks. We all have powers… I’m a bigger weirdo than you…” You smiled with a little giggle, “Anyone who tells you you’re a freak is just a nasty little shit, those boys are nasty little shits and if they think they’re gonna try and be heroes like All-Might they’re as stupid as they are ugly. And they are ugly.” You reassured him kindly despite your language as you flashed him a grin.

“T-Thank you...” He said very shyly, his voice cracking a little bit as you swore you could finally see a little smile from the little crow.

“Anyway I’m (L/N) (Y/N).” Finally you shared your name and gave a little bow, and Tokoyami immediately bowed back, except his bow was lower, more respectful. “I’m Tokoyami Fumikage.” He said in the politest voice you had ever heard from any other fourth grader as you giggled happily, making the boy blush as he looked away shyly. If there’s one thing having a bird head was good for, it was hiding any blush on his face.

‘FUMIKAGE LOVES (Y/N)~!!’

Dark Shadow did nothing to help as he sang that in his head, and the boy immediately grew flustered, “N-No I don’t!” He shouted back at his quirk, outloud as you perked up and looked at him in confusion… now he was REALLY thankful that he had all the feathers…

PRESENT

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise... No one compares to you but there’s no you, except in my dreams tonight...

Tokoyami’s eyes slowly opened as he escaped dream world but that wasn’t a dream, it was a memory, bitter and yet sweet, just like a dark paradise.

He sighed heavily when it all came back to him, all the bullying, all the torment, and yet here was now. In the prestigious UA Academy, already dubbed one of the stronger students, and he actually made friends. Friends who didn’t judge him based on his appearance, and friends who actually cared about his well-being, amazing friends that he was so happy to have made.

However…

He had to admit that none of them compared to you, as you had gone to UA with him. The two of you remained friends, rather close friends after that day and you freed him from his loneliness. Although Tokoyami had gotten used to solitude and at times preferred it, he made you an exception as the two of you could just be alone together.

Something he considered a personal paradise.

But now that he was awake, he realized that you were not here, you weren’t in his bed as you had been previously. He swore you were just here, you were in bed with him weren’t you?

Tokoyami knew that he shouldn’t have gotten so frantic, but he couldn’t help the rapid beating in his heart as he sucked in a sharp, shallow breath and looked around. He opened his eyes and you weren’t there. Did he dream the whole thing? Did none of that really happen and were you just a figment of his fragile imagination?

If so why did he have to wake up? He didn’t want to wake up anywhere if you couldn’t be on the other side with him. And you weren’t here…

He shook his head as he couldn’t go back to sleep, he wished he could but he couldn’t. All the crow could do was exit his room and go look out the window, clear his head despite the faint tears he tried to fight back. Dammit there was no way that this could ever leave his head…

He hated this, he hated feeling like the same, pathetic little boy he was all those years ago.

The same boy that had to be saved by a kind human being that he wasn’t even sure was real anymore. But then he paused and froze when he heard a familiar voice, a familiar melody.

“Whether near or far… I am always yours… any change in time, we are young again…”

You sang somewhat cheerfully, shaking your hips as you grabbed the small canister of ice-cream and a spoon, “Laaaay us down… we’re in love… lay us down… we’re in love…” Softly you twirled about in your pajamas, not seeing the shocked face of your boyfriend as he slowly walked closer to something he hoped was real…

“Ahhhhh…” You started to hum, but stopped as soon as you finally saw Tokoyami right there, a pink blush coating your cheeks as you couldn’t help but grin widely and nervously. “Oh boy… hee-hee you’re awake… well… good evening handsome~.” Still you kinda flirted with him, but grew a bit confused when you saw his figure slowly slouch as he let out a subtle breath of relief…

So it was all real…

“Good evening.” Feeling somewhat embarrassed for freaking out like that, he reverted back to his polite, ‘edgy’ self as you giggled. You remembered back when he was just a shy little thing and now he was the gloomy prince of darkness, but you fell in love with that, all of him. Of course you had to be the one to ask him out first though, since secretly, Tokoyami was a little bit shy when it came to things like romance even though he was a secret romantic at heart.

“What are you doing awake?” He asked you, a hint of curiosity in his voice as you chuckled sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders. “You know me… it’s hard for me to go to sleep and… I tried to sleep but I just couldn’t…” You sighed a little bit, having had some trouble sleeping since you never did go to bed early, and Tokoyami knew that.

He gave a small sigh as he went over to you, “I can stay up with you.” He offered to you politely, scratching the side of his beak a little bit as you couldn’t help but smile, “Yay~. I’m glad you’re here actually, I don’t like bein’ up all by myself… less I’m gonna be dancing…” You chuckled a little bit and earned a small smile from your boyfriend.

You always knew how to light up a room, like you had lit up the darkness in his life just by being in it. For all his talk about his love of the darkness, you were his break from the darkness by giving him light.

“What about you? What woke you up Fumi?” However, the fact that Tokoyami was awake at the same time you were, didn’t go unnoticed. It was 1 in the morning, and while Tokoyami didn’t exactly go to bed early, as most teenagers didn’t, you were still concerned.

Tokoyami almost froze, the last thing he wanted was for you to ask any questions like that since it honestly still embarrassed him. It’s not like it was even a nightmare or anything, but the memories of those ‘nasty little shits’ from his childhood still haunted him from time to time. How they made him feel, how they treated him, it was something he hadn’t quite let go of yet even though he tried.

But he would never lie to you, he swore to never lie to you when the two of you got together. “I had that dream again. The memories of my childhood.” He admitted lowly, his eyes downcast as you frowned a little bit, eyes narrowing slightly when you recalled those little assholes that you were happy to never see again after they picked on your dear Tokoyami.

You knew it was something Tokoyami didn’t like thinking about, even if something good came out of that memory, parts of it was something that brought out all of the feelings of worthlessness and self-hatred back to him. So you put your arm around him, gently leading him over to the couch, sitting him down as you gently kissed his beak.

He jumped ever so slightly, his red eyes widening as his face burned hot at the little kiss. Even if you and him were dating he would still always blush like a schoolboy every time you kissed him. “Remember what I said? How those boys were all just nasty little shits? Well I stand by that…” You said to him gently, nuzzling up to him and making him blush even darker, but you couldn’t see under the feathers.

“You’re a hero Fumikage… leagues ahead of any of those little shits, and stronger than anyone else I know. To go through all of that, and to be here now… that goes to show that you were always better than them. I always thought so…” Your voice was gentle as you gently hugged him, running a gentle hand through the soft feathers you loved as you felt Tokoyami’s arms slowly engulf you into a soft embrace.

“Thank you (Y/N)… thank you for everything…” Tokoyami whispered to you as he held onto you a little tighter, wanting to feel more of your warmth. It gave him peace during these times as it just reminded him that this wasn’t a dream, and even if it was, he never wanted to wake up from it.

Smiling warmly, you gave his beak another little kiss as you giggled when his feathers floofed up a little bit, no doubt from embarrassment, “C’mon… it’s Friday night. Let’s stay up together love… wanna watch The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina?” You asked as you grabbed the remote, remembering the ice cream you grabbed as Tokoyami couldn’t help but give you a smile.

“Yes I would like that very much.” He said with a very content, relaxed tone as you grinned and turned on the TV but kept it low so you didn’t wake anyone up. Your head on his shoulder as you and Tokoyami gently put his arm around you while the credits played.

I don't wanna wake up from this tonight

[fuckcanontbh]

confessions in plain sight *stozier*

So this is for @ceftali in @stoziersecretsanta gift exchange! Sorry if this is late for you, but it is officially two hours into Christmas for me! This is my first time writing these characters so I apologize for any OOC-ness that happens. This is also my first contribution to the fandom, I hope you enjoy!

Note: bold lettering is Richie’s handwriting, words in [brackets] are actual song lyrics. Does contain swearing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun beat down on the group, water dripped from their hair, and despite everything huge smiles were on everyone's faces as Mike told a story from the farm. Today was the first day of summer, so all of their backpacks crowded the space as well. Soon enough the group would be dry enough to get dressed and hang out in the club house until dinner time. 

"Look, all I'm saying is that half of the problems in horror movies could be fixed if the characters weren't such idiots. I mean, really? If you see the murderer, why would you scream so he sees you?" Eddie's voice was the only noise as the group headed down into the club house.  "Y-yeah. But you have to t-th-think that it's for dramatic e-effect. The character's can't always have a s-s-satis-satisfying ending." The group's leader argued further with Eddie, the two of them continuing their debate in a corner of the clubhouse. 

"You're actually going to be starting school with us next year, Mike? Maybe now you'll actually believe us on how crazy school can be! All the stories we've told you about Richie and Bev are true, and Richie told me he's got some crazy stuff planned for our senior year!" Ben's excited voice came from another side of the clubhouse, Mike and Bev sitting in front of him on bean bags the group had added when winter made the ground too cold and hard to sit on comfortably. Stan watched all of this happen and then his eyes fell on Richie, who was unusually quiet as he sat in the hammock, reaching into his bookbag for something. "What are you looking for?" Richie jumped at Stan's voice, but quickly pulled a comic out of his bag. "Nothing but the newest X-Men comic, Stanny my boy, you'll never believe the kind of shit Storm cooks up this time!" Stan peered down at Richie, but the boy's grin seemed genuine so he shrugged and sat down, looking over Richie's shoulder. ~ "Alright, we'll see you tomorrow! Meeting at my house at four, right?" Beverly had already made her way up the ladder, but Ben was still waiting for an answer from Richie and Stan. "Haystack, you know I'll be there. Can't let your mom miss me too much!" Stan's hand reached out to smack Richie before he could stop it. "Tell everyone Richie has been uninvited." Ben simply laughed at their antics and shook his head as he climbed out into the little bit of sunlight left. 

"We should probably head out soon, did you want to come over for dinner?" The blonde stood and brushed imaginary dust off his shirt and khakis. "Uh, hell yeah! Mrs. Uris makes the best food around here! Don't tell Ben I said that, his mom's cookies are good as hell." "Yeah, yeah. C'mon Trashmouth, I think mom is making meatballs and spaghetti squash." ~ Stan's house had been Richie Tozier free for about thirty minutes when Stan noticed Richie had left his bookbag next to his bed in his haste for dinner. The zipper was mostly undone and everything was one trip away from being all over Stan's floor. The boy rolled his eyes and bent down to zip it up when a small notebook caught his eyes. The book itself was simple on the outside, but it looked like a bunch of random things were also stuck into the book, making it thicker than it needed to be. It also looked like it was almost full, a slim part of the back of the notebook was still flat. 

"Just leave it alone, Stan, it's none of your business." The boy brushed his teeth and put on his matching blue and white striped pajamas before climbing into bed. Minutes seemed to drag on forever before Stan stopped fighting himself and turned on his lamp before he grabbed the notebook. "It's probably just some dumb jokes Richie's thought of...or maybe some songs he's working on?" ~ 'Science HW due Thurs 28th' 'hang out after school @ quarry' '[Somewhere I'd never ever known, right at the back of my head, it hit me like a flashlight lighthouse beam of light]' ~ "Seems like it's just somewhere for him to put all his thoughts. Wonder who the song's about..." With the idea that the book was just a glance at Richie's mind as it worked a mile a minute, Stan continued reading. ~ 'Bev is the best!! girl offered me smokes even after i had to convince her skipping mrs. hepburns class was a good idea.' 'FUCK BOWERS' 'Math HW due Tues 4th' '[Cause you talk to me and it goes over my head...]' 'operation: get haystack the girl of his dreams walk her to class!! maybe walk her home sometimes? don't offer too much help bc bev hates that! write more of his sappy poems' 'gotta stop with the your mom jokes, not funny anymore' 'why is history so boring? REMINDER: ask ben to explain' 'start saving money-no more big spending at the arcade' ~ Stan scoffed at the thought of the curly haired boy giving up his favorite past time. "What's he even need to save money for anyway? He's already gotten that truck of his." ~ 'work @ 12-9 sat, sun and @ 5-12 mon, wed, fri' 'do i have an "it" factor? don't wanna miss out on making my mark on the world.' 'i don't even think he knows he does it. soft little smile on his face when he gets to a difficult problem, who does he think he is???' 'ma and dad fought all last night again. big bill asked what was up but i didn't want to talk about it. comedy is a good distraction' 'work @ 12-9 sat, sun and @ 5-12 mon, tues, wed, fri' 'glad i saved up some money, had to buy groceries again. ma's getting real bad again. haven't seen dad in a few days.' 'can't believe i got lucky enough to have such good friends. billy invited us all over for a horror movie marathon, ben and bev were put in charge of snacks. seems operation: get haystack the girl of his dreams is in motion. good for him! now if only i could get bill, mike, eddie, and stan lovers...' '[you've been on my mind boy girl since the flood]' 'ma passed out on the couch last night, guess it's a good thing i'm a lot bigger now. carried her to bed then went for a drive.' 'i swear he gets prettier the more i look at him' 'haystack just told me he scored a date!!!' 'HW due wed 18th' 'dad came home last night. got a good earful from him. maybe i should just stop talking? not like i got the nickname 'trashmouth' for something good. wonder if anyone would even notice' 'taught myself how to make chicken alfredo, actually got ma to eat with me.' 'i think i'm gonna tell him' 'nope. not gonna tell him. there's no way it would end good. out of all of our friends he's the least likely to want me' 'they say it is better to have loved and lost than never to love at all. but then it's 2 am and all you can think about is him, and you know he isn't thinking about you' ~ Stan snapped the book shut and quickly shoved it back into Richie's bag, thoughts flooding his mind. "Who is this boy Richie is crushing on? Is it Eddie? Eddie does yell at him a lot...and they have a bunch of classes together." "I didn't know things had gotten so bad at home. Mrs. Tozier used to be a saint.." "Is Richie okay?" He couldn't pin point why, but as  he clicked his lamp off, Stan's chest hurt, but before a tear could escape his eyes he rolled over and pulled his covers up to his chin. ~ "Hey Rich, you left this at my house last night." Stan held the bag in-between them, his eyes refusing to meet Richie's, his chest still tight like the night before. "Stan the Man! My savior, got some important goods in here!" The blonde's eyebrows raised, finally looking at Richie's face just for the boy to look away quickly. "Can't lose my comic so soon now can I?"

"My mom made cookies!!" Ben walked into the living room,  plate piled with chocolate chip cookies in his hands. "Ben Handsome, you are nothing if not the son of a saint, if you know what I mean." Richie dived for the plate, one cookie already in his mouth and three in his hands. 

"Beep, beep, Richie!" Eddie scoffed and bumped the boy's shoulder, taking one cookie from Ben's plate. Stan watched as Richie's shoulders deflated, and the brunet ate his second cookie much slower. Before he could say anything Mike and Beverly's voices took everyone's attention towards the TV. 

"We're not doing more horror movies, we did that like two weeks ago!" Beverly was swatting at the movies in Mike's hands, trying to reach across him to put her VHS into the VCR player. "She's not w-wr-wrong Mike. Let's just do the Disney marathon." At Bill's words Mike sighed and gave in, backing away from the TV so suddenly that Beverly fell forward slightly. 

"Did you see that foul play my good man? Foul play I say!" Richie nudged Bill just to be shrugged off as the boy grabbed a cookie and moved to sit on the couch. ~ "I think I'm gonna go ahead and head home you guys. I'm getting one of those notorious Tozier headaches." Richie stood behind the couch as the credits to Bambi played, bookbag slung over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, bye Richie." "See ya, Trashmouth." "I think I'm gonna head out too, gotta help my mom clean up a bit before my aunt stays with us." "Dang, bye Stan." "Have fun with that Stan!" ~ "Hey Rich, think you can give me a ride?" The boy nodded and started his truck, hurriedly throwing a couple things behind the bench seat of his truck. 

"Only the best for a prince, amiright?" If Stan didn't know better he'd say Richie's ears had gone a little pink. His truck started and he pulled out of Ben's driveway onto the road. 

"Are you actually getting a headache Richie? Cause if not, I wanna talk.." His hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter but Richie put on a smile and glanced at Stan.

"Always knew you could see through me. Don't know if we can have this conversation without your mother though, she wanted to be the one to break the news."

"Oh shut up asshole." Despite his words Stan felt himself smiling as Richie snickered. 

"I just want to say I'm sorry first. Because I shouldn't have pried. But I thought it was just gonna be stupid stuff. Maybe some black mail material."

"Wait, you read my fucking journal? Stanley that's fucked dude! I would never do that to you. I can't believe you went through my bag. Guess straight cut Stan isn't as honest a man as I thought. Dude, what is your problem?"

A red light had stopped them, and Richie was able to look at Stan in the eye now, his brown eyes angry, but also coming off as slightly panicked. 

"Look, I really didn't mean to get into your heavy shit. I thought it was just gonna be full of those little doodles you do in class and some new song lyrics. I didn't read too much of it Just a couple pages, maybe three tops! It's just got me worried about you."

"What did you read Stanley? Worried I'm sick? I can't really say I'm surprised." Brown eyes rolled and he clicked his tongue as he pulled forward.

"Sick? What- no. I'm worried about your mom and dad." 

"You know that's none of your fucking business. We're just fine at the Tozier residence. Nothing has changed, Went works all the time and Ma takes care of the house. Don't start talking like you know anything about them. Get out of my car, Uris."

"Rich-"

"No, I said I'd give you a ride home, and here we are. The Uris residence. Go help your mom clean up and figure out how to stay out of other people's business."

Stan sighed and hung his head as he got out of the truck, only turning his head towards the street when Richie sped off, a cloud of smoke following him. ~ "Beverly, I really messed up the other day." "Sweetheart, Richie is known for the theatrics, don't let it get you down." "Yeah, Stan, that boy is like a rubber ball, he'll bounce back."

A shaky hand worked it's way through blonde curls, brown eyes bounced around the room, landing on Bev sitting in the window smoking, the radio sitting next to her turned down quiet enough for them to talk over, and Mike sitting criss cross on the bed. 

"Stan, what even happened? I have never seen you this worried over some little fight with Richie."

"Look, I know it was wrong, but I accidentally read his very personal journal." Stan cringed as he said the words, already feeling Mike's eyes on him when Beverly whipped her head in his direction.

"How do you accidentally read someone's journal man?" "What did you read Stan?

Mike and Bev spoke at the same time, and Bev's cigarette was out before Stan could explain. 

"Look, he's just got some shit going on at home, and he doesn't want to bother us with it...andIthinkhemighthaveacrushonEddie." "What was that last part?" "I think he mighthaveacrushonEddie." "Stan, breathe sweetheart we aren't gonna yell at you." "I think he might have a crush on Eddie and I'm not sure why I'm upset about it." 

Mike and Bev shared a knowing look over Stan's down tilt head, Bev's eyebrows raised in a silent question that Mike answered with a nod.

"You may be one of the smartest most oblivious person I've met Stanley Uris." "You've had that boy wrapped around your finger since you became friends in second grade." "Guess you just didn't realize he had you around his finger as well."

Mike's words stung at first, but when Beverly pointed out who Richie's crush was, Stan's face lit up like a light. His cheeks dusted with pink as he met their eyes.

"You're being serious. Fuck, now I've really messed up. He thinks I hate him!" ~ "This is such a bad fucking idea. He hates you right now Stan." With a sigh the boy threw the first stone at the second floor window. It took three stones for Richie Tozier to open his window, and only one glance to see Stan before he was retreating again. 

"Wait, Richie! Please, I just want to talk. Can we go for a ride?" Stan watched with bated breath as the shadow at the window hovered another moment before it retreated.

"Called that one."

And then Richie was climbing down the siding of his house.

"Be careful! Why didn't you use the front door dumbass?" All Stan got in response was an eye roll and a thumb pointing to the car in the drive way, Went was home.

"Oh." "Yeah, oh. Let's go. Been itching to go somewhere anyway." ~ The only sound in the truck was the two boys' breathing and a soft static from the radio. Stan swallowed air and watched as they passed the movie theatre. 

"Look, I really am sorry. I just want you to talk to us more. You're acting like some shitty parenting is where we draw the line, have you completely forgotten that fucking clown?"

"I know. Sorry for being a brat the other day. I just don't like people to see that stuff, I have a reputation ya know? Comedian first, dumbass second, and softie never."  Richie turned left, leading to the outskirts of town.

"Yeah, wouldn't want to ruin this perfect "class clown" persona you've got going on."

"Stanley Uris, did you just use air quotes to describe my entire personality to me?"

A chuckle escaped Richie and the truck air suddenly felt much lighter. "You're a lot more than that you know. You're more than some shitty but perfect timed your mom jokes. We keep you around for a lot more than a laugh." "What else am I good at Stan? All I do is mouth off and tell bad jokes." Brown curls came down from Richie's bun as he shook his head, leading the two of them past a sign asking visitors to come back to Derry.

"They may be bad jokes, but they still make us laugh. You're always the first one to put aside time for any of us, all we have to do is ask. And- stop shaking your head. Who took the time when we were all younger to listen to Eddie explain which of his inhalers were for what and how to administer them? Who learned how to cut hair just to help Bev save money and keep it trimmed? Who helped Mike shear the sheep when Spring started just so he could hang out with us sooner? Who practiced endless tongue twister with Bill to help with his stutter? Who did all that? Richie Tozier did. You give us everything and never expect anything back. All I wanna do is give back. God knows you deserve it."

"Hey now, don't bring the big man into this conversation." Despite the levity of what he was saying, Stan could hear the tears on the other boy's voice. 

"I didn't mean to make you cry. You just have such a big heart, and I think sometimes you don't know what to do with it...I saw the notes about a boy. You know we wouldn't judge you for that! Shit, none of us batted an eye when Big Bill came out as bisexual, so why would we care. You deserve to be happy, Rich. I just want you to be happy." 

The more he spoke, the quieter Stan's voice became and the louder his blood rushed in his ears. Silence enveloped the truck again, and soon the tires came to a stop over a patch of grass. 

"Did you mean all of that?"

Richie Tozier was not a small boy anymore, he was all long limbs of 6'2, and had developed a jawline sharp enough to cut a man, but right now, in the dim light of his dashboard, swallowed by a grey hoodie and hunched over, Richie Tozier reminded Stan of that scared boy in the sewers. 

"Every last word. And I think you should know that a little birdie told me that I might be the inspiration for some of those lovely lyrics in your book..." Glasses nearly flew off Richie's face with how quickly he shot his head up, worried brown eyes magnified by the lenses. 

"Bev, that bitch."

"I wouldn't say that quite yet. She pointed something else out to me too. She said I've had you wrapped around my finger since we met in second grade, but she also said that you've had me wrapped around your finger for a while now too. And I've got to say, she's right. Can't believe she knows me better than both of us. But yeah, Rich, you've had me wrapped around your finger since you told my mom at age six that she had better get used to you because you'd be around for a while."

Richie put the truck in park, unbuckled and shifted to be more in the middle of the truck, and the yellow of the radio highlighted the pink on his cheeks perfectly. "Stan...I don't really know what to say. Still can't believe she ratted me out like that." 

"Say you're gonna let us in more. Say she was right. Say you want to give this a shot.”

"I want to give this a shot. I'm pretty sure I've been in love with you since we were twelve." A warm hand gently took Stan's as he spoke, squeezing gently before he scooted just a bit closer. 

"Slow down there Tozier, I've only just opened my eyes to the fact that you might be it for me, let me catch up before we start tossing the L word around. Buy me dinner first at least."

A genuine chuckle and Richie moved back to his seat, his hand still in Stan's. "How bout a late dinner at-", brown eyes glanced at the clock,"-nearly one a.m?" "Lead the way, Tozier. I'll be right with you."

[rattlung]

i wanted to get this out for halloween but then it ended up getting (and taking) too long so i was like aight whatever i’ll split it and post the first bit so i know at least some of it will be in time for the spooky scary. not that it’s really spooky scary, but yknow

anyway the second i saw cowboy mirage and vampire crypto i knew i had to write a wild west au with them. if any of you knew me from my glory ovw days, you know wth im talkin about. 

so anyway, slooow burn, animal death, blood, blood drinking, and possible ooc-ness because i couldn’t decide on whether i wanted mirage to have a very thick southern accent or not so his dialogue may be a bit whack. also with it being an au, characterization probably got skewed to shit. sorry about that :^(

cross posting fucks up formatting, so to be safe here’s the ao3 link but if that’s not the jam for your bread, it’s all under the read more

=======

The sun had set hours ago, but Elliott remained at his post.

Crickets and grass were his only companions on his porch, not even a candle was lit to keep him company. He didn’t want anyone to know he was out there and the little flame would have given him away. Besides, the moon was high that night and the stars glittered from behind it thanks to the cloudless sky. His eyes had adjusted well enough, and the open fields of the farm didn’t provide enough shadows to cause much concern.

No, Elliott was confident he’d catch who he wanted tonight, it was only a matter of whether or not the little bastard would show up.

He sighed and leaned forward in his chair to rest his crossed arms on the railing of the porch, then placed his chin on them. He hoped whoever it was would show. He couldn’t afford another big hit to the stock again. In the last week, he’d lost three chickens - one of them was the hen he’d sank three dollars into earlier in the month. It’d been a good one, too, healthy eggs up until she went missing with two of her sisters.

It was like nothing Elliott had ever seen before. There were never any carcasses left in the coop or on the land, no blood and maybe only a few stripped feathers. Coyotes were never that clean - not in Elliott’s experience anyway. And to take so many at a time?

Then the marks started showing up on the cattle. Two clean little holes at their shoulders that Elliott would have missed had it not been for the blood that oozed out of them, staining their fur a rusted brownish red.

That changed things. The body-less crimes started making sense, because they weren’t being killed - they were being stolen. Chickens were easy to make off with. Just toss a few in a bag and be on your way. Cows, though, they were marking those. Maybe one man was sent to scope out the pens to pick out the healthiest ones, then send off a crew to look for the marks and round them up to bring them home.

Elliott fought off a yawn and the on coming sense of second guessing himself. They would be coming with a group. He hadn’t thought of that before. If they did show up tonight and they were armed, there would be very little he could do with his mother’s old rifle. Quickly he decided he wouldn’t leave the porch if he saw anything. Just fire off a few shots and hopefully scare them off.

All of the Witts had met unfortunate ends. Two Witt sons died in the war, one to the flu soon after his third birthday, their mother to the plague - and the last Witt, dead to a bullet wound received while defending the cow that sneezed on him that very morning?

Yeah, no thank you, he’d stay right there on the porch, yes, ma’am.

So sit he did, scanning the horizon, the treeline, the pens, and tried not to fall asleep. He wondered if Ms. Williams had any hounds she’d be willing to part with to do this kind of stuff for him. Growing up, he’d always wanted a farm dog and Anita Williams trained some of the best he’d ever seen. Elliott would be able to leave it outside to patrol the land, sleep out on the porch, and chase off any predators or thieves that might be lurking while Elliott was in bed. That would be better than suffering through the brutality of waiting for the sun to rise himself.

Elliott didn’t notice his eyes had closed until they snapped open at the sound of sudden rattling in the hen house. He waited a moment, wondering if he imagined it, but soon there was a murmur of cluckings and Elliott got to his feet. He picked up the hat he’d hung on the back of his chair and placed it on top of his head before grabbing the rifle, standing at the very edge of his porch.

Surely they wouldn’t be going for more chickens, would they? When the cows they had marked were out roaming?

Elliott stepped off the stairs and onto the dirt pathway. If it was chickens being targeted tonight, that means there was likely only one of them. He checked the chamber of his gun before heading off, getting onto the grass as soon as he could in order to dampen the sound of his approaching footsteps. By the time he’s at the fence, the clucking had shifted and grew into something louder, the few hens he had left squawking at whatever was in there with them.

And maybe it was because their din was too loud, but Elliott couldn’t hear anything else. Nothing but feathered ruffling and the scrape of chicken feet.

A chill raised the hair on the back of his neck but he crept forward anyway. He wiped the palm of his hand off on his jeans and pushed open the gate, wincing hard when one of the hens in the coop got louder. The rest were a bit hysterical in their noise making, but this one’s panic was visceral. This wasn’t just someone walking through their nests and aggravating them out of sleep - these chickens were scared for their lives.

Elliott crept up to the wired entrance of the shed and peeked around. Small shadows flicked back an forth on the hay-filled floor in a frenzy. Hoarse, creaking noises spilled from their beaks and wings fluttered as they battled each other in their panic to press to the corners of the shed, close to the walls to get away from -

Now, Elliott wasn’t a religious man - which was an odd thing, when one lived in a small town like he did, where the person he bought canned goods from was the pastor’s brother, and the biggest building was the church which was always filled on Sunday. He never went to mass, not even for the holidays, and the Witt Family’s bible had been left in the bedside table’s drawer since he was a boy.

But he didn’t have to crack apart the thin pages of God’s Word to determine that whatever the thing was in front of him was bad.

Especially when it turned, a chicken limp and unmoving in its hands, and stared Elliott down with eyes that burned like indigo flames.

This isn’t a coyote, his mind helpfully informed him just as his mouth spit out, “Oh, fuck.”

The creature stood up fully and despite all its human-like qualities, there was still that electric energy that was just not right, uncanny and out of place. It showed off a human face, but its skin was so white it almost glinted blue when it passed through the moonlight that bled through the shed’s wooden panels.

Which is how Elliott noticed it was moving toward him. He raised the rifle up and pointed it square at the thing’s chest. If froze in its step, still as stone in half a second, but above the crying of his birds Elliott could hear the trill of something moving in its throat.

“Dro - Drop the chicken,” Elliott ordered, the stillness in his limbs compensating for his trembling voice.

To his surprise the creature listened to him. Its trill from before burst from its throat and its frown opened to let out a hiss, pitched low and piercing. The teeth it bared to him had a pink sheen, wet with blood, and its canines ended in vicious points - points Elliott was sure would match with the ones marking his cattle out on the fields.

“Oh, shit, okay - “ Elliott muttered, too panicked to remember that the creature could hear him.

It hunched down suddenly, dropping into a stance that made Elliott think it was going to lunge for him. Before he could really process that information, could even think to fire a shot at it to knock it down, to kill it, the creature spun around and crashed through the other side of the coop. Elliott blinked at the wire it split through like paper then hurried around the house. It was fast, already having leaped over the fence, a black shape that moved without sound, whispering over the grass in one, two seconds before it disappeared into the trees.

“That’s not a fuckin’ coyote,” Elliott said over the thundering of his heartbeat and the screaming of his chickens.

----=----

For a whole entire day, Elliott allowed himself to think that it was over. He let himself think that that was the last he’d see of the thing, that he’d scared it enough to retreat just from pointing a gun at it. Maybe the fear of Elliott actually using it would keep it away, whatever it was.

Truth be told, he didn’t really want to find out what it was. From the look he got out of it from the shadows, it looked human enough. A man as tall as him, dressed to the nines in black and red silks, slim with features Elliott might have tipped a hat at had he not been terrified the time he saw them. Human features. It looked human.

And yet, the bloodless chicken he’d been forced to get rid of proved otherwise. Once he’d been able to move, he’d wandered back in to examine it and found that it was little more than a husk, dried out and useless. It’s carcass was clean, feathers mostly untouched with no red soaked into them. On its breast were two, neat puncture holes.

The next day, one he’d used to catch up on sleep, he started feeling watched.

As he left the stables after shoveling out the floors, a familiar chill walked along his shoulders like icy fingers, eliciting a shiver from him. It lingered for a moment and slowly dissipated when he searched his surroundings, forcing himself to outwardly appear calm when he found nothing.

It would happen again - and often - in the following weeks. When he left the stables after milking, he’d feel it then. When he fed the chickens, when he lead the two horses out onto the pasture, checked on the hogs - someone was watching him. Waiting. And yet, as each night passed and he’d wake up, Elliott would set out to work and find that none of the livestock had been touched. The hens didn’t go missing. The puncture marks on the cows had scabbed over, and no new ones appeared.

Worriedly, Elliott wondered if he were next, that he was the one being stalked - but why wait so long? He lived alone on the Witt farm, and no one had visited him in the time between then and the encounter.

The idea of a peace offering came to him when he had to put one of the roosters down. It was the older one of the three, the one that was always more aggressive and tried to start fights with the others. Apparently, it had to learn the hard way that all fights it started were not always ones it could win. Elliott should have separated it sooner, or maybe had done something, but his mind had been in other places as of late. He’d felt terrible - for the cockerel, for himself. For his family. The only thing they’d left behind was this farm, and he was making a mess of it.

So, out he marched at the first sign of dusk, right to the edge of the trees where he’d seen the creature dart off all those days ago. He planned on calling out to it until it showed, dropping the rooster at its feet and declaring, There, see? I’m doing just fine on ruining everything on my own, so why don’t you just take the damn bird and go?

He didn’t do any such thing. He just stood there for a long moment, listened to the robins in the woods and the huffing of cattle behind him, and stared down at the rooster in his hands. Eventually, the watched feeling came. Elliott was so used to it that the chill hardly even registered. It was just eyes on him, now, no longer threatening or frightening.

For a moment, neither of them did anything. Nothing jumped out to attack him, and Elliott didn’t say a word. He never actually did. Eventually, he dropped the rooster onto the grass and turned back to the house, not even waiting to see if the creature would show itself.

The sun was finally wishing the horizon a farewell, sinking just under the trees as he’s finishing up the last of his rounds. Elliott tested the locks on the doors of the stalls to make sure they wouldn’t swing open and cast a long look at a cow sitting on the other side of one. She stared back at him. The scabs on her shoulders were just about gone, now, and her fur had grown over the little pink marks that’d been left behind. The rest of the cattle’s marks were just about the same. Nothing fresh.

Inside the Witt home, it was dark. There was still washing up he had to do in the big metal basin sat underneath the kitchen’s window. He probably wouldn’t get to until the next morning, so he pointedly kept his gaze away from there. He moved passed the old dining table that hadn’t seen use in years - mostly it was just full of tools he hadn’t moved back into the shed yet - and made his way toward the fireplace. Soon, the cold blue glow of the darkening sky was warmed by the slow starting flame. Elliott poked at it until he was thoroughly bored of watching sticks crumble into ash and was sure it wouldn’t smother itself.

With a heaving sigh he got back to his feet but didn’t go far, falling onto a wooden bench close to the fireplace. There were bigger and more comfortable places to sit, like the large wicker chair right beside him or the stool that had a pillow sewn onto it haphazardly, but Elliott had always sat on the bench. Maybe tomorrow, after he was done the cleaning, he’d move all the extra furniture out into the shed along with the tools on the dining room table. No use in having so many if he wasn’t using it. He didn’t get much company - none at all, really.

Elliott found himself staring at the book left on the seat of the wicker chair and doubted he’d even get around to doing the washing up.

Over the crackle of the fire, something thumped right outside the front door. Elliott straightened, twisted around to look toward the noise, and thought how weird it was to be thinking about never getting any visitors only to have one stop by. Or maybe the word was ironic.

But then he remembered the time and he held his breath to listen. There was no shuffling of someone on his porch and no knocking on his door. If someone rode all the way out to the Witt’s Farm after sundown it’d be for an emergency, so there was no real good reason for the stranger to be quiet.

Slowly, Elliott stood. Avoiding the floorboards that creaked, he crossed the room toward the door and picked up the rifle he’d left there. The silence was deafening and ringing with the dreadful thought of how he might actually be going crazy. Then, the idea of Elliott opening the door and finding nothing at all was almost as terrifying as opening it and revealing the shadow from the hen house. Had he actually heard something? Was there really something in his woods? What if he went outside to the coop and all of the lost chickens would be accounted for? What if the marks on the cows had healed so fast because they’d never been marked in the first place?

Elliott put his hand on the doorknob, sucked in a breath, held it, then twisted it and pulled it open. The door’s creak seemed like a wail in the empty night - because that’s what it was. Empty. No one standing at his stoop, no shadow perched on his railing ready to strike.

Nothing but the rooster he’d left at the trees, untouched and dropped carelessly at his door.

And for reasons he couldn’t explain, Elliott narrowed his eyes down at it and felt angry. Maybe it was the sleep he was losing, the constant worrying, the loneliness - or maybe he actually was losing his mind. Whatever it was, it was enough to have him bend over, snatch up the bird, and stomp down onto the path toward the trees. When he got there, he still said nothing, but that time he didn’t even wait around. Elliott just tossed the bird back onto the grass where he’d left it the first time and turned to storm away, ignoring the petulant feeling that rose at the display.

He made it about four yards before something hit the dirt behind him. He froze without looking back and grit his teeth.

“Alright, you sumbitch.”

Annoyed, he faced the trees again, passing the bird on the road. That chill was back. Instead of stopping him, have him think twice, it only achieved in making the anger thrumming around in his chest burn defiantly brighter.

Two indigo flames held his gaze when Elliott noticed them, dimmer than the last time he saw them. They regarded him with disinterest and that alone had him nearly seething.

“I’m tired of playing this game you’re havin’ with me,” he snapped. The shadow might have raised a brow at him, but with how dark it was Elliott couldn’t be sure. It didn’t say anything, so the question - the one he’d been wondering since that night - burst out of him. “Why haven’t you just killed me yet?”

Now the eyes moved, turning in a way that told Elliott that the creature had tilted its head. But still, the silence. Slowly, it looked down at the rifle Elliott had nearly forgotten about, pointedly, then back up at him. Elliott heard it hit the ground in the next second, which is how he learned that he himself tossed it aside.

Something that was smothered by the heat of the moment whispered to him, You sleep deprived idiot, just what in the hell are you doing?

What he said out loud was, “Do it, then. Nothin’s stopping you, so do it.”

The shadow did nothing; not a sound, not a movement.

Elliott heard his own breathing over the gentle breeze and wondered why it was so slow. He’d seen the speed the creature had moved at and his only protection was too many paces away. If it wasn’t planning on killing him, the anticipation should have been. But he was calm, staring demise dead in its lightning blue eyes, fists clenched at his sides.

The thought of it being incapable of speech occurred to him, but with the way it watched him, Elliott didn’t find it likely. Despite how inhuman they were, there was sentience behind the shadow’s gaze. Maybe too much for something that fed on blood. It looked at Elliott and he felt that it was capable of telling him exactly what it wanted to with a stare alone - all that and more. It was a heavy kind of thing to know. Elliott realized he had a hard time looking away, so when he managed it he didn’t dare look again.

“Just, get - get out of here.” He started making his way back - and didn’t look at the damned rooster again, either. “Leave me alone and terrorize some other poor bastard’s chickens.”

Coward, he thought, but didn’t know who it was directed to.

----=----

The next morning, Elliott woke up to one less crowing and his rifle propped up on the porch railing outside.

Something in the woods still watched him.

----=----

A few days passed until he saw the shadow again. Elliott was leaving the hen house and had thrown a look up at the sky to gauge the time, sighed at the moon, and turned to shut the wired gate behind him. When he turned around, a figure that definitely had not been there before stood in the path in front of him.

He gasped and sent himself back in a fit of shock, back slamming up against the shed. He scowled once he realized what - or, rather, who it was, but that was gone in the next second, too. The shadow’s posture was still one of casual disinterest; hands in pockets, shoulders relaxed, and expression blank if not aloof. But it was different, Elliott was sure. The skin, while always having been pallid, took a different tone, now, one that was qualmish and almost sickly. And the eyes - the eyes hardly even glowed.

It looked more like a ghost than a shadow.

“What’s wrong?” He asked - and why was he even concerned? It hadn’t tried to kill him yet, sure, but it was responsible for taking out almost a quarter of his chickens.

True to a pattern, the creature said nothing, however, it did give a meaningful look into the shed behind Elliott. When its gaze returned, he could see how its throat worked around a swallow.

“Are - “ Elliott looked back at the hen house as if to check to make sure that was what the shadow had looked at. “Are you asking me to - “ He cut himself off again, but pointed into the house.

It narrowed its eyes at the incredulous inflection in Elliott’s voice but did not say no.

The whistling of grass is the only sound for a long moment as a cool night’s breeze moved over the fields, Elliott at a loss for words. As the wind washed over him, chilling him that much further, he could see the creature’s nostrils flare minutely, and this time when its throat moved it was around a rumbling noise. From the base of its chest it traveled up and out as that familiar trill. It filled Elliott with a sense of urgency, one he couldn’t really explain.

He was torn. It was strange to be asked such a thing, but he supposed he should be grateful of the fact that it was asking at all. But how was he even supposed to answer? As far as Elliott knew, none of his chickens survived. He’d never found markings on them, they would just disappear. With the colder seasons approaching, he really couldn’t afford to lose any more of his livestock.

The cows, though, they’d apparently survived a few run-ins with the shadow.

Elliott looked over to the stables and felt shameful the second he did. Was he really considering it? Other than the fast healing punctures on their necks or shoulders, there had been no real changes in their behavior or health. The morning he’d find the marks on them, they’d appear nonplussed. But what if it hurt them? What if the experience was traumatic in a way Elliott couldn’t see?

Then again, could he really afford to deliberate on this? In that moment, with the shadow looking at him expectantly, it seemed to be between Elliott and the cows. Really, the choice was an easy one, but he was still allowed to feel guilty.

“Follow me,” he told the shadow.

As the temperature steadily declined throughout the days, Elliott had started rounding the cows up into the stables more often. It got too cold at night , and he didn’t want to give the cows a chance to catch an illness. It meant waking up earlier to give them more time to graze but it was safer. While he was unlocking the paneled door to the stables Elliott thought that maybe that was the reason he was losing more chickens. It was harder to get through a locked door without raising suspicion than it was kidnapping a few birds and letting the farmer’s blame fall onto coyotes.

The shadow didn’t make a noise but when Elliott turned, it was standing right behind him, nose wrinkled a little at the intense smell of animal and dirt. He didn’t jump that time. He picked up the unlit lantern he’d left behind on the stacked bales of hay, lighting it fast and hung it on the rung in between two of the stall doors. Inside one of them, the dull eyes of a cow shimmered and regarded him blankly. Elliott drug the door open and stepped inside next to her, touching at the glittering wet nose and felt her hot breath huff against his hand in recognition.

“It doesn’t - there’s no - it - it’s not gonna hurt her too much, is it?” Elliott couldn’t help but ask. Now, he expected a nonverbal answer so he looked back to shadow for it, finding more whites in its eyes and the stoic expression looking cheaper. It wasn’t watching him anymore, purely focused on the cow Elliott was petting at nervously.

It stepped closer, into the stall, and Elliott watched as the cow’s head tipped up apprehensively. The huffing of her breathing got a little bit faster and Elliott heard himself shushing her lowly, scratching around the longer scruff by her ears. He couldn’t imagine he was helping too much, but the only thing she did when he saw the shadow disappear around her other side was let out a small grunt of displeasure.

Time passed; the only sound came from his and the cow’s breathing and the brisk wind rattling the wood of the barn. Elliott kept up his attempt at comfort, watching her face intently, and was surprised to find her calm once again. Slowly, he stepped away, gauging her reaction at the movement but didn’t get one.

He moved back into the base of the barn and heaved up one of the metal buckets he’d filled with grain. It was a favor he’d done for himself that night to save himself some time when he woke up to feed them, but he figured that the cow deserved some special treatment. Elliot brought it over to her front and held it right under her nose for her to sniff out, knocking the handle out of her way and hugging it to his stomach due to the weight of it.

The cow’s ears twitched back and forth in contentment, dipping her snout into the grain and eating it by the mouthful. Relief coursed through him like the blood in his veins and Elliott felt himself smiling a little.

“Good girl,” he told her, to which he got very little in the way of a response.

The shadow straightened in a fluid movement, one Elliott watched with rapt attention. Even in just the few short minutes, there was an excruciatingly apparent change in the creature. The intensity of its eyes returned, their brightness amplifying its now fuller features and adding more color to the porcelain-looking skin - it was the most human Elliott had seen him.

“You were starving,” Elliott muttered with a voice awed in his realization. He thought back to the look the shadow had given the cow before and identified it now as a pained and feral sort of hunger. “Why didn’t you just take the damned rooster?”

The creature wiped the cow blood off of wet lips and had the audacity to look at Elliott like he was the disgusting one. Before he could remark on that, prove to the other how backwards that was, the shadow’s mouth opened and for the first time, he spoke. In a voice that was low and smooth, with layers upon layers of something deep and new to Elliott threading through the syllables, he simply stated, “It was dead.”

Elliott sputtered, a little dumbstruck. “So?”

The shadow’s eyes narrowed into a disbelieving glare. “It was dead for a long time.”

“You’re gettin’ partipu - pertil - picky about what blood you’re drinking, now?”

If he were being frank, Elliott wasn’t sure why he was antagonizing the shadow. He’d been merciful so far in not maiming him. And Elliott couldn’t exactly say that if he’d left something out for the hours the rooster had been sitting, he would drink it, either.

But surely drinking blood wasn’t enjoyable in any sense.

Elliott pulled the bucket out from under the cow. Some feed stuck to the wetness of her nose which she cleaned off with a few swipes of her tongue. “I guess we’re done here,” Elliott said to her, but mostly to the shadow.

The shadow that had since disappeared from the stables.

Sighing, Elliott replaced the now three quarters filled bucket with the others as he shook his head. “Guess we are.”

----=----

They weren’t, but Elliott had expected that much.

Every other night, now, when Elliott was finishing his rounds he caught sight of the shadow leaning against the barn doors like it was an arrangement they’d agreed on. He’d finish locking up and meet him there where he’d open the doors and wave the shadow inside, direct him to one of the seven cows, and pretended it wasn’t abnormal. Every farmer had an odd case; a pair of horses that only fed at a specific time of day, cattle that grazed exclusively on the left side of the pasture, a herding dog that befriended and mothered ill lambs.

Elliott’s odd case was a vampire, but it was fine. Every farmer had an odd case. Some odder than others.

Things started to change on the evening Elliott had just left the stables unlocked. One of the pen’s posts had crumbled from age and the fences around it sagged too close to the dirt. It was a reminder that he’d have to put work into replacing them before the winter, or else he’d have a lot more work come spring. Like the dishes in the basin and the extra furniture still in the front of his house, that was a problem for tomorrow’s Elliott. He’d just repair the broken one for now.

He was just testing out the sturdiness of the new post when he noticed that the shadow was standing behind him. By then he was so used to the minor jump scares that he only just barely lost the hammer in his grip. It thumped onto the old, rotten fence post he’d left laying there and landed quietly in the grass.

“Lord - Jesus - Chri - you gotta stop doing that,” he told the shadow, hand over his heart.

Silence from the shadow. He’d gone back to his quiet pledge, not having spoken since their very short conversation in the stables.

Elliott was used to that, too, so shook his head and leaned down to pick up the hammer and the post. He could leave it to dry out on his porch, break it apart further and use it for tinder later. “I left the barn open,” he said when he saw that the shadow was still standing there.

“I know,” the shadow responded. Something flashed in his eyes, probably on account of how fast Elliott snapped up to look at him, not having expected an answer. It was some kind of struggle, Elliott imagined, because his mouth opened a second before he said anything. “Thank you.”

Elliott’s eyes widened. “I - uh. Y-yeah, you’re welcome. It’s fine. It’s - y’know, it’s better than you killing my chickens.”

That flash of something struck again. Elliott wanted to apologize. He genuinely didn’t want to offend the shadow, and he might have actually done it if he didn’t speak before him. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

And that would have been smart, wouldn’t it? Letting the town know about the blood drinker in their woods. They could have helped Elliott a few dead birds earlier, rounded up enough of them for a search party - if they even believed him in the first place. But that would have involved killing the shadow, or running him off, and Elliott didn’t really enjoy the idea of that. In some kind of morbid way, through all of the heart-pounding meetings and stress-induced nightmares, he kind of liked the company. He’d probably miss it if it were gone.

Besides, the nightmares were really nothing new.

Still, he decided he wasn’t going to tell the other that. He just grinned, leaned up against the freshly repaired fence - very sturdy -  and said, “I think I’ve got you handled.”

The shadow’s brow rose and he looked Elliott up and down, then finally back up again. “No,” is all he said.

The smile dropped from Elliott’s face but he didn’t say anything more on that, because, unfortunately, the shadow was being very fair. “Right, well,” he muttered, pushing off the fence. He was ready for bed. “Have a good night, then.”

“Are you Witt?” He was asked after a few paces.

Elliott paused, turned around slowly. “How’d you know about that?”

“I listen,” the shadow stated simply.

Looking around acres of empty land, Elliott wondered, to who? “Yeah, I - well, I’m one of them. Witt’s my last name, so there’s… Well, there’s been a few Witts.”

The other’s head cocked to one side. “Which Witt are you?”

The only one, really. “I’m Elliott.”

The shadow nodded, looking him over once more. “Good night, Elliott.”

All he did was stand there for a moment, blinking, too caught up on how his name sounded in the smooth whisper of the other’s voice. He’d never heard it be said like that before.

Then, finally, his brain caught up.

“Hey, wait,” he called, despite the shadow not having moved an inch. “That’s not very fair, now is it? I don’t get to know your name?”

He wouldn’t exactly say that the shadow was the teasing sort, but it did take numerous weeks to get a decent two-sided conversation out of him. Mostly, Elliott expected the same response from before. Another ‘no’ before he disappeared for a few nights again.

“Tae Joon,” was what he got, though.

Elliott tried it out for himself. “Tae Joon.”

The shadow’s head tilted further.

Elliott smiled, tipped his hat. “You have a good night, Tae Joon.”

He shifted the wooden post around for easier carrying and put his back to the shadow, knowing that if he turned around now he probably would find empty air. It was fine. Elliott knew he’d see him soon.

=====

yyyyeaahh this is what i’ve been putting off prompts for BIG oof :^(((( 

not sure when i’ll finish the rest of it tbh but here’s this for now i guess 

[beneathtreemomo]

For the character thing!! Yukimura Hyouga, Gouenji, Kidou, OH and that guy, Fidio Aldena, was his name? Along with Fudou. (I have to run and sleep, so goodnight ^_^)

Night night hun! Sleep well and talk to you tomorrow/later today! The rest are under the cut!Yukimura Hyouga:     How I feel about this character: He is a precious smol snow leopard cub with a mischievous streak a mile wide by the time he turns 15 and I will fight canon for his backstory and give him the best one possible in fanfic where he is loved and just grumpy instead of betrayed and hurt like too many kids in this series are. (in short: PRECIOUS BABY WILL LOVE AND PROTECT)     All the people I ship romantically w/ him: Never actually crossed my mind to ship him with anyone (probably because in Yoru’s universe he’s still 5 and hasn’t had to deal with it yet xD) BUT I read your fic and now I will gladly ship him with Itetsuki because the way you write them is pure adorable.     Non-romantic OTP w/ him: I am a firm shipper of Hyogua & Hakuren, Hyouga & Healing, and Hyouga & Fubuki bros. Just soft healthy platonic relationships all around :3     Unpopular Opinion of him: ?????? I don’t know?????? I’m not into fandom stuff idk what their opinions of him are xD. I guess mine is that he had a childhood crush on Fubuki that later turned into him putting him on a pedestal. Like, the type of crush that your friend’s little sibling or the kid you babysit has where they insist they’ll marry you when they’re older. Not an actual romantic crush during his teens. And then he ended up transitioning from a crush to hero-worship since Fubuki is probably the first adult to believe in him/ see his potential in a long time. So that would lead to him feeling betrayed when Fubuki suddenly disappears off the grid w/o so much as a goodbye.     One thing I wish had happened in canon: LITERALLY ANY BACKSTORY PAST SHIROU TRAINING HIM. ACTUAL INTERACTIONS BETWEEN HIM AND HIS TEAM. MORE OF HIM AND HIS TEAM AFTER THE MATCH WITH RAIMON.

Gouenji Shuuya     How I feel about him: Cool loner boi with a heart of gold and daddy issues who isn’t actually a loner and would die or kill for his friends and family and I would gladly be his friend if I met him. Hopefully. If not friends I’d still have mad respect for the kid if he just let down some of those walls.     Romance ships: Honestly the only romantic ship I can get behind with him is Shirou because A) Fire and Ice, B) they compliment each other so well, and C) THE CHEMISTRY. Like, they’re just perfect for each other in a way that’s so subtle but so caring and it’s really hard for me to see either of them with anyone else after it.     Non-romantic ships: Break Trio, Gouenji & Yuuka (loving sibling relationship ftw!), Gouenji & Toramaru. I don’t really know what else to say, I love their dynamics, I just don’t see them as more than friends xD And again: HEALTHY LOVING SIBLING RELATIONSHIPS FOR THE WIN     Unpopular Opinion: ….. another I don’t know, I’m afraid xD Even more so since I don’t have a single clue what fanon even does to him, really. I guess... that maybe when the situation call for it he shows more than a tick of a smile? Like, it’s probably OoC but I feel like if he needs to talk to someone about something super important (like, for instance, Shirou’s mental breakdown after Okinawa) he’d end up expressing a lot more than he lets on. He may keep his emotions from showing on his face, but I feel like he’d accidentally let more slip in both expression and tone if he’s focused on something else.     One thing in canon: More of his struggle in his stay w/ Hijitaka would have been nice. Especially with the younger kids! Gouenji’s so soft with kids, it’s adorable!Kidou Yuuto     How I feel about him: Eh, he’s ok I guess xD Honestly can’t even think of a silly thing to say about him even though I know there are plenty out there. He’s just... not that spectacular to me. Don’t get me wrong-- he’s really cool! A really good strategist and his struggles with coming out from under Kageyama’s control make for an interesting character! He’s just not a fav or a character I feel strongly about.     Romance ships: Wow this is really showing my one-track “faves only” brain because I honestly never thought about it???? I guess maybe I can see something with Sakuma? But honestly I can’t see him or don’t really want to see him romantically with any of the characters.     Non-romantic: Break Trio, Kidou & Teikoku, Kidou & Otonashi, Kidou & Fudou. Some nice deep friendships and another healthy sibling relationship after they’ve been separated for at least a few years? Heck yeah, sign me up!     Unpopular Opinion: Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if me not finding him all that amazing is an unpopular opinion xD I don’t even know why I’m not a fan of him, but I’m not! *shrugs* just happened to be the way the cards fell, I guess.     One thing in canon: Uhhh more home life outside of the team? Him and Otonashi starting to reconnect outside of school would have been nice. *gasp* it would have been awesome to see him hanging out with Teikoku casually after he transfered to Raimon!Fideo Ardena     How I feel: He’s a cutie! I love how he’s so interesting in Endou (and by proxy, InaJapan) and honestly while I wasn’t super interested in other teams the first time I watched Inazuma Eleven, after nearly a decade and actually getting a friend who’s from Italy, it made me so dang happy to see him! I was just like “Hey!!! He’s from ‘Milla’s country!!! Yay go Fideo!!!” and idk I’ve had a soft spot for him since xD     Romance ships: Another don’t have ‘em character, sorry xD I guess I can see him having a bit of a crush on Endou, but also feel free to ask me this again once his appearances in the show are fresh in my mind xD     Non-romantic ships: Fideo & Orpheus and Fideo & Rushe! A shame they weren’t close in the anime; I would have liked to see that.     Unpopular Opinion: N/A; I don’t know enough about fanon or about him to give an opinion, sorry xD     One thing in canon: HIS! RELATIONSHIP! WITH! RUSHE! were they actual siblings? how did they meet? WHY WAS HE THE ONE SHE WAS CLOSE TO IN THE GAME. WHY NOT ORPHEUS IN GENERAL?!Fudou Akio     How I feel: He is a little gremlin who acts like being mean and angry at everyone is fun but actually he’s just a prickly pear cactus protecting himself from others in case he gets hurt again and while he’s a jerk he’s actually super cool and his jerk-ness is acceptable. (in short: *in the tune of He’s A Tramp* he’s a jerk but I like him)     Romance ships: Don’t have any! He’s too prickly with everyone xD I mean, him and Kidou are cute but I can’t see it as romantic as it’s too near “well, I guess you aren’t as much of a jerk as I thought, but I still can’t trust you” for me. Sure, they work out their differences, but idk it’s too hard to see as romantic xD     Non-romantic: Kidou & Fudou, Fudou & Teikoku, Fudou & OG Hiroto, basically everyone who went “Oh come ON” since they weren’t stuck in the past w/ him and the others were screwing up perfectly reachable passes when Fudou was finally allowed to play in a match in FFI.     Unpopular Opinion: another N/A, sorry!     One thing in canon: I would have loved to actually see him trying to form friendships instead of always being a loner? Like, he gets close enough to them to be friends eventually, but we never actually get to see it? And that makes me a little sad. All we really see is him kinda pushing the others away while saying slightly less mean things to them and him and Kidou coming to an understanding, and idk I just feel like seeing him interacting more with the team off field w/o someone getting a bit mad or disgruntled would have been nice.Thank you for asking about these guys!

[glowwormsmith]

Joseph’s Birthday Bash

Uh-oh, sisters! You think the Far Cry 5 Birthday Bash was over? When I told my boyfriend about the event, he decided to make a special gift for me. I loved it. He also gave me full permission to share this on Tumblr, so to celebrate the last day of March, here is my boyfriend’s gift to the Far Cry 5 fandom. God help us all.

This is also unedited with only minor grammatical changes to make it read better. Enjoy the fic~

Summary: It’s Joseph’s birthday and everyone in Hope County is invited. Things can only go well from here.

Warning: This is a crack fic. Expect OOC-ness (though he says it’s an accurate portrayal of all the characters), general silliness, fourth-wall breaking, off-color jokes, and anything else associated with a humor/crack fic. If anything needs to be tagged, let me know.

 AN: In truth, I know very little about Far Cry 5.

Joseph's Birthday Bash

           It was a clear and sunny day at the Project of Eden's Gate compound, colloquially known as “The Father's Church.” As opposed to the compound’s usual stark and austere look, today it was vibrant; the fence that was torn open from a recent helicopter crash was fixed, and what looked to be white moonflowers were tied into every single link of every chain. Even the sign that on any other day of the year proudly displayed “Project at Eden's Gate” was covered up with a black tarp that instead was spray-painted to say “Happy Birthday!”

           Truly, it was a surreal site.

           “Oooh, it's perfect!” A young woman in a white frilly dress exclaimed, as she took in her handiwork. “Now we just have to finish the outside of the church! Go on, mush!”

           In response, the ragtag group of strangely-dressed bald men who were the ones actually tying the flowers into the chain link fence turned to give a glassy-eyed stare to their commander.

           “Mush.” She repeated, snapping her fingers and pointing to the church.

           Sluggishly, the men picked up their basket of flowers and headed to the church.

           “Ah, Faith.” A long-suffering sigh came from just behind the gate as a man with a perfectly coiffed beard and a three-hundred-dollar coat stepped through. “As usual, you're truly an inspiration to observe. I wish I could be half as sympathetic to those in my region.”

           “John!” The aforementioned Faith beamed at the new arrival. “As usual, you're acting like a posh bitch!”

           John's head jerked back slightly at her bluntness and he was just about to retort, until another, much larger man came and put his hand on his shoulder.

           “Enough.” The large redhead grunted “Don't the two of you start. It's insufferable.”

           “Wow!” Faith said with a sing-song lilt. “‘Insufferable?’ Isn't that a little too many syllables for you, jarhead?”

           Jarhead gazed at her and gave an unimpressed grunt.

           “Really, would it kill you to act a little more ladylike?” John asked the girl. “This is why you're not in the Christmas photos.”

           “This is why you’re not--” She mimicked.

           “Really. Stop.” Jarhead said. “Joseph's going to be here soon. You know how he gets about the two of you bickering. I'd rather not hear it for once.”

           “Sorry, brother,” John mumbled.

           “Sorry, brother~” Faith mimicked, to everyone's distaste.

           “Rachel.” Jarhead warned, making her grimace slightly. “Stop.”

           Faith stuck out her tongue at him for a brief moment, then turned her head towards the church and fell silent. Suddenly, a small cloud of dust kicked up from one of the cliffs above them accompanied by a hum of an engine.

           “He's here.”

           A Jeep with tinted-black windows came into view from over the cliff, driving down into the gated compound. In moments it pulled unto the gate right in front of the three siblings. The driver's side door opened and out stepped a man who practically glowed with an enlightened aura. This was the most notable man in Hope County, Joseph Seed.

           He was also wearing a blindfold.

           “Jesus H. Christ!” Jarhead barked. “Where you driving that thing blindfolded!”

           “Jacob, my brother!” Joseph greeted, turning almost (but not quite) to face where Jacob was and spreading his arms. “My escorts told me that I had to wear this, otherwise I'd spoil the surprise.”

           “Your escorts were supposed to drive!” Jacob growled, looking towards two men in red balaclavas who stepped out of the passenger and rear seats, respectively. “I am disappointed.”

           “B-but...” One of the strangely dressed men stuttered out. “The Father--he wanted to drive!”

           “Blindfolded?”

           “Now, Jacob.” The still-blindfolded Father consoled, patting his brother on the shoulder. “It's like John 9:25 says, ‘I was blind, and now I can see!’.”

           “It's not.” Jacob sighed. “You still have that thing on.”

           “You never were the most spiritual, brother.”

           “Oh for--” The tall ginger ran his hand down his face. “Can we just get on with this whole thing?”

           “I dunno,” Faith said, twirling a flower in between her fingers. “This is kinda fun to watch.”

           “No, don't listen to her.” John wheedled his way between his two brothers and grabbed Joseph by his bicep. “Come, Brother, let us show you what we prepared!”

           Ignoring the disapproving stares from pretty much everybody, John sidled up to his brother, in a way that one could say was unnervingly close even for siblings, and led him into the compound. Stopping just before the church, John held his breath before motioning for his siblings and the followers to gather around and quickly ripped off Joseph's blindfold.

           “Surprise!” Everyone hollered. “Happy birthday, Father!”

           Joseph serenely took in the whole event, gazing at his church, defaced by clumsily pasted on moonflowers behind his piss-tinted aviators.

           “Were you wearing your glasses under your blindfold?” Jacob asked, stunned by his brother's dedication to fashion.

           “Well, Brother?!” John ignored his favorite brother's apparent psychosis. “Isn't this a wonderful surprise?”

           “It is no surprise, my children.” Joseph smiled back at all his followers, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. His visage was that of one who has truly reached enlightenment. “For I have foreseen this.”

           “D'Ohhhhh!” his followers cried, shuffling their feet, as Faith nodded sagely, completely eating it up, and John looked crushed.

           “Of course you did,” Jacob sighed, wondering why he spent any time with his family.

           “Now, John.” The Father gazed around the decorated compound and nodded his head before turning and beckoning to his younger brother. “Bring me your Devil Box.”

           “My what?”

           “Your devil box,” Joseph said, as if he was talking to a small child. “Which you use to broadcast the past onto other, squarer devil boxes.”

           John looked as if he was about to have a conniption. The rest of the followers weren't much better.

           “Your camera,” Jacob grunted.

           “Oh!” John exclaimed. “But why, Joseph?”

           “Why John, today is the birthday of our Savior,” The Father chided. “Me. Obviously today should be a day of armistice and coming together.”

           “No,” Jacob interjected, already seeing where this was going.

           “Therefore, I suggest--”

           “No.”

           “--That we invite--”

           “Seriously. This is dumb.”

           “--The deputies and their friends!”

           “Joseph.”

           “Worry not, my dear brother, things are going as foreseen.” Joseph settled the matter with a deft hand and turned to his other siblings. “John, Faith, we must prepare for our guests.”

           “As the Father decrees!” Faith screeched, turning to her homeless-looking followers who gave their agreement with a cacophony of inhuman moans.

 Elsewhere

           The town of Fall's End had seen a major downsizing since the Project at Eden's Gate had started. While it was never what would be described as a “booming town,” it had a scattered few stores with a surprising variety of goods, tailored to the unique individuals that lived in Hope County. Now all stores were closed but two: a bar called the Spread Eagle, and a hardware shop that sold guns.

           It was unfortunate for the town of Fall's End that even the followers of the Project at Eden's Gate couldn't rid them of their town idiot, though.

           “DEPUTY!” A grown man with a roughshod beard and a stylized American flag shirt shouted, as he waved his hands and ran down an empty street. “DEPUTY!”

           His shouting continued until he entered the Spread Eagle.

           “DEPUTY!”

           “Hurk!” The bartender, a blonde woman, shouted back as she cleaned her glasses with a wet rag. “Quiet down! You're bothering my customers!”

           “Oh! Hey man, sorry,” Hurk said, looking around at the scattered few patrons giving him the stink-eye from over their mugs. “I was just looking for—OH, THERE YOU ARE!”

           “Hurk!” the bartender threatened.

           “Oh, sorry, man.” The town idiot nodded back again, then proceeded to walk towards a patron who was doing their best to not look at him. “Hey, man, where have you been? I've been calling your name for the last hour!”

           The person Hurk was addressing was an iconic figure of Hope County, Deputy Rook. The deputy was, even by Hope County's standards, a complete and hopeless weirdo. They were a small person, standing maybe 5'7”, and not a single person besides their parents probably knew their gender.

           Why one might ask? Because Deputy Rook always wore some kind of weird mask on their head. Be it a big chicken mask, an alien mask, or even what they were wearing today, a gigantic eyeball mask. No one truly knew what Rook's face looked like. The deputy even wore a big horse mask to their police academy graduation, which was probably the reason they were assigned to this podunk town.

           Even more than that, they were slight of build, had shaved and waxed legs, and never spoke. Ever.

           “Hey man, have you seen the TV?” Hurk questioned Deputy Rook, who in response continued to give the impression of not looking at Hurk (which was doubly impressive, given that they were wearing a gigantic eyeball on their head) and poured their beer into the cornea of their mask.

           As expected, it didn't go into the mask and splashed everywhere.

           “Yeah? That's cool, man. But seriously, you should check it out,” Hurk continued, seemingly oblivious of Rook's indifference. “HEY, MARY MAY!”

           “Hurk. I'm going to kick you out,” the bartender countered.

           “DON'T BE LIKE THAT, MAN! JUST TURN THE TV ON TO CHANNEL 3!!”            “Hurk, the only channel we get anymore is channel 3,” Mary May sighed, as she picked up the dusty TV remote from behind the bar and turned on the small CRT that they used in the past to watch the Cougar's baseball games. “You can just say ‘turn on the TV’.”

           “WILL DO, PRETTY LADY!” Hurk screamed conversationally, as he turned back to the Deputy. “Hey man, look, it's Joseph.”

           The deputy quickly glanced up to see that, indeed, on the TV was Joseph Seed. They then got up, turned their bar stool around and continued to splash their beer around.

           “Greetings, my children,” TV Joseph spoke, static slightly modulating his voice into a deeper, more seductive tone. “I am broadcasting this message to give good tidings to you all!”

           “Oh man, I don't know what that means, but it sounds sinister, don't it?!” Hurk questioned the Deputy, who raised a finger in the air to silence him.

           Mary Mae poured them a shot glass of clear liquid, which they proceeded to throw all over their mask.

           “Yeah, I like the liquor too.” Hurk nodded.

           “Today marks the day of the birth of your Savior.” TV Joseph looked over his piss-goggles for a brief moment “Me.”

           “What an asshole.” Mary May came to the general consensus as she poured herself a shot glass of clear liquid and proceeded to throw it back.

           “As such, today will be a day of peace!” The camera zoomed out to show the entirety of the followers of the Project at Eden’s Gate crowded around what looked to be Joseph's church, but it was covered in badly placed flowers. “I invite you all to my church to partake in the merriment. I hope to see you all there!”

           TV Joseph lowered his aviators again. “Especially you, Lamb of God.”

           “Huh, wonder who he was talking about.” Hurk scratched his head as the recording abruptly cut off and repeated itself a moment later. “Must be his secret weapon.”

           Deputy Rook scooted their chair as far away from Hurk as they could. They were, unfortunately, between him and a wall, and therefore had to press themselves up against a wall to get as far away from the idiot as humanly possible.

           “But you know, man, what this means we need to do?” Hurk questioned the Deputy, who was sidling the wall and trying to very sneakily escape. “WE NEED TO GO CRASH THAT PARTY!”

           “Alright Hurk, that's it! Get out of my bar!”

 Elsewhere, sometime later

             “This is a waste of time, Joseph,” Jacob grunted from his seat at the porch of Joseph's church. “Our enemies aren't just going to waltz into here.”

           He couldn't have picked a worse time to say that, as a helicopter came into view on the horizon and the sound of a horn blaring from an 18-wheeler echoed down the cliff side of their compound.

           “Faith, brother.” Joseph gave Jacob the smuggest grin.

           In short order, a convoy of vehicles pulled up to the gate of the compound: an 18-wheeler with a flame decal, a shitty-looking jeep with a Gatling gun on the roof, some gaudy looking sports car, a black sedan, and a handful of ATVs. The helicopter came and landed next to them, followed by a red biplane that didn't quite stick it's landing and rammed into the gate slightly, knocking over a 50-foot section of the chain link fence.

           “Lovely that you all have come,” Joseph said serenely, waving to the group of people who were filtering out of their vehicles and checking the safety on their weapons. “Truly, it is a day for celebration--and don't worry, we've made enough macaroni salad for everyone!”

           “Bleh!” Hurk said in sync with a young man holding a flamethrower stylized with a shark motif.

           “Come, my children,” Joseph beckoned, conveniently ignoring anything that didn't fit his worldview. “We shall begin to make with the merriment!”

           “Check your guns at the door,” Jacob added.

             As it turned out, the community gathering didn't immediately dissolve into a crazed slaughter. There was (surprisingly for the Seed’s) a good amount of liquor provided. Deputy Hudson, the only (at least proven) female deputy, managed to integrate herself with a group of Jacob's hunters and were quietly discussing amongst themselves what the best shotgun slug on the market was. Whitehorse had a surprising love of fashion and was discussing Mumu's Fashion Week with John, who was an avid collector. Deputy Rook even managed to be companionable, if silent, after one of Joseph's followers commented that they liked the gaudy, skeleton-embroidered gloves they wore. Everyone else was laughing at the Project at Eden Gate followers suffering through the classic Seed macaroni salad. All in all, it was a good time.

           “Everyone,” Joseph called out. “It's now time for the exchange of gifts!”

           Alas, all good things come to an end.

           Whitehorse motioned to Deputy Rook, who leaned their dumb eyeball mask close to their boss. “We were supposed to get gifts?”

           Rook shrugged. It was a birthday after all.

           “Why didn't you tell me?” Whitehorse demanded. Rook turned their eyeball mask fully to face the sheriff down in a stare-off.

           “...Fine.” Whitehorse relented. “You make a good case. You're lucky you’re such a damn good speaker, Rook.”

           A deep sigh came from the mask before Rook turned back towards the Father.

           “Me first!” John shouted, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. He cleared his throat and presented a perfectly wrapped box to his brother.

           “Thank you, dear brother,” praised the Father as he carefully unwrapped the box. As he reached inside, he pulled out a painting frame. “...Modern art?”

           “It's the first sin I carved out of myself!” John proudly displayed a scar on his left underarm, “Are you not proud, brother?!”

           Slightly green, Joseph nodded, setting the framed piece of flayed skin in a pile he mentally marked as 'trash'. “Very. Next, please.”

           No one moved.

           “Come now, no need to be shy.” Joseph looked around the crowd who was trying very hard not to meet his eyes. “How about Faith? Come now, my child.”

           “Err...” Faith's eyes darted around like a rabbit staring down a shotgun. “How about Jacob first?”

           “No, no. I'm sure your gift will be wonderful,” The Father countered with a smile.

           “Sure, yeah! Wonderful.” Faith inched away. “I just have to go get it! I'll be right back!”

           The young woman bolted away. A couple minutes passed, then five, then ten. Most of the gathered guests wondered if she was going to come back (most hoped that she wouldn't). Any concerns were allayed and hopes dashed moments later, however, when she came back with a poorly wrapped and heavily-taped, ball-looking object.

           “Happy birthday, Father!” Faith exclaimed with a proud smile as she shoved the gift into his outstretched hands.

           “Thank you, sister.” Joseph serenely intoned, carefully picking at his gift in order to most carefully unwrap it, only for it to spill all over his suit. “...Dirt?”

           “It's symbolic,” Faith explained.

           “Oh?” The Father was quite interested. “How so?”

           “It's symbolic,” Faith repeated, sweat beading down her face, her ever present smile trembling slightly.

           The Father looked over his glasses at her with what half the crowd would say was disappointment, and the other half would say was understanding. “I see.”

           “Jacob!” Faith screeched grabbing her actually-not-really brother by his huge bear arm and dragged him forward. “You're turn.”

           “Fine,” he huffed. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, he withdrew a small, unwrapped cardboard box, not much bigger than a soda can. “Happy birthday, Jo.”

           “Thank you, Jacob.” The Father smiled, comfortable in the knowledge that his eldest brother would actually bring him a regular gift. He opened the box and examined the plastic object. “...What is it, exactly?”

           “It's a speed reloader,” Jacob explained, picking up the gift and holding it in what Joseph assumed was the correct configuration. “You load your bullets here, and if you ever need to reload, it'll barely take you a half-second.”

           “A speed reloader?” Joseph was baffled. “For an assault rifle?”

           “What? No.” Jacob was beginning to be as baffled as his brother and pointed to the gun at his waist. “I've never seen you with a rifle. That's for the revolver you're always totting around.”

           The Father stared at his brother for a solid two seconds before bursting out with warm laughter. “Oh Jacob, I'll never actually use this weapon.”

           “Joseph, I know you don't like guns, but--”

           “No, no brother. It's just a character design element,” The Father explained. “Why, using it would be silly.”

           “I don't understand what you're saying.”

           “Don't worry, all is as foreseen,” Joseph said, falling back to his cop-out line.

           “I'm done.” Jacob gave up, rubbing his forehead in suppressed rage, he gestured to the deputies and their compatriots. “One of you idiots can go next.”

           “Oh, I'll go, I'll go!” Hurk waved his hand and ran up to Joseph before shoving what looked to be a shopping bag right in his face. It made a satisfying “bonk” as it rebounded off his forehead. “I know we had our troubles, man, with me dropping out of the cult and all, but this has been cool.”

           “Thank you, young Herakles,” Joseph said benevolently, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head. “I'm glad—”

           “Yo, man, where did you hear that name?” Hurk tried to whisper, but it came across even louder. “My name is Hurk.”

           A rasping chuckle came from the weirdo in the giant eyeball mask in the crowd.

           “Young Herakles,” Joseph said. “You should be proud of your name. It has heritage and—”

           “WOO-HEE!!” Hurk screamed. “WHO KNOWS WHAT THESE PEGGIES ARE SAYING, AMIRITE?!”

           “I'll just open this now,” Joseph said, opening his shopping bag and taking out a rather nice bottle of wine. “Young Herakles, this is one of the bottles of wine I bought for this party.”

           “I know, man!” Hurk agreed. “I knew you'd like it.”

           Joseph looked at the bottle in his hand and set it beside him. He looked to his eldest brother and made a motion of cutting his throat. “I see.”

           Jacob grunted, grabbed Hurk by the shoulder and guided him back to his friends. “Next.”

           “Sure.” A black man with a smooth voice stepped to the front of the queue. “I've got something to give Joseph.”

           As the Father saw this guest, his eyes lit up. “If it isn't my old friend, Jerome!”

           “‘Old friend’. Sure,” Jerome said dryly.

           “I missed you, friend,” The Father continued. “Remember when we used to camp out together?”

           “You mean when you squatted in my church?”

           “Or when you had me as a guest preacher?” Joseph pushed on.

           “You wouldn't stop interrupting my Mass.”

           “Such good times.” Joseph said. “What tidings do you bring, old friend?”

           “This.” Jerome placed a half-drank water bottle in front of the father emblazoned with the words ‘Holy Water’ in still-wet, permanent marker ink. “Blessed it myself. I'm curious if you'll spontaneously combust when it touches your skin.”

           “You blessed it yourself?!” Joseph gasped. “I'll treasure it. Thank you, my friend.”

           Jerome just glared at the Father.

           “And no hard feelings about the thing with your daughter, right, friend?” Joseph pushed.

           Jerome continued to glare at the Father.

           “Haha, of course not old, friend. What a story.”

           Deputy Hudson quickly went up and dragged the preacher away before he went to strangle Joseph.

           “That will be a hard act to follow,” Joseph warned.

           The gathered looked at each other and started shoving each other to try to push one unwilling sacrifice to the head of the crowd. After a couple moments, a man stumbled out at the head of the crowd.            “I suppose I'll go,” said a dirty man with crazy hair. He walked up to the Father, dug through his pocket, and dropped a crumpled cardboard business card on his place mat. “Here.”

            “Why...Thank you,” Joseph said, inching away from the filthy man. He gave a glance at the business card before grabbing the tongs from the macaroni salad, and used it to pick up the card and bring it to eye level. “A free, 1-year subscription to...Zip Kupka's NewsBattles?”

           “It's my internet talk show,” Zip Kupka explained. “You can get it on XM radio, too. It tells about all the hard-hitting news, like the bliss in the Henbane turning all the fish gay!”

           “Lies!” Faith shouted, perhaps a bit too loudly. “Baseless slander!”

           “Wait,” Skylar Kohrs, the young fishing champion of Hope County, muttered. “Is that why there are no Demonfish out this season?”

           “What are Demonfish?” Staci Pratt, local emasculated deputy, asked the butch fisher-girl.

           “You know,” Skylar explained, holding out her hands to their full wingspan. “About this big, dorsal fins, huge teeth.”

           “Skylar,” Staci said in a slow voice, as if talking to an idiot. “There aren't any sharks in Montana.”

           “I know,” Skylar shot back. “They're Demonfish.”

           “Children, children.” Joseph held up his hands, forestalling their argument. “We're getting away from the important thing here. Me.”

           Deputy Rook idly wondered if the buffet table sporks graciously given out for the macaroni salad would make a good enough weapon to stab Joseph. Before they could act on that train of thought, an old, bearded man in an apron jogged into the middle of the crowd, shouting unintelligible madness.

           “Mphyadn, Shawdamnh Birthday,” the seemingly crazed man said. “Hadph, doart cake mera fer lpod.”

           “My child, do have peanut butter in your mouth?” Joseph offered the man a glass of wine. “You sound like you could use a drink.”

           “No Padfd Btha.” The man shook his head, but took the glass from the Father and downed it all in one quick throw. “Baday cake Tephda, Aldkh?”

           “Err,” Whitehorse broke in, seeing as none of the cult members (or their leaders) could understand this man. “Chad here's saying that for his gift, he made a birthday cake for you. He was asking if he could clear off some space to bring it out.”

           “Of course, my child!” Joseph said. “But leave the macaroni, all my children seem to be enjoying it.”

           Chad looked disbelievingly at the Father as a cry of “Your macaroni sucks!” came from the crowd, but nodded and went to his truck where he retrieved the cake, made some space on the table near Joseph, and set it down.

           “Quite an...” Joseph looked at the giant meatball in front of him. “...Interesting-looking birthday cake.”

           “Mera o Mtabaffth,” Chad explained.

           Wordlessly, Joseph turned to the Sheriff.

           “It's more of a meatloaf,” Whitehorse said. “Chad's a world-class BBQ chef. It makes more sense than him actually baking a cake.”

           “I see.” Joseph nodded, carefully cutting a small piece of the giant meatball and eating it. After a couple moments of chewing, his eyes lit up and he took a bigger piece. “This is actually quite good! What kind of meat is this?”

           Chad smiled and then said, in perfectly understandable and unaccented English, “Bull testicles.”

           The Father stopped chewing, and audibly gulped. He set his tableware to the side and nodded. “Thank you, my child. I think I'll save the rest for all my guests.”            “Oh wow, you sure?!” a man in aviators and a flannel vest pushed his way forwards before grabbing a literal handful of the cake. “Look, Kim! They got testies!”

           “...Great job, honey.” A pregnant Asian woman congratulated him from the gaggle of guests as she hung her head in shame.

           The Father watched on in fascinated horror behind his glasses as the man savagely ate the handful of testicles with an “Om nom nom!”

           “Is it really that good?” one of the Project at Eden's Gate followers wondered aloud.

           “It must be, look at him go,” another said, pointing at the man filling his cheeks with testicles. “Chad is a world-class BBQ chef, after all.

           “Hey, yeah, let’s go try some.” And so, the entire crowd of guests meandered their way forward and made quick work of the testicle cake.

           “Oh my,” Joseph said drolly. “I wish my macaroni salad would go as quickly.”

           The worshipers looked away from the Father. A cry of “Your macaroni sucks!” came from somewhere in the crowd.

           “Hey man, it's like, nature.” Sharky Boshaw, Hope County's resident firebug, said, spraying bull testicle everywhere as he did so. “You can't stop nature. Everyone wants to get some balls in their mouth.”

           “Young man,” Joseph preached, gesturing towards where his siblings stood. “Of course, you can go against nature. Why, look at my siblings.”

           Turning, Joseph only saw Jacob there, with a disassembled gun in his lap.

           “Where did John and Faith go?” Joseph asked his brother. Jacob grunted and motioned towards the table with his head. Turning, the Father came to the sight of his youngest brother and sister stuffing their face with testicles. Looking at his siblings voraciously eating the balls, Joseph could only come to agreement with the young man in front of him. “Nature is truly a frightening thing.”

           “Yeah, man. Anyways, happy B-day,” Sharky said, before digging in his pocket and tossing the Father a lighter. “That's a favorite of mine, real sentimental value.”

           The Father examined the bright blue plastic lighter. “It's a Zippo.”            “Good brand,” Sharky agreed with a nod.

           “It has a 99-cent sticker on it,” The Father argued, before spinning the striker. “And it's empty.”

           “Real sentimental value.”

           Joseph set down the lighter in the “trash” pile next to John's gift. “Thank you, my child.”

           “Oh yeah! Sharky kills it again!” The pyro pumped his fist. “Beat that, po-po!”

           Sighing, Deputy Rook rose to bring their gift to the so-called prophet.

           “Oh, the Lamb of God!” Joseph rose from his chair and held out his hand. “Wait, wait!”

           The Father grabbed the left shoulder of his suit coat with his right hand, and in one fluid movement, ripped off his whole suit top and dress shirt and threw it to the side, revealing his tattoos to the world. He looked over his glasses at Deputy Rook and held his arms towards them, motioning for them to 'come hither'. “Come, my child.”

           The Deputy's whole dumb eyeball mask rolled. They woodenly marched forward and reached into their jacket and dropped, into the Father's outstretched hands, a remote bomb. On it was a sticky note that read, ‘Not every problem can be solved with a bullet. This isn't a bullet.’

           Suddenly, everyone was pointing weapons at each other.

           “PUT THE GUN DOWN!” John was yelling at Sharky as he pushed his gun against his forehead.

           “YOU FUCKING PUT THE GUN DOWN!” Hurk yelled back as he pushed his rocket launcher against John's liver.

           “YOU AREN'T GOING TO FUCKING DO IT!” Faith shouted as she rapidly moved her shotgun between them.

           Deputy Rook, meanwhile, rolled the detonator between their palms.

           Joseph sighed and set the gift down in the trash pile. “Peace, children, peace.”

           “Joseph,” Jacob grunted. “You're sitting next to a bomb. Peace is a little out of the picture.”

           “Now, brother,” Joseph said placatingly, pulling out a silver stopwatch and checking the time. “Let's wait until we get the last gift.”

           “What last gift?” Jacob hissed at his brother, who turned his head skyward.

           “That.” A whistling was heard in the distance. Then, Joseph's church exploded in a shower of wood, sawdust and moonflowers. The kinetic energy from the blast sent everyone except Joseph, who was standing in just the right spot, hurtling to the ground, ears ringing.

           The Father walked up to the object jutting out from his now destroyed church, and lay his hand upon its cool, metal surface.

           Jacob was the first of those not blessed by (a dark) God to recover. He looked up at his brother to see him stroking an undetonated ICBM. On it was Cyrillic characters that he recognized; Russian. He only knew a brief smattering, so it took him a moment to translate what it said, but when he did, he could only mutter, “Crazy bastard.”

           On the missile it read, Happy Birthday, Joseph – God.

           Smiling, Joseph meet his older brother's eyes. “It is all as foreseen.”

           Then the world was covered in cleansing fire.

         Fin

[marshmallow-the-vampire-slayer]

MTVS Epic Rewatch #202

BTVS 7x17 Lies My Parents Told Me

Obligatory Soundtrack

Stray thoughts

1)  Tbh, instead of the Spike or the Ripper spin-off, THIS is the spin-off the Buffyverse needs and deserves…

We don’t get to see much of Nikki Wood but the little we do, I love. She definitely has Buffy’s sass, spunk, and punning powers. And she can kick ass!! I just think it’s such a wonderful premise to have a black slayer fighting demons in the backdrop of 1970s New York.

It’s also neat to see the interactions between Nikki and Spike and how they mirror Spike’s relationship with Buffy in the early seasons – Spike chasing after her in what looks like foreplay to him while the Slayer only feels hatred and disgust towards him yet they’re still pitted against each other as worthy opponents.

2) I truly feel for Robin in this scene, though.

I mean, getting his ass saved by his mother’s murderer must be very conflicting, to say the least.

3) This is such a sad yet truthful statement…

Hey, any apocalypse I avert without dying? Yeah, those are the easy ones.

4) Oh, Giles, don’t you ever go changing…

BUFFY Maybe you're right. Maybe everything is fine.

BUFFY Giles, what's wrong?

GILES Have you seen the new library? There's nothing but computers. There's not a book to be seen. I—I don't know where to begin, Buffy. I mean, who do we speak to?

I just love that amidst all the chaos and end-of-the-world-ness, he’s worried about the school not having a library.

5) I think this scene was kind of meta, don’t you?

6)

SPIKE Oh, bollocks. With all the rubbish people keep sticking in my head, it's a wonder that there's room for my brain.

GILES I don't think it takes up that much space, do you?

BURNNNNNN!!!

7) The CGI, though, it’s so cringey, looks like they did that with MSPaint.

8) Oh, and the cringefest continues, yikes…

I mean, where do I start? First, there’s the poem…

Yet her smell, it doth linger, painting pictures in my mind. Her eyes, balls of honey. Angel's harps her laugh. Oh, lark. Grant a sign if crook'd be Cupid's shaft. Hark, the lark, her name it hath spake. "Cecily" it discharges from twixt its wee beak.

I mean, it’s not necessarily bad, but it’s not… good. “Balls of honey”? Really, William? Really?

Then, there’s the fact that he’s obviously obsessed with Cecily and writing what apparently amounts to be a creepy amount of poems about her with HER ACTUAL NAME in them, and then he goes, “Hmmmm, Who is't is this cecily thee speaketh of? I knoweth not whom thee couldst possibly beest talking about. I has't nev'r hath heard such a name. Cecily, thee sayeth?”

And then there’s this, which is almost as cringey and disturbing as what comes later on between these two…

WOMAN She's lovely. You shouldn't be alone. You need a woman in your life.

WILLIAM I have a woman in my life.

WOMAN But you ne… Oh...

She’s like blushing? They’re flirting? I just…

9) I get everyone freaking out about Spike’s trigger being activated, but the truth is, the trigger seemed to be dormant until they went messing with his head. What I don’t get is Spike wanting them to unchain him, though. It doesn’t make much sense when he had chained himself before and even asked Buffy to off him a couple of times. Why would he want to be free now that he knows he could still hurt people? I understand they were building up the conflict between Buffy/Spike vs Giles/Robin by having him ask to be released and having Buffy agree with him WHEN IT’S OBVIOUS HE SHOULD BE CHAINED UNTIL THEY FIGURE IT OUT AND IT’S COMPLETELY OOC FOR BOTH HIM AND BUFFY TO ARGUE OTHERWISE.

10) I fucking love Drusilla’s reaction here…

WILLIAM We'll ravage this city together, my pet. Lay waste to all of Europe. The three of us will teach those snobs and elitists with their falderal just what—

DRUSILLA Three?

WILLIAM You, me, and mother. 

11) And then he goes and does the most sexual thing a vampire can do with a human BUT he’s surprised when that other thing happens? I’m sorry, but your relationship with your mom was weird way before she made a move on you…

12) I truly don’t get why they can’t read into The First’s actions and realize that it was manipulating them into doing exactly what they were planning to do. It’s so obvious to me, and I expected more from Giles, tbh. I can understand Robin because he had a personal vendetta against Spike and that’s obviously more important to him than the grand scheme of things. But Giles?

ROBIN Mr. Giles... You got a moment?

GILES What's on your mind?

ROBIN The same thing that's on yours. We got ourselves a problem.

GILES Spike.

ROBIN Yeah, if that trigger is still working, then the First must be waiting for just the right time to use it against us.

GILES It does seem doubtful the First simply forgot it had such a powerful weapon.

ROBIN Yeah, a while back, it slipped up. It told Andrew it wasn't time yet for Spike. So, whatever the First's ultimate plan is, it's obvious that Spike must play an integral part in that. Something needs to be done.

GILES Buffy would never allow it

Robin conveniently leaves out the fact that The First contacted him personally and divulged the fact that Spike had killed his mother. It truly doesn’t get more obvious than that! And I understand why Robin wouldn’t care. It was selfish but totally understandable.

On the other hand, Giles’s stance is rather disappointing. Not only because he fails to read between the lines but also because he’s clearly underestimating Buffy’s ability to make the tough calls when push comes to shove. Buffy had always proven that she has what it takes to make sacrifices for the greater good, even if that means dying or killing someone she loves. And at the same time, we know that she finds strength in her emotions and her love for others. So it’s kind of bewildering that Giles doubts her at this point.

There’s also the hypocrisy of him washing his hands clean off her when she needed him the most and was actively asking for his help but trying to dictate her actions and decisions now by deceiving her. I think that’s what gets me angry, really. It’s not his trying to off Spike, as daft a move that was. It’s his lying to her and deceiving her in order to do something he knew she wouldn’t agree to.

13) So, this is for the greater good, Robin? Hmmm…. 

It looks more like you’re trying to fulfill your revenge fantasy. Or maybe he had a weird crosses fetish?

14) I mean…

ROBIN No, I don't wanna kill you, Spike. I wanna kill the monster who took my mother away from me.

Technically, he could never kill the monster who killed his mother. To begin with, Spike has a soul now and by the show’s standards, he wasn’t the same person who’d killed Nikki. This is the reason why Robin chooses to use the trigger. But the monster that shows up when Spike’s trigger goes off is not the person who’d killed Nikki either. When Spike’s under the influence of the trigger he seems to be a much more primal, instinct-driven, lethal vampire, which is not the pre-soul Spike we’ve known.

15) I really like how the fight is juxtaposed with the scene between Spike and his mom. It’s a really nice way to show how he gets to accept and overcome the burden that makes the trigger work. You can see that he’s beaten not because of Robin’s punches but because of what he’s remembering.

I mean, who wouldn’t be traumatized…?

16) I kind of see some of the points both of them make during their final conversation. Spike, as usual, makes some very good observations as regards Robin and his vendetta against him in the sense that he’s trying to put the blame on Spike for getting robbed of his childhood when that’s not really the case. While it’s not true that Nikki “knew what she was signing up for” because being a Slayer is not a career choice or even a calling, she did choose to put her duties as a Slayer before her personal and family life, which is why she ended up getting killed. I think it would be interesting to see how she got that mentality. I can imagine her arriving at the conclusion that she had the chance to make the world a better place for her kid, which makes a lot of sense in my opinion. I can’t help but see her “the mission is what matters” statement as influenced by the Black Power movement, too. The thing is, the fact that Robin grew up without a mom was the result of a number of reasons. That doesn’t take away from the fact that Spike was, indeed, his mom’s murderer, but it feels like Robin was trying to channel his anger into Spike because he couldn’t deal with the fact that he resented his mother for not choosing him over her job. On some level, he must’ve blamed his mother, too. It’s just a very complex issue, and I don’t think Robin would’ve gotten over the whole thing just by killing Spike.

17) I’m not a fan of the resolution, though. The fact that Spike overcomes his trauma by pissing all over Robin’s in the most brutal way feels so wrong and unnecessary, and I don’t understand why the writers made that choice and expected the viewers to see Spike as the hero in that scenario. Of course, I didn’t want him to get killed and I do like how he got rid of the trigger – by being forced to confront what he probably deems his most horrible deed and understanding that what matters about his relationship with his mom is not its ending but everything that came before. But I don’t get why he had to be so brutal with Robin in order to do that? Telling him that his mom didn’t love him and all that? Like, these are all things Robin probably thought himself a million times before, but having someone else spit them out in your face – your mom’s murderer of all people – feels like the ultimate humiliation and I don’t appreciate the writers building up Spike as a “strong/badass” character again by trashing Robin in such a horrible way. I can’t imagine how anyone would cheer for Spike here? It feels wrong to do so.

18) This is the moment you choose to bring this up, Giles? Why wasn’t this an issue before? Why didn’t you question this before?

GILES You want Spike here even after what he's done to you in the past?

It’s such a douche move to bring this up when it suits your purposes instead of showing concern about this because, I don’t know, you’re worried about Buffy reconnecting with her attempted rapist?

19)

BUFFY I'm in the fight of my life.

VAMPIRE Really?

BUFFY Not you, Richard.

“Not you, Richard” is going to be my new “Take it easy, Joan.” I’m calling it. 

20) I just love how the second Buffy realizes that Giles has been stalling her, she slays the vamp without even looking. It probably was harder for her to not kill him.

21) This also rubs me the wrong way…

BUFFY You try anything again, he'll kill you. More importantly, I'll let him. I have a mission to win this war, to save the world. I don't have time for vendettas. The mission is what matters.

I get that she strongly believes Spike is a warrior they need in this fight, but that doesn’t mean that she shouldn’t stop him from killing Robin, someone who’s also an asset – vendetta or not - but more importantly, an innocent person. This is so unusually cold of Buffy, and I don’t like it at all.

22) I don’t know why Giles assumed that Robin would succeed in killing Spike? If he’d been smart and sneaky about it, of course, but Robin was more concerned about his vendetta and putting on a big show, he was probably the least qualified person to try and kill Spike because of how emotionally involved he was in the whole thing. It’s precisely because of his emotions that he didn’t succeed. And besides, fighter or not, he didn’t stand a chance against William the Bloody, which is the one he wanted to fight. Giles was kind of stupid, tbh. Like, he trusted this guy who he barely even knew with a very important task, one that would cost him his relationship with Buffy. And he didn’t even bother to make sure that Robin would do it in a foolproof way.

23) See the hypocrisy?

BUFFY He's alive. Spike's alive. Wood failed.

GILES Well, that doesn't change anything. What I told you is still true. You need to learn—

24) This is Buffy’s kiss of death, tbh, and I fucking love it, it’s so extra.

25) I’m kind of torn when it comes to this episode. I feel like it’s a solid episode in the sense that it explores both Robin’s and Spike’s issues with their mothers and Buffy’s relationship with her mentor/father figure. On the other hand, this is an episode that centers around three of my favorite characters in the show – Buffy, Spike, and Giles – and I can’t say that I like any of them in it. I can handle not liking one of them at once, but shaking my head at all of them simultaneously is too much for my poor fangirl heart, you know? I don’t know. They come across as idiotic, brutal, and cold, and it makes me feel uncomfortable. I love these characters, and watching them act so unlike themselves for the sake of the plot… I just get this uncomfortable feeling I can’t shake off. I feel... like second-hand wrongness or something.

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