#this is true for nearly every character in the walking dead but it’s very apparent with Daryl cause of the sheer amount of screentime he has | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redrobin-detective · 3 years

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Half of

Danny Fenton was half ghost. Or something.

No one was quite sure what that meant exactly or if it was even true. A ghost in a pure white suit had announced it during an attack on the town until he was beaten and silenced by Phantom. It’s been three days since then and the nerd hasn’t been at school. Not that Dash was looking for him or anything.

Dash worried, for just a second, that something bad happened to him. The Guys in White creeps had been asking questions around school the last few days. There’d been a noticeable lack in ghost attacks around town, maybe another ghost got to him? What about his ghost obsessed parents? Surely they wouldn’t have done anything to their own kid...

“Think Danny will be in school today?” Kwan whispered nervously, leaning in close to Dash’s side. Talking too loudly about the elephant, or ghost he guesses, in the room got people very forcefully interviewed by the government.

“Why the hell would I know?” Dash grumbled, shaking his friend off to shove his hands deep into the pockets of his letterman jacket. “No one knows what’s going on, Manson and Foley haven’t shown up either.”

“I hope they’re ok,” Kwan said quietly, looking down at the floor.

“Why do you care?” Dash grumbled, harsher than he meant to.

“You and everyone ditched me for Danny when Paulina was dating him, remember? Sam and Tucker were real pals and Danny, well he’s weird but not really that bad.” Kwan said bitterly before his eyebrows twisted in confusion. “That was actually pretty out of character for Paulina to date him now that I think about it, maybe he was, like, using ghost magic to control her?”

“That’s stu-” Dash was interrupted by the usually noise of Casper High going dead silent. He and Kwan shrugged at each other. He saw Star down the hallway, staring at something. He caught her eye and mouthed What is it at her. Her eyes slid back over to the hall before mouthing Fenton back.

“Shit,” Dash couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Fenton’s here.” He glanced over at Kwan, trying to hide his nervousness. “Guess we’ll find out if he’s some sort of ghost freak after all.”

Kwan eyed him for a second, “you know if Danny really is half of a ghost then maybe you’ll want to quit it with the names.” The warning bell rang for first period. “You guys have homeroom together with Lancer, right? Just, I don’t know, don’t make him mad or anything.”

“Man, don’t even joke,” Dash said with a strained smile. “It’s Fenton, what’s the nerd gonna do?”

XxX

Fenton always sat in the back right of the class so seeing him there wasn’t that strange. What was strange was that he was there before the bell rang, not looking sweaty or exhausted or beaten up. Seeing him sitting there with an almost bored expression, casually leaning one arm over the back of his chair. It was eerie, seeing Fenton try to act normal. Dash felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on his head as he stiffly walked by the nerd he usually smacked when he walked by. He thought he felt Fenton’s icy eyes following him as he passed. Dash made sure he didn’t scurry like a wimp to his seat but it was a close thing.

“Class, please stop staring at Mr. Fenton and let us begin,” Lancer sighed, unsuccessfully trying to start the class.

“Do you know the ghost boy?” Paulina asked, slamming her palms on her desk and ignoring their teacher. “Because if you’ve been holding out on me-”

“I mean everyone in Amity Park knows him,” Fenton shrugged. He’d been so chill this morning, like the whole thing wasn’t bothering him. It only made Dash more antsy. He bounced his leg under the desk.

“Can you do anything cool? Like fly or shoot lasers from your eyes?” Mikey asked, leaning forward with curiosity.

“I can do lots of cool things,” Fenton sniffed. “I know a lot about the space program and local astronomy. I draw sometimes and I’m think I’m pretty good. I also have super flexible joints so I can do this.” He grinned a little as everyone squealed when he bent his thumb back so far it nearly touched his wrist. “Of course,” his grin turned into an eye roll, “no one really cares about that only my supposed superpowers.”

“What is a half of, exactly? What that ghost called you?” Dash found himself asking. He almost didn’t want to be heard but Fenton turned to look at him anyways.

“What do you think it means?” Fenton questioned back. Though he had a teasing smirk, his eyes looked dull and dead. Dash couldn’t look at them and ducked his head.

“Alright, alright, enough with the questions. The Fenton’s gave Danny a clean bill of health and allowed him to rejoin class so that’s all you kids need to know. Now, back to what we were actually talking about.” Class continued as expected but everyone still snuck glances at Fenton. He’s not sure what they were all waiting for, him to suddenly turn green or sprout horn or whatever. But Fenton just sat there, still as anything, trying to act normal and it just didn’t fit him right and it was all just. Wrong.

XxX

Dash was relieved Fenton wasn’t in his second or third period classes but they did have the same lunchtime. For the first time since he was skinny, bucktoothed 6th grader, Dash wanted to hide away and eat his lunch in private. But Fenton wasn’t the only one trying to keep up appearances.

“Alright, what has everyone got,” Paulina was whispering to the table by the time Dash was sitting down. “The day is halfway over, someone had to have seen him doing something ghostly.”

“I mean we don’t know how long he’s been like this,” Star commented, flipping her hair as pretense to sneak a glance at the loser trio near the back entrance of the cafeteria. “He could’ve been hiding his for a while.”

“Fenton’s always been weird,” Dale commented with a sneer, stabbing at his beefaroni. “Since day one, he’s been jumpy and clumsy and goes through weird mood swings.”

“Maybe he’s never been normal,” Kwan said with a little frown. Now Dash knows this wasn’t true. He was the only one at the table who’d gone to the same middle school as Fenton. The nerd had talked too much about space and was always tripping over something but he’d been like all the other annoying brats in middle school. Dale was onto something, Fenton had changed once high school hit which means whatever is up with him as been going on for a while. Years.

He suddenly felt eyes on him, a cold, crawling feeling that made his breath catch in his throat. Dash squeezed his eyes shut and breathed a silent sigh of relief as the eyes turned from him. They didn’t return but Dash found he couldn’t eat after that.

XxX

“Dude, did you hear about Fenton?” Victor said in an excited but still hushed whisper as Dash was leaving fifth period.

“No, what did he do?” Dash asked with dread.

“He had gym last period and apparently he’s been faking his loser weakness. He crawled up the rope climb like a goddamned spider monkey and then slid himself back down. Don’t know how he didn’t have intense rope burn from that. He also beat Charlie, Katie and Veronica on the sprinting portion. Must be those ghosty genes.”

“Fenton did all that?” Dash asked, he bit the inside of his cheek. Hard.

“Yeah it was crazy, I thought Tetslaf was gonna pass out,” Victor laughed. “Maybe we should get him to try out for the football team, he’d be a great running back or-”

“Come on, Vic,” Dash laughed but the sound came out wrong. “Why would we want Fenton on our team? He’s, he’s Fenton! Just a skinny, weird little wimp.” Vic side-eyed him a bit before clapping Dash on the back.

“World’s changing, Dash. First ghosts, now half ghosts, it’s all wrong but you just gotta roll with it. All I know is I have 2 years left in this hell hole before I leave this miserable place for Chicago and never look back. I recommend you do the same, after all,” Vic grinned again but it was sharper. “Fenton’s always been your personal punching bag, not every day you learn your victim has superpowers.”

“We don’t know what the hell is up with Fenton,” Dash defended. Vic just shrugged.

“Yeah but he’s always been a freak now we know he ain’t human. Who knows what else he’s hiding?” Vic said with a smug smile before wandering off, giving a halfhearted wave over his shoulder as he left.

Dash stood in the hallway, trying to get himself under control until the warning and late bell rang. Only then, when he was certain he wouldn’t run into Fenton, did he head to class.

XxX

“Should we follow him, see where he goes?” Paulina said, biting onto one of her nails in nervous excitement. Paulie was gorgeous and overall pretty cool but her thing with ghosts sometimes tired Dash out. Now more than ever.

“Come on, that’s like stalking,” Kwan scolded. “Even if that wasn’t illegal or whatever it’s just not cool. They had a rough day today, leave ‘em alone.” That icy chill returned and Dash looked out of the corner of his eye to see Fenton and his cronies walking out of the school.

Truthfully, Dash didn’t think Fenton had that bad of a day. Yeah people were asking questions but he’d side stepped them all, gave non-answers. Other people talked about Fenton’s supposed strength in gym but there’d been conflicting reports, some said he flew up the rope climb, others said he levitated doing his push ups. Dash really didn’t know what to believe. Fenton was just acting, well, like Fenton. He paused for a second, stopped walking before catching up with the group.

Maybe... maybe Dash was getting caught up over nothing. There really was no proof Fenton was this ‘half of’ other than what one dumb ghost said. He thought back to Fenton’s grin during first period; stupid nerd was probably milking his 15 minutes of fame and bully free time. His earlier fear and uncertainty burst into flames until a familiar anger was burning in his gut. Now this he knew what to do with.

“Yeah, well his day is about to get rougher,” Dash heard himself say as he stomped off to where Fenton was smiling tiredly at something Manson was saying. “Hey Fentonio! Think you’re pretty cool with every paying attention to you but I-”

Fenton gasped suddenly, like a hiccup only his breath misted out in front of him cold as a winter’s day. Dash stopped midsentence watching as Fenton’s whole face twisted. His earlier weary but tolerant annoyance that he’d been projecting all day was stripped away. He glared at Dash with an expression that was hard as ice and full of an exhaustion and bitterness he couldn’t begin to understand.

“As payment for being forcibly outed,” Fenton spoke up loudly enough that most of the school yard could hear him. “I was promised a week.” His eyes slowly but methodically scanned the crowd who had frozen in place at his authoritative tone. “Where I didn’t have to deal with ghosts, so I want to know... Who is trespassing on my haunt.”

Fenton’s mouth opened impossibly wide revealing what seemed like rows of sharped teeth. He curled his fingers into claws and, looking closer, his fingernails had indeed become real claws, as sharp and deadly as his teeth. His eyes blazed an impossible, ectoplasmic green and his dark hair developed streaks of white. He was terrifying, monstrous, but he was still Fenton. That feeling that had been eating at dash all day came back full force. Not the realization that Fenton had powers or whatever but that he had been hiding it in plain sight through ghost attacks and bullies and failing grades. This had always been Fenton, they just hadn’t seen. Until now that is.

And now the script had flipped and Dash didn’t know how this Ghost Fenton, who still was the same Fenton Dash had wedgied last Wednesday, fit. A green blob ghost materialized over by stairs, quivering and wailing in some ghost language. It turned and fled, presumably in the direction of the Fenton Portal to escape Fenton’s wrath. Fenton’s glowing eyes tracked it for a moment before he straightened up from his hunched posture and... was human again.

He brushed his hands through his black hair, lazily blinked blue eyes and, when he smiled, his teeth were normal. But Dash had seen, they all had. He’d let them see but to what end, he had no idea. Fenton turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow and another small smirk, just as tired as earlier.

“Sorry about that Dash, I take my vacation time very seriously. You were saying?” Fenton said with a smug lilt but his eyes were still dead and there was a bit of fear in them now. Despite his powers, he still gripped his backpack tightly.

“When your dumb little vacation’s up, Fentionail,” Dash said with a shaky voice. “It’s-it’s back to business, okay? Punches and wedgies and locker shoving. You,” he voice cracked a bit and he fought it down. “It’ll ramp up now that I know you can take it.” Fenton blinked, once then twice before he smiled. This time it wasn’t annoyed or scary or fearful but like the dumb grins he usually gave his dumb friends.

“Yeah okay, we’ll start back up next week. The usual time?” Dash nodded, not knowing what else to say. “Alright, see you around.” He turned to walk away before pausing and turning back. “Actually you should be careful on who you shove into lockers, it can get hard to breathe in there and not everyone can phase out of them. You never know who’ll turn up dead,” he grinned and his eyes flashed green again, “if only half.”

That said, he and his friends walked away, ignoring the stares of the entire school on them. “Oh and it’s halfa, not half of,” Fenton called out over his shoulder. “I’m not half of anything, I’m just a whole me even if the details get a bit complicated.”

“Bye Danny, see you tomorrow,” Kwan called after with a grimace. No one else said anything for a minute until Dash found the strength to move his legs from where they’d been planted. He clenched his fists to hide his shaking and continued his walk home. Everyone else slowly did the same, talking quietly among themselves.

“What the hell was that?” Dale asked in a nervous high pitched voice. “What the hell did I just see?”

“Fenton being a weirdo but that’s nothing new,” Dash shrugged with a confidence he didn’t have yet. But if Fenton could show up to school after being outed and then willingly show them his inhumanity, then Dash needed to up his game. Couldn’t let the nerd be cool or anything. “So what if he glows or whatever, he’s still Fenton. Look I gotta get home, it’s Pookie’s feeding time and he is NOT going to believe the day I had.

#danny phantom #*presses fingers to lips* this is not the story I intended to write #not entirely sure what I did intend but it wasnt this #it started out with danny being outed as half ghost with no other context and ended up like this #i'll clean and edit in the morning but for now #here's whatever the hell this is #I'll fix it in the mornign

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callme-secret · 3 years

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Spider-Dad

Part 1 : The Origin

NO WAY HOME SPOILERS

A (TASM) DAD!Peter Parker x Daughter!Reader

Plot : (Y/N) May Parker has been Spiderman for a total of two years. She learned to expect the unexpected, but seeing her dead dad in another dimension? That's too much even for her.

Warnings : swearing, angst, teen angst like reader is litterly kind if a brat but I love her, character death

A/N : did I promise a uncle Regulus fic? Yes. Did I also say I was writing a soulmate au for Peter parker as well? Yeah. But this was finished first and its cute, so this is what you get. Also this a three parter, this is just the readers origin story, Peter doesn't even make an actual appearance until the way end.

: edited :

(Y/n) May Parker had a good childhood for the most part. Honestly she had everything she could've ever needed, and more. Her parents and her lived in a tiny town house just on the outskirts of Brooklyn, and even though it was small every square inch was filled with happy memories. Even the street they lived on were filled with memories. Their neighbors luckily had a young boy around (Y/n)'s age, that quickly became her best friend. The two had created stories and worlds entirely from the steps of their homes. She couldn't walk two feet outside of her house without being reminded of something stupid and funny she had done at that same spot. How could she ask for anything more?

Her parents where top scientists at Oscorp. A job that kept them busy alot, but they still made time for (Y/N), making sure to take every Tuesday off to have a day with her. Both of them worked on biochemistry that could possibly change the medical field. If they succeeded people could regrow limbs, and expand the life expectancy. Her mom, Gwen Parker, worked with lizards, while her dad, Peter Parker, worked with spiders.

Apparently her grandad also worked with spiders before he went missing. Peter had picked off where he left off, continuing the experiments and research. Although he hadn't made nearly as much progress as he hoped. He still told his daughter about every improvemnt or revelation, and (Y/N) absorbed every word. She was utterly fascinated with her father's work.

She used to listen to him talk about it for hours. Dinners, mornings, during bed time stories, the two would always talk about his latest breakthrough. The young girl never even bored by the big words and long math problems, always listening with her full attention. She'd ask questions that would send Peter off into a tangent, before they where both shushed and sent of too bed.

It got to the point where her mother had given the two nicknames for their bug obsession. Originally it was meant to make fun of of the two, but of course they quickly grew attached to the names. Peter had been dubbed spiderman by the two Parker girls. Pretty quickly dad was forgotten form (y/n)'s vocabulary, spiderman quickly taking its place. Many a teachers where very confused when one of their students kepts drawing a man in a red mask and a lab cost instead of their dad. Peter, in turn, did the same thing, never once calling her by the name him and Gwen had spent hours picking out, but instead Spiderling. Pretty quickly everyone began calling her Spiderling, from her mom to Aunt May.

Even her best friend, Miles Morales, called her Spiderling. Though the nickname was strictly reserved for family, he was the only exception. (despite Peter's arguments) Soon, (Y/N)'s true name was hardly ever spoken, and she couldn't be happier.

All in all her childhood was great, she didn't have one thing she would change.

Until Peter Parker was found shot in an alley.

The cops didn't have any awnsers. Nothing was stolen. He still had his wallet when he was found, so it wasn't a mugging. Any suspect they had, had an alibi, and there was no witness. No one knew what happened that night, and the police had no leads. There wasn't even a person who would speak bad about Peter B. Parker, let alone kill him. So they closed the case. Left it to rot in a folder, on a shelf, with the rest of the dead ends.

(Y/N) had never seen her mother cry until that day. Rarely if ever, had Gwen Parker cried in front of her daughter. It was a pride thing, she wanted her to think that she was strong, that she was unbeatable, but this? This was too much, she couldn't pretend with this. (Y/N) had never even see her mother flinch, and yet, there she was. Sobbing like her chest was about to cave in. It broke her heart to see her mom like that.

For a while the world felt a little grey, and the name spiderman was never spoken again in the Parker house.

Science fairs, spelling bees, decathlons, anything that would distance herself from the depressing idea of her dad. During this time, Miles and her had never been more close. Luckily the two had been given scholarships to the same school, and had spent nearly every day together. Where one was, the other wasn't far behind. Homework, school dances, first dates, they did everything together. His family became hers, and vice versa.

It took a while for things to get back to normal, but pretty soon (Y/N) started middle school. All wallowing and self pity left behind, so she could foucs on classes and school drama. She didn't want to be known as the girl with the dead dad, so she did everything she could to distract herself from it. Pretended like nothing had ever happened.

If her mom had to spend a late night at work, or go somewhere for business, (Y/N) was always entrusted to the care of the Morales Family. The families spent holidays together, and even had a designated night once a month to have dinner together. The two even had spare clothes at each others houses incase of an impromptu sleep over. Truly, if the dictionary had pictures, (Y/N) was sure Miles smiling face would be right beside the definition of Best friend.

She told him everything, and he did the same.

After her dad died, (Y/N) and her mom had unintentionally been avoiding May. She was just too much of a reminder. The way she laughed, the way she spoke, even how she would saw her name, it was all the exact way he used to. Even May's house was a reminder. All of her dads things had been hidden in the attic at her house, but May kept everything out. His highschool diploma, his wedding photo, even his briefcase sat by the door as if waiting for him to come back and take it to work.

On one of the rare times Miles family had plans out of town, and Gwen had a business trip to somewhere in Washington dc, (Y/N) was left with her great aunt May. Aunt May had always been a constant in her life, something she was sure her dad was glad for. May did everything her parents couldn't, she baked all of (Y/N)s birthday cakes, taught her to ride a bike, and spent hours teaching her how to sew. Truly she was the best grandmother anyone could ask for, even if she wasn't actually her grandma.

Which is why it hurt so much to see her.

Worst of all, (Y/N) had been given his old bed room to sleep in. A time capsule of Peter Parker from his highschool days, everything left untouched. It all hurt to look at, but she couldn't tell her aunt that. It would break the woman's heart to know she was hurting (Y/N), and that was the last thing she'd ever want to do.

So (Y/N) sucked it up. It was only three days anyways, she could handle three days. She could ignore it for that long. Atleast that's what she told herself.

Besides it was kind of interesting to see was her dad was into back then. Though it seemed all that he had left behind where Coldplay CDs, and forgotten science projects, she still found joy in the little things he's left behind. It was when she decided to go through his brief case that everything went to shit.

It was the basic stuff really, chemical equations, a calculator, his glasses. Glasses that she quickly slipped onto her face, they where slightly to big and kept slipping down the brige of her nose but she didnt mind. When she looked in the mirror, for a secound she could convince herself it wasn't her reflection, but her dad staring back at her.

The only other thing in the brief case was a live spider. It was stuck in a sealed vial, and it looked as if to be glaring at her. (Not that she minded, she would also be pissed to be left in a vial and forgotten.) Putting it to the side, (Y/N) decided to release it later.

She tried to read his notes, though it was hard. She was top of her class at one of the best school in New York, but even then she was still just a sixth grader. Words that where hard to understand where overshadowed by poorly drawn spiders scribbled in the margins of his notes, a fact that made her smile.

She was tracing her finger over one of her dads doodles when she felt a sharp pang on the back of her neck. Slapping the spot with out hesitation, (Y/N) was surprised to see the remains of the spider squished onto her palm. Somehow it had to of escaped when she had set it down, though how It manged to climb up to her neck so fast was beyond her.

"Dinner time!" May shouted, effectively distracting (Y/N) from her thoughts.

"Coming!" She yelled back, jumping from her spot and rushing out of her Dads old room, all question about the now dead spider quickly forgotten.

The next morning was a utter chaos. (Y/N) had woken up to her dads 50 year old alarm clock blaring unholy loud screams. When she went to shut it off, it smashed to pieces beneath her fingertips. Something she was quick to pass as old things break easy.

Only it countied to happen. She broke the closet door off its hinges when she went to steal one of Peter's old hoodies. The nob to the bathroom facet popped off it her hands, effectively spraying water everywhere until she manged to force it back on. It happened to often for her to act as if it was all a coincidence.

When May drove her to school, (Y/N) made it a point to sit as still as possible and touch everything with the lightest pressure. She wouldn't even breathe to heavy in fear of breaking something. As soon as May came to a stop, she hopped out, nothing but a "see you soon" slipping from her lips before she accidentally slammed the door. Apparently she was still using to much strength.

She made it nearly three steps before someone fell into place by her side. Miles grinned at her, rapping his arm around her shoulder with out even a thought. "Hey Parker, how's your morning going?" He asked, never once looking away from her.

She stared back at him, her eyes wide. "I'm pretty sure I'm on drugs."

"Wait what?"

"Either that or I became superman over night."

Not an ideal situation, (y/n) realized. Even without the fear of accidently lodging a dodge ball into the sun, (Y/N) hated gym class. The uniforms where old and itchy, the teacher slightly greasy, and worst of all Flash Thompson Jr. was in this class. His dad had tortured hers in highschool, and it seemed he wanted to keep up the tradition.

"What are you talking about?" Miles questioned, but before she could awnser the bell rang. Glaring at the disruption, he pointed a finger in her direction and said; "this conversation is not over with. You need to explain why you're being so weird. Werider than normal." And that was it. The two rushed off to their first class of the day, there conversation reserved for a later time.

Unfortunately, their first class of the day happened to be Gym.

"Hey Parker." He sneered at her, a foam ball bouncing between his two hands. "The game today is dodgeball, you know what that means."

Before she could even respond, Miles was right beside her. "Screw off Flash, why don't you go play soccor with your head again."

"Mind your business Miles, I wasn't talking to you." Flash shot back, stepping closer to get in Miles face.

Huffing out a sigh, (Y/N) shoved him, with what she thought was going to be a gentle shove, but ended up with Flash on the floor. Deciding not to acknowledge this, she barked out; "now is not the day to mess with me, so screw off."

"Morales! Thompson! Parker! Break it up and get to your teams!" The teacher shouted, blowing his whistle to enforce his statement.

If looks could kill, (Y/N) was sure she'd already have a plot next to her dad's, but they couldn't. Flash could do nothing but glare daggers at her, and throw as many high-speed foam balls at her as he could.

This time was no different. Making a point to send her a wink and a smile, Flash reared back and threw the red foam ball with a power that was scary to be found in a twelve year old boy. (Y/N) closed her eyes, and waited for the impact.

At the first sound of the whistle, her teammates started to drop like flies. Miles was out almost instantly, Flash having chucked a ball so hard into his stomache he kneeled over in pain. Another classmate had his glasses snap in half when a stray ball had smacked him right in the face. Someone else was already nursing what (Y/N) was sure to be a mild concussion.

Eventually she was the only one on her team left, a fact she was expecting. This was one of Flash's favorite ways to humiliate her, having the whole class watch as he threw ball after ball at the poor girl.

One that never came. When she finally opened her eyes the gym was quiet. She had caught the ball. She had moved without knowing, had snatched the ball with one hand without looking. This was new.

Flash didn't waste much time, staring to launch ball after ball.

(Y/N) dodged every one, ducking and swerving out of the way. When he sent one towards her legs she even manged to jump over it, tucking her legs to her chest and hopping over it like nothing. Finally, he only had one ball left.

"I don't know what's up with you Parker, but it won't last."

(Y/n) held her arms wide open. With a new sense of confidence, she smirked. "Come at me flash, I'm an open target."

He let out a frustrated groan, and with all his strength chucked his last ball.

The class fell silent. A hit from a ball like that would usually send a kid to the nurses office. It had before, but (y/n) was still standing. She was still standing with a yellow ball gripped harshly in her hands. She had caught it again, this time though she wasnt going to wait for him to attack again. Not an ounce of hesitation in her movement, (y/n) aimed the ball right back at Flash.

The room was so quiet that everyone heard the smack of the ball making contact with Flash Thompson Jr's face. A sickening sound that made (Y/N)s stomache turn. Everyone was frozen. The room eerily silent.

It wasn't tell Flash's nose started to bleed that people finally began to react. Two girls rushed to take him to the nurse, everyone else simply laughing at the way the boy stumbled. Eventually they all started to gather the balls for another round, quiet giggles still ringing out every once in awhile.

It didn't take long for Miles to find his right full spot by her side. "How did you do that."

Looking up at him she let out a short laugh. "I don't know, but it felt good."

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and before she knew it, her and Miles where walking home. It was a normal part of her daily routine, but normally their conversations where filled with video games and the latest oscorp inventions, not her sudden appearance of superpowers.

"So, so far we've noticed you have super strength, better agility, and have heighten senses anything else?" Miles asked, a mild disbelief in his voice.

Laughing at his face, (y/n) shook her head. "Not that I know of."

"Oh my god." Miles stared in awe. "this is by far the coolest thing you've ever done. Do you know what this means?"

"I'm a freak of nature?"

"No! You're a superhero!"

Shaking her head, (Y/N) was quick to deny this. "I'm not a superhero Miles, I'm a middle schooler."

"You could be! Do you know how many people you can help with these powers?" He explained. They had made their way to his house by now, and where quick to find their regular spots in his Kitchen, rummaging for food. "You could change New York! Who would want to commit crime when there was an ass kicking badass out there!"

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. "Did you really have to say ass twice."

"You're not listening!"

Stacking Tupperware container after another, (y/n) stepping away from Miles fridge with her hands full of leftovers. An unholy amount of food being placed on the contour. "I am listening, but be realistic, superheros aren't real. Plus how would I keep up with school, and be a vigilante?"

Miles watched as his friend kept pulling more food from the pantry. "Are you really that hungry?" When she nodded a little to enthusiastically he moved on. "I could help! Be your guy in the chair!"

"Miles the awnser is no. Now, are we going to play Dance Monster Dance, or are we going to talk about the logistics of my already failed hero career?"

"I'll set up my Xstation."

"That's what I thought."

Before either of them noticed four hours had already passed and it was 8 o'clock. Rio, Miles mom, offered for (Y/N) to stay for dinner, but her mom should have already been home by now so she politely declined. Miles made sure to follow her out.

"Make sure you call me if you figure anything else out." He said in a hushed wishper.

Letting out an amused giggle, (Y/N) agreed. "Alright Miles, you'll be the first and only person I call, as always." Her words seemed to appease him, as he finally let her leave.

Something was wrong. Majorly wrong.

(Y/N) knew something was worng before she even made it home. A tingle like sensation breaking out across the base of her skull warning her of upcoming danger. She tried to ignore it of course, until she notice every light in her house was on.

Her mom had always been a stickler for turning off the lights when you left the room, had engraved the rule into (y/n)s head since she was a kid. There was no way her mom would forget this. Even stranger, when she went to enter her home, she found the front door slightly ajar, her mother's keys still in the lock.

She would have went to call the police, wouldn't even had taught about entering a dangerous situation, until she head her mother whimper. Gwen Parker did not whimper, not even when Peter died. The sound made white hot rage fill (Y/N)s veins, and suddenly she was barging through the door.

Two men where standing in her living room, surrounding her mother who was blind foled and tied to a chair, a sock shoved into her mouth and headphones covering her ears. The men seemed to be shoving some of their valuables into duffel bags, and working fast.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The men turned at the sound of her voice, allowing her to get a better look. Of course they looked like cartoonish bak robbers, ski masks and all. Of course they had a gun aswell, to complete the look. "Are you that stupid? You need to rob homes to get by? You can't get a normal job?"

"Watch your mouth kid, or mommy gets it." One of them said, holding the gun to Gwen's head. "Now, just let us finish up here, and we'll be on our way."

(Y/N) laughed. "Yeah sure, I'll just let you rob my house, brilliant idea dumbass." Apparently her insults got to one of them, as he rushed at her without much thought. Just what she wanted. As soon as his arm was in distance of her, she latched onto it. Forcing his body forward, she twisted his arm up until he started to shout in pain. "Drop the gun or your buddy loses an arm."

The man didn't listen, instead also charging her. Pushing the one in her hands forward, the two crashed into each other, causing them to lose his grip on the pistol. When it hit the floor, (Y/N) kicked it across the room, far away from her and the two men.

One of the men managed to get behind her, trapping her in between his arms. Swinging her body upwards, she managed to flip around the man, causing him to fall to the floor. His buddy was right beside him, already throwing punches at the girl without much thoughts. (Y/N) dogdged almost all of them, only two making contact with her cheek and stomache.

Having enough with his games, she socked him right in the nose like her dad had taught her too. Both men had crumpled to the floor, bloody and out of it. (Y/N) made sure to zip tie their hands together, before she released her mom.

"Mom? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She asked, quickly checking for any damage.

Her mom just shook, eyes wide. "Did you- did you do this?"

Watching the fear in Gwen's face caused (y/N)'s heart to break. Her mom couldn't know, she would die if she knew her daughter could do this. So she shook her head. "No, they where like this when I got here. I'll call the police."

The police showed up not twenty minutes later. They took the two men and asked both her and her mom questions. "Who captured them?" and "is anything missing?" Being the most common two. When they got everything they needed they left.

Gwen had gone to bed. The adrenaline had finally drained from her body, and she needed to crash so (Y/N) was left to her own devices. Miles number was dialed before she even properly thought it through.

"Miles? You where right. Let's do the hero thing."

And spiderling was born.

Well not over night. It took them nearly three months to perfect the web fluid formula, and a total of seven costumes before they found one that both allowed (Y/N) as much movement that she needed and was durable. Eventually she had sewed together a red and white suit that quickly became New Yorks greatest hero.

She started with small crimes initially. Muggers, car theifs, petty fights, but as time went on she had to up the ante. Bank robbers, home invasions, even gang related crimes. As the years went on the crime just got worse. To the point where she was now fighting super powered bad guys on the daily.

She was an eighth grader now, and had taken on a lizard man, a shapshifing bank robber, and best of all an alien from outer space that was eating people. Not what she had expected from her middle school career.

Miles had kept his promise, and was in fact her guy in the chair. He listened to the police radio and told her of any place she needed to be. He even made regular updates to her suit, adding in a ear piece, extra webbing space, and best of all he had wired her mask to adjust to her vision.

Truthfully, (Y/N) didn't know if she could do it without him.

It helped knowing atleast someone knew her secret. If things ever went bad, she could trust Miles to explain everything to her mom and May, and that's all she needed.

(Y/N) was almost bored with everything. It had all become so predictable, and then she was sucked into another dimension. Another world where Spiderling didn't exist and Spiderman did.

Admittingly she should have been more worried. One moment she's fighting Black Cat, the next she's in an alley, somewhere in Queens. Why the hell was she in Queens? But none of that really bothered her.

Gathering her bearings, (Y/N) was glad she atleast had her backpack. She had food, a change of clothes, even a few cartridges of extra web fluid, but no way home.

She was the daughter of two brilliant scientists, string theory and multi dimensional ideals weren't beyond her. What was odd, was the question of why she was transported. Dimensional jumps wouldn't even be a thought for atleast another three decades, yet here she was. It couldn't be possible she was the only one taken, there had to be others, right?

Any attempts to call Miles where met with static. For a secound, she worried about how scared he would he when she didn't awnser his calls, or how he would explain it to her mom when she didn't show up for dinner thay night. Shaking the thoughts from her head, (Y/N) made her way onto the street. She couldn't think about that right now, she needed to focus on getting home.

Thankfully it was night, it would have been heard to explain why a spandex clad teenager was walking around New York to a pedestrian. She was somewhere near Aunt May's place. Did this world have an Aunt May? Or even a (Y/N)?

That didn't matter, she had to remind herself. It wasn't like she was planning on staying here, she just needed a way out. Making sure her mask was on, and her backpack was secure to her shoulders, (Y/N) shot a web at the first building she saw, and she was off.

It didn't take long for her body to fall into its normal rhythm, taking her to her favorite place purely on muscle memory. The Queens Plaza Park loomed over the city like a Titan. It was one of those buildings that (Y/N) had made her own. She would often find herself there when she was in Queens visitng May, or if she had needed a place to hide. It was a relief to find something that she was used to, and pretty soon she found herself at the top.

"Is this your world, or are you lost to?" She finally asked, never once taking her eyes off of him. She trusted her senses, but one could never be to careful.

She wasn't alone. Of course she wasnt alone, that would he too easy.

Someone else was up there, in a suit similar to hers. His however was blue and red, and the symbol on his chest slightly alerted form hers. He had his mask off and his back turned to her when she landed, so the only real distinguishable feature she could see was brown hair that's stuck out of his head like a pineapple.

He had to have sensed her, she knew it. Her spider senses went off every time she looked at him, tingling in the base of her head warning her. Not warning her in the way they would when she was in danger, but in a way that told her he was important in some way. That he was just like her.

He laughed at the question. "I guess you could say I'm lost, but this has to be the-" the world went silent when he turned around, despite the fact that (Y/N) could still see his lips moving.

He looked exactly as she remembered, brown unruly hair that she used to braid and style with cheap butterfly clips, brown eyes that used to grin at her when she told a chessy joke, and a smile that used to make her burnt scrambled eggs when her mom couldn't cook.

Tears had started to fall down her cheeks, emotions she had buried years ago suddenly emerging from deep in her subconscious. She hadn't even processed she was rushing to him until she had caught him in a hug.

: end :

Of course she would see her dad here. After all Peter Parker was known for making the worst entrances.

#tasm peter parker x reader #dad!peter parker #andrew garfield peter parker #daughter!reader #peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x you #spiderman no way home #spiderman #dad!spiderman #marvel #marvel mcu #mcu

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hillnerd · 3 years

Text

Waking up- Chapter 6 - Touch

AO3 FFN Beginning of story | Previous Chapter word count 9064

Here is the second part of chapter 5- I split them because it was going LONG. So it's still Hermione's POV. Previously in ‘Waking Up’:

Hermione gets ready for going out to a club & is anxious

She got ready w/ Fleur, Ginny, Angelina - Bonds w/ Fleur

Ron's not up for club either, but he does not reveal why

The entire group consists of the Weasley siblings (minus Percy), Lee, Angelina, Hermione, harry

It's a jolly good time despite ptsd acting up for Hermione- Until it's NOT a good time, and George grabs a mic and is threatening people with his wand.

Chapter warnings: cursing, intense emotions, drunkenness', fighting, reference to a dead character, somewhat explicit sex scene

CHAPTER 6- TOUCH

Panic seared through every nerve in her body. Ron was willfully standing in front of a sparking wand, and no one could do a thing to stop it - not legally anyway.

Ron stared the wand down, saying something she couldn’t hear from across the crowded bar, and the mic couldn’t pick up. She clawed her way out from the corner booth, waking Harry in the process, but by the time she’d crawled out from behind the table George’s wand arm had slowly fallen to his side.

“Fine... Fucking fine…” George’s voice echoed across the bar. “You’re all a bunch of useless arseholes.”

With that, George handed over the mic, escorted away with a bunch of people applauding as the music resumed. Ron, Angelina and Lee followed as the bouncer manhandled George then bodily dropped him off in a chair next to Ginny.

“When the tab is paid, get his arse out of here,” the bouncer growled at Ron before pointing a meaty finger at George. “He’s fucking banned.”

George handed over a wad of cash to Lee, who went to pay the tab.

All eyes turned to George.

“What?” He had a grin on his face, but his tone was sharp and eyes dead. “Did I say something that wasn’t true?”

“You said a lot, alright,” Angelina muttered. “You’re lucky Ron convinced them not to call Muggle law enforcement on you.”

George shot Ron a vicious scowl, but didn’t say anything. Ron had a carefully blank look on his face.

Lee returned from the bar, the bouncer behind him.

“Time we get going.”

They began their journey back to the hotel, pairing off, with the more sober partners keeping the more inebriated of their group from walking into traffic. Harry was ridiculously unsteady on his feet. Ginny couldn’t keep him upright and he nearly tripped over a passerby. Ron took over for Ginny, and Harry was very maudlin in his drunkenness.

“You’re my best friend,” he pronounced to Ron. “In the whole world, you know that?”

“Yep, thanks Harry.”

“You’re special. I know you sometimes don’t think you are, but you are. That locket didn’t know a thing.”

Hermione nearly tripped over, hearing the locket mentioned. She wasn’t sure what Harry meant, though. How could the locket have known anything? It was just an evil locket that drained people’s happiness and made them angry. It hadn’t shown any signs of sentience. Neither had the cup.

“Shut up, Harry” warned Ron, giving Harry a jostle.

“And sorry I love your sister. I couldn’t help it!”

She supposed the mention of the locket was just as nonsensical as everything else Harry was saying. She pulled Ron’s jacket that went nearly to her knees closer around herself, trying to ignore the ringing in her ears.

Ginny gave a laugh at Harry’s antics. She had drunk significantly more than Hermione, but somehow she wasn’t unsteady on her feet at all. Despite her amusement over Harry, Ginny’s eyes kept darting to George.

“Maybe we could dart into that corner shop, they’ll have booze,” George said, making a beeline that was curtailed by Ron leaving Harry at a lamppost and standing in his way.

“Let’s just get back to your hotel.”

“Fuck off, Ron! No one asked you!”

George had enough to drink to make him mean, and enough to nearly trip into the gutter. Ron caught him before he fell.

George bodily shrugged him off.

Hermione kept attempting to catch eyes with Ron, but he was too busy determinedly watching George and keeping Harry from walking into drainpipes.

They finally reached George’s hotel. He keyed them into his room then immediately sat on the bed, arms crossed as he glared out the window.

Ron deposited the unsteady Harry at the table, and Hermione happily took the other seat, her headache now piercing.

“I want to get out of here,” said Ginny as she leaned against a wall.

“Anyone sober enough to Apparate?” asked Angelina.

“I’m sober. I can side-along each of you where you need to go” said Ron, though he looked a bit peaky. “Then I can come back to stay with George.”

“I can stay here a bit longer to hang with George,” Lee said, a genial smile on his face that ignored the series of blanches after his comment. Not even the most drunk of them was under the impression he was staying just to hang out instead of monitor.

“I can stay too,” volunteered Angelina.

Ron shook his head. “You don’t have to. I know you both have work tomorrow.”

“That’s kind of you, Ron,” Angelina answered for them.

“Oh yeah, Ronnie the fucking hero” George groused, a mean look on his face.

“Damn, George,” said Lee with a shake of his head.

“I don’t need tending, and I don’t need you lot talking about me like I’m not here! I’m fine!”

“Look,” Ron began. “We both know—”

“Just what is it we both know?” asked George, rising from his bed.

“That you’re being an arsehole,” Ginny supplied, and no one corrected her.

“Well sorry I’m not all fun and fucking rainbows, everyone!” spat George, throwing his hands in the air.

“No one’s asking for that!” Ron protested. “We just don’t want you pissed and getting in trouble.” “Oh give it a fucking rest,” George snapped, poking Ron in the chest. Tents and rain and friends fighting filled Hermione’s mind. Her wand. She needed her wand! Hermione rifled through her beaded bag trying to find it.

“I’m tired of having you in my face all the time! I’ve never wanted you around before, so why the fuck would you think I want you around now? It’s like you enjoy being an annoying arsehole.”

“Oh yeah. I’m here for the enjoyment of it,” Ron said with a snort. “I get to keep my drunk older brother from getting arrested, keep him from eating shit in the gutter, and get treated like shit for it. A perfect evening, really.”

“I never asked for your help! I don’t want it!”

“Well someone has to pick up the pieces when you keep fucking up.”

“For fuck’s sake, get out of my room!” George bellowed, looking perilously close to punching Ron.

“No! I’m not letting you fuck up again!” Ron yelled back, red in the face. “After everything, it doesn’t matter if you’re an arse, family’s—”

Hermione’s hands shook as she scraped through the contents of her bag, unable to find her wand in the cavernous space. Useless. She was useless.

“Fuck off!” George seethed, looking like a cornered animal.

“No! After everything, family’s all we have and we have to be there for one another!”

“Like you were for Fred when he got fucking crushed to death?” George jeered. An explosion of protestations burst forth, but he ignored them all, eyes glinting in a mix of anger and anguish. He let out a horrible rough sound that bordered between laughter and crying.

Hermione desperately scrabbled in her bag, fingers grazing everything but her damned wand!

“Why couldn’t that wall have fallen a few feet to the left and taken you out instead of Fred?”

There was a crash and Harry’s chair was on the floor he had stood up so abruptly.

“Don’t you talk to him like that!’ Harry cried out, moving toward George, his wand pulled. Angelina and Lee quickly got in his way, as Ron stood still, and his expression shuddered.

Something like regret flickered across George’s face. He took a step towards his brother, but gave a yell as an orange curse hit him and he stumbled back into the bathroom.

All faces turned to the source of the spell. There stood Ginny, cold fury burning in her eyes. She gave another wave of her wand that slammed the door shut.

“Ginny, you can’t do magic outside of school yet!” Hermione squealed, fingers finally grasping her wand, though far too late to be of any help.

“Worth it,” replied Ginny. Hermione couldn’t very well disagree. She’d never thought she could dislike George Weasley so much. “Let’s get out of here. I can’t stand to look at him.”

Ron gave a sigh, and leaned his head against the bathroom door frame. “I guess I need to get you all home, then I’ll come back and— ”

“No, I’ll stay here.” Angelina put a staying hand up. “He’s been a right bastard to you and you don’t have to put up with it.”

“But—”

“We’ve got him,” said Lee, putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder. Ron opened his mouth as if to argue, then gave a sigh.

“And you’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything?”

They nodded.

“Then… Then I’ll get everyone home.”

One by one Ron apparated Harry, Ginny and Hermione home - he was too tired to apparate multiple people at a time reliably. They silently walked from their apparition point to the Burrow’s living room.

Ron busied himself pouring glasses of water for them, while the rest of them watched. Harry looked baleful, but was unable to say anything and Ginny was silently crying. This left Hermione, and she felt woefully underqualified to even begin to breach the hurt Ron had faced. The one solace was that Harry and Ginny seemed equally unable to come up with comforting words to say to Ron.

Ron saved Harry and Ginny the trouble by dismissing them to bed. Harry tottled over to Ron and gave him a long-lasting hug mumbling something about him being Harry’s brother. Ginny gave him a hug about the middle as well, before helping the still wobbly Harry up the stairs to bed.

Ron let out a sigh and collapsed on the couch.

“Next time I’m tempted to go out, remind me of tonight,” he muttered, throwing an arm across his face. “Especially if there’s George and drinking involved…”

His breathing shook the tiniest bit.

She’d never been very good at emotions. Her own would take over and she’d let her temper turn her into a veritable harpy. Other people’s emotions were just as difficult for her to handle. She worked so hard to learn to say the right thing, find what could soothe others, to apply logic and repeat the process. It never seemed to work, though. She couldn’t think of anyone she’d successfully talked down or comforted in her life. Not really…

She settled beside him and put her head on his chest.

“I know you’re upset…” she began. Acknowledging feelings was usually a good place to begin. That’s the sort of thing Ron might say, right? “But you have to know George didn’t mean any of that.”

He ruefully shook his head. “He did… It’s fine, though. Nothing I didn’t know.”

“He was just trying to get rid of you by being cruel. He was drunk and being spiteful,” she said with certainty.

“Doesn’t mean he was lying.”

“You handled this all really well, you know.”

“Huh?” he asked, removing his arm from over his eyes.

“You deescalated things really well, watched after us, and kept your calm… It was rather impressive.”

“Yeah, well I’ve had my fair share of dealing with dramatic wizards and witches,” he said with a hint of a smile, giving her a bit of a nudge.

“Oh we’ve never been that bad!” she said with a laugh.

He cocked his head at her. “The birds.”

“Well… Well, you were being a right arse,” she said, poking him in the middle.

“See? I’m quite used to the drama,” he said with a chuckle, draping his arm around her.

She bit her lip. “I wasn’t that bad was I?”

“You were pretty terrible,” he said with a laugh. “But that’s alright. I like how fierce and crazy you are.”

“Crazy?!”

“Oh sorry, I mean how calm and undramatic you are.” He schooled his face into mock solemnity.

“You’re terrible,” she huffed.

“Yeah, but you love it,” he said, shooting her that boyish grin of his. It was her favorite feature of his. Well, that and his blue eyes. And his bright hair. And his freckles. And his wide shoulders. And his long legs. And his big hands. And his arse.

With that thought, she sat up and put a hand to his face and his eyebrows shot up into his fringe.

“I can’t help it, but I really do,” she said, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the nose. “You know… Harry pointed out that you fancy me.”

“He’s a terrible drunk.”

“I told him I quite fancy you as well.”

“I would hope so, seeing as you’re my girlfriend.” His arm hugged her close to his side. “And even if he’s a terrible drunk, he’s right. I do fancy you. Rather hard not to, what with you being all brilliant and beautiful.”

Her eyes fell to his lips. This wasn’t the ideal place to kiss, in his family’s living room where anyone could walk in on them… but he’d called her beautiful and he was being so perfect. She didn’t want him to think about George again either.

She maneuvered herself until she was on top of him, knees on either side of his hips. One of his hands wove through her curls, the other doing a little trail down her side, a gesture that was growing more and more familiar each time they snogged. A hot neediness fed her movements. She moaned and leaned into him when she was stopped. His hands cupped her cheeks and slowly moved her face away from his.

“We’re in the living room,” he murmured.

“It’s late - so late that no one will know. Just snog me!” she whispered.

“Are you still sauced?” he laughed.

“Do I have to be ‘sauced’ to want to kiss you with a tiny bit of tongue?”

“Well I’d hope not, but any sober person should know this house always has someone up and in our business…”

“I’m sober now,” she told him frankly, feeling the slightest tinges of a hangover, but otherwise feeling very much herself. She gave a sigh and extricated herself from him. “You have a point about the lack of privacy, but I’ll have you know it’s highly unfair to call me beautiful and not allow me to snog you a bit.”

“Oh is that all it takes?” He had a pleased grin on his face.

“Well it’s definitely not your stellar personality,” she said with a teasing smile of her own.

“Of course not. It’s my gentlemanly ways.”

He bowed very low and she gave a much-too-loud laugh as he took her hand. He leaned down, blue eyes gleaming into hers, then gave her knuckle a lick.

“You’re disgusting!”

“You wanted a tiny bit of tongue, so I gave you tongue!” he grinned, before dimming the lights and leading her up the stairs.

They stopped in front of Ginny’s bedroom and touched foreheads.

“I know tonight was… was difficult,” she said in a low voice, “but when it wasn’t… I really did have a good time with you.”

He shifted his head and kissed her forehead.

“I did too,” he murmured, giving her a soft smile. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she whispered, putting her hand on the handle to turn it when it slipped in her grasp. She tried again, but it wouldn’t budge. “She must have forgotten and locked it...”

She gave a light knock on the door, and Ginny didn’t answer. There was nothing but silence.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding…”

“What?” Hermione asked, trying the door again.

Ron did a few spells and gave a huff.

“Harry’s in there,” he said, disgusted.

“What? No… They wouldn’t… Would they?”

“I’d bet fifty galleons Harry’s in that bloody room.”

“Oh…” she replied, putting her fingers to her pursed lips. “I suppose I’ll stay in Percy’s room then?”

“Nah, you can come to bed with me.”

He walked towards the stairs before coming to a stop.

“Okay…” he said, turning on his heels, a panicked look on his face. “I didn’t mean to assume— You definitely don’t need to—”

“Yes!” she whispered back.

Ron looked only mildly less panicked at her answer.

“Yes like you’re agreeing you don’t need to come with, or yes like—”

“Yes, like I’ll stay with you.”

A thrill ran through her as they smiled at one another, the bit of moonlight shining through the window illuminating them. As they went up the stairs together excitement flooded her thoughts of sharing a room overnight with Ron. She’d shared the tent with him, but they’d never truly been alone all night, and they definitely hadn’t been under the scrutiny of Mr and Mrs Weasley.

She’d never been one for rule breaking. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Okay, she had to admit she broke rules rather regularly. She might have broken about a thousand rules in the last year alone, but that was different— it was for a just cause that would help everyone. In this case it was purely breaking rules for her own happiness. The rush of it made her feel the same peace she’d had at the club.

The moment they got to Ron’s room and saw Harry’s empty camp bed she approached Ron to kiss him. Only a meter away, he let out a large yawn before going to his drawers.

“Here you go,” he said, handing her an oversized orange shirt. It had the Cannons logo on it and was soft to the touch from so many wearings. She’d seen him wear it probably a thousand times. It was rather sweet that he’d thought of pajamas for her, but disappointment began to well in her. She wasn’t sure what she’d hoped for, but something closer to their activities at the shed was what she’d imagined. “Do you need some shorts or something for the bottoms?”

“No, I think your shirt will do,” she said as she held it up and realized it went halfway down her legs.

“Right,” he said with a grin, “Well, I can step out while you change.”

“You can stay here,” she said. She felt a fluttering in her stomach as his eyes shot back to hers.

“Oh, erm… Alright,” he said, his pink tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Right! Yeah…”

He turned about, head pointed up towards the low ceiling.

She let out a nervous giggle and changed out of her dress into the dress-length shirt. She did a silencing charm on the room, for good measure.

“You can turn around now.”

He turned around and looked at her with a soft smile.

“Nice to see you supporting the Cannons!” His eyes fasted on the logo with a growing grin before his eyes went wide and met hers. She looked down and realized it was very apparent she wasn’t wearing a bra in the thin shirt. He went back to his drawers and found a pair of pajama trousers for himself.

“Do you need me to turn around for you to change?” she asked.

“Up to you, really,” he said with a shrug, beginning to unbutton his shirt. She chose to watch him from the bed, enjoying how a tinge of red blossomed across his cheeks and ears. As he finally got to his belt and jeans he turned himself around.

She liked watching him like this. She’d never had the chance to unabashedly watch him before. They’d changed clothes on the run, but it had always been practical fast movements. She liked looking at his shoulders that were rather wide despite his thinness, and the glorious spattering of freckles that were most concentrated across his shoulders. He pulled the pajama trousers up over his plaid boxers then did a cute little hop to arrange himself. She liked the taper of his waist, and wanted to see if it was as enticing from the front. Watching him made her forget to breathe; forget to do much of anything.

She wasn’t sure when she’d stood from the bed, but her feet made a beeline to him. As soon as he turned she surged forth, that same neediness from the sofa fueling her movements. She jumped straight up into his arms making him let out a deep ‘oompf!’ She worried for a moment that she might have hurt him, jumping on him as she did, but reassurance came as he sighed into their kiss. They moved against each other in the middle of the room, the lamp casting shadows across the orange room creating the effect it was on fire.

It was a bit of a messy snog, but she didn’t care as he pulled her into a hard embrace. His tongue traced the inside of her mouth, and she slid both of her hands into his hair, enjoying the feel of his soft strands running through her fingers. They continued to kiss as their feet stumbled back until Ron’s legs hit the bed and the two fell to it with a laugh. The spell she’d done on the bed to widen the bed earlier that day had held up, giving them plenty of room to twine around one another and kiss. She reminded herself to reinforce the hastily done spell later, otherwise they might end up with one of them on the floor— but she decided it was better to put it off and not interrupt a perfect series of kisses.

Since she was about thirteen she’d wondered what kissing Ron Weasley would be like. Her earliest fantasies were delicate and chaste like she’d seen in movies. Later they became more heated and sensuous, but she’d had so little experience with kissing she wasn’t sure what she preferred their kisses to be, really, as long as it was with Ron.

Their first kiss had seared through her as he lifted her up off the ground. The second time he’d been tender and unhurried. She’d stopped counting their kisses, but each time it was perfect, whatever surprise he brought her way.

Now that they were on the bed his lips were soft. He’d started slow, lazily exploring her as if savoring each moment, his kiss a gentle caress that reeled her in, peppering in a tiny nibble here or there.

“Wait,” he murmured sitting up. “You’re sure you’re sober?”

“Yes,” she answered. Her fingers grazed down him, savoring the lean muscles, how very smooth his skin was until the lines she drew reached an errant scar he’d earned over the years. One of his hands began to trail up her hip, just managing to skim underneath the overly large shirt. The pad of his thumb was drawing slow circles that just tickled the bottom of her ribs.

Soft, hungry kisses were travelling down her neck. She moaned as he met the juncture between her shoulder and neck. Through half closed eyes she watched the lamplight make his hair spark with amber and copper and gold. Her fingers played with his hair as that thumb of his kept its path up her shirt, and she felt a molten heat forming within her at the sensation.

Then the hand travelled low again, fingers just skimming the side of her hips and then the elastic of her pants. She let out a sigh and adjusted her hips towards him.

“You can touch me,” she breathed.

He let out a low moan. His long fingers ghosted over her pants until one gave a hesitant stroke over the warmth between her legs. One finger became two as he stroked against her, and arousal began to pool for her in a way she’d never felt before. It was such a small amount of friction, but it made her head spin.

Ron was touching her. She always revered the little touches they shared— his hand on her hip, his forehead touching hers, his hand around her wrist— but this was something wholly new.

The fingers moving against her, combined with his lips sucking on neck, made the heat deliciously build. As he curled his fingers she found the need to pull him in closer. It wasn’t enough! She wanted to feel him on her, not through a wet scrap of fabric.

She let her hands travel from his silky hair down to the elastic of her pants and began to push them down.

He stopped and looked into her eyes with a questioning look. She nodded and he hooked his fingers on them and trailed them down her legs before discarding them.

He gave an appreciative hiss before smiling up at her.

“Fuck me, you’re pretty,” he said under his breath. Her cheeks burned, but not as much as the heat growing inside her as his hands trailed their way back to her. His fingers traced up her legs, just barely pressing their way into her flesh, before resting directly between her legs. He seemed to be looking at her with fascination, and the idea of him looking at her down there suddenly made her nervous. She gently guided his head up to her so they could kiss while his hand continued to explore. She gave a gasp as he managed to find her clit.

He held himself above her with one hand as the other brushed inside her, teasing wetness from her and making her feel light-headed. She guided his hand back up her shirt, to feel his hand graze her breast.

She wanted more of him. She wanted him against her. In a daring move, she hooked her feet behind his hips and crashed his hips into hers.

He let out a startled yell before the bed gave a large lurch and Ron’s left hand that had been bracing him above her went clear through the mattress, sending him rolling off her and crashing to the ground.

The bed gave another shutter, and the bed, which Hermione had spelled to a queen size mattress, gave a spasm before shrinking to its normal twin size.

“Sorry! I should have reinforced that spell! I’m sorry!” she cried out, sitting up to check on Ron. He let out a series of ‘fuck fuck fuck’s under his breath as he slowly got to a crawling position, though not putting much weight on the left hand that had gone through the bed.

“Are you okay?” she asked, putting a hand to his back.

His whole back tensed and he scrunched his eyes closed.

“Ron?” she asked, rubbing his back a bit. “You okay?”

“Don’t,” he said, jerking away and giving a shake of his head.

He gave a hiss as he slowly rotated his left arm and flexed his hand. His shoulders were drawn so high they almost touched his ears before they slumped.

“Is your wrist hurt?”

“Huh?” he dazedly asked, blinking a few times and sitting up. “‘M okay.”

She nodded before grabbing her wand from the nightstand.

“Let me see your wrist.”

He held it to his chest. “Why?”

She gave a roll of her eyes. “To fix it, of course.”

He gave a flex of his hand before sitting up on his feet and slowly extending his wrist to her.

She took hold of it and gingerly weighed it back and forth. “So you landed on it?”

“I guess,” he said unhelpfully.

He held his breath as she held up her wand and did an ‘Episkey’ charm on it.

“Better?” she asked, knowing she’d done it perfectly.

He flexed his wrist and gave her a tight smile. “Yeah, I imagine that did it.”

She felt a flicker of doubt. “It’s better, isn’t it?”

“Course it is. You always do spells perfectly,” he said with a roll of his eyes. She began to frown. He hadn’t answered the question. “Hermione, I’m fine. I just feel a bit off after falling face first onto my manky floor. Who knows what filth I might have landed in. At least it wasn’t Harry’s old pants or something.”

She gave a laugh.

“You should come back to bed.”

“It’ll be a tight fit,” he said, eyeing the small twin.

“Oh yes… Wait! Bring Harry’s camp bed over. I think the spell will last better if we’re merely transforming two beds into one, instead of extending one.”

He grabbed the bed, and removed all the sheets. With a few flicks of her wand she was again in a large queen bed. She realized she was still nude underneath his large shirt, and the lingering arousal hadn’t fully been chased away by his fall.

“Where were we?” she said, rather seductively she thought, which both impressed and surprised her. She’d never been very good at anything remotely close to sexiness, but she’d managed a rather saucy husky tone.

He gave a bit of a gulp and turned off the lamp before joining her in the bed. As her eyes adjusted, the moonlight illuminated them well enough to just be able to make out his features.

She began to kiss him again, trying to rekindle the fire they’d had a moment ago, but he felt stiff and unresponsive.

“Is your wrist still hurting?” she whispered.

“No, I’m fine,” he said, taking a breath before their kiss resumed. He began trailing kisses down her neck and skimming her sides as before, and she tried to feel that same fire. His hands were touching her in the same places, but there was a forced quality to every move and every kiss. Their bodies no longer coaxed and set pace with one another.

His fingers went back to between her legs and poked at all the wrong angles. It felt like he was trying to pick a lock with a pair of chicken drumsticks. He’d always had very short nails, so she was surprised when they seemed to be poking her instead of the pads of his fingers.

Then he stopped kissing her altogether and went lower until his head was even with her pelvis.

She wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of him looking down there. She’d barely ever looked down there, but didn’t imagine this could be a very flattering angle. At least it was dark in the room now?

He poked and prodded and she felt thoroughly turned off when one digit poked far too hard to the side of her labia.

“Erm… Maybe a little higher?” she asked, hoping he’d go back to her clit.

She gave a jolt as his nails showed up again. That was even worse! And how was that even possible when they were so short?

She accidentally let out a huff and he gave a sigh.

“This isn’t doing anything for you, is it?”

“It was…” The silence carried on, and she found herself entirely without words.

“It was rubbish,” he supplied.

“No?” she squeaked, biting her lip. He gave a withering look up through his eyebrows. “I’m sorry! It was really good earlier, though!”

He gave a snort. “Yeah I could tell it wasn’t going well when you weren’t as wet anymore…”

She pressed her face into the crook of her elbow to hide her eyes. It had seemed sexy at the time, but him actually saying out loud that she was ‘wet’ was absolutely mortifying.

“It really isn’t a problem,” she mumbled.

“Yeah it is,” he said, laying beside her, elbow on her pillow. He slowly turned her face towards his, blue eyes boring into hers. His eyebrows lifted and a small smile twitched, but not enough to bring out his dimple. “Let’s start again.”

“I don’t know…” she said, not sure she wanted to have him poke at her like that again.

“Let’s try again. If you want me to stop at any point I will.”

She looked into his eyes and saw a glint of determination in them she’d seen before. He made that face when he made the right move in chess, when he was about to save a goal, and when he was about to pull off a powerful spell. When he looked like that, nothing much could go wrong.

She gave a nod. It seemed too absurd to be shy, but she felt it burn through her as his hand cupped her cheek and brought her in for a languorous kiss.

A chasm of intimacy burst open as his lips burned against hers. As she surrendered to his kisses, she became increasingly conscious of his body, hot and hard against hers. His fingers slowly slid down the narrow of her waist, then edged behind and found her bare backside. He moaned into their kiss as he massaged it, almost as if testing the globe in his hand. Whatever awkwardness that had descended on them was gone, and her body molded to his.

With every kiss she felt marked as his, and she grasped his hair again. Only moonlight lit him, but she imagined the riotous color of his hair sunning her as she basked in his attention.

He stroked her between her legs again, this time finding a rhythm that made her hips jolt to meet him. The oversized shirt had ridden up past her breasts, uncomfortably bunching until she impatiently tore the shirt off over her head. He let out a rough groan and his hands and mouth stopped.

He pulled back a bit and stared at her nakedness.

She had the overwhelming impulse to reach for the sheet and cover herself, but resisted it. She held her breath as he silently stared, expression annoyingly enigmatic.

“W-well?” she let out, nerves making her voice pitch up. She was skinny, but still managed to have a bit of a tummy, and her breasts weren’t all that much to talk about, and her hips were too wide, and—

“Hermione,” he breathes out her name. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She turned her head away. She wasn’t. Then his mouth was on hers again, and hands were exploring her breasts. His kisses trailed to the crook of her neck, to her clavicle then finally down her chest.

“Christ, you’re perfect. Fuck…” he said, almost to himself as he leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth, the other hand squeezing and kneading her breast.

He backed away to look at her again. The way he beheld her, she could almost believe she was beautiful and perfect. He had nothing but adoration in his eyes as his lips fell to her body. He trailed down her, as fingers grazed a hot trail, and made desire pool in her.

He went further down and her legs fell open to him. His fingers explored her, but this time they easily found a path that made her moan. He set a rhythm, and experimented with angles. She glanced down to see he was avidly watching her face, like he would a chess board. Eyes on her, he leaned forward.

It began with a tentative lick while a pair of knuckles just grazed her in the right spot. He continued to do this and she threw her head back in a gasp. Then his lips dipped between her legs and began to suck at her clit. She let out a long whimper as he continued to alternate between lapping at her and sucking at her like she was a final meal. Heat and slickness built in her, making her tilt her hips into him, punctuating her gasps with jerks of her hips.

She was on the edge of falling, when he found the perfect rhythm and stayed there. Quick susurrations on her clit, and his fingers just barely grazing inside her, teasing and nearly fucking into her, made the coil inside her finally spring.

A heady ‘don’t stop!’ barely made it out of her lips before she let out a sound like a sob as she came. She felt the spasm of it rip through her, and she clutched the pillow around her as her hips stuttered and followed his mouth, continuing to twist as his fingers slowed down.

She panted and shook her head as her thighs wobbled and finally relaxed, dropping her hips further into the mattress.

“Oh God…” she whimpered. “Fuck… Oh god…”

Her mind had never been more of a void. She was utterly shattered. There was nothing but sensation, still floating in aftershocks.

“You alright?” came a hoarse voice from between her legs.

She let out a rough laugh, then managed to open an eye from between her curls.

“I’m… I just…” she gasped and shuddered a bit.

“Better?” he asked, knowing perfectly well that he’d done amazing.

“Yeah, I imagine that did it,” she panted, mirroring his words from earlier. “I think we ought to thank Harry in the morning.”

“Do you really need to bring up that specky git right now?” he moaned, kissing the inside of her thigh.

“Well, if it weren’t for him taking up Ginny’s room, I wouldn’t have gotten to experience… That!” she said with a shaky gesture.

“Took a bit, but I think I did alright in the end,” he said, a tired grin on his face as he wiped his mouth.

“More than alright!” she proclaimed. She looked further down the bed and saw he was still hard. She was so flushed and buzzing she wasn’t sure she had the ability to blush. “If you want, I can try to return the favor?”

Ron blanched and shifted his hips.

“It’ll go away on its own,” he said with another kiss to her thigh. She didn’t bother masking her confusion. Didn’t teenage boys always want to ‘get off’? Was he so disgusted from going down on her that he didn’t want her touching him?

As if reading her thoughts, he continued. “It’s late and I want to be able to dream about that look on your face when you came. Fuck me, that was the hottest thing ever.”

He kissed her stomach right below her belly button then finally, wobblingly, crawled further up her body before collapsing beside her and kissing her. “I’ll definitely take a rain check though.”

“You sure?”

“I’m knackered. Dreams of me making Hermione Granger cum are all I need,” he hummed as he nuzzled up behind her. “I could get used to this.”

“So could I!” she said with a laugh. “I should clean up.”

“Nooo, just stay a little longer,” he whined, wrapping an arm around her middle and bringing the blankets onto them. Minutes passed. She wiggled in place as his breathing slowed.

“Just need to grab my wand.”

“Hmnnn,” he grunted into her side as she pulled her wand from the side table and did a quick clean up. She Accioed her shirt over, but had no way of putting it on without moving Ron.

“Ron?” she whispered. A small snore erupted in her ear and she sighed.

Dressing in the morning wasn’t the worst thing. Plus, she was draped in Ron, cozied up more intimately than she’d ever imagined she could be. His whole body radiated a comforting warmth, and in that one moment she felt more safe and contented than she had in years. Suddenly words she’d been achingly trying to keep at bay began to bubble up to the surface.

“Ron?”

He continued to snore.

In the safety of the darkness, in his arms, and without having to worry about his reaction, she whispered, “I love you.”

She only got snores in return, but there was a sort of relief in having said it out loud. Any tension left in her body dissipated, and he felt so nice spooned up against her that she felt her eyes drift close for just a moment.

* * *

She woke to the sound of apparition and a, “Ron, your mum is— oh shit! Sorry! Shit!”

Dazedly she shook her head at Harry’s cursing then, horrified, remembered her state of undress. Ron hadn’t forgotten and quickly yanked the quilt up to her nose.

“Shut it, Harry! Do you want Mum to hear you?” Ron hissed.

“Right, sorry!” he said, turning around with his back to them. He stood in only his boxers, hands clutching his clothes from the night before. “Erm… So, your Mum was waking everyone since it’s a bit late, and I fell asleep in Ginny’s room, and your Mum didn’t catch me, but I wanted to let you know in case… Well, in case of this, I guess.”

As he explained, a currant-faced Hermione yanked the Cannons shirt on and looked for her pants.

“And the best way to warn us was to Apparate directly in here to the foot of my bed?” Ron exclaimed, before reaching down to the foot of the bed and handing Hermione her pants.

“Yeah, well I am a mite bit hungover…”

“I’d tell you where some hangover potion is, but I don’t think you deserve it,” Ron replied, giving Hermione a peck on the cheek. “Alright we’re all decent now.”

“I’m really sorry!” said Harry, rubbing at his head. At first it looked like a tick of embarrassment, but he looked haggard enough that a hangover seemed the bigger culprit. “Er, where’s my bed?”

“It’ll be in the chicken coop if you do that again,” answered Ron.

Hermione finally gathered enough wits to grab her dress and say “I’ll meet you later,” and Apparated as silently as she could to Ginny’s room.

“There you are!” Ginny said, pulling on a pair of jeans. “Mum’s trying to get everyone up since it’s so late, and she almost put together where everyone stayed. Did Harry warn you?”

“If by warn me, you mean Apparate into the room and catch me completely starkers, then yes, he did an admirable job!”

“He did what?” Ginny roared with laughter. “Well I’m glad someone had a good time last night!”

“Didn’t you?”

“I mostly kept Harry from getting sick down the side of my bed. Though he did say he loved me, which was quite nice,” she said, a love-sick smile on her face.

Oh.

Hermione still hadn’t heard anything like that from Ron. He hadn’t even wanted her to touch him.

“I can’t believe he Apparated in there,” Ginny continued. “I told him to do it outside the door! We heard Mum bustling about and he was rather panicked at the idea of her being mad with him.”

Hermione nodded.

“So… Starkers?”

“Ginnyyy,” Hermione moaned and hid her face behind her hair.

“You know what? I don’t want to know,” said Ginny, running a brush through her long red hair. “Actually I do, but I think you’ve been through enough embarrassment for one morning. I’m going to go play some Quidditch, if Harry can get his act together. Want to come?”

Avoiding the house seemed a pleasant application of her time, but a quick glance to her book bag shuttered any thought of having a lark. She’d had her fun the night before, though she hadn’t earned it. She’d had enough avoiding. She needed to make plans for her parents.

* * *

It was arduous and barely fruitful, but at least she could say she’d put some thought into it, creating a schedule of places to visit over the next week to gather all the information she might need and who to glean it from. When she looked at the clock it was well past one in the afternoon.

At the Burrow it was unusual to go so late in the day and not be disturbed. She also hadn’t seen Ron since the fiasco that morning. The embarrassment seemed a perfect punishment for being so self indulgent. It was hard to believe she’d let herself fall asleep nude in his bed. She’d been so relaxed and…

“Oh!” Hermione gasped.

She hadn’t remembered to put up her silencing spell. Had she needed it? Had she woken up in the night? Perhaps there was a way to subtly ferret the information from Ron. Maybe she could bring it up at lunch. It was a bit late for it, but people always poked their head in when a meal was being served, so it must not have happened yet.

Despite having much more to do, she had to admit she needed food, or at least some strong tea, if she was to continue.

She went down the stairs to find the kitchen in uncharacteristic disarray. Bowls, trays and cutting boards littered every surface, but at the dining table was a very delicious looking feast of jacket potatoes with every sort of topping one could imagine all arranged in little ramekins.

“I bet there’ll be something to eat,” she heard Ginny’s voice carrying in from outside. She and a windblown Harry came in through the garden door. Her hair hung in an enviable curtain of beachy waves Hermione could never manage without bottles of Sleekeazy's.

“This looks a treat, doesn’t it?” said Ginny, going to sit at the table. “Well, let’s get Mum and Ron here so we can dig in!”

Just then Ron came down the stairs wearing one of Mrs Weasley’s patterned aprons that was dwarfed by his tall frame.

“Did you cook this?” Harry asked, looking impressed.

“Yeah… Mum’s been in her bedroom again,” he replied.

They all knew that meant she was distressed and had holed herself in her bedroom. Those had been coming with fewer and fewer days between them, and Hermione had to wonder what had caused it this morning.

“Why’d you go to such trouble? We have stuff for sandwiches,” Ginny asked, mood forcibly upbeat.

“I was hoping to tempt Mum out of her bedroom.” Ron sat out napkins and cutlery, slapping the metalware onto the table with more force than was necessary.

Harry and Hermione’s eyes met.

“We might want to clean off the kitchen counters, then,” said Ginny with a grin. “Looks a bit like a mad potion maker's laboratory.”

“You clean ‘em off, then, I’m famished.”

“I can clean them off,” Hermione volunteered, hoping to cut the tension, and Harry joined her in the effort, saying, “I’ll help.”

“The food’s all ready now— just leave it!” Ron protested.

“It’ll only take a moment,” said Hermione.

“Plus you didn’t make the mess, Ron did,” Ginny unhelpfully added.

“Oh fine!” growled Ron, and with a swish of his wand the items on the counter rushed their way to the sink with a great clatter, the metal cooking sheets causing a crash that reverberated around the room making everyone jump, and give small yells in succession. “There! Happy? It’s in the sink! Now will you all sit?”

“Merlin, Ron! Did you have to be so loud with it?” Ginny hollered, getting from her seat to get the rest of the dishes by hand. “What's gotten into you?”

“I just want people to eat the bleeding food! It took forever to make and it’s like herding a bramble of gnomes getting you lot to sit down and eat it all at once. No wonder Mum was always upset with us!” Ron groused. “I’m going to get her from upstairs, and when I get back, you lot better be seated at the table and piling up your potatoes!”

He stormed up the stairs, rattling the framed photos on the walls.

“You know, I always thought if one of us was to turn into Mum it’d be me, but I think Ron’s got it cornered. Did you see him, hands on his hip just like her!” Ginny snorted, miming Ron’s akimbo stance, and Hermione gave a reluctant laugh in turn.

As much as his dark mood made her worry, she did enjoy watching Ron doing little domestic things around the house. There was something rather charming seeing the overgrown young man in a flowery apron in a tither about everyone sitting down to eat.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he takes up knitting soon. What do you think, Harry?”

Ginny looked beyond Hermione and her face fell. Hermione turned to see Harry was sitting stock-still, wand tightly gripped in his hand. Hermione instinctively grabbed her wand. A shiver spread up the back of her head.

“You okay?” Ginny asked.

“Trays were loud, that’s all.” Harry’s eyes weren’t trained on any of them and he gave a stiff sort of shrug.

“Harry…” Ginny began, coming near him, but Harry shook his head.

“M’going outside,” he muttered before bolting out the door.

“Where’s he going?” Ron asked as he emerged from the stairs, looking cross.

“Your banging about with the trays set him off,” Ginny spat, going for the door.

Ron cursed before running ahead of her to the door.

“I’m the one who messed up, I’ll fix it,” he said, taking off his apron. “You two eat up. And Mum was asleep still, so I left her to it. Put some food aside for her and Harry with a warming charm, would you?”

He didn’t wait for a response before going out the door. Ginny silently gathered together full plates for Harry and her mother, getting a third one for Ron, though he hadn’t asked her to.

“I— I can’t do the warming charm… Still sixteen... Hermione would you?”

Hermione dutifully did so, making sure not to look as Ginny wiped at her eyes and gave a sniff. The redhead went to the sink and started furiously scrubbing at some trays.

“Shouldn’t we eat?”

“What’s the point?” Ginny sniped, slamming a dirty set of tongs into the sink. “Ron wants us to all sit down and eat like things are normal, but they aren’t and I don’t know when they will be. Mum’s only up for a few hours at a time, Ron’s the one making food, Harry’s going off from loud noises, and George…” Ginny shook her head. “I just want… I thought after everything we could find some happiness, but it’s just impossible.”

“You did find some happiness earlier, though, didn’t you? Playing Quidditch a bit with Harry?” said Hermione, feeling every inch a fraud trying to buoy anyone's spirits.

Ginny blushed a bit as she began scrubbing a pan. “We didn’t exactly get to the Quidditch part…”

Hermione nodded.

“I suppose that’s all we can do right now, little pieces of happiness like that.”

The two girls cleaned the kitchen in silence until it gleamed. They dutifully ate their lunches, looking to the door every few minutes for the boys to return. Hermione was able to get away with eating very little thanks to Ginny’s distraction, and managed to vanish the contents of her plate before Harry and Ron returned, both looking rather pale, but Harry no longer had a vacant stare on his face. Ginny quickly got him a plate and the two sat to eat their meal while Ron took a plate up to his mother’s room. Hermione waited for him to come back to the table to eat his own meal. He didn’t.

After twenty or so minutes she went up the stairs to find him outside his parent’s bedroom. He sat on the steps to the fifth landing, head on his knees and arms wrapped around his legs. The meal still sat outside his mother’s door, untouched. Hermione made sure to step on every squeaky board to alert him to her presence before sitting down beside him.

“Was your Mum still asleep?”

Ron shook his head before sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face.

“She’s crying and I can’t get her to stop…”

She desperately wanted to know what prompted his mother’s backslide, but didn’t want to push him. Pushing Harry had been disastrous the other day, and she hadn’t the energy to face it from Ron as well. Ron wasn’t like Harry, though. He didn’t bottle things up the same way, and she knew he’d open up and tell her without her having to harangue him for answers.

“George got arrested for breaking his parole,” he said in a low voice, eyes not meeting hers.

“What?! What parole?”

“Night before last he Apparated right on top of the London Tower Bridge. I was up when Kingsley called, so me and Dad went to get George from the Ministry. He got parole. Last night he broke it by pointing his wand in public and someone saw and reported him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

"I wasn’t going to tell anyone. George gets enough looks, doesn’t he? He’s been such a mess, and Dad and I thought it’d be best Mum knew when things were all settled, but Kingsley Flooed the house to check on George about an hour ago, and well…”

“What a terrible way to find out.”

“Mum’s been holed up in her bedroom since. Harry took Ginny for a fly, so neither of ‘em know yet... I just thought maybe some food and tea would work to coax Mum out, but of course it didn’t.”

“Where’s George now?”

“With Bill, I think. Bill took it on this time.” Ron just shook his head. He stared down at his hand and gave a loud swear.

“Is that the time?” he launched off the steps, barreling past Hermione.

“Where are you going?”

“To finish this fucking buggering pissing piece of shit day!”

She scurried after him, but ended up a floor behind him as his long legs skipped steps with ease. She could hear his mutters all the way down the stairs.

“Need to get some wellies, clean the kitchen…”

“Ginny and I saw to the kitchen” she called after him, hoping to slow him down.

“Oh, fuck me! The paperwork!” he moaned as he reached the last flight of stairs and Apparated with a loud crack. A few seconds later she heard another crack outside the house.

She went to the window and saw Ron sprinting away, paper in one hand, wellies in another, not bothering to look back or give a hint of an explanation.

For a terrible instant she was back next to that riverbank in Wales, rain pummeling her as she begged Ron not to leave her.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Little pieces of happiness… She supposed she’d have to live on the little pieces of happiness from the night before, because there weren’t any to be found today.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Next chapter is Ron's POV again. Thanks for reading! If you like this and want to see more please review! :)

I've been terrible at responding, but please know I read them and EVENTUALLY I respond to everyone. :P

BIG THANKS TO @abradystrix FOR BETA-ING!

#fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #romione #fanfic #ron weasley #hermione granger #waking up #chapter 6 #my writing

39 notes · View notes

vivithefolle · 3 years

Note

Is there anyway you could share the entire livejournal essay about Hermione's reaction to Ron coming back in DH? The few paragraphs that you referred to in your recent answer sound extremely interesting.

[The “recent answer” that goes back to... last December. Oh my god I’m such an ass I left you hanging for so long I’m so sorry.]

Okay, okay, so here goes! KEEP IN MIND: I DIDN’T WRITE THIS. I FOUND THIS ON LIVEJOURNAL AND PICKED EVERYTHING THAT I LIKED ABOUT IT, AS WELL AS SOME COMMENTS THAT INTERESTED ME.

This “essay” was actually more of a “reading the books” thing with the person sharing their thoughts and ideas about it. The person was clearly a Snape fan, but they had sympathy for Ron too. I’ll try to formate it as accurately as I can remember it.

And now, here it is:

---

ORDER OF THE PHOENIX

[About Ron being made a prefect.] The essayist: It’s sad, but this probably is the first time Ron’s beaten Harry at something. And the last time.

A commenter: Ron's had a really difficult life, and this is the book that proved it for me. It made me a Ron fan. Just look at the interactions he has with Fred and George. This is commonplace. I know a lot of people don't like Ron, but just look at this book, this chapter especially. People have accused Ron of being lazy, unambitious, having no emotions, and being a big stupid boy. It's just not true. Look at how Fred and George needle him out of jealousy. Look at how they treat Percy. Imagine Ron having to grow up with two older brothers that will not hesitate to bother, torture and torment people that stand out or that get more attention than they do or that cross them. He saw it happening with Percy, so what's he going to learn? He'll learn to shut up unless he wants to have something happen to him. He'll learn that standing out positively is rewarded with cruelty. I can understand how Mrs. Weasley could not have fully protected him from those two. Not all the time, not while trying to also care for Ginny, keeping up with her other kids in school, and running the household. Worst of all, punishing F&G doesn't seem to do anything. Those two just don't care/they crave the attention, negative or positive. The best thing she could've done would be to give them no attention, but that's so against her nature that unfortunately she just fed the monsters. No emotions? Is it really difficult to understand that sensitivity wouldn't be encouraged in young Ron? He's got these two bullies that only want a reaction out of him. If he cries, it'll only encourage them. Any reaction is encouraging to them, but he has to go with anger. It's a survival thing- puff yourself up, make yourself look bigger than you are so the predator messes with you a little less. Look at the pride Ron's showing in his badge. The desire to do well is there. He likes the good feeling that comes with it, but he's been hard-wired since birth that it's better to be "middle of the pack". In later chapters, I know you'll have to point out the way the power makes Ron behave, so I just want to start on the defence now. It's all Ron knows. It's all he's been taught. It's a huge character flaw, but it's what makes him so human. Rowling did develop this in the book, but only accidentally. We're never going to get a good look at Ron's psychology except through these hints because it's, as usual, All About Harry. Ron's flawed, but I hope we remember that he has a reason why he's got those flaws. It doesn't excuse him, but it really explains him. So yeah... that's why I defend Ron.

...

“I’m not Percy,’ he finished defiantly.”

The essayist: Mmmm-hm. Ron feels nervous at the thought of his good fortune inspiring anger in someone and what's his first defence? "I'm not Percy"? Man, the evidence that the Twins' psychological torment has left lasting scars on Ron could not have been more obvious if he'd shielded himself and said "Please don't jinx me, Fred! ... I mean Harry. ... Shit, what'd I say?"

...

“Excellent,” said Ron, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them onto his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick. “What were you saying before the Sorting?” Hermione asked the ghost. “About the hat giving warnings?” “Oh yes,” said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm.

The essayist: Ron’s not being very restrained with his eating, is he?

The commenter: I don't know if it's accidental or not, but this is one of those moments that I love, one of the tellings of Ron's home life via his behavior. In this scenario, he's totally a kitten who just got adopted to a house where he's the only cat. He's at a table with food, so his instinct is to eat as fast as he can or his siblings will yoink it. It doesn't help that there are many other people around, encouraging the "get the good stuff fast or you'll have to sate yourself on bread or whatever nobody wants". Ron is so much more human than Harry! How can Harry not be showing any signs of his "horrendous abuse" for eleven years? Well... I guess he sort of does when he buys all that stuff in his first year. And I guess Ron has to go back home every summer where it gets reinforced. But Harry goes back every summer, too... what the hell?

...

“What’s going on?” Ron had appeared in the doorway. His wide eyes traveled from Harry, who was kneeling on his bed with his wand pointing at Seamus, to Seamus, who was standing there with his fists raised. “He’s having a go at my mother!” Seamus yelled. “What?” said Ron. “Harry wouldn’t do that — we met your mother, we liked her. . .” “That’s before she started believing every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about me!” said Harry at the top of his voice. “Oh,” said Ron, comprehension dawning across his freckled face. “Oh . . . right.” “You know what?” said Seamus heatedly, casting Harry a venomous look. “He’s right, I don’t want to share a dormitory with him anymore, he’s a madman.” “That’s out of order, Seamus,” said Ron, whose ears were starting to glow red, always a danger sign. “Out of order, am I?” shouted Seamus, who in contrast with Ron was turning paler. “You believe all the rubbish he’s come out with about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he’s telling the truth?” “Yeah, I do!” said Ron angrily. “Then you’re mad too,” said Seamus in disgust. “Yeah? Well unfortunately for you, pal, I’m also a prefect!” said Ron, jabbing himself in the chest with a finger. “So unless you want detention, watch your mouth!”

The essayist: Note how Ron’s first reaction is to side with Harry.

The commenter: Not surprising because of the best friends thing (some might argue) but I say it's not surprising considering how Hermione and Ron were treating Harry like a ticking time bomb. Survival!

...

“Hello, Harry!” It was Cho Chang and what was more, she was on her own again. This was most unusual: Cho was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling girls; Harry remembered the agony of trying to get her by herself to ask her to the Yule Ball. “Hi,” said Harry, feeling his face grow hot. At least you’re not covered in Stinksap this time, he told himself. Cho seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “You got that stuff off, then?” “Yeah,” said Harry, trying to grin as though the memory of their last meeting was funny as opposed to mortifying. “So did you . . . er . . . have a good summer?” The moment he had said this he wished he hadn’t: Cedric had been Cho’s boyfriend and the memory of his death must have affected her holiday almost as badly as it had affected Harry’s. . . Something seemed to tauten in her face, but she said, “Oh, it was all right, you know. . .” “Is that a Tornados badge?” Ron demanded suddenly, pointing at the front of Cho’s robes, to which a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold T was pinned. “You don’t support them, do you?” “Yeah, I do,” said Cho. “Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?” said Ron, in what Harry considered an unnecessarily accusatory tone of voice. “I’ve supported them since I was six,” said Cho coolly. “Anyway . . . see you, Harry.” She walked away. Hermione waited until Cho was halfway across the courtyard before rounding on Ron. “You are so tactless!”

The essayist: So Harry meets Cho, makes a complete faux pas and reminds her of her dead boyfriend. Ron quickly steers the conversation away onto something more happy, i.e., Quidditch, before Cho can get too upset. Nevertheless, Ron is apparently the insensitive jerk around here, not Harry.

[If this reminds you of something, then yes, I absolutely took what the essayist was saying and elaborated on it. I confess, I am a dirty thief.]

...

“Well, I suppose he could’ve played better,” Harry muttered, “but it was only the first training session, like you said. . .” Neither Harry nor Ron seemed to make much headway with their homework that night. Harry knew Ron was too preoccupied with how badly he had performed at Quidditch practice and he himself was having difficulty in getting the chant of “Gryffindor are losers” out of his head. [...] And so they worked on while the sky outside the windows became steadily darker; slowly, the crowd in the common room began to thin again. At half-past eleven, Hermione wandered over to them, yawning. “Nearly done?” “No,” said Ron shortly. “Jupiter’s biggest moon is Ganymede, not Callisto,” she said, pointing over Ron’s shoulder at a line in his Astronomy essay, “and it’s Io that’s got the volcanos.” “Thanks,” snarled Ron, scratching out the offending sentences.

The essayist: So Ron’s getting basic facts wrong in his essays.

The commenter: This is going to look so contrived, but I genuinely believe it, and maybe after these reviews, your standards for contrived have dropped enough for me to pass the bar :3 But... he's not putting in any effort. His ego can't take another beating at the moment (even punching bags have limits). Imagine it- after the Quidditch humiliation with his friend the Star Athlete (when he really was trying) he tries to distract himself by doing school work 1. which he isn't very good at anyway, 2. with the Star Athlete of Academics/Slytherin Spectator Crowd best friend Hermione there 3. with Hermione there to set it right anyway (it sounds as if Hermione isn’t so much correcting their essays as writing them herself). If he tries his best at this and then fails at that, Ron probably would start to consider suicide. It's self-preservation at this point to put in zero effort. This kind of fail is literally "I'm not trying because I have given up."

...

She wrenched her bag open; Harry thought she was about to put her books away, but instead she pulled out two misshapen woolly objects, placed them carefully on a table by the fireplace, covered them with a few screwed-up bits of parchment and a broken quill, and stood back to admire the effect. “What in the name of Merlin are you doing?” said Ron, watching her as though fearful for her sanity. “They’re hats for house-elves,” she said briskly, now stuffing her books back into her bag. “I did them over the summer. I’m a really slow knitter without magic, but now I’m back at school I should be able to make lots more.” “You’re leaving out hats for the house-elves?” said Ron slowly. “And you’re covering them up with rubbish first?” “Yes,” said Hermione defiantly, swinging her bag onto her back. “That’s not on,” said Ron angrily. “You’re trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You’re setting them free when they might not want to be free.” “Of course they want to be free!” said Hermione at once, though her face was turning pink. “Don’t you dare touch those hats, Ron!” She left. Ron waited until she had disappeared through the door to the girls’ dormitories, then cleared the rubbish off the woolly hats. They should at least see what they’re picking up,” he said firmly. “Anyway . . .” He rolled up the parchment on which he had written the title of Snape’s essay. “There’s no point trying to finish this now, I can’t do it without Hermione, I haven’t got a clue what you’re supposed to do with moonstones, have you?”

The essayist: This doesn’t seem like a particularly open-minded and enquiring position to take, although I suppose that Hermione’s open-mindedness has always been something of an informed attribute.

The commenter: This trope among fans has got me riled up beyond belief because they use the "Hermione's word is gospel" thing to make unfair assumptions about other characters: Ron's "emotional range of a teaspoon" thing comes to mind, and right after that, Lavender supposedly being silly about believing Trelawney about her dead pet (Hermione never considered that maybe the thing Lavender was dreading was bad news from home or bad news about her pet). Regarding house elves: This is one case where the fans ought to have seen that Hermione was being very thoughtless as far as strategy. Ron has lived all his life up until this point thinking that there was no problem with house elves and she literally expects to be able to just tell him "it's wrong" and he's supposed to change instantly? Talk about your cultural insensitivity. In this case, maybe Ron knows better than you do, Hermione? You didn't even know about house elves until you were at least twelve (but more likely, she didn't know until this year). She must understand the concept of "he doesn't know it's wrong". That was how she defended Crookshanks when he was chasing Scabbers. ... Hey, Hermione thinks Ron's smarter than her cat. That's something, I guess.

...

The commenter: Competition is seriously the worst thing in the world for Ron. He's got wa-a-ay too much baggage. Do well so they'll love you. Do well so they'll notice you. If they notice you, you'll get praised. And tormented by Fred and George. Then if you fuck up, you'll have let everyone down. My brothers never let anyone down. That's the standard. Oh God, I can't live up to that. Which do I want to chose- being ignored or scorned? I could do well. Then I'll be good enough to be called "just like them"! JFC, when's it ever going to be "Good like Ron"? Chess. Literally everyone else has one thing they shine in, even Neville with his Botany and Dean with his art (and... and I'm going to ignore the fact that Hermione and Luna are the only two I can think of with non-appearance based special stuff... someone please help me out? I guess Tonks' doesn't really count as a shallow one because it makes her a master of disguise...)

...

HALF-BLOOD PRINCE

...

Ron gagged on a large piece of kipper. Hermione spared him one look of disdain before turning back to Harry.

The essayist: “Hermione spared [Ron] one look of disdain before turning back to Harry” pretty much sums up her relationships within the trio. It’s no wonder Ron’s so insecure and keeps worrying that she really fancies Harry.

...

“And you’ve been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway...” “You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look,” said Ron, shaking back his sleeves. “And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer either,” Hermione finished, ignoring Ron. “I’m tall,” said Ron inconsequentially.

The essayist: Ron’s so adorably pathetic here, the way he’s obviously feeling inferior to Harry and being ignored by his so-called friends. *hugs Ron*

...

When they left the Gryffindor table five minutes later to head down to the Quidditch pitch, they passed Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Remembering what Hermione had said about the Patil twins’ parents wanting them to leave Hogwarts, Harry was unsurprised to see that the two best friends were whispering together, looking distressed. What did surprise him was that when Ron drew level with them, Parvati suddenly nudged Lavender, who looked around and gave Ron a wide smile. Ron blinked at her, then returned the smile uncertainly. His walk instantly became something more like a strut. Harry resisted the temptation to laugh, remembering that Ron had refrained from doing so after Malfoy had broken Harry’s nose; Hermione, however, looked cold and distant all the way down to the stadium through the cool, misty drizzle, and departed to find a place in the stands without wishing Ron good luck.

The essayist: Hermione keeps belittling Ron and doing him down, and reacts quite strongly when he even so much hints at losing interest in her and showing attention to another woman. Can we say “abusive relationship”, anybody?

...

“Harry! Ginny!” Hermione was hurrying toward them, very pink-faced and wearing a cloak, hat, and gloves. “I got back a couple of hours ago, I've just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck--I mean Witherwings,” she said breathlessly. “Did you have a good Christmas?” “Yeah,” said Ron at once, “pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim—” “I've got something for you, Harry,” said Hermione, neither looking at Ron nor giving any sign that she had heard him. “Oh, hang on--password. Abstinence.”

The essayist: Wow, Hermione’s just being so childish here, ignoring Ron when he’s talking directly to her. Incidentally, Ron’s speaking to her like a normal friend, it’s Hermione who’s doing the blanking. Still, I’m sure this argument is all Ron’s fault for daring to go out with another girl. Hermione is totally blameless.

[Just in case: the essayist is being sarcastic, they’re pointing out the double standard of the HP fandom blaming Hermione’s immature behaviour on Ron.]

...

DEATHLY HALLOWS

...

“I think you’re right,” she told him. “It’s just a morality tale, it’s obvious which gift is best, which one you’d choose—” The three of them spoke at the same time; Hermione said, “the Cloak,” Ron said, “the wand,” and Harry said, “the stone.” They looked at each other, half surprised, half amused. “You’re supposed to say the Cloak,” Ron told Hermione, “but you wouldn’t need to be invisible if you had the wand. An unbeatable wand, Hermione, come on!” “We’ve already got an Invisibility Cloak,” said Harry. “And it’s helped us rather a lot, in case you hadn’t noticed!” said Hermione. “Whereas the wand would be bound to attract trouble—” “Only if you shouted about it,” argued Ron. “Only if you were prat enough to go dancing around, waving it over your head, and singing, ‘I’ve got an unbeatable wand, come and have a go if you think you’re good enough.’ As long as you kept your trap shut—” “Yes, but could you keep your trap shut?” said Hermione, looking skeptical. “You know, the only true thing he said to us was that there have been stories about extra-powerful wands for hundreds of years.” “There have?” asked Harry. Hermione looked exasperated: the expression was so endearingly familiar that Harry and Ron grinned at each other.

The commenter (?): Actually, I thought that Ron was proving the errors in the story. Because he’s right. The eldest brother didn’t die because the Elder Wand had corrupted him (like the One Ring). He died because he was an idiot. He died because he randomly decided to start blabbing about his new toy.

“You talk about wands like they’ve got feelings,” said Harry, “like they canthink for themselves.” “The wand chooses the wizard,” said Ollivander. “That much has always been clear to those of us who have studied wandlore.” “A person can still use a wand that hasn’t chosen them, though?” asked Harry. “Oh yes, if you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument. The best results, however, must always come where there is the strongest affinity between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand.”

The essayist: Harry’s wand has to think for and protect him because he’s too stupid and incompetent to think for and protect himself! Ollivander’s the expert, and he just admitted it. He said any halfway decent wizard can perform magic with almost any wand. The reason Harry could only work with the holly wand is because of the phoenix feather core it shares with Voldemort’s wand. That is, it wasn’t Harry doing the magic with Harry’s wand! It was the Voldemort soul piece! Once Harry was forced to use wands that didn’t have that core, the soul piece couldn’t do the work for Harry any more. He was forced to rely on his own magical powers and competence, which are clearly minimal. This is proven by his inability to do effective magic with any other wand. It’s also proven by an incident from Philosopher’s Stone. Remember when Harry was being chased by bullies and inexplicably found himself on top of the shed roof? That was the soul piece allowing him to fly like Voldy. Lily could slow her descent from a height, as if she had an invisible parachute, but that is not the same as flying, and we have no evidence she could fly. Only Voldemort and Snape fly without assistance! The evidence is overwhelming that I am right. How many spells can Harry do effectively? Expelliarmus, Expecto Patronum, Protego--that’s it. Even as a young adult, he is incapable of doing the basic healing or cleaning spells a young child should have down pat before going to Hogwarts. Of course, we’re told the Patronus spell is difficult and advanced, but who told us that? Remus Lupin, friend of Harry’s father, sycophant, and notorious liar, particularly when it comes to flattering Harry. Recall Lupin also said Snape didn’t like James because Snape was envious of Potter Sr.’s Quidditch prowess, and we know that was a lie. Given this evidence, anything Lupin says that cannot be confirmed by an independent source, especially regarding the Potters, should be dismissed out of hand. True, Hermione has trouble with the Patronus spell, and she’s super-competent. Doesn’t that prove it’s a very difficult spell? Not at all. To take an example from a different field, Beethoven was a virtuoso organist, the greatest pianist of his day, one of the greatest pianists in history, and probably the greatest improvisational musician ever. But he was only a decent violinist. Everybody has areas of weakness, no matter how good they are overall. In addition, Hermione is very gullible where authority figures are concerned. If a teacher tells her, “The Patronus is a very difficult, advanced spell that many people can’t ever master,” she’ll believe that, which may create a self-fulfilling prophecy. A couple of years ago, another DTCL member and I facetiously suggested Harry was less intelligent than his wand. We didn’t know we were right. It rarely happens, but this is an occasion when I would have preferred to be wrong.

...

If only there was a way of getting a better wand... And desire for the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, unbeatable, invincible, swal-lowed him once more... They packed up the tent next morning and moved on through a dreary shower of rain. The downpour pursued them to the coast, where they pitched the tent that night, and persisted through the whole week, through sodden landscapes that Harry found bleak and depressing. He could think only of the Deathly Hallows. It was as though a flame had been lit inside him that nothing, not Hermione’s flat disbelief nor Ron’s persistent doubts, could extinguish. And yet the fiercer the longing for the Hallows burned inside him, the less joyful it made him. He blamed Ron and Hermione: Their determined indifference was as bad as the relentless rain for dampening his spirits, but neither could erode his certainty, which remained absolute. Harry’s belief in and longing for the Hallows consumed him so much that he felt isolated from the other two and their obsession with the Horcruxes. [...] As the weeks crept on, Harry could not help but notice, even through his new self-absorption, that Ron seemed to be taking charge. Perhaps because he was determined to make up for having walked out on them, perhaps because Harry’s descent into listlessness galvanized his dormant leadership qualities, Ron was the one now encouraging and exhorting the other two into action. [...] But not until March did luck favor Ron at last.

The essayist: MARCH! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. The first fifteen pages of this chapter cover three months, and during that entire time, Harry Potter does nothing, nothing, but sit on his ass fantasizing about the Elder Wand and trying to connect with his Voldie-soul mate. Oh, wait. He also tries to open the snitch so he can get the stone out of it. (Nothing gay about that, either.) I wish he’d succeed in that, too. Maybe he’d swallow the stone, and it would end up in his scrotum. He sure needs something that works down there. Harry doesn’t have the right to bail out on his society like this. He can’t have it both ways. He can’t have the adulation that goes with being Mr. Boy-Who-Lived-Chosen-One-Wizarding-World-Savior and abdicate the responsibilities that go along with those titles and that adulation. Look at what happens in this chapter: Harry becomes obsessed with finding and uniting the Hallows, so much so that he withdraws from his friends, bails out on the job his idol Dumbledore gave him, and spends all his time brooding and trying to connect with the Dull Lord. In other words, he acts clinically depressed. Ron and Hermione were exposed to the same information Harry was, but they didn’t become obsessed/depressed. Ron was mildly interested in the Super-Wand, but not enough to distract him from the Horcrux hunt. Hermione dismissed the whole DH story as nonsense and continued following Dumbestbore’s orders. So why weren’t they tempted?

...

The essayist: Harry opens the locket using Parseltongue--interesting that this never occurred to him before now--and two ghostly figures emerge. They’re Voldie-versions of Harry and Hermione, and they articulate Ron’s worst fears: “Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter...Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend...Second best, always, eternally overshadowed...” I’ll say it again: When you’re right, you’re right. The evidence is overwhelming that Molly Weasley treated Ron the worst of all her children. And if Rowling doesn’t want us to ship HP/HG, she needs to quit throwing them together and making them leaders, with Ron either in the background or absent entirely. JKR obviously wants us to automatically dismiss certain statements just because they’re made by “bad guys” such as Voldemort and Rita Skeeter. There are two problems with this: (1) The “lies” make perfect sense, far more sense than what we’re supposed to believe. (2) Even pathological liars sometimes tell the truth, typically when it won’t hurt their own interests to do so. For those of us who live in what cartoonist Garry Trudeau calls “the reality-based community,” the evidence is what matters, not what we’re told by authority figures. Those of us in the higher stages of spiritual development are funny that way.

...

The essayist: Well, whose fault is that, Ms. Rowling? You’re the one who’s spent the last four books making Ron dumber and dumber, depriving him of any meaningful activity, while you shoved Harry and Hermione into increasingly dominant roles.

The commenter: Are we supposed to look down on Ron now so that we can condemn him for leaving Harry and Hermione? Because if so, then that’s just unfair. Every time Ron tries to come up with an idea, Hermione criticizes him or shoots him down. And the twins have done a fine job of intimidating Ron into remaining mediocre and modest so that he doesn’t remind them of Percy, so what is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to come up with ideas when he’s surrounded by people who basically tell him to shut up and sit down?

The essayist: Just then, Hermione comes out of the tent with cups of tea, with tears running down her face and looking terrified her “friend” is going to curse her with her own wand.

The commenter: So, Hermione will snarl at Ron all day long, but cower in fear when Harry gets mad. Is she projecting herself onto Harry and assuming that just because *she’s* quick to hex people who anger her (Ron, Marietta, etc.), Harry will do the same to her?

The essayist: The evidence is overwhelming that Molly Weasley treated Ron the worst of all her children.

The commenter: And blatantly showed favoritism to Harry while snarling at Ron in the same breath. Of course, Horcrux!Tom doesn’t bring that up, because JKR would have to admit that there might be something wrong with Molly favoring Harry the way she does. The essayist: Hermione acts so crazy Harry has to put a protection charm between her and Ron.

The commenter: Yeah…sorry, it’s not “slapstick” anymore when somebody actually has to stop her from hitting Ron. When Harry feels that the situation is dangerous enough that his intervention is necessary. That’s not funny. That’s a true-crime episode. What gets me is that Hermione's tantrum lasts for days. It goes on for several pages into the next chapter. She doesn't start acting normal again until she comes up with the idea of visiting Xeno Lovegood. The essayist: Hermione tells Ron she still hasn’t ruled out attacking him with birds again.

The commenter: *flatly* So, all of the fans who cooed about how “great” it was for Hermione to show “girl power” by sending Ron to the hospital wing in HBP or breezily dismissed the scene as just tired teenage melodrama? Can put a sock in it. Hermione has clearly learned nothing, JKR clearly feels that that scene was funny, and at no point are we supposed to think that Hermione is an abuser. Even though, if the genders were reversed, fans would be calling for Ron’s head on a platter if he dared lay a finger on Hermione. No. This isn’t funny. This isn’t charming. Hermione hurt Ron so badly in HBP that he had to go to the hospital wing. And she tried to repeat the damage she caused here. Is she going to attack him with birds again after they get married? Is she going to do it in front of their children? Will it be “cute” and “funny” then? No, if a man is an abusive monster for losing his temper and trying to hurt his girlfriend, then Hermione is an abusive monster for losing her temper and trying to hurt her boyfriend. Not only did Hermione land Ron in the infirmary with the first attack, but she wants to do it again at a time when they are on the run. She will NOT be able to take an injured Ron to Hogwarts infirmary, nor to St. Mungos. In other words - she intends for him to remain injured and stick with them while camping, or else he must apparate away while injured, risking another splinching so he could be healed.

...

The essayist: Ron and Harry go back to the tent, and Harry fades into the background so as not to interfere with the lovers’ reunion. That’s a mistake. After Harry wakes Hermione, she shows her delight at Ron’s return by--attacking him? She punches him over a dozen times while yelling at him and screaming for her wand from Harry. Remember last chapter, when I talked about how immature Hermione is? Here’s your proof.

[The essayist quotes an article that I haven’t been able to find, but paraphrased: it speaks of a father who came to pick up his 4 y/o daughter from daycare, a little later than usual, and the daughter reacted by punching and hitting her father, upset at his being late. Additional read: “The parents must know that physical aggression is a common yet natural problem faced by toddlers.”]

The essayist: So there you have it: Hermione Granger, know-it-all supergirl, is so immature she acts like a preschool child when the boyfriend she’s been missing finally returns. I’m not suggesting she has a father-daughter relationship with Ron; this kind of anger is found in other relationships, too. What I am saying is that her way of expressing her anger is appropriate for a very young child. While adults may certainly feel this kind of anger and desire to hit when reunited with a loved one under similar circumstances, they don’t act it out. That restraint is what separates adults from children. Hermione acts so crazy Harry has to put a protection charm between her and Ron. I frankly found her behavior so out of control as to suggest mental instability. She engages in two full pages of histrionics before throwing herself into a chair, sitting so tensely I’m surprised the circulation isn’t cut off to her arms and legs. She remains in a bratty snit until the end of the chapter, which is another six pages. Hermione is still pouting the next morning. I’m wondering if her real problem is not that Ron left, but that she didn’t. Is she angry at him because he had the guts to admit they were blowing it and take a time out, while she just kept trailing along after Harry like a lost house elf? I think she’s definitely mad because she’s always controlled Ron and their relationship. How dare he assert his independence of her! Who does he think he is? Her equal? In an AU, maybe. This is called the Potterverse after all, not the Ronverse. Hermione’s having a bad month. First Ron runs out on them; then she saves Harry’s life, but he’s an ungrateful jerk about it; then Harry asserts his independence; then Ron comes back but doesn’t grovel sufficiently for her taste. All this mistreatment is going to give her the idea she’s just a normal character and not an Author’s Darling. While Ron was gone, he was captured by bad guys called Snatchers, who are bounty hunters for Voldemort. In getting away, he got a spare wand, which he gives to Harry. Of course, it doesn’t work as well as Harry’s “real” wand, so Harry’s still in a snit about that, and with Hermione in a snit, too, they’re a cheerful bunch. Honestly, I don’t know why Ron puts up with these two. The Hs are so spoiled and self-centered, they deserve each other, but I don’t think this is what HP/HG shippers mean when they proclaim the two as an OTP. Sane, normal Ron doesn’t deserve either one of them. Run, Ron! Run while you still can!

...

The essayist: As an interesting aside, ròn is the Celtic word for seal. In Druid lore, seals represent love, longing, and dilemma. No more appropriate totem animal could be imagined for this boy whose sense of selfhood is undermined by his longing for love from a rejecting mother and inadequate father, and who, like the selchie wives of folklore, is faced with the impossible choice of being who he truly is and being rejected, or denying the best part of himself to gain love. Ron’s intelligence and independence threaten his insecure wife (and best friend), just as the selchie’s identity as a seal-woman threatens her human husband; Ron imprisons himself by hiding who he is so the Hs can feel smart and in charge, just as the selchie’s human husband imprisons his wife by hiding her sealskin in a trunk.

#vivi answers #ask #ron weasley #hermione granger #hermione critical #hermione granger critical #harry potter #harry potter series #harry potter critical

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parkers-gal · 4 years

Note

Hi! May I request an imagine where Tom meets an Indian who’s sort of on the path to be a paediatrician?? But she’s like, 3-4 years younger than him?? And like, both of them are attracted to each other n they sort of start dating??

Love your blog! I’ve read pretty much everything you write! Lots of love to you!! 💛💛

requests are open

wc: 1.5k

—

Growing up, you were always lost on what you would do with your life. You’d seen friends and family discover their passions, the very reason they live and exist.. Time and time again, you thought you came close to finding out your own, but each path was a dead end, each lead and false tip.

That was, until you volunteered at a children’s hospital that one winter break your parents were away on business. A light flicker inside you, and you knew that was what you were meant to do. Leaving the hospital that day, you pulled up your browsers and stayed up in bed until three A.M., researching and reading about all the doctors that helped children. Perhaps it was your fire, burning so bright and passionately, that granted you access, that paved your path to college and a career for life. Or perhaps it was your heart, loving and nurturing and relentless. It never gave up when something it loved came into view. You knew deep down, in your gut, that it was a bit of both.

But to you, this wasn’t a career. This wasn’t merely just a passion. It was your life for theirs. Your privilege, through the hardships and the struggles and the heaviest tears, it was your brain that was your privilege. But your heart held just as much responsibility as your mind did.

Tom was no different, at that. Acting started as a job, it started as continuing his love for dance and theater. But as he grew, so did his heart. Acting wasn’t just a task of learning how to control one’s emotions. To him, it was a creative expression. It was perspective on life. It was living a life someone dreamed they could’ve had. And no, not as a celebrity, but as the characters. He often thought about how Peter Parker could have been a figment of Stan Lee’s imagination. That the small, nerdy Parker boy was a life Stan Lee wanted but never truly got. Tom pondered a lot of things, but he never once wished he could have another life.

College is harsh. Relentless. It’s a true reality of life, and with the pressure of your parents to do well, you could only pray you would do well. You had been studying for weeks now, finals coming closer with every passing day. You were due for a break, and mind release. You had signed up for your yearly volunteer during winter break. Your roommate rolled her eyes when you told her; she was unsurprised.

Apparently this year, there would be a few special guests. You were happy to share the children, happy the hospital could bring in more people for the kids that deserved the world but could only get a fraction of it. You swore on your life, on your grave, that you’d give them as much of the world as you could.

You were giving the world to them today. Dressing in thick leggings and a sweater, you grabbed your puffer coat as you left campus. The drive to the hospital was short and speedy. You greeted Katherine as you came in, hooking your coat on the coat hanger in the back room.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s good to see you. How’s college?”

“Stressful,” you chuckled.

“But worth it?” “Always worth it,” you smiled.

“The ‘guest stars’ will be here soon,” she moved a few clipboards, taking the papers attached to them. “I think they’re bringing things.”

“Oh that’s awesome,” you exhaled. “We need more presents.”

“More?” Katherine chuckled. “You’ve practically emptied your bank account for them.”

“Because my parents would totally allow that,” you eyed her. The two of you chuckled together, setting up a few things.

Katherine was five and a half years older than you. She’d worked at the hospital for awhile though, replacing a nurse who retired. She was young when she started, but the retired nurse had requested her, recommended her, and the hospital didn’t want to waste time on looking for someone else. You’d practically grown up with her; she’d been a volunteer in college while you were finishing high school.

“They’re here,” Nate popped his head in through the door. You and Katherine exchanged looks before going up front to greet them.

“Hi, I’m Kevin Fiege, I’m here with the cast of Spider-man Homecoming. We’re here for the meets I emailed about?”

“Yes hi,” Katherine stepped forward while you shied away from a brunette’s glances. His jeans and sweater were on loosely, and you assumed he probably had a costume on under. He was holding a mask. “I’m Katherine, the one you emailed.” They shook hands and smiled politely, the boy’s eyes never leaving sight of your figure. “Shall we get started then?” the man, Kevin as he addressed himself, suggested.

“Yes, of course,” she rushed out, glancing at you with wide eyes before the two of you chuckled.

A lighter skinned, tall girl stepped forward. You recognized her. “Hi, I’m Zendaya. I play MJ.”

The two of you shook hands, and she did the same thing with Nate and Katherine and a few other nurses. One by one, each cast member introduced themselves before eventually, the brunette came forward.

“Hi, I’m Tom,” he shook your hand, his fingers lingering against yours. “You are… ?”

“Y/N,” you filled in, biting your bottom lip.

“That’s really pretty,” he blushed slightly despite being the one who gave the compliment.

“Thank you,” you breathed a laugh, stepping back and in your rightful spot next to Katherine.

Throughout the day, you noticed Tom through the corner of your eyes, lingering and watching quietly, gazing as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how, or what. You enjoyed the cast’s company; they were great for the kids. By the end of it, it was nearly eight o’clock, time for ritual medications before bedtime.

The cast stood in the lobby, Tom in his suit talking to Jacob, Zendaya talking to Nate while Katherine finished up with Kevin. You emerged from the elevator, having just said your goodnights and goodbyes to the children.

“You gonna head out, Y/N/N?” Katherine stopped talking to Kevin to ask you the query over all the chatter.

You nodded with a smile, removing the Division 1 Volunteer lanyard from around your neck. “Yeah, I told my mom I’d call her before it gets too late.”

“You and your parents,” she sighed, handing another clipboard over for Kevin to read. “Are you ever gonna let them go?”

You chuckled, “I think the real question is are they ever gonna let me go?”

“Touche,” she laughed. “Say goodbye on your way out,” she motioned her head towards the cast. You glanced at them, they smiled, and you nodded towards her, grabbing your coat from its hook.

“It was really nice having you all here,” you smiled. “Thank you so much for coming; it meant a lot to the kids and to me.”

You saw Tom glancing outside, and without thinking, he stepped forward with a smile. “Let me walk you to your car.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you laughed lightly.

“Please, it’s dark out. It’ll only be a few minutes,” he smiled. “It’s no trouble, really.”

“Tom’s always doing that,” Zendaya rolls her eyes. “He’s that one in a million gentlemen.” Her arms crossed as she laughed. “Just let him take you; he won’t take no for an answer.”

You had a feeling they were talking about something else, but nonetheless, you let him accompany you. You waved to Kath one last time before walking through the doors with Tom by your side.

“How long have you been volunteering?”

“Since the summer before my junior year of highschool.”

He hummed. “How old are you?”

“I just turned nineteen,” you walked over a puddle. “How old are you?”

“I’m 21.”

You hummed just as he had. You saw your car near, and you were almost sad your encounter with Tom would end soon. You doubted you’d ever see him again after this, even if he did remember today.

“Listen I was wondering,” he spoke as you placed your bag into the backseat of your car — it wasn’t actually your car. It was your mom’s old one, she’d gotten it when she first moved to your childhood home. Convincing her you should have it was a nightmare. You focused on Tom. “If maybe… we could go out sometime? Sorry if this is totally unprofessional and if I’m completely reading this wrong or somethi-”

“No no-!” you cut him off before stopping shortly. “You didn’t. I’d- I’d love to go out with you sometime.”

“Great,” he said softly before repeating it more confidently. He handed you his cell phone gingerly, and you typed away in the bitter cold, smiling as you handed it back.

“I’ll- I’ll call you tonight. Af- after your parents.” You giggled. “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered just as he stepped away. You smiled to yourself, opening the car door.

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joonie-beanie · 4 years

Text

Eroge

Pairing: Leviathan x Reader

Word Count: 3,778

Preview: You happen upon Levi at a bad time, and accidentally end up getting sucked into his video game. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the fact that said game is a kinky eroge.

“Can’t you get me out?!”

“Ah—um—it says that the only way to get a player out of the game is the make them—um—climax?"

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter was originally posted on 2/8/2020 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

[New text from Leviathan]

Leviathan: Hey!! Come to my room today!! I need your help with a boss raid!!

You: Okay!!

“Levi!” you call out, knocking on his door. It’s close to 9pm, but he hadn’t texted you until a short while before dinner, and you’d already agreed to proof read Beel’s literature essay for him following the meal. You’d assumed that coming to Leviathan’s room whenever would be fine, but when you hear the Avatar of Envy startle from within—something crashing to the floor and a scream following—you wonder if now isn’t the best time.

“Ah! No!” he cries out, something else clambering onto the floor, and you knock on the door again.

“Levi? Are you alright?”

Without waiting for him to answer, you test the doorknob and push the door open when you find that it’s unlocked.

“N-No! Don’t come in! I--,” he begins to say, but quickly realizes he’s already too late when he sees your head pop through the doorway. Your eyes land on him. He’s kneeling beside his desk, face red as a tomato, and a few figurines, a bottle of…lotion?, and a controller are scattered at his feet.

“Are you okay?” you ask, hesitantly stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. Levi’s hands shake, his gaze turning down to the floor in front of him.

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” he nearly yells in response, hurriedly scooping up the items scattered across the floor. His eyes dart back up to you, and he spins on his knees, facing away before standing up.

You frown, wondering why he’s acting so weird.

“Is now a bad time? Maybe we can do the raid tomorr—”

“No!! It has to be today!!” he responds in a panic, his head whipping every which direction. After a second, he rushes to his bed and gingerly sets the figurines down. He then stands up, still facing away, and glances at you over his shoulder. As soon as he makes eye contact with you, his blush deepens.

“We can do it now! I just…I need to use the bathroom first!” he says, and stiffly walks to another door nearby. You watch him, concerned. You’ve seen Levi flustered before, but this is an entirely new level.

Still a little unsure, you slowly pad further into the room. After a few seconds, his monitor catches your eye, and you make your way over. On screen, there’s the start menu of a game. It’s pink, and twinkly—little starbursts shining all across the menu. However, there’s no title to the game, or indication of what it’s about. The only options on screen are “Resume Game”, “Import Character & Continue” or “Quit”.

Well, if this is the game we’re playing, I might as well get a head start and make my character, you think to yourself, scooping his wireless controller off the ground. You take a seat in his green and black leather chair, figuring it’s not a big deal since Levi isn’t around at the moment.

Pressing the joystick down, you hover over the “Import Character & Continue” option, and then hit ✕. A text box pops up.

“Is the current player the one you would like to import?”

A “Yes” or “No” option appears, and you click over to “Yes”. However, as you confirm your choice, an electric tingle rolls over your entire body. You gasp, the controller falling out of your hands, and it clatters to the floor.

The sound manages to reach Levi—who is still hidden in the bathroom—and he opens the door slightly.

“Y/N?” he calls, “what was that?”

There’s no response, and Levi peeks his head out a bit farther. His eyes scan the room, and there’s no sign of you. Just his wireless controller on the ground beside his chair, and—

Levi notices the screen on his computer has changed, and his heart drops into his stomach.

“No no no no no no!” he panics, darting out of the bathroom and to his desk. He holds the monitor between his hands, orange eyes widening as the screen changes yet again—the level finally having loaded. Immediately—you appear on screen.

“Leviathan?!” you call out, scanning your surroundings. You’re no longer in the House of Lamentation, but what looks to be a city—or, more specifically, an alleyway within a city. Tall brick walls cage you on either side—a dead end behind you, and a street a few hundred feet ahead.

“Levi!” you try again, and this time you hear a response.

“Y/N!” it sounds like he’s far away—his voice echoing down the alley. You open your mouth—relieved to hear him—but he doesn’t sound calm at all.

“Why did you do that?! You stupid normie! Now what am I going to do?! Oh my GOD. OOOOO MY GOD—”

“Levi! What is going on?! Where am I, and why are you freaking o--?”

Before you can finish, a dark shadow begins to materialize out of the pavement in front of you. You startle, back tracking. Ever so slowly, the dark mass rises up—tentacle-like arms whipping out and dragging across the floor.

You stare in fear, gasping when you roughly run into the brick wall behind you.

“Levi!” you yell, frustrated at his silence.

“I—UGH. Okay! Listen! I was playing a game, and this is the final boss! You totally came to my room at the worst time--!”

He’s halfway between exasperation, and a whine, but you don’t have time for his rambling at the moment.

“What kind of game?” you interrupt, your eyes training on the abomination in front of you once more. By now, it’s no longer a dark shadow. The mess of slick limbs has taken on a purple hue—two large eyes appearing at the front of it’s torso.

“Um…”

Leviathan sounds more embarrassed than you’ve ever heard him before, and realization begins to dawn on you—both fear and arousal mingling in your gut.

“Levi…,” you speak again, your tone soft, and a little scared. The monster makes eye contact with you, and its tentacles begin inching forward.

“I—it’s—,” he struggles to admit the truth, but at this point you don’t need him to say it. You realize what he’d be playing: a very kinky eroge—in which the final boss is apparently a tentacle monster.

“Can’t you get me out?!” you ask, shivering as one of the tentacles begins curling up your leg. There’s the sound of a game case clicking open, and papers being flipped. You assume he’s reading the manual.

All the while, another tentacle reaches out and touches your wrist. You immediately jump away from the feeling, but the tentacle is persistent. It darts out—securing your wrist in a split second. You panic—attempting to pull free, but it’s clear that the monster is much stronger.

With little effort, it forces your arm above your head, and another tentacle darts out to capture your other wrist. By the time Levi’s voice returns to the space around you, both of your wrists are secured above your head by a single tentacle—your feet barely touching the ground.

In his room, staring at the screen, Leviathan swallows harshly. The tent in his pants twitches at the sight of you.

“Ah—um—it says that the only way to get a player out of the game is to make them—um—climax?”

His voice pitches high at the end. Clearly, he’s embarrassed to be saying it, and you don’t blame him. However, right now, you’re pretty sure that if either of you have the right to be embarrassed, it’s you.

“Do you…have a hand in completing the level?” you ask him when the monster begins to idle. As if on cue, a bold, white “LEVEL START” appears in the space above you. Levi’s hands tighten around his controller, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“I…”

You can hear many emotions in his voice—everything from shame, to regret, and maybe even a little bit of excitement. You sigh, your thighs rubbing together shyly. If it was up to you, you would have built an emergency escape option into the game, but since there’s clearly only one path to getting you out…

“It’s okay, Levi. I trust you.”

And it’s true. Despite the monster in front of you, it’s reassuring to know that at least Levi has some control. And…it’s not like you’ve never seen anything involving a tentacle monster before. Like Levi, you enjoy anime, and at some point, had discovered hentai. You’d always felt shameful when becoming aroused while watching, but the idea of being stimulated so much at once is undeniably appealing to you.

So, while your current predicament wasn’t exactly planned, it wasn’t completely unwelcome either.

“Y/N, I…,” Levi sounds so torn. If he’s being honest with himself, he really wants to play the level. And the fact that you’re willing to put your trust in him and let him play it a huge turn on. However…if he had just been more careful, and hadn’t freaked out and left you alone, then you wouldn’t be in this predicament to begin with.

“Levi,” you speak up again, and he glances at his computer screen to find you smiling up at him. You send him a little wink, and while he can tell you’re still nervous, there’s an air of genuine reassurance about you as well.

“Have fun. I’m yours to use.”

And with that, Levi needs to hear nothing else.

His tongue pokes out to wet his lips, heart thundering against his ribs, and his fingers tighten against the controller in his hands.

“Ittadakimasu,” he whispers, an edge to his voice that reflects his hunger. You blush, realizing how turned-on he is by your words, but don’t have long to think on it. The tentacle wrapped around your leg inches up to meet your womanhood—rubbing it through your leggings.

You gasp, arms straining against their restraints, but of course it’s no use.

Behind you—perhaps purposely hidden, so you can’t see the words—an array of options appears.

✕ – Play with breasts

◯ – Rip off clothes

△ – Spank

□ – Fuck pussy

Levi reads through them quickly. All of the choices are tempting, but he doesn’t want to be too rough with you starting off.

His thumb hits the ✕ button, and a tentacle wiggles forward—curling around your waist and then wrapping around your breasts. You keen, thighs pressing together as heat begins threading through your limbs. Even while clothed, the sensation of having no control while being touched in your most sensitive areas is more arousing than you’d care to admit.

The tentacle at your chest curls around one of your breasts—squeezing, and tugging at the mound. Your other breast is prodded at by the round head of the purple appendage—attempting to locate your sensitive nipple through your clothing.

Again, an option appears on screen.

RB – Remove shirt

Levi’s finger hesitates over the bumper, precum beginning to pool against the crotch of his sweats. What he’s doing feels like a crime, but…your words of reassurance resound in his head, and he pushes the button.

In reaction, the tentacle at your chest momentarily stops its ministrations—diverting downward. The slimy arm sneaks beneath the hem of your t-shirt, crawling its way up between your breasts. And then, with a might tug away from you, it rips your shirt up the middle. Your bra is the only thing left shielding your chest away from public view, but it doesn’t stay in place for long.

Apparently part of a package deal with the “Remove shirt” option, the tentacle yanks the lacy white fabric away from your body—the garment disappearing from around you with a definitive rip. Immediately your breasts spill into the open air, and you flush bright red, realizing that this is the first time Levi will have seen any part of you so intimately.

Seated in front of the PC, the Avatar of Envy sets his controller atop his desk—prepared to push the buttons with one hand (no matter how lame of a gamer it makes him), while his other hand finally sinks into his lap. He palms himself through his pants, nearly moaning at the momentary relief. However, he doesn’t give into his desires just yet—his eyes still glued to the screen as the monster begins toying with your tits once more.

This time, with no fabric in the way, you’re feeling much more sensitive as the tentacle resumes its movements. The purple limb wraps around one of your breasts, pulling and squeezing the soft flesh, while the head of the tentacle swirls around your hardened nipple. You tremble at the feeling, managing to hold in any sounds that threaten to escape you…at least, until an additional tentacle hovers over your neglected breast—the end of the limb opening like a pair of lips. It wastes no time locking onto your nipple—sucking harshly and causing a lewd gasp to escape you.

Finally, with two tentacles assaulting your tits, and a third still rubbing between your legs, you’re beginning to fall apart at the seams. Your breathing becomes unsteady—whines and moans rolling off your tongue as the monster continues to follow Levi’s commands.

While you can’t hear it, the purple haired demon’s breathing has turned rugged as well. His dick is so hard now that it’s painful, but he still doesn’t grant himself relief. Not yet, not like this.

“Levi,” you moan, and you hear a quiet groan in response. The Avatar of Envy reaches down between his legs to pinch the base of his cock—stopping himself from cumming at the sound.

“Shit,” he curses to himself quietly, his eyes flitting back up to the computer when another round of choices appear.

✕ – Fuck pussy

◯ – Fuck mouth

△ – Fuck ass

□ – Other

Heat creeps up Leviathan’s neck as he reads through them. The game had been equally as blunt on previous levels, but now that you’re involved, he wishes there was some sugarcoating in place.

His pointer finger moves to hover over the ✕, but he hesitates. As he mulls over the many thoughts in his head, your moans reach his ears once more, and he immediately makes his decision. He won’t last if you continue sounding like that.

In game, you begin to whine his name—needing something more, anything—when all of the sudden your mouth is filled. You gasp, your eyes squeezing shut as a tentacle presses between your lips—the slick limb moving across your tongue. The monster fucks your mouth at a steady pace—testing the waters. You gag when the tentacle ventures a little too deep, and it seems like the game takes note—lessening the frequency in which it forces you to try and deepthroat.

However, each time you gag, your nipples and clit feel more sensitive than before. At this point, the lack of true contact on your womanhood is turning into torture, and you whine around the length in your mouth—your thighs rubbing together around the limb still sliding up against your pelvis.

Levi understand what you’re asking, and taps □. Instantly another line of options appear aside from the main ones, and Levi is relieved to find the one he’s searching for.

LT – Give oral

He hits the trigger, watching as the tentacle tending to your lower half pauses in its job. It reaches up to grab the waistband of your leggings, and in one fell swoop tugs them down your legs. You squeal at the sensation—eyes popping open and glancing downward, attempting to see what’s occurring.

You note an additional limb sliding across the ground towards you. It reaches up, curling around one of your legs, and hiking it off the ground. Suddenly, your pussy—shining with your arousal—is very much on display for Levi to see.

“Oh, fuck,” you hear him groan, wishing you could see him. Knowing that what he’s doing to you is getting him off makes your pussy clench, and you wonder if that’s his plan. However, the tentacle that had been teasing you up until now doesn’t fill you as you expect it too. Instead, the tip of the tentacle peels open—a smaller appendage sneaking out of the opening.

To you, it looks similar to a tongue.

“Mmph!” you gasp when it licks between your folds—finally coming in contact with your aching clit. Your spine curves—hips pressing downward as tentacle pleasures you in earnest.

Tears prick at your eyes—the amount of sensations afflicting your body at once almost overwhelming. You mouth is full—tits being sucked, and licked, and squeezed—and now your clit is getting the attention it’s been so desperately craving. Really, it’s enough to drive you insane.

Eyes squeezing shut—your thighs shake as the pressure building in your gut threatens to snap.

“Please cum, Y/N,” you hear Levi beg—breathless. You’re not sure if you had been meant to hear his silent plea, but it’s enough to push you over the finish line.

You climax with a cry—the sound muffled by the tentacle in your mouth as its rhythm slows—sensing your release. The tongue between your legs continues licking—dragging as much pleasure out of you as possible—while at the same time the tentacles on your breasts give the mounds one last round of love.

By the time the waves of pleasure have diminished, your arousal is leaking down the inside of your thigh.

Above your head, a bold “LEVEL COMPLETED” appears in the air, and the tentacles begin to retreat. You breathe deeply as your mouth is freed—the slippery limbs uncurling themselves and returning to the main body of the monster. And—as soon as your feet touch the ground, and your wrists are released—the scenery around you shifts.

Levi’s hands scramble to grab you as you materialize beside him back in his room—your legs giving out as he does so. You slump against him, still struggling to catch your breath. You’re relieved that it’s over—you’re not sure how much more of that you could have taken—but you’re jumbled out of your serenity as Levi hefts you up so you’re seated on the edge of his desk.

“Levi?” you question, eyes darting up to his face. There’s a serious look in his eyes, and you watch in surprise as the Avatar of Envy shoves his sweats down his thighs—his cock weeping against his abs.

“I’m sorry,” he says, swallowing your groan with a sloppy kiss as he slides his length between your walls. His voice is shaky—he’s been holding back for too long. “I need this. I n-need you. Please.”

“Fuck, Levi,” you groan, your pussy tightening around him as he begins chasing after his own release. His pace is quick, and sharp. It’s clear that he won’t last long. He had been waiting for this—for you—and while you know you won’t be able to orgasm with him—you can at least egg him on.

“You feel so good,” you speak, tits bouncing at the intensity of his thrusts. Your hands reach up to hug his skull—the demon’s breath hot against your neck as miniscule whines escape his throat. His grip on your waist tightens—blue colored fingernails digging small crescents into your skin—and with a few more snaps of his hips, he’s releasing inside of you.

“Fuck,” he chokes, forehead pressing against your collarbone he rides out his bliss.

After a moment, he pulls back—his cock slipping out of you, and immediately his seed is sliding from your heat—mingling with your own arousal. The sight has you both turning a bright shade of red, and Leviathan begins to panic—his head whipping every which way in search of a towel, or literally anything.

You laugh at him, your hands reaching up to grip his sides, and he finally pauses. His gaze turns back to you—his orange eyes shy now that the intensity of the situation has died down, but you only smile at him. Tired, but reassuring. Like always.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” you ask, giggling when Levi sheepishly nods his head. “I’m glad then.”

“I’m sorry,” he speaks up after a moment, his hands reaching beneath you. He cradles you in his arms, carrying you to his bed. “Please don’t hate me now.”

“I could never,” you tell him honestly, your palm cupping his cheek as he bends over to set you down. His eyes meet yours—still apologetic—and you cough, your face turning pink and gaze darting away.

“And besides, I…um…actually really enjoyed that. So please don’t feel sorry.”

A wave of relief washes over Leviathan, and he topples you over with a hug.

“UGH. I was so worried! But man, that was sooooo hot!! I can’t believe you let me do that to you, and you enjoyed it!! I knew I liked you for a reason, Y/N!”

His outburst of emotion has you giggling—his face rubbing against your chest as he releases all his pent-up feelings. However, after a minute his words and movements stop, and you open your eyes, glancing down at him.

He’s looking at you with a serious face, but his eyes shine with excitement.

“Can I import you and start the game again? Oh! Or, if I buy more games like that will you let me make you my main character? Please?”

“I--,” you’re not sure what to say—feeling embarrassed all over again at the idea. He seems so enthralled by the idea, and while you’re completely flattered that he’d enjoyed the experience so much that he actually wants to do it again, right now your brain isn’t able to entertain the thought. You’re too exhausted.

“M-Maybe?? Ask me later.”

“Huhuhuhu okay~!” he giggles, hugging you tightly once more, and you can’t help but smile.

As dorky as he is—the Avatar of Envy is as equally endearing.

“Hey Levi?”

“Hmm?”

“Why didn’t you make the monster fuck me in the game?”

Your question has him turning pink—his gaze shying away from you.

“Because…”

“Because?”

“Because yourpussyismine--!”

You frown, not understanding.

“What?”

“Because your pussy is mine!!” he yells, his embarrassment exploding as you force the admission out of him.

Your eyes go wide, cheeks reddening at his declaration.

Well, you think, feeling like you may need a cold shower. That settles that.

#om!#obey me!#obey me! fic #obey me! smut #obey me! leviathan #leviathan smut #om! fic #om! smut #om! levi #obey me smut #leviathan fic #levi x mc #levi x reader #leviathan x reader #leviathan x mc

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gingersnapwolves · 4 years

Text

The Untamed, a brief summary [part 6/6]

Part One: Sword Wizard School

Part Two: The Search for the Yin Iron and the World’s Worst Summer Camp

Part Three: The Fall of Lotus Pier and the Sunshot Campaign

Part Four: The Downward Spiral

Part Five: Mo Manor, Hungry Sabers, and Yi City

Part Six: The Hidden Room, Burial Mounds Redux, and Guanyin Temple

Ext, Koi Tower [Lanling]

Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and Lan Xichen roll up to Koi Tower. Jiang Cheng is already there and decides to make it awkward for everyone by asking the Lans to introduce the masked Wei Wuxian, even though a) he knows or is at least pretty damn sure it’s Wei Wuxian, b) he knows that they know it’s Wei Wuxian, and c) he doesn’t know if they know that he knows. Thanks for making me type that sentence, Jiang Cheng.

ENTER A WOMAN WHO SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN A BETTER PRE-NUP

Jin Guangyao comes out. He still has a great smile and he and Lan Xichen are still cute together. But it gets really awkward because, if you’ll remember (and I don’t blame you if you don’t), Wei Wuxian is pretending to be Mo Xuanyu, who is Jin Guangyao’s half-brother who got thrown out of Koi Tower for bad behavior. How bad? Well, apparently Mo Xuanyu had a habit of harassing Jin Guangyao’s wife, Qin Su. Whoops.

Of course, it’s difficult to say whether or not Mo Xuanyu actually did this, since all we have to go on is what people say about him, and ‘maybe don’t believe every rumor you hear’ is like the main thesis of this show.

Int, Koi Tower [Lanling]

Nie Huaisang shows up too, and throws himself at Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen because “the old problems are solved, but new problems have arrived!” He is a drunk mess and it’s a little embarrassing for everyone.

Ext, Koi Tower [Lanling]

Jin Ling is being bullied. Wei Wuxian tells him that he should beat the bullies up, because once you’re an adult you can’t just beat people up anymore and it sucks. He teaches Jin Ling some moves and they have some nice nephew-uncle bonding time, even if Wei Wuxian is pretending to be a different uncle from the one he actually is.

Int, Koi Tower [Lanling]

Wei Wuxian uses a little paper man talisman spell to sneak into Jin Guangyao’s rooms. His wife is there and she’s upset about a letter she got. Jin Guangyao comes in and they argue about it. She keeps asking if what’s in it is true, and what happened to their son. He keeps asking her who wrote the letter and saying whoever it was only trying to upset her. When she won’t back down or answer his question, he burns the letter and then puts some sort of trance spell on her. Then he takes her into a hidden room behind a mirror.

The room is full of all sorts of treasure, including Wei Wuxian’s old sword, and more important, Nie Mingjue’s head. Yeah, just his head, with blinders over its eyes and everything. It’s weird. Wei Wuxian does a spell called Empathy to communicate with the dead guy.

Int, Nie Mingjue’s mind [currently Lanling]

We see flashbacks to him first meeting and promoting Meng Yao, who was getting bullied by the other soldiers, then to the day he exiled Meng Yao (with slight differences from the way it was presented earlier because unreliable narration is fun). We see them argue a few times over the years, then see Jin Guangyao playing music for Nie Mingjue (ostensibly to keep him from qi deviation). They get into a big fight, Nie Mingjue throws Jin Guangyao down the steps of Koi Tower, but then his brain basically explodes. Jin Guangyao looks pretty satisfied with how things are turning out but then Nie Huaisang runs up, shouting for his brother, and Jin Guangyao switches to looking super worried instead. He keeps Nie Huaisang from running to his brother, saying he won’t recognize him. Then Nie Mingjue is held down in the treasure room we’re currently in, still alive and fighting qi deviation, and Jin Guangyao tells Xue Yang to kill him (with Baxia, which Xue Yang is holding), which he does.

Int, the hidden room [Lanling]

Wei Wuxian separates his mind from Nie Mingjue’s and says ‘well that was fucked up’.

Jin Guangyao notices the little paper man and starts trying to catch it, or stab it. Wei Wuxian manages to use the paper man to manipulate his own former sword, which is very cool, and get away.

Jin Guangyao is like ‘gee, who could that have been, using Wei Wuxian’s paper man talisman to wield Wei Wuxian’s sword?’

Int, Koi Tower [Lanling]

Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji about all the fucked up stuff he just witnessed. They go to force their way into the hidden chamber. Lan Xichen catches up with them on the way. A bunch of Jin disciples try to stop them, including Jin Ling. Lan Xichen asks Jin Guangyao to let them in if he has nothing to hide. Jin Guangyao tries to demur, but Lan Xichen insists. With so many witnesses, he’s left with no choice.

Int, the hidden room [Lanling]

Nie Mingjue’s head is gone, but Qin Su is still there. Wei Wuxian goes over to try to talk to her, and Su She (remember this guy? Betrayed the Lan sect way back when, made friends with Jin Guangyao afterwards) says that ‘Mo Xuanyu’ just wanted to harass Qin Su some more. While Jin Guangyao is showing off a knife that’s part of his treasure, Qin Su grabs it and uses it to kill herself.

Everyone is super fucked up about this. (Don’t forget, Jin Ling is there! This 16 year old is having a Time of it.) Lan Xichen is like ‘holy shit my best friend’s wife just killed herself in front of me’ and Wei Wuxian basically blue-screens trying to figure out if she did that to herself because of whatever was in the letter, or if Jin Guangyao somehow coerced her to do it with the trance spell. (Unclear! Draw what conclusions you will.)

Jin Guangyao, who is either really upset or the world’s best actor (or both) asks them why they demanded to come into the treasure hall and what the fuck is going on. People outside, who have heard the commotion, come running in, including Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng (who looks at Wei Wuxian like ‘I leave you alone for five fucking minutes and now there’s a dead woman’).

Lan Xichen explains about the sword spirit and the body in Yi City and how they were looking for Nie Mingjue’s head. Jin Guangyao asks ‘did you really think I had our sworn brother’s head in my treasure room?’ Lan Xichen looks at his best friend cradling his dead wife that yes, he was in fact about to accuse of such a thing, and looks like he’s going to be physically ill. (Lan Wangji, however, is staring Jin Guangyao down like ‘listen up you lying asshole’ and Wei Wuxian is just impressed he’s found someone who’s even more shameless about crime than he is.)

Jin Guangyao takes the opportunity to blame ‘Mo Xuanyu’ for everything. He pulls his sword on Wei Wuxian, and Lan Wangji steps between them. Wei Wuxian tries to de-escalate things but it doesn’t work for shit because Su She attacks him, and he grabs his old sword off the display to protect himself. This is a Big Deal because the sword sealed itself when he died, so nobody except Wei Wuxian would be able to draw it. Oops. (Wei Wuxian has a sad moment with his sword for being so loyal, even though he was unable to use it for years before his death, since he had no golden core.) Then they run outside because fuck this shit.

Ext, Koi Tower [Lanling]

Jin Guangyao reassures Jin Ling that it’s not his fault he got tricked by Wei Wuxian, because Wei Wuxian is so evil and everything. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji try to get away but get surrounded. Jin Guangyao again calls Wei Wuxian out on being Wei Wuxian, so he takes off his mask. Everyone acts shocked even though 90% of the characters already knew this.

The Jin cultivators surround him. Wei Wuxian pushes Lan Wangji away and says to tell them that he didn’t know who Wei Wuxian was and that he was tricked by him. Lan Wangji refuses, immediately telling everyone he knew damn well that Wei Wuxian was Wei Wuxian and what the fuck are they gonna do about it? Wei Wuxian still tries to get him to leave, and Lan Wangji runs up to the line of what the Chinese censors will allow in terms of declarations of devotion between two men and plays gay chicken with it. He and Wei Wuxian smile at each other. Jin Guangyao has a ‘really? Right in front of my salad?’ look on his face.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji fight off the Jin guys but then Jin Ling stabs Wei Wuxian in the stomach. It sucks for everybody. Lan Wangji grabs him and they run away.

Int, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Lan Wangji has taken Wei Wuxian back here to heal. Lan Xichen is there, too, and says that it was with his permission. But he’s clearly pretty upset about what happened at Koi Tower, since he’s the one who forced Jin Guangyao to open the treasure room on Wei Wuxian’s word, and now he kind of looks like an asshole. He and Lan Wangji come as close to a fight as they’re capable of getting in. Lan Wangji thinks Lan Xichen should believe Wei Wuxian. Lan Xichen points out that he’s known Jin Guangyao for nearly 20 years at this point and he trusts him. Since neither of them saw Nie Mingjue’s head with their own eyes, they cannot know which of the two (Wei Wuxian or Jin Guangyao) is lying. It’s frustrating, but Lan Xichen has good reason to be wary, considering that witch hunts are what led to everything that happened to Wei Wuxian in the first place. In fact, Wei Wuxian is much less upset about it than Lan Wangji.

He tells Lan Xichen what he saw while using Empathy, and plays the Song of Clarity (the qi-deviation prevention music that Jin Guangyao was playing in the memories). Lan Xichen said he played it wrong and Wei Wuxian said he played it exactly as he heard it in the memory. They realize Jin Guangyao altered the song to cause qi deviation instead of prevent it. Lan Xichen still finds this pretty hard to believe, but he says he’ll test the version Wei Wuxian heard on himself and see what happens.

Lan Xichen walks Wei Wuxian back to where he’s been stashed, and Wei Wuxian takes the opportunity to ask him why Lan Wangji has so many whip scars. Lan Xichen explains that after Wei Wuxian died, Lan Wangji flipped his shit a bit and prevented all the other sects from sacking Wei Wuxian’s cave of neat stuff. It’s a bit vague but you get the impression he might have beaten up some important people. So Lan Qiren punished him with a whipping and three years of seclusion in the back hills of Cloud Recesses. Then they show him being beaten because sometimes this show’s continuity is not great.

(Lan Xichen is like ‘hey, you know my brother’s in love with you, right? I mean, only an idiot could not know that. But you really seem to be an idiot. Let me tell you a story about how our mother killed a guy and our father insisted on protecting her anyway. Please use your lone brain cell to connect the dots.’)

Lan Wangji comes back with booze for Wei Wuxian. They talk a bit about Lan Xichen, and Lan Wangji asks if they should tell him about the second flute. He talked to Wen Ning, who told him that he heard two flutes playing at Qiongqi Way. Wei Wuxian says he wanted to know at first, but now he’s not sure it matters. No matter what, people will always say he’s evil, but at least Lan Wangji still believes in him. He says to Lan Wangji ‘I’m sorry, and thank you’.

Int, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Jin Guangyao has turned up, and says he definitely believes Lan Xichen that Wei Wuxian isn’t there, but maybe they could take a look anyway, to reassure the other clans? Lan Xichen doesn’t even dignify it. Then Jin Guangyao says that they’re all going to band together and do a siege on the Burial Mounds because strange things have been happening there, fierce corpses are roaming, and obviously Wei Wuxian is there and up to no good. Obviously Lan Xichen knows that this is not true since Wei Wuxian has been convalescing at Cloud Recesses. He is fucked up by the fact that Jin Guangyao is lying straight to his face and he really can’t deny it. Jin Guangyao leaves, and Lan Xichen says he’s going to go to Koi Tower, while Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian plan to go to the Burial Mounds.

Ext, some random cabin [somewhere]

They meet up with Mianmian. She’s got a husband and a daughter and is a badass rogue cultivator. There’s really no point to this scene but it’s nice to see that at least one female character got a happy ending.

Then they meet up with Wen Ning, who’s been trying to scare people away from the area so they don’t encounter the fierce corpses that Jin Guangyao has raised with the yin iron (to make people think Wei Wuxian was doing it). They head to the Burial Mounds together.

Ext, the Burial Mounds [Yiling]

Wei Wuxian and company find all the juniors tied up in the cave, and they say they were abducted but they’re not sure who was behind it. Then an absolute fuckton of cultivators show up, including Jiang Cheng, Lan Qiren, Su She, and Nie Huaisang (who says he’s just there to make up the numbers). They’re all shouting about how they want Wei Wuxian dead for all the crime he committed last time around. Jin Guangyao’s not there because ‘someone tried to assassinate him’ that morning, and Lan Xichen is tending to his injuries. Wei Wuxian looks extremely skeptical.

Then they get attacked by fierce corpses. The gathered cultivators realize that they’ve all had their spiritual power leached away by ill-gotten means. Ruh-roh! They all end up hiding in the cave.

Int, the Burial Mounds [Yiling]

Wei Wuxian sits everyone down for an Agatha Christie reveal. He deduces that Su She is the one who took away their spiritual power, by playing malicious music on their way up the mountain. Su She denies it but Wei Wuxian tricks him into revealing that his own power is still intact.

Su She ruins the protection seal and then uses the teleportation talisman and bounces. Wen Ning tries to fight off the horde with some help from the juniors, who still have their spiritual power, but there are too many. Wei Wuxian paints a lure flag on himself and uses himself as bait, with Lan Wangji killing the fierce corpses, so the others can escape. When he catches up, he half-collapses into Lan Sizhui’s arms and Lan Sizhui is really worried about him. It’s cute. Wen Ning looks at Lan Sizhui and realizes he’s actually Wen Yuan.

Ext, some docks [Yunmeng]

They’re heading back to Lotus Pier to figure out what to do. Wen Ning comes over to talk to Lan Sizhui. The juniors are scared of him but decide he seems harmless enough, and he did just help them fight the horde, after all. He tells Lan Sizhui that he looks like a cousin of his.

The parents tell their kids to stop associating with evil, and the kids tell their parents to get a grip, and it’s beautiful.

Ext, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

Jiang Cheng won’t allow Wei Wuxian in, so he and Lan Wangji hang out on the steps. Wen Ning tells Lan Sizhui stories about the little boy that Wei Wuxian used to plant in the dirt.

Int, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

Some mysterious ladies show up. Jiang Cheng talks to them for a while and then gathers everybody together (although he still makes Wei Wuxian basically stand in the doorway).

Mysterious lady A is a prostitute who was there when Jin Guangshan died. Basically Jin Guangyao had his father fucked to death. It’s gross, although to be fair, couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. Then all the prostitutes except her were murdered. (Why she was spared is actually never explained in the show. It’s because she was friends with Jin Guangyao’s mother and was nice to him when he was a kid.)

Mysterious lady B is a maid who worked for Qin Su’s mother. She tells everyone that she wrote the letter to Qin Su, telling her that her mother had a secret. Qin Su is not the daughter of the man she always thought, but was actually conceived during an act of rape by Jin Guangshan. She and Jin Guangyao were half-siblings. It’s strongly implied (although never outright stated if I recall correctly) that their son had some developmental delays because of this and Jin Guangyao had him killed so nobody would find out. He then blamed his son’s death on a sect that was opposing him on some political stuff and wiped them out.

Everyone is Big Time Shook over all this news. They immediately begin calling for Jin Guangyao’s head.

Wei Wuxian is frankly disgusted. Because sure, he thinks Jin Guangyao’s evil and everything, but it’s sickening to him how quickly everyone turns against him, just based on a few rumors – so much like what happened to him. He wants to know where the ladies came from, and why they came forward after so much time has gone by. But in the end he acknowledges that the gathered cultivators being against Jin Guangyao helps him, and he can’t convince them of anything anyway, so whatever.

They go to the ancestral shrine so he can pay his respects to his parents. Jiang Cheng finds him there and picks a big fight. It’s really painful for everyone. After the first couple minutes, Wei Wuxian tries to leave but Jiang Cheng won’t let him go. Wei Wuxian ends up passing out. Lan Wangji tries to leave with him but Jiang Cheng is using the lightning whip to try to stop them.

Wen Ning shows up and he’s pissed. He tells Jiang Cheng the truth about his golden core, in basically the meanest way possible, directly targeting his insecurities with dead accuracy. It’s fucking brutal. Was Jiang Cheng being a dick? Yes. Did he deserve everything that Wen Ning said to him in this scene? Not really, given that it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know. (Does Wen Ning have a right to be pissed at Jiang Cheng on general principle because Jiang Cheng didn’t help him and his family back then? Now we’re getting into the reams of meta that are written about this show.)

Anyway, in telling Jiang Cheng, Lan Wangji finally finds out, too. He’s clearly horrified to find out that Wei Wuxian went through something so awful and he didn’t even know. He picks Wei Wuxian up and they leave.

Ext, a boat [Yunmeng]

Wen Ning gives Lan Wangji the details about the golden core swap. Lan Wangji looks like he wants to cry for an hour. I feel you, Lan Wangji.

Wei Wuxian wakes up and tells Lan Wangji not to be mad at Jiang Cheng, he’s just a jerk sometimes. He wants to pick lotus seeds but Lan Wangji reminds him that the lake they’re on belongs to someone and so the lotus seeds are private property. Then he picks some and gives them to Wei Wuxian anyway. It’s super romantic. Wen Ning pretends he’s not the world’s thirdest wheel.

Ext, Yunping City [Yunmeng]

So while Wei Wuxian was in the hidden room, he saw a deed for a temple in this city. They figure it has to be important since it was in Jin Guangyao’s safe, so they go to check it out. It has a weird vibe.

Ext, Guanyin Temple [Yunmeng]

Literally so much happens in this scene you guys. It’s almost 4 entire episodes long. Let me try to sum up as quickly as possible.

First of all, the show never actually bothers to explain why Jin Guangyao is even here. It’s actually because this is where his mother is buried (and he had the temple built just for that). He’s planning to go on the run because the jig is obviously up, and wants to bring her remains with him. He also wants to get one last date with Lan Xichen in, possibly apologize for ruining everything, et c. Lan Xichen was with him in Koi Tower, and Jin Guangyao tricked him and sealed his spiritual power, then carted him off to the temple. Romance!

Anyway Jin Guangyao doesn’t get that date because literally everybody in the damn story shows up. First Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, for obvious reasons. He has Lan Xichen as a hostage so it’s pretty easy to catch them. Then Jin Ling shows up. Then Su She shows up, which is less problematic since he’s a henchman, but he brought Nie Huaisang with him because he found him passed out in a gutter or something. Jin Guangyao can’t just kill Jin Ling and Nie Huaisang because he still has feelings I guess.

Then Jiang Cheng shows up! He makes a grand entrance and then promptly gets his ass kicked. This is partly because Jin Guangyao tells Wei Wuxian that Jiang Cheng found out about the golden core thing, which upsets him. Lan Xichen tells everybody not to let Jin Guangyao talk because he’ll manipulate you and get the better of you. Everyone proceeds to let Jin Guangyao talk for the next forty-five minutes.

At some point during all this they confirm that yes, Jin Guangyao sent Jin Zixuan to Qiongqi Way to get him killed, and that Su She was his accomplice playing the evil music. Su She is also the one who cursed Jin Zixun. Jin Guangyao’s basically like “whatever, I said what I said”.

They finally get the coffin dug up, but instead of Jin Guangyao’s mother, Nie Mingjue’s body, complete with head, is inside. Jin Guangyao has no idea how he got there and he freaks out, which seems reasonable.

Wei Wuxian points out that while Jin Guangyao has been so impressed with himself and neatly manipulated everyone around him, someone has been pulling his strings as well. He points out the letter sent to Qin Su, the emergence of the mysterious ladies at Lotus Pier, the release of the sword spirit at Mo Manor, even his own resurrection. Jin Guangyao freaks out more.

At this point they’ve dicked around long enough for Lan Xichen’s spiritual power to come back. He puts his sword at Jin Guangyao’s throat. Jin Guangyao makes sad ‘you don’t like me anymore?’ eyes at Lan Xichen. Lan Xichen responds ‘dude, you killed, like, everybody’. Jin Guangyao admits that this is a fair rebuttal, but begs his forgiveness and pity anyway. Lan Xichen seems to forget that he literally just told everyone not to let Jin Guangyao talk because he’ll manipulate you.

Then Wen Ning shows up, and he’s been possessed by the sword spirit. He chops Jin Guangyao’s arm off. Ouch. Then he attacks Jin Ling, because the sword is just pissed off about everything, which seems fair. Wen Ning manages to fight off the possession and not kill Jin Ling, so good for him. Wei Wuxian gets the sword suppressed using his awesome mojo.

Lan Sizhui shows up at some point. I really don’t remember why the hell he’s there. Late night field trip?

Nie Huaisang screams that Su She attacked him, and his leg is bleeding. The sword springs right back to angry spiritude and murders Su She. Wei Wuxian is like “wtf I just put you to bed” and has to do it again.

Lan Xichen patches Nie Huaisang up. Everyone else sits around thinking about how truly fucked up the last 2 hours have been, especially Jin Ling, who is really having trouble with realizing one of his uncles was evil and not the one he thought. He is going through it. Meanwhile Jin Guangyao is kind of slumped against a pillar behind Lan Xichen because somehow he is not dead after losing an arm, which seems kind of whack when you consider what killed some of our other characters.

Then Nie Huaisang shouts, “behind you!” and Lan Xichen, assuming that Jin Guangyao is about to attack him, whips around and stabs him through the chest. Double ouch. Jin Guangyao is, understandably, upset at being run through. Nie Huaisang says he had a knife but Jin Guangyao calls bullshit (yes, while being run through, I don’t even know), saying even though he’s done tons of terrible things, he never once hurt Lan Xichen. Meanwhile Lan Xichen is having a complete mental breakdown, standing there with his sword in Jin Guangyao’s chest. Jin Guangyao realizes that Nie Huaisang is the one who orchestrated all this, in revenge after Jin Guangyao killed his brother. Also the angry spirits are back. A lot is happening. The temple starts to collapse. Jin Guangyao asks Lan Xichen to die with him, and it looks like Lan Xichen is going to do so, but then Jin Guangyao pushes him clear at the last second. Lan Wangji grabs him and gets him out of the temple before it collapses.

Ext, Guanyin Temple [Yunmeng]

Everyone is injured and in various states of shell shock. A ton of people show up and start fussing. Wei Wuxian reveals that the last curse mark from Mo Xuanyu is gone, indicating that Jin Guangyao was the last person Mo Xuanyu was holding a grudge against. (Presumably for throwing him out of the Jin sect and back to his abusive family, which Jin Guangyao presumably did because Mo Xuanyu found out about Qin Su’s parentage, which presumably Nie Huaisang told him. I know, it’s a lot of presuming. I’m trying not to be biased and pass judgment lol.)

Lan Xichen asks Nie Huaisang if Jin Guangyao really had a knife. Nie Huaisang prevaricates rather than answering.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are leaving. Jin Ling asks Jiang Cheng if he doesn’t want to talk to Wei Wuxian before he leaves. Jiang Cheng says everyone is going back to where they belong. He flashes back to just after his parents were killed, when he vanished from the inn, and we see him realize Wei Wuxian was about to get caught and lure the soldiers away. All this time we thought he just wandered off and got captured like an asshole, but no, he was saving Wei Wuxian and never told anybody. In the present, he says ‘take care’ to himself as Wei Wuxian leaves. Five thousand ‘Yunmeng bros reconciliation’ fics spring into existence.

Ext, the forest [presumably still Yunmeng]

Lan Sizhui approaches Wei Wuxian and tells him what little he’s remembered about his childhood, and that he’s realized his family name used to be Wen. Wei Wuxian realizes that he’s Wen Yuan, and that Lan Wangji saved him back then. It’s super touching and I happy cried, like, so much.

Ext, Cloud Recesses [Gusu]

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are standing around by the waterfall acting married. Lan Wangji is chief cultivator now. Wei Wuxian has finally figured out how Lan Wangji recognized him even though he was wearing a mask when they first met up again – it’s because the song he was playing is the same song that Lan Wangji sang to him in the cave of the murder turtle. Lan Wangji actually wrote that song just for him and has never played it for anybody else.

Nie Huaisang comes for a visit. Wei Wuxian asks him if he wants to be chief cultivator. Nie Huaisang tells them that no, he was really only in it for the revenge. It’s awkward, especially given all the morally questionable choices Nie Huaisang made while on his revenge quest and the fact that Lan Xichen is super fucked up about everything, but we all hope that they’ll eventually work it out. Or at least I hope that. Your mileage may vary.

Ext, a mountain [the world]

Wei Wuxian goes off to wander for a little while. The show really makes us think that it’ll end with the two of them splitting up, but then at the very last second they meet again. We all collapse into sobbing, emotional heaps.

~end of part 6~

Characters/naming notes, as promised

I use the Mandarin for names and titles in fanfiction because it just reads better. Some of these don’t have an exact translation, so, the original is better, here are the basic terms you need to know:

Zongzhu = sect leader

Gongzi = young master

Furen = madam

Guniang = maiden/miss

Ge = older brother

Jie = older sister

Xiong = kind of like “bro” in a friendly sort of way

Da, Er, San = first, second, third – these are used in conjunction with the above, so “da-ge” is “oldest brother”, “Lan-er-gongzi” is “second young master Lan”

A- = an affectionate diminutive

Wei Wuxian (courtesy name)

Birth name: Wei Ying (only Lan Wangji calls him this)

Title: Yiling-laozu (used mostly in the second half of the show)

Also called: Wei-gongzi (by Lan Xichen, Wen Ning, and assorted others), Wei-xiong (by Nie Huaisang), A-Xian (by Jiang Yanli)

Lan Wangji (courtesy name)

Birth name: Lan Zhan (only Wei Wuxian calls him this)

Title: Hanguang-Jun (by the juniors and various others)

Also called: Lan-er-gongzi (by various characters)

Jiang Cheng (birth name)

Courtesy name: Jiang Wanyin (Lan Wangji calls him this)

Also called: Jiang-gongzi before he’s sect leader, Jiang-zongzhu afterwards, A-Cheng (by Jiang Yanli)

Jiang Yanli (only name given, not specific if birth or courtesy)

Also called: a-jie (by Jiang Cheng), shijie (by Wei Wuxian), Jiang-guniang (by pretty much everyone else)

Lan Xichen (courtesy name)

Birth name: Lan Huan, but nobody uses this

Title: Zewu-Jun (most people use this)

Also called: Lan-zongzhu (I think a few people use this instead of his title), xiongzhang (by Lan Wangji, this is a formal word for older brother), er-ge (by Jin Guangyao)

Wen Qing (only name given, birth)

Also called: Wen-guniang (by Jiang Cheng), jiejie or just jie (by Wen Ning)

Wen Ning (birth name)

Courtesy name: Wen Qionglin (used very rarely)

Title: Ghost General (never used to his face, I don’t think)

Also called: A-Ning (by Wen Qing)

Nie Huaisang (only name given, courtesy)

Also called: Nie-xiong (by Wei Wuxian), Nie-gongzi (by assorted others)

Nie Mingjue (only name given, courtesy)

Title: Chifeng-Zun (called this by many people)

Also called: Nie-zongzhu (by Meng Yao and others), Mingjue-xiong (by Lan Xichen), da-ge (by Nie Huaisang, then later by Lan Xichen and Meng Yao)

Jin Zixuan (only name given, courtesy)

Also called: Jin-gongzi (by most people)

Meng Yao (birth name)

Later in series, courtesy name: Jin Guangyao (used commonly)

Title: Lianfang-Zun (used occasionally)

Also called: A-Yao (by Lan Xichen), Xiandu (after he becomes Chief Cultivator), Jin-zongzhu at some point probably

Hoo boy all. That was a lot, huh? “I’ll write a brief summary,” she said. 20 thousand words later ... but this was as condensed as I could make it without it reading too disjointedly! So I hope you’ve all enjoyed and that this will help those of you who want to plunge into the fandom but didn’t have the time or the spoons for the show itself.

If you have any questions about something that wasn’t clear or a part of the story you want more detail on, feel free to ask me anything!

Love y’all!

#liveblog #the untamed

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tarteausuga · 4 years

Text

Not Like This

In which you’re caught in a situation where no one can be happy

WC: 3K

CW: Jungwoo x Reader (x Mark vaguely) angst, a lot of angst. Cheating, unhealthy relationship, mild manipulation. Usual disclaimer that the characters are purely works of fiction and are not directly correlated to their namesakes in any way.

Prompt: “We can’t keep this up forever.” Part of the Candy Hearts Collab (click link for other members) hosted by @127-mile

Outwardly, the last word you would use to describe Jungwoo was “exhilarating” but he always had a way of surprising you. He was amazing. Amazing in his ability to show anyone exactly what he wanted. He had you fooled for a long time as well. Soft spoken, unassuming, funny Jungwoo who was polite to everyone he came across, put a smile on everyone's face and was the perfect boyfriend to his girlfriend.

He treated her like a princess. At least from what you could see. Watching them was pure agony and it didn't help that he had the audacity to occasionally take a glance at you with that conniving smirk on his face, all while with his girlfriend. Were you jealous of her? Rarely. Pity is what you felt whenever you passed by her but more than anything, guilt was the heaviest weight of all.

What am I doing here? You questioned yourself whenever you were with him. He was nothing like how he was with his girlfriend or friends. At least not with you. But who could deny late night adventures with him? Who was he to you anyway? A friend? He couldn't be your boyfriend… at least not now. You felt ashamed to know that you were an accomplice to infidelity. They looked so damn perfect. But were they?

[2:34AM] jungwoo: hey, you up? I'm outside your place.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as they adjusted to the light from your phone.

[2:36AM] you: I am now?? It's so late, what are you doing?

[2:37AM] jungwoo: not sure, let's find something together :)

[2:37AM] you: I'm not wearing pants…

[2:38AM] jungwoo: is that an invitation? ;)

[2:38AM] you: shut up, I'm coming down now.

You begrudgingly pull on a pair of track pants and throw on a hat to cover your bed head before leaving to meet up with Jungwoo. If it were anyone else, you would have pretended to not see the text at all. There always seemed to be this inescapable pull towards him whether you liked it or not because those moments where it was just the two of you in the dead of night made you feel like time slowed down. The way he accepted you into his arms and pulled you in to fit perfectly into his ever so perfectly proportioned frame - it felt like home. He kissed you ever so softly but deeply enough to make you believe that those kisses were meant for you and you alone.

But you knew that they weren't.

The tricky thing with Jungwoo is that he made you feel like the most important person to him while also feeling like he didn't want to be seen with you. Otherwise, he wouldn't call you when most of the world was asleep. You wouldn't have to sneak around behind everyone's backs. You wouldn't have to fantasize about the simplest things like holding his hand while he walked you to class.

And yet, it was worth it to you. For some bizarre reason, you were just happy to be with him and didn't care under what circumstances.

"Hey baby," he pulled you in and placed a kiss on your forehead. "Sleepy?" He smiled as he lifted your head up by your chin. The sleep was apparent in your eyes but that softened him even further. The layers of his outer persona melted away and suddenly you were left with Jungwoo in the purest form.

"What are we doing?" You hold back a yawn. He was so warm, so comforting, you just wanted to fade into him.

"I don't know yet but I'm sure we can find someone, right?" He smiled and reached out for you to follow along.

Night and day, that was exactly how Jungwoo behaved. The daytime version was this upbeat guy that made everyone laugh. People gravitated towards him naturally. He was the sun and you were Pluto. At night, the real Jungwoo would come out, the Jungwoo you fell in love with despite your best efforts to distance yourself when you found out he wasn't single. But something about him was irresistible. It could be the way he confided in you. His fears, his dreams, his most obscure thoughts that didn't fit into his days so he expressed them to you in his nights. Maybe that's why he wanted to keep you in the dark but that didn't make things any better.

Even so, with the guilt locked away in the back of your head, you happily spent the dark hours with Jungwoo. It was never anything extravagant. You often bought convenience store food and sat on a random park bench, talking about anything and everything. You took turns sneaking into each other's apartments in efforts to not wake your respective roommates. It was tradition to leave before daybreak so you often woke up by yourself, wondering if the night before was a dream.

There were times when you questioned your own sanity. Did Jungwoo only exist in your dreams? When it came to the Jungwoo you see everyday on campus, he was a different person. The extended periods of not seeing him for weeks at a time convinced you that maybe it wasn't real at all. The quiet glances you exchanged during the day were purely coincidental and your dreams were just dreams.

But when you least expected it and you had begun accepting that Jungwoo was just a dream, he would pull you away at random points during the day to remind you that he was very much real. Is this what love feels like? The rush of pure elation when you're with The One? The cliche feeling of time stopping? Or was this the excitement of getting caught and maybe worse, the everlasting awareness of how wrong this was that you tried to keep tucked away in the darkest parts of your mind.

---

It had been almost a month since Jungwoo last lured you out from the warmth of your bed. A month since you last felt his lips on yours. A month since he made you laugh until your sides ached. Maybe he finally realized this wasn't right for either of us. You conceded. It was time to move on. And though you kept waiting for him to find you in the halls to pull you into an empty office or lecture hall, it didn't happen. Instead, you felt the pull of someone wanting you both day and night.

Mark had been your friend for a while. The two of you were in the same group for orientation week and for some reason, you kept in touch. He often joked that it was because you are both perfectly awkward to the point where you combined to make one functional person. No matter the reason, he was a good friend but you were still surprised when he asked you out. You could say you saw it coming with your best friend constantly saying how Mark could never stop asking about you but it never clicked in your head to be true. Likely too caught up in Jungwoo's world, you never stopped to experience your own.

So you said yes.

Things felt so easy with Mark. It was nice to not have to sneak around to go out with someone you kind of liked. He walked you to class, held your hand and did the simplest things to make your heart flutter. Mark never pulled you away for no reason. He didn't take your breath away but he certainly made you feel safe and warm. You tried your best to forget about Jungwoo and it was starting to work. Eventually, Jungwoo became an afterthought with Mark around but as always, Jungwoo always had a way with you.

Walking to get lunch one day, you felt a sudden pull on your wrist. Turning, you see Jungwoo. Your brain told you to pull away at risk of Mark seeing you but your heart wanted to follow Jungwoo. And follow him, you did, into an empty classroom with the lights off. The moment you entered, Jungwoo closed the door behind you and pulled you into his arms.

"I missed you." His voice nearly broke.

"Where have you been?" You melt into his body.

"Things got a bit complicated…" he looked down, staring at your lips.

"Tell me." You stared back.

Before either of you could say anything more, you kissed each other desperately. A craving you didn't know you had was being fulfilled and it was truly intoxicating. You were addicted to him. As your mind finally caught up to what you were doing, the thought of Mark being hurt by what you were doing flashed into your brain. The guilt got caught in your throat and you pushed him away.

"What are you doing?" He said, offended that you would reject him at all.

"We can't keep this up forever." You say as you gasp for a breath.

"What do you mean?" He tries to pull you back into the kiss.

"This, Jungwoo!" You finally push him off and motion to the

"Can we not do this now? Please." He reached for your hand but you pulled away. As much as you missed him and wanted to dissolve into his arms again, it was too much.

"We do this now or we're done. We're hurting people and it's not okay anymore." You cross your arms.

"What? You really want to be with Mark? Yeah right, like you're not just using him to-" he was cut off by the ringing of your phone. He tries to snatch it away from you but you pull away before answering the call.

"Hey Mark." You try to sound as normal as possible.

"Hey, I thought we were meeting up after class. Are you okay?" He says.

Jungwoo is now glaring at you and the waves of jealousy were more apparent now than ever but you continue your conversation, "Yeah, sorry, I had to talk to my professor about something. I'm heading over to meet you now."

The call ended and you wished that would mark the end of your confrontation with Jungwoo. "Don't go." He sounded like he was begging.

"This isn't going to end well for anyone. We need to just end things before we can't turn back." You sigh as you collect your bag. It took every ounce of your being to not plant a kiss on his cheek to say goodbye like you usually did. This was likely the last time you would have this chance but you pass in favour of just cutting things off completely.

You tried to forget about Jungwoo. You really tried. You wanted to have the same feelings that you had for Jungwoo with Mark but it wasn't sitting right at all.

"Are you okay?" Mark asked from across the table at the cafe you two were studying at.

"Hmm?" You responded.

"You seem really spaced out. Did something happen?" He said with honest concern.

"No… well yeah but… it's complicated." You struggle to explain.

"What's going on?" He held your hand but you instinctively pulled away, leaving him confused and mildly offended.

"You're going to think I'm a terrible person."

"You think peaches are better than watermelon, how much worse can you get?" He smiled and you reciprocated.

Why does he have to be so nice and cute? You cursed at yourself.

"Peaches are a more practical fruit than watermelon." You joke back and the two of you chuckle but it didn't make things any easier to say.

"Whatever it is, I'm your friend. I know I asked you out and I'm not quite sure what we are at this point but I like you no matter how bad you think what you're doing is." He assured you and you once again, curse yourself for what you're about to do.

"Hypothetically…" you say slowly and he listens intently. "Hypothetically, let's say you're seeing someone but they're already someone's boyfriend or girlfriend…"

"Hypothetically that would be messed up." Mark concludes.

"I'm not done." You glare at him and he shrugs. "But hypothetically, let's say the person you're seeing is more real and raw with you than anyone else. And you feel a stronger connection to them than anyone else."

"I think hypothetically," he emphasizes for your sake, "it's still wrong. Everyone would just end up hurt in the end no matter what happens." He sits back in his chair, waiting for your response.

"Yeah, I know. Why do I have to have a conscience?" You bury your head into your crossed arms across your open textbook.

"Is that what's happening?" Mark leaned in.

"Yeah but I broke things off." You say with your head still hidden from the world.

"For me?" Mark smirks but you look up to glare at him.

"Partially for you but mainly because I'm fully aware that it's wrong." You sigh.

"I'll be honest, I like you a lot. But I think with the way you talk about this person, you're still attached to them."

"I'm sorry, Mark." You pout at him.

He holds your hand again, lifting it up to place a kiss on your hand. "I'll be alright. I just hope you will be too.”

---

"I don't get why you broke up with Mark. That guy is like… The ideal boyfriend." Your best friend ranted over the phone.

"We weren't together so we didn't break up." You clarify as you squeeze the bridge of your nose. She had been your best friend for 15 years so, naturally, she had an amazing talent of giving you headaches with little to no effort.

"Are you even aware of how many girls who are absolutely in love with that guy? And you broke up with him?" She practically yells.

"I'm aware and once again, we didn't break up!” You remind her.

"Whatever. You're the one whining about being alone on Valentine's Day."

"No, you're the one who called me to whine about Valentine's Day and you're the one with a boyfriend. What? Jaehyun only got you one dozen roses except for two?" You chuckle.

"We've been together for two years. It makes sense to get two dozen."

"Alright, alright. Go talk to him about it, I'm sure he'll make it up to you in other ways." You say suggestively and you swear you could hear her blush over the phone.

"Shut up! Oh my god. Please call Mark and ask him to hang out. You're too cute to be alone today." She said before you hung up on her.

You tossed your phone onto your bed before doing the same with your body. Maybe I should call Mark… But I'm the one who ended things… I could call him but he's probably with his girlfriend. You groaned in frustration as your best friend's words resonated in your head. She's right though. Mark is the ideal boyfriend but so is Jungwoo… If he were single. Why is this happening to me?

A knock came from the front door of your apartment. Your roommate was out for the night with her boyfriend so you were puzzled about who would be coming to visit.

"Hey." A slightly disheveled Jungwoo greeted you when you opened the door.

You try to harden your expression for him but he's truly your weakness. Especially in this state where he's looking like he hadn't slept in who knows how long. "What are you doing here?" You finally ask when you let him in and he collapses on the sofa.

"I'm here to see you." He says but you roll your eyes.

"Okay but why? Why aren't you spending Valentine's Day with your girlfriend?" You interrogated him.

"Oh. We broke up." He said nonchalantly.

"You what? When?"

"A week ago… I was trying to call or message you but I couldn't get through." He says and you tell him you blocked his phone number. "That's harsh… but what about you? Why aren't you with Mark?" He throws the ball back in your court.

"We stopped seeing each other…" you say quietly and Jungwoo looks at you with wide eyes.

"When?"

"Right after I broke things off with you. Things just didn't feel right." You explained but realized you had done a terrible job at that.

"I see…" The two of you sat in silence for a few moments before you heard him say quietly, “she was cheating on me the whole time.”

Shocked was an understatement for the flood of emotions you were suddenly experiencing. “That doesn’t make what we were doing any less wrong.” You resolved to say.

“I know. I don’t really know why I didn’t just break up with her…”

“So… what? You just used me to make yourself feel better?” You accused him.

“What? No! I care for you more than I have ever cared about anyone else.”

“Then why didn’t you leave her? Why did you choose her?” You stood up, demanding an answer.

“I…” He started but hit a wall in trying to come up with a reasonable answer. This wasn’t how he was planning for this to go. This wasn’t how he played this out in his head. What could he possibly say to make you less upset with him? How could he fix this?

“It’s funny because I thought that we really had something and I was delusional enough to think that we could work…” You started and he stared at you intently. “But I’m still just your second choice.”

“You’re not…” he said, sounding out of breath.

“I am! You wouldn’t be here otherwise. You wouldn’t have started anything with me if I was your first choice. You wouldn’t keep me in the literal dark. You wouldn’t sneak away with me. You wouldn’t keep this a secret.”

“Hold on. I thought you liked that stuff.” He stood up in order to tower over you again.

“It was fun but so was dating someone in public… like normal. Not having to feel like I’m doing something wrong anytime I look at you or think about you.” You said, stepping away when he tried to pull you into his arms.

“You make it sound like I was the one doing something wrong?” He started to sound angry.

“That’s not what I’m saying. We both were. I knew it was wrong too and that guilt was just too much.”

“So… what now?” he asked

“We’re done.”

#jungwoo angst #jungwoo scenarios #jungwoo imagines #jungwoo scenario #jungwoo imagine #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct scenario #nct imagines #nct imagine #collab

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backofthebookshelf · 4 years

Text

One of the nice things about the way the TMA fandom has reached full large-fandom levels of toxicity is that I no longer care if people get mad at me for my opinions on characters! So, some Georgie meta.

(Because fandom is and always has been Like That, I do feel the need to clarify here that I love Georgie, she's one of my favorite characters, characters are more interesting because of their flaws, and I have no investment in the idea that women or female characters are inherently better or more emotionally competent than men or male characters. If I talk a lot about her relationship with Jon, it's because Jon is our point of view character and also the person she interacts with the most. Also, this rambles, sorry.)

I've been thinking about the Season 4 Jon Trauma post and how much I liked the way it talked about Georgie, and it's convinced me that if Georgie could feel fear, she's the one who'd be most afraid of Jon out of all of them. She's the one protagonist we have whose only interaction with the powers has been as a direct victim of them. She doesn't know what they feel like from the inside, like Jon and Melanie; she doesn't know what they're like when they're someone you love, like Basira; she doesn't even know what they're like as petty middle management, like Martin and Tim. What she knows is that one time a monster ate her (only) friend and traumatized her so badly she spent a year in a suicidal depression.

And now her ex - and yes, Jon and Georgie have a remarkably comfortable relationship in the beginning of season three, but they're still exes and they broke up for reasons, even if we don't know exactly what they are - has turned up on her doorstep, shaking and possibly bloody, with nowhere else to go and no access to his home. He's clearly lying about what's going on. He repeatedly violates her house rules. And then he tells her that he's turning into one of those same kinds of monsters that traumatized her and ate her friend. It's clearly enough to override any remaining affection she had for him, and by any definition he has now positioned himself as a trigger.

(Through no fault of his own: the only real response he has to Georgie's statement is "I can't believe you didn't tell me." She's the one who assumes that he Knew, somehow, that she also had a statement; she's the one who suggests he had alternatives. Both suggestions are plausible but we don't actually know for certain that either are true.)

But Georgie isn't afraid of Jon because Georgie can't be afraid -at least, according to her. I'm not sure how much I believe this in the grand scheme of things; it seems like an extremely unlikely mechanism for one of the fears to have. It seems much more likely to me that she's just never met anything as terrifying as that encounter was, and her subjective sense of fear has been massively recalibrated. In which case not only meeting but having hosted in your home another monster who self-describes as similar to the one that was so terrifying that literal threats to your life are no longer distressing would...probably ping. But she's conceptualized herself as a person who doesn't feel fear; it's even possible that was part of her recovery, identifying this as a possible benefit of what would otherwise have been a universally terrible, soul-breaking experience. She looked existential terror in the face and survived, and came out of it a person who cannot be afraid of anything left on this earth. That's kind of a superhero origin story, and I can't blame her for it. I think anyone with a mental illness has at least tried to find ways in which their suffering has made them a better, stronger person.

But whether she's suppressing and rationalizing away any fear she feels or she genuinely doesn't feel any of it, she does frequently behave as though her lack of fear gives her a more objective view of the situation than anyone else. I don't believe she actually uses the word "just," but it drips from her every interaction with Jon after Dead Woman Walking. Why doesn't he just stop reading the statements? Why doesn't he just quit? And, in Zombie, I honestly can't interpret her reaction to Jon when he wakes up from his coma as anything other than, Why doesn't he just die? If he hates being this so much, if he really doesn't want to be a monster, why doesn't he just die?

I really would like to think that it goes without saying that this is, at the very least, a massive failure of empathy, but she's so explicit about it and fandom spent so much time basically agreeing with her that apparently it doesn't. Not only is Georgie not afraid of the situation, but (and this is the part that makes me wonder if she's not rationalizing, rather than being supernaturally unable to feel fear) she can't possibly fathom how afraid everyone else is, and she never tries. She persists in treating the whole awful situation, as @findingfeather's post says, like this is a mundane problem with people who are refusing to help themselves, rather than a supernatural trap that has been specifically built to be inescapable.

Now, let me be clear, even if she were talking to, say, a drug addict who nearly killed themselves because they were in denial about how much of a problem they had, her attitude would be unforgivable. But in this case Jon had no choice in whether or not to become addicted to statements; it was done to him in such a way that he didn't notice it was happening until withdrawal was already incapacitating. He also didn't have the option to leave, as Tim's extended vacation made clear. And, on top of all of that, the whole reason he was in a coma in the first place was that he was trying to save the world. (Neither he nor she knows at this point that he was doing nothing of the kind, so that's really not relevant.) And - look, when Jon came to her after the end of season two, he was asking for help. When he rejected the kind of help that she offered it was because he knew it didn't apply to the problems he actually had, but she treats that like it's his problem, which is something like offering a leg splint to a person bleeding out from a gunshot wound and getting offended when they tell you that won't work. He was very clear that what was happening scared him and he didn't know what to do about it, and her only suggestion was "walk away," which he literally could not do, for multiple reasons.

She's lucky Jon has pretty much precisely zero self-worth at this point, because anyone else would have cut her off completely for behaving like a fucking asshole.

I say "she's lucky" because frankly, even though she says that she wants nothing more to do with him, she turns up at least twice in the Institute after that, with the excuse that she's picking up Melanie to take her to therapy. I don't know about you, but I have never once gone to someone's workplace to pick them up and gone snooping around inside, and no matter how fascinatingly weird that workplace is, I definitely can't imagine doing so when I know that workplace also contains a person I have definitely decided I never want to speak to again. She goes into the Archives, for Christ's sake, and she listens outside Jon's office door for long enough to catch a bit of the recording before letting herself in (so it's very clear she knows who's in there).

Now I'm not trying to paint her as a monster here; Georgie would hardly be the first person to have second thoughts about cutting off someone they still care about, or to break that boundary that they set themselves when they realize they do still want to know how that person is doing. But the fact is that she positions herself as having the moral high ground in every single discussion they have and that's just not true. She is not literally a supernatural monster, true, but if season four did anything with the concept of monsters it was breaking down the difference between "supernaturally driven no-longer-human" and "person capable of caring and empathy." (That's a whole different meta, though, one that I will get around to someday.) Not that Jon is any better, in that encounter specifically, at dealing with a complicated and contentious relationship - he deliberately goads her, even if he doesn't use compulsion. But that's the thing, they're both exes who have had a falling out and aren't handling it very well. Neither of them is in the right.

All of which makes me really wonder what her relationship with Melanie is actually like. We don't actually see hardly any of it directly, and of what we do, well, Melanie sounds like she's still high on painkillers, so it's hard to take that as an indication of anything. But given that people (who are not intentionally trying to manipulate those around them) tend to, y'know, be fundamentally the same person in their various relationships, though it may manifest in different ways, we can probably make some guesses.

I have always been bothered by, and I really can't ignore, the fact that they were getting together at the same time that Melanie was doing what Georgie has been demanding of Jon since season three: she did whatever it took to get out. I have to wonder if Georgie knows about the nonconsensual surgery part of Melanie's process of getting out, and if she does, if she understands how vital it was. I certainly wouldn't be surprised, if she does know, that she's managed to compartmentalize it: Jon inflicted this terrible trauma on Melanie, Melanie escaped the entity that took her over. (Subconscious implication: Jon is a monster; Melanie is better than him.) I would be very surprised if Georgie is interested at all in the fine distinctions between entities; she's shown no interest in learning what is actually happening to anyone in this situation beyond "it's bad and they should get out of it." But it's relevant, because by the time Melanie makes the decision to blind herself, she's in a much different position than Jon, enslaved by an entity but not consumed by one. She herself admitted to Jon that she would never have voluntarily escaped from the Slaughter.

And given how difficult Melanie finds it to talk about any of this - you can hear her dragging the words out from behind her teeth in her conversation with Jon in Flesh, truly incredible acting by Lydia Nicholas, my god - if Georgie doesn't want to hear it? I can't imagine Melanie insisting. Yes, Melanie is going to therapy, but let me tell you, I've been going to therapy for twelve years now and I have yet to have several of the important conversations my therapists have insisted I have. That shit is hard. But I can imagine a scenario where, having been told by her therapist (who, remember, doesn't have the first idea what Melanie is actually going through, because Melanie isn't telling her about the supernatural so she has to leave out a lot of really relevant details) that she ought to tell her friend/potential girlfriend/new girlfriend about these things, Melanie attempts to bring it up, Georgie says kind and reassuring things and refuses to let her clarify any of the details, and Melanie gives up in relief, thinking, well, I tried. Super valid all around, but it doesn't mean that Georgie has any clearer picture of what Melanie's traumas actually look like, never mind Jon's. There's no world in which I can imagine Georgie actually internalizing the idea that Melanie loved the Slaughter when it had her, and she would gladly have stayed with it if Jon and Basira hadn't intervened.

In Georgie's eyes, Melanie is being a Good Victim. She was hurt but she was strong; she fought it until she won; now she's going to therapy and setting boundaries and trying to heal. She got away.

(Except, of course, she didn't, because as of The Eye Opens no one has gotten away, because this is the entire world now. We have no idea how this has affected Melanie. Presumably she's out of reach of the Eye, given that Jon can't see her or Georgie (and there's some evidence on the side of Georgie's encounter genuinely having stripped her of fear, if she's also invisible to the Eye), but she spent a long time under the influence of the Slaughter. It had her firmly enough that her attacking Jon was enough to give him his Slaughter scar. If nothing else, Melanie certainly hasn't had her fear removed, and talk about a situation bound to retraumatize someone who had such a visceral revulsion to being trapped that Elias chose it as his mechanism of control over her. Melanie probably doesn't look like a Good Victim any more, and I'd bet her relationship with Georgie is suffering some serious strain because of it.)

We don't know when exactly Melanie and Georgie got together; the last time one of them mentions the other is, I'm pretty sure, when Georgie tells Jon that Melanie is back from India. So we know that Georgie and Melanie were friends; that's good, that's a good foundation for a romantic relationship. At the very least they know each other, they have some idea of what to expect. I'd be surprised if they were dating during that season 3/4 hiatus period, though, or frankly any time before Melanie's surgery, just because Melanie seems much too consumed with rage to have room for any other emotions, and I can't imagine Georgie putting up with that.

What seems way more likely to me is this: Melanie comes back from India, arranges to meet Georgie for drinks. Probably they don't talk about anything serious; possibly they talk about Jon, honestly, since we know Melanie was looking for him and Georgie talked to him about Melanie, but very likely in the same "stuck-up pompous ass" way that Melanie talks about Jon in early seasons. (I bet Melanie's roasts are amazing.) Shortly after that Melanie joins the Magnus Institute and then, very likely, either she never tells Georgie about it and therefore they don't talk much or she does tell Georgie about it and Georgie tells her that place is bad news and she won't have anything to do with it and they don't talk at all, until, whichever way that went, the Unknowing happens and Tim dies and Jon winds up in a coma and everything goes to shit. We know Georgie visits Jon in the hospital; we don't know if Melanie does, but frankly it seems unlikely. If they did cross paths during this time, it was probably very brief and superficial. Then: the surgery, and Melanie's recovery.

I'll be honest, I have a hard time imagining Melanie deciding on her own that she should go to therapy. It's possible Basira suggested it, but it really does sound like a Georgie thing to do. So I picture something like this: from the way Basira talks it sounds like they've all been pretty much living in the Archives for a while, and on top of that everyone in the Archives has just badly violated Melanie's trust, so Melanie pulls up her Facebook DMs and talks to the only other person she has. You were right, she says, this place is terrible, I can't handle it, there's no one here I can trust and I'm so alone. And Georgie, who is generous with help and advice (so long as it's accepted) and (like anyone) weak to being told she was right about something, starts talking to her. We know Georgie's got good boundaries, and we know she doesn't want to hear details about what's going on in the Institute, so I can see her saying, I can talk to you, I would love to talk to you, but not about this. For that you need a therapist.

So Melanie gets a therapist, and the prospect of going out amongst the monsters they know are stalking the Institute without that protective shield of rage (never mind the emotional vulnerability of going to therapy in the first place) makes public transit an unthinkable option, so she asks Georgie to take her, and she does, and she keeps taking her to therapy, which is, as far as we know, the only time Melanie leaves the Archives in season four, until she blinds herself and escapes it completely.

And so they have this relationship that's built up almost entirely around Melanie's trauma - with a foundation of friendship, certainly, so I do think that if they are willing to work through it they could make it a working, healthy relationship, but (and again this isn't stated in canon but is my speculation based on what we know about these characters) it is a romantic relationship that's built around the process of Melanie recovering from multiple traumas. Ones that we know that Georgie a) doesn't know many details about, and b) more importantly, refuses to know any details about. Now, I have no experience with romantic relationships and serious trauma; I might be wildly off base here. But. I know that boundaries are important and I know that trust is also important. And if Georgie is holding similar boundaries with Melanie that she has with Jon (and, as I went into excruciating detail about earlier, she has very solid emotional reasons to protect herself with those boundaries), that's drawing a hard line around what's basically the past two to three years of Melanie's life, and undeniably both the worst and most important things that have ever happened to her. That seems...difficult to manage in the long term.

(This is a bit more of a stretch, more of the germ of a fic idea than an argument I'm prepared to defend, but I also would not be surprised if Georgie told Melanie that she wouldn't date her while she was still working at the Institute. That's a very reasonable boundary, and it's good motivation - and probably healthy motivation, I do like the idea that Melanie had something to reach toward in escaping the Institute, not just the desperate flight from - but it's also something of an ultimatum. Which is not inherently bad, but it is the kind of thing that can fester, given other problems.)

Now it's entirely possible that Georgie isn't that internally consistent. People aren't! (See: Basira's attitude toward Daisy vs her attitude toward Jon in season four.) Maybe she's more flexible about being willing to listen to Melanie, maybe she's starting to understand some of what was happening and how genuinely impossible a situation it really was. But that has to be a struggle for her, too; it's not a perfect, sweet, unconditionally good situation that teaches you that you've been unfair to the point of cruelty to someone you used to care about. And by the time the apocalypse rolls around, Melanie is, if she's lucky, just barely able to say she's healed from the plain physical trauma of blinding, never mind all the other baggage. They've got to be having a rough fucking time of it, at the very least, even if you assume that they're suddenly both the kind of people who will sit still and listen supportively and talk honestly about their own messy and complicated emotions, when neither of them have been that kind of person before.

(Another disclaimer because Fandom Is Like That: This is in no way a condemnation of or argument against fluffy What the Girlfriends fic; fic is for making fluffy things that you want to happen to your faves, or building fluffy content that you desperately need for whatever reason. Gods know there are plenty of unhealthy parts of Jon and Martin's relationship that I ignore in most of my fluffy fic. This is me attempting to work through my thoughts and feelings about the relationship I see in canon in the hopes of actually being able to write some fic about these girls myself someday, because I personally can't write fic until I understand canon, and so much of them happens offscreen because they're not main characters, and they're written with such depth and complexity that you can't just slap a stereotype on them and call it good. Which is awesome! But it means I gotta do the work, and I post it because a) it's work, and this is fandom, and I want validation; and b) I'm hoping other people have insights that might also help me clarify my thinking.)

#the magnus archives #tma #georgie barker #jonathan sims #melanie king #long post #real fuckin' long post #sorry #it's a meta party #cw suicide #cw addiction

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist

https://ift.tt/39I2zkp

This article contains huge spoilers for Midnight Mass. So help me God if you read this without watching the series first…

The version of Midnight Mass that Netflix advertised still would have made for a compelling horror series.

An isolated, insular island community? Great. A young, charismatic preacher suddenly coming to town to shake things up? Perfect. That preacher proving capable of performing minor miracles? Love it, no notes!

Of course, as viewers who have watched at least four episodes of the seven-episode series now know, Midnight Mass has one extra supernatural twist in mind that elevates an already interesting story to true mind-blowing status. Critics were understandably asked to keep this aspect of the show a secret before it premiered. So please indulge me as I finally slay these embargo demons and get it off my chest.

Vampires. Vampires! V-A-M-P-I-R-E-S. VAMPIRES! VAMPIRES VAMPIRES VAMPIRES! Literally like Dracula. And Nosferatu. Anne Rice’s Lestat. Stephen King’s ‘Salem’s Lot. Vampires. VAMPIRES, BRO, VAMPIRES.

For creator Mike Flanagan, a filmmaker influenced by all manner of classic horror, bringing the fanged bloodsuckers to life was a long time coming.

“My favorite vampire movie is (Werner) Herzog’s Nosferatu,” Flanagan told Den of Geek and other outlets prior to the premiere of Midnight Mass. “That film is the vampire story as high art. I also adore From Dusk Till Dawn. I read Dracula young enough for it to really burrow in for me. And I read ‘Salem’s Lot early enough to color an enormous amount of work that I’ll do for the rest of my life.”

Midnight Mass’s depiction of the mythological undead beast and how it can neatly fit into Christian dogma is one of the most satisfying horror twists in years. Now that the truth is out, let’s discuss Midnight Mass and how it conflates vampires and biblical angels.

Mistaking a Vampire for an Angel

The interesting thing about Midnight Mass is that it clearly takes place in a universe where the average person has no knowledge of what a vampire is. Even Sarah Gunning (Annabeth Gish), arguably the most well-read person on Crockett Island, has to do some research into “porphyria cutanea tarda” (a.k.a. the real life “vampire disease”). This is similar to The Walking Dead’s approach to zombies, in which the “z” word and George A. Romero’s name are never spoken. This strategy in Midnight Mass allows for a truly fascinating case of mistaken identity.

While viewers immediately know that the creature Monsignor John Pruitt (Hamish Linklater) encounters is a vampire, he believes it to be an angel. Given how studied Pruitt is in the Bible and Cathloic theology, it’s entirely understandable why he would think a tall, muscular, bald-headed beast with fangs and leathery wings is an angel. As it turns out, the angels of the Old Testament can be truly terrifying.

Not all angels are soft-featured human-like creatures with fluffy white bird wings. Some, like Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones are designed to intimidate God’s enemies. In the New Testament’s Book of Luke, an angel visits Zechariah and immediately asks him to “be not afraid” because the angel can see the poor guy absolutely shaking in his boots upon his arrival. Angels being terrifying is even something of an Internet meme, with users contrasting the phrase “be not afraid” with images of truly monstrous beasts.

Not only does Pruitt’s vampire have the vague appearance of an angel, it also apparently holds the secrets to eternal life as promised in the Bible. By merely drinking some of the “angel’s” blood, a good Christian can live forever just like God says. Does that blood-drinking sacrament sound familiar? It did to Mike Flanagan.

“In Bible school I used to say ‘if the wine turns into Jesus’s blood literally and we’re drinking it so that we can live forever … that seems like a short leap to vampiric myth.’”

Of course, drinking the angel’s fluids in the case of Midnight Mass also leads to some unwanted side effects like a thirst for blood and extreme sensitivity to sunlight. Thankfully, good ol’ Bev Keane always has a Bible quote ready to go for that. When read through the proper perspective, the Holy Bible may as well be the original vampire story.

The Rules of Vampirism

“The thing that I love about the vampire as a cinematic tool is how malleable it is,” Flanagan says. “We all agree that there is no canon. There are no rules. In fact, part of the joy is seeing what rules people cherry pick as they approach a vampire story.”

All depictions of vampires are indeed quite different. Vampires can range from the classic Stoker-ian monster to Twilight’s nigh-invulnerable sparkle bois. Midnight Mass’s version of the vampire leans towards the classic, albeit with some tweaks. In terms of appearance, The Angel (as we will be calling Midnight Mass’s O.G. vampire for simplicity’s sake) has a more bestial look like Nosferatu rather than an aristocratic one like Count Dracula or Anne Rice’s creations.

“We winked at (Nosferatu the Vampyr actor) Klaus Kinski a few times when we designed our guy,” Flanagan says.

Though the Angel resembles Nosferatu in appearance, its vulnerabilities owe more to Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles. Religious iconography does not appear to hurt the Angel nor its thralls. Traditional human weapons like bullets or blades also do no harm (at least not mortally). These vampires are, however, tremendously susceptible to both fire and sunlight. Exposure to the latter for even a few seconds is enough to kill the Angel and his many acolytes.

Why Midnight Mass is Mike Flanagan’s Most Personal Work

By Alec Bojalad

Midnight Mass Cast: Previous Credits From Hill House to Bly Manor, Legion & Sherlock

By Louisa Mellor

Like in Rice’s works as well, the path to creating a new vampire is quite simple. Step 1: Drink its blood. Step 2: Die. In Dracula and ‘Salem’s Lot, the method of vampire creation is merely being bit by one, zombie-style. Rice and Flanagan’s approach is quite a bit more intentional and interesting. It also opens the door for perhaps Midnight Mass’s most ingenious storytelling quirk: communion. John Pruitt is able to get nearly the entirety of Crockett Island to become a vampire by spiking the communion wine with his buddy’s blood. Then, all that remains is for them to poison themselves to death, Jonestown-style.

The mass “resurrection” scene in which the congregation awakes as their new vampire selves also provides some insight to just how hard it is to contain the vampire’s overwhelming hunger. Riley Flynn was able to resist it when he turned because John Pruitt babysat him like a psychedelic mushroom guide. The plan for the rest of the congregation was to have their babysitters as well but that didn’t quite work out. Still, Riley’s dad Ed makes it clear to his wife Annie, that even if it’s hard to resist the call for blood, it’s not impossible.

“When I saw them at the church, I thought it was something they really couldn’t help. Like something impossible not to do. But it isn’t, Annie,” he says.

Maybe if more vampires were like Ed Flynn, a whole island full of vampires wouldn’t be too bad of a thing in the first place.

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

How to Defeat a Vampire

While every vampire story presents its own unique take on the creature, the answer on how to defeat a vampire is usually the same: by doing it together.

“We poor humans only have so much that we can give,” Flanagan says. “We’re ill-equipped as individuals to make any kind of meaningful stand. The only way evil in the world can be brought down is through collective effort. That’s something Stoker understands inherently. It’s clearly something King understands.”

Alongside the aforementioned Bram Stoker and Stephen King, Flanagan presents a small team of humans at story’s end who will do what it takes to defeat evil, even if it means dying in the process. Erin Greene (Kate Siegel), Dr. Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli), Annie Flynn (Kristin Lehman), Warren Flynn (Igby Rigney), and Leeza Scarborough (Annarah Cymone) are the six residents of Crockett Island brave enough to try to take down the Angel. All but two (Warren and Leeza) die. They do succeed in eliminating the immediate threat on Crockett Island but it’s possible the Angel made it away to suck blood another day, damaged wings and all.

What’s interesting about Midnight Mass’s “final crew” is that six appears to be the magic number when it comes to taking down a vampire. Stoker’s Dracula has six heroes: Jonathan Harker, Mina Harker nèe Murray, Arthur Holmwood (Lord Godalming), John Seward, Quincey Morris, and Abraham Van Helsing (of which, only poor American cowboy Quincey Morris dies). King’s ‘Salem’s Lot also has six: Ben Mears, Matt Burke, Susan Norton, Mark Petrie, Jimmy Cody, and Father Callahan (of which, decidedly more than one of them die). This strange bit of arithmancy is something we asked Flanagan about.

“The number was certainly not intentional,” he says. “Once it was clear that Riley was not going to be carrying the torch to the end it really was about asking ‘who are the characters who seem in the very beginning to be at a disadvantage and how do we empower them in the end?’ This was gonna be played out by Sarah Gunning, Sheriff Hassan, and everyone else who would get to just give a little piece.”

Considering that Erin and company were outnumbered about 117 to six, it was a pretty good showing for Crockett Island’s last humans standing.

All seven episodes of Midnight Mass are available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Midnight Mass: It’s Time to Talk About That Monstrous Twist appeared first on Den of Geek.

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

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

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Run, Hide, Leave behind

Pairing: warlock!Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: yandere, obsession, swearing, stalking, mentions of kidnapping, death of minor characters. Words: 2354 Summary: He was following you with such persistence as if you had mortally offended him once. It had hardly been a week, but you felt like you had spent an eternity lurking in the shadows, expecting the warlock to appear right in front of you any second. P.S. Oh, Nasuverse magic system... One day I’ll make a better story about it. _____________________________________ This place gave you creeps: abandoned medical facilities looked scary even on TV, but hiding in one of them at night by yourself was much more frightening. You would never come here if you had a choice. However, the one hunting you down did not particularly care for your fears, chasing you like a true police dog. The only reason why you came to an abandoned hospital at the outskirts of the city was because Wanda sent you here, saying that your shielding magic might work better in this particular location. Since you had no more places to hide – he destroyed every one of them, leaving dead bodies behind – it was your last refuge.

As you walked down the empty corridor, your sneaked into one of large rooms with several steel beds and no mattresses. The old creaky floor was dusty and bubbling, one of the windows boarded up, the others so dirty you could hardly see anything but silhouettes of the huge pine trees surrounding the hospital. Sighing, you took out a piece of chalk and got on your knees, drawing an uneven circle and started scribbling around it. You doubted it would really work when everything else didn’t.

The medallion on your chest got heavier with every word you whispered, and you thought how stupid it would be to die for just some old artifact. Sure, it carried the magic of the ancient, such power a mage like you could hardly imagine, but it was also the reason it was completely useless to you. Only the most talented and experienced magicians were to enjoy its power, while your pathetic charms could not even activate the medallion. You only kept it because it was your family’s heirloom, the one thing that was left to you by your parents. If you had ever known that it could nearly destroy your life, you would give it up the first time you saw Bucky.

Yes, he was the very same mage who was chasing you now, the legendary Winter Warlock who could cover the whole city in snow and ice in the middle of summer. You could still hear Wanda’s screams once he literally blew the door along with the half of a hallway with his magic.

Why was the medallion so important to him? He was above all the sorcerers you had ever known. He probably had tons of magical artifacts like this, the silver glove he wore on his left hand being a much more powerful item. Moreover, since Bucky Barnes was a well-known outlaw of the magic world who had been in hiding for years, it was odd he came out now. He was following you with such persistence as if you had mortally offended him once. It had hardly been a week, but you felt like you had spent an eternity lurking in the shadows, expecting the warlock to appear right in front of you any second.

The sacred symbols were glowing with gentle golden light as you finished creating your shield, probably the only thing you were more or less good at. It was a great pity your shields were just the means of protection, nothing else. You saw once how Pietro’s Bounded Fields cut an arm of a mage who wanted to break through, but you were so repulsed by the sight of blood and someone’s suffering that you have never tried to learn this type of magecraft.

Nonetheless, even Pietro’s charms were not good enough against someone like Winter Warlock. He was amongst the few ones who could use True Magic. They said he even knew the spatial warping spells.

You heard a loud bang and felt your skin crawling. Warlock was here, in the corridor on your right, you could see his massive distorted form through the open door – a dark cloud was slowly turning into a tall beefy figure. Apparently, Barnes was keen on keeping himself in a good physical condition.

You swallowed, your heart pounding wildly. It was the end of you. Quickly removing the medallion from your chest, you looked at it and bit down on your lower lip. You asked your ancestors to forgive you for not being able to keep your heirloom safe and stood up. When Tony, the head wizard of your coven, had given up on helping you, you knew you will die in a matter of few days.

“It’s nice to see you waiting for me.” Warlock said in a low voice, and you shivered: he had always been silent every time you saw him. Something was different today.

You could not utter a single word in return, watching him entering the dark room and smirking at the sight of your pathetic golden shield. He raised his right arm, and the chalk was immediately erased from the dirty floor, living you with no protection against his magic whatsoever. Well, it was worth a try.

As he advanced towards you, his black cloak almost reaching the floor, you suddenly reached out for him, having a medallion in your hand. Maybe he could give you an easy death then, you thought. Maybe he would not, but now there was nothing you could do about it. For some reason you were unable to end your own life – three days ago you tried to drink the poison but dropped the bottle once your lips touched its top.

“Why?”

Warlock narrowed his icy blue eyes, and you gasped for air. Did he expect you to fight him? Was he thinking you had to die an honorable death for your heirloom? Surely, he knew your pathetic sorcery couldn’t even reach him through his own magic circle.

“You wanted to have it. Take it then.” You managed to say meekly, watching the red star on his shoulder, a symbol of deadly blood magic user. “Anyway, there’s nothing I can do to protect it.”

“The medallion?” Bucky chuckled, coming closer to you with each step and watching your body tremble. “You think I’ve been following you the whole fucking week for this?”

Despite his harsh tone, he carefully took the artifact in his flesh hand and then touched the dull metal with his silver fingers, making the medallion shine all of a sudden. Ah, his power activated it.

“I… I thought… you reached out for it when you came the first time.” You mumbled, confused. “I have nothing except it. Nothing valuable.”

Suddenly, he tilted his head back and laughed loudly, still carrying the medallion in his hand. You were taken aback by his response and just froze on the spot – what the hell was happening here? He tried to snatch this little piece of metal from your chest once he spotted you. If he wasn’t coming for it, what else could he possibly want from you, a low mage who had only discovered her powers a year ago?

The corners of his eyes crinkled once he grinned at you, coming so close that you could feel his breath on your skin. He didn’t punch you, though, or hurt you in any other way. Bucky simply put the medallion back on you again.

“Look at me closely, little girl.” He demanded, and you stared at him like a rabbit in front of a snake.

Before you could realize what was happening, his face features started to change, the magic making him look younger, healthier as his dark circles and pale skin were transforming slowly. His dark long hair became much shorter, his smile less threatening, and in a few seconds, you were looking into the face of a young soldier James you had met something like a month ago in an amusement park. In fact, you started going out with him - he was probably the sweetest men you had ever encountered, gentle and caring. James was one of a few people who could make you laugh to tears with his jokes, too.

But a sudden appearance of Winter Warlock ruined everything. You had to hide, and since James knew nothing of your magic powers, it was very unclever to get him involved in all this. So, you simply stopped calling him and then dumped your phone shortly, afraid for both his life and your own. You were scared Warlock could do something to him once he learnt James was important to you, but, thankfully, it had never happened.

Then it suddenly occurred to you that you saw those icy blue eyes before. It’s just that time you thought they were the same color as the winter sky, and you told James a few times how unusual they looked. He was both proud and somewhat shy about it.

Clenching the medallion in your hand, you felt tears filling your eyes and stepped back from Warlock as he reversed his magic, and his hair grew back again, his face tired and aged up.

“Is this how you entertain yourself?” You barked at him and wiped the wet tracks with you shaking hands, but tears kept streaming, nonetheless. “Pretending to be someone you’re not and having fun with a mage who can’t win against you? Do you enjoy hunting people down that much?”

“No, I don’t.” He said sternly and made a step towards you while you kept going back. “You brought it upon yourself, don’t you think?”

“And what have I done?” You tried to fight back the tears, thinking of all the times you spent together, talking nonsense, having fun, laughing. It stung. It only made you cry harder, and you turned your reddened face away from his. “What didn’t you like? Didn’t my kisses feel nice? Or was it the way I dressed? Were you mad at me because you didn’t get into my skirts?”

“Oh, I could get there pretty fast if I wanted to, love.” Bucky smirked, and you sent him a glare. How could this bastard be your James, the man who spent all his money to win you a teddy bear in an amusement park? How could he play his role to perfection, making you never even once doubt his intentions? Did he use a love potion or charms of some kind to draw you to him? With his level of skill, it would be easy. Maybe it explained why you fell in love with him so goddamn fast.

“Then what the hell do you want from me?”

You realized he had cornered you only when your back was pressed into the cold wall beside you. Although you were ready to die just mere minutes ago, now you wanted to fight. Regardless whether you could use magic or not, you were ready to make everything a bit harder for Warlock rather than silently submitting to him.

“Why didn’t you come to the cinema that night, little girl? I was waiting.” His smug smile faded, and you felt fear rising up in your gut again. “I’ve been waiting for a damn hour for you to show up or send me a message. When you didn’t, I went to see you only to find a pretty blond guy taking care of you in bed.”

The color drained out of your face when you remembered the night when you didn’t come to see the movie you two chose. Warlock was right. You weren’t there for James because you had a migraine, and Pietro and Wanda came to put some soothing charms and help you relieve the pain. It was Pietro who had casted a sleeping spell when his sister was in the kitchen doing her herb potion.

When Warlock came to ruin your house in the middle of the night, you chose to run, completely forgetting about apologizing to James. You had no time for it. You fled immediately and never thought of the night when you were supposed to meet him in the cinema, instead thinking of keeping him away from the mess you got yourself into. It was impossible to link these two events in your head as Bucky had never said why he was following you in the first place. Of course, for you the only logical reason was the artifact.

But in the end, he didn’t want to grab to your medallion. He was reaching out to touch you.

Well, at least it explained why he was trying to tear Pietro apart, almost chopping his arm. If not the Bounding Fields and Wanda’s teleportation spell, he would be dead for sure.

“I was unwell.” You forced the words out of your mouth. “Pietro and Wanda were there to heal me.”

“Did they, truly?” His cool silver hand gently touched your wet cheek.

“Give me the Truth Potion then.” You almost spat in his face, clenching your hands into fists. “Go inside my head, see the truth for yourself. You blame me for something I have never done when you made me believe you’re a nice man, used me, manipulated my feelings, and then hunt me down like an animal. God, you had almost killed the man who only tried to help me! You murdered several trespassers who weren’t ever wizards at all!”

When you finished, you felt your hands going limp as you could no longer control your own body. You felt like you were floating in the air, your legs too weak to keep you standing, and you let out a small sob. Did you forget in your rage that you were talking to one of the most powerful dark magicians? He could kill you with his thumb.

“If what you’re saying is true, you’ll get your sweet soldier back, love.” A dark smile slid across his lips. “Or would you prefer me, the mage? I bet I could give you much more as a sorcerer. I could teach you to use your medallion, give you the power you’d never even dreamt of. Believe me, you’re going to like it.”

“I want you to leave me alone.” You said under your breath, frightened and distressed, but his hand was already on your chest leaving a bloody star on your grey jacket.

“Too late, dear. You’ve made your choice a month ago.”

#dark bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes #yandere #bucky barnes x reader

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husbandograveyard · 4 years

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Congrats to the 300 Followers. Cam I ask for number 9 with Sakazuki (or Kuzan if you prefer him)?

Hey love! I am INSANELY nervous to post this because dang, I just hope it is a bit like you had pictured in your mind. I chose to go with Sakazuki for the very reason that he’s the one you initially asked for and like I have stated before, I will not back down from a challenge! That’s not saying I don’t want to write for Kuzan, actually want to write something for him too sometime… all in due time. For now, I hope you like your cliché with Sakazuki!

An Awkward Start - Sakazuki x Reader

Cliché with Bae event: Prompt #9: There’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling Character: Sakazuki - Word count: 2.1k (added a cut cause it was getting just too long)

This was insane. Inappropriate. Straight up ridiculous. You had to take a few deep breaths before you looked over at the clerk and asked her to repeat what she had just said.

“I’m sorry, but there was only one room booked”

One thing was sure: you were going to murder someone back at headquarters. How was it even possible for such a stupid mistake to be made on such an unusual mission.

“Okay, can we still add on an extra room?” “No I am sorry, we’re fully booked.” “No other inns on the island probably?” The clerk shook her head, obviously feeling very bad for something that wasn’t even her mistake. You pinched the bridge of your nose as you thought over the whole situation.

Ever since his promotion to fleet admiral, and actually already from the promotion to admiral, it was extremely rare for Sakazuki to leave headquarters. He preferred to hold meetings in his office, he preferred having information being brought in. He liked order, overview and control. Which is something you hand over when you enter unfamiliar environments.

But every now and then, there’s a mission where the information was just so important he trusted only himself to go get it or do the talking, or some other reason where the fleet admiral was absolutely needed in order to get everything done.

Today had been one of those missions. It had only been him and you, his assistant, on a tiny island you had never even heard of before. It was all very top-secret, with one special crew dropping you off at the location and another coming for pickup tomorrow. Even you did not know entirely what it was about, you were mostly there to arrange the smaller details such as side paperwork, and accommodations, such as the lodging. Which is where it went wrong, and which was the reason you were now starting to feel a pit form in your stomach in pure panic. What the hell were you going to tell your boss?

You thanked the clerk for her help, and took the key from her hands, walking back to the table where Sakazuki was sitting. You gently placed the key in front of him. “The key to your room sir.” He looked up from the food he had ordered for the both of you, and you could nearly feel yourself breaking out in cold sweat. “Why did that take so long?” You had hoped he didn’t ask for anything and you could maybe find some rest on the couch in the general area of the inn, but alas, he asked the question and you didn’t want to be lying to your superior. You calmly explained the mistake of only one room being booked, profusely apologizing, and immediately adding that you’d make the couch your bed for the night. He was silent for a bit. “Nonsense. Besides, most of those rooms have multiple beds in them, that’s probably why they only booked you one room when you clearly mentioned two people.”

You felt kind of stupid. Of course, he was right, that made a whole lot of sense. The panic of your mistake had made it impossible to think straight, but now that he stated it like that, your nerves were calmed immediately.

“Sit down. Eat. And don’t worry so much. The mission was successful, we’ll be back at headquarters tomorrow and you completed a job well done.”

You sat down, mumbling a ‘thank you sir’, grabbed your plate and focussed on the food. It was rare to hear praise from Sakazuki, mostly because he was of the firm belief people don’t need to be praised for simply doing their job. You still worked hard every single day to impress your superior, for more reasons than just wanting to satisfy your boss. But those reasons were wildly inappropriate to even admit, so you simply didn’t speak about it and tried not to even think about it.

It got worse on missions such as this one, where it was just the two of you for longer periods of time. You had to admit that the one-room debacle, something that sounded like it came straight out of a terrible romance book, had made your heart jump at the mere thought of the possibility of sharing a bed with him. Even if nothing happened. At night you were at your most vulnerable and sharing a bed, even if just for sleep, is an ultimate sign of trust. But again, you were way too terrified to think your fantasies true and panic had quickly taken over. You were pretty sure you were actually blushing a little now too, so focused of the food as you dined in silence.

After dinner, the both of you made your way to room 23, the number neatly engraved in the key you had handed over earlier. Sakazuki opened up the door and stood still in the door frame for a bit. His broad posture made it as good as impossible for you to make out the inside of the room, and you weren’t planning on stepping closer to find out earlier. So you waited until he eventually entered, stepping aside to allow you entrance. You immediately noticed the reason why he had stood still for a bit.

One bed. A big, king-sized, perfectly neatly made-up bed. But just one. You couldn’t help but stare at it as the mix of panic and inappropriate excitement washed over you again. It was dead silent for a second, before you closed the door behind you. Whatever the plan was going to be, it didn’t need to be discussed with an open door so anyone else staying at the inn could listen in on it.

You took in the rest of the room: two nightstands, a lamp on each, some small cabinets and a mirror. A door, presumably leading to the bathroom portion of the room and a nice big window, probably letting in plenty of light throughout the day, but now only displaying a clear sky with some moonlight to add to the strangely awkward atmosphere in the room. It was clean and simple, and the bed took up most of the place.

The silence was only broken by the sound of a match being lit, Sakazuki lighting a cigar, as he also seemed to think over the predicament you were now in.

“It’s big enough” “I’m sorry sir?” “The bed. It’s big enough. You’re not that big, we should probably be able to each take a side without bothering each other.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and blinked a couple of times. You were not even sure you heard that right, you almost couldn’t bear to look up and ask for confirmation. Surely he couldn’t be serious? “That is, only if you are okay with it?” there was almost an uncharacteristic softness in his tone and you were pretty sure you could melt right then and there. You stuttered as you replied. “No.. I.. I mean, yes, sure, sir… I could also, you know, couch in the lobby, but if you… I mean…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Sleeping on a couch will ruin your back. Go change, then I can finish my smoke.” You nodded, too confused to even say anything and disappeared into the bathroom.

You splashed cold water in your face multiple times to ensure you were actually awake and this wasn’t the strangest, most real-feeling daydream you’d ever had. You actually spent so much time looking in the mirror in disbelief that you had to scramble changing into your marine-issued pajamas, not wanting to make Sakazuki wait too long for his turn, even though he’d probably not even be bothered this much.

The hour following you stepping out of that bathroom was probably the most awkward you had ever felt in your lifetime. Even though this whole situation ticked so many of the ultimate fantasy checkboxes, the more realistically thinking side of you was constantly reminding you of how weird this whole situation was, and you were relieved there was not too much awkward conversation nor other events before you finally slipped under the covers. Sakazuki seemed surprisingly unbothered by the events, and you inwardly cursed yourself. There were so many situations that were way worse than this, it was kind of pathetic to be panicking over this. You just hoped he didn’t notice too much, the last thing you wanted was to give him a bad impression of you.

You lay down on your side, shuffling as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off, before turning off the lamp that was on the nightstand on your side. “Goodnight Sir” “Goodnight y/n” And with the click of the switch of the other lamp, the room was dark and quiet, and you had no idea when your nerves would let you sleep.

----

Apparently, tiredness from the mission and your emotional yoyoing had taken its toll on your physical state, because you didn’t lie awake for much longer. Soon, dreams took over, and you were not surprised that the subject of your dreams was the very person you were now sharing a bed with.

But it was now nearing morning, and you felt yourself wake up with some reluctance, wanting to hold onto your dream just a little longer. It was that strange moment right before you actually wake up, where dream and reality intertwine and you were pretty sure your brain was tricking your senses, the comforting smell, warmth, and closeness actually becoming real for a moment.

But then it didn’t go away, as it normally would. This all happened in a matter of seconds before realization struck you and you opened your eyes wide in shock. There was the pleasant pressure of an arm wrapped around your waist and your entire body was pressed against his. You knew you were prone to moving in your sleep, but never knew it was this bad. Panic washed over you again as you went over the possible plans of action in your head.

Sakazuki himself seemed to be fast asleep still, blissfully unaware of the situation you were in. You decided to try and slip away without waking him up and in the event of him waking up, you’d lie and say you had had a nightmare and accidentally kicked him or something like that. It could get you into trouble, but you doubted the trouble would be worse than those you were in if you just waited for him to wake up like this.

You managed to succeed, tiptoed off to the bathroom to already get changed back into your uniform, and to calm down again, practicing a straightened out face in the mirror. When you stepped out of the bathroom, you gasped audibly, Sakazuki sat at the edge of the bed, fully dressed and ready to go. Just how long did you take to change clothes? Were you that much out of it?

“Rather rude of you to just leave without so much as a ‘good morning, sir’”.

You looked at him wide-eyed and confused, the slight amusement in his tone was barely audible, but you were sure it was there.

“I’m sorry, Sir?” You had to stop yourself from groaning at yourself, why did your vocabulary seem reduced to just those three words whenever he caught you of guard? “You talk in your sleep. A lot.” You could only blink in response. “And you move quite a lot, but I figured you noticed that too when you woke up a little earlier.”

Your brain felt like it short circuited, and you had no words formed by the time he stood up and grabbed his bag, ready to leave in a bit, you still had to be on time for the pickup ship.

“Of course”, he spoke up again when it was clear that you were still too speechless to contribute, “we’d have to find some way for neither of us to get into any serious trouble”. He opened the door for you, gesturing for you to take your bag as well. “I expect you in my office tomorrow morning after you’ve unpacked and settled back in at headquarters. I’m sure we’ll find a solution for our little predicament.” You were close to slapping yourself across the face as he offered you a slight smile, and you were convinced you were simply still dreaming.

You couldn’t help the smile spreading on your face as his words finally sunk in and you realized you were not dreaming at all. You grabbed your bag and walked through the door with a slight spring in your step.

“Of course sir!”

“And drop the ‘sir’ when we’re alone.”

#sakazuki x reader #akainu x reader #sakazuki #akainu #One piece #one piece writing #one piece headcanon #one piece x reader #headcanon #reader insert #one piece HC #request #HC request #300 followers event #cliche with bae #beastofflevance

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #368

“whatever doesn’t kill you, is gonna leave a scar”

Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch? My favorite shirt is the Day of the Dead design by Cloak, which is Markiplier's and jacksepticeye's clothing brand. Mom's friend/former co-worker also got me a Ninja Sex Party shirt because she knew I liked them. There are SO MANY YouTubers I wanna support by buying shirts. Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk? Milk, 110%. Have you ever left a note in a library book? No. What time of day do you prefer to wash your hair? Morning. Has anyone ever spread lies about you? Yes. Have you ever taken a photograph with a celebrity? If so, did it turn out the way you wanted, or do you wish you could retake it? No. If you could move out of your home country permanently, would you? If so, where would you go? If it didn't mean being so very far from my family, I would love to move to Canada. Is there a celebrity that everyone else seems to love, but you find totally overrated? Why is it that you don’t like them? I legit don't know who's considered currently popular, and I especially don't know who they are as people. If you could volunteer for any charity, which one would you choose? Do you think it’s more important to help humans, or are animal and environmental charities equally important? Something relating to animals, and I think they're both equally important. Do you prefer holidays where you relax, or actually do things? I like a mix. Something chill, but you still do some stuff as a family. Do you think that after we die our spirit is still alive? Yes. Has anybody ever told you that you could be a model? Someone has mistaken me for a model in a picture I once took. It was one of the most flattering things I've ever heard, haha. Do you use different kinds of moisturizer for different body parts? ie. hand lotion for your hands, face cream for your face. Or do you just use one moisturizer for all body parts? Yes. Have you ever felt like you were someone’s rebound? No. Has anybody ever broken up with you over something really pathetic? What was it? Have you ever been dumped in a disrespectful way? (eg. through text, through a friend..) I have 100% been dumped in a very cowardly and disrespectful way; after dating Jason for nearly four years and being very serious, he broke up with me very abruptly over Facebook Messenger. His reason was valid, but at the same time, he NEVER talked to me about it. Apparently my depression was dragging him down. If he'd fucking communicated it, I would have explored new treatment options so goddamn fast. But no, he decided to snap his fingers and disappear. That's exactly WHY it was so traumatic, I think: it was so unexpected and sudden. Did you have a lot of role models as a kid? Animal enthusiasts like Steve Irwin and Jeff Corwin for sure. Do you feel like anyone looks up to you? Why or why not? God no. I'm just... not someone to aspire to be like. What was the last thing you found offensive? I'm not sure. Who is the nicest person you know? My mom. Do you feel safe in your country? I feel safe in NC, rather. Like I don't expect an atom bomb or terrorist attack or something in this obscure area. In the U.S.A. itself, sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. America is definitely not loved by every other country. Do you feel safe where you live? Not in this city, no. Have you been falsely diagnosed with something by a bad doctor? Yup. Did y'all know I apparently have ADHD? I know, shocking. Have you ever had a doctor refuse to treat you? No. Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game): The first Silent Hill, probably. It took a lot of reading to get it. Do you know anyone who has been struck by lightning before? No. Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Does Stitch count? Or a Pokemon. Do you like marshmallows? Yes. What is your favorite flavor of candy cane? I really like the Jolly Rancher candy canes, I think they are? Have you ever fostered an animal? No. Do you still take hot showers when it’s hot out? Not as hot, but not cold except on very extreme occasions. When writing $ sign, do you draw one line through the S or two? Two. What animal have you always wanted as a pet but couldn’t have? I'm thankful that my parents were pretty open-minded to what pets I really wanted, but one I was never allowed to have was a ferret because of how messy and smelly they are. List three people you’ve had crushes on: Jason, Sara, and Sebastian were probably my biggest crushes. Have you ever thrown up from cramps? No, but god have I felt close. List three people you had a hard time forgiving. Jason, Colleen, and my dad. Who is the most spiritual person you know? Probably my sister's mother-in-law. Would you ever start a vlog? God no, I'd bore people to tears. Are your dreams coming true yet? I mean, I guess in some ways with my mental health. In my deepest depression, what I have now was a dream, even though current me is very discontent with it. Most of my dreams, though? No. Do you struggle with depression? I've been diagnosed with severe depression since 7th grade. Are you haunted by your past? A few things won't leave me alone. What medical conditions do you have? Just a lot. There are even more that are up for debate. I've talked about my diagnosed conditions enough. Do you use a Magic Bullet? No. What does your apron look like? I don’t have one. What are your favorite spicy foods? Hot Cheetos, Takis, hot wings, jalapeno pizza... Man, I love spicy food. Which do you like better: being an adult or being a kid? Being a kid. Were you excited to be a teenager on your thirteenth birthday? I had very mixed feelings. Did you feel insecure in high school? Shit, I still do. Would you ever be friends with someone who was suicidal? What the FUCK is this question? No fucking shit I would be. Someone being suicidal in no way affects who they are as a person. Who was the biggest bully in high school? I don't think there really was one. What was your favorite class in high school? Art. Would you rather have a daughter or a son? If I wanted kids, a daughter. Have you ever written to an advice columnist? No. Have you ever had a doctor not believe what you told him? Maybe? I did however have an employee at the ER the first time I went try to pry out of me that my self-mutilation was for attention, and it wasn't until I insisted about a dozen times that it wasn't that he believed me. It's odd looking back that I got REALLY attached to him during that stay, knowing now that it was absolutely horrible and extremely unhelpful for him to do that. If you’re female, would you feel uncomfortable having a male gynecologist? I would absolutely refuse to have a male one. Do you like Lisa Frank? Yeah, like can you talk about aesthetic. What gives you nightmares? Boy, I wish I could tell you, given how much I have them. Were you ever hospitalized as a child? No. Did you get senior pictures taken? No. What color is your bicycle? I don’t have one. Did you ever have to take home a fake baby in health class? No, thank fuck. Would you rather wear ivory or white on your wedding day? What color will your bridesmaids wear? I'd rather wear black. I think red will be the bridesmaids' color. Would you rather have a swimming pool or trampoline? I want a swimming pool so damn badly so I could exercise my legs without worrying about sweating, and I can stop and rest whenever I want, unlike going walking or something. I don't think my knees could handle a trampoline. Do you think babies are cute? Some, sure. But a lot, not really. Do you dream about the future a lot? Yeah. Do you think about your past a lot? Way too frequently. How good are you at living in the moment? I'm trying to get better at it. Have you ever questioned God’s existence? Yeah. Vanilla frosting or chocolate? Chocolate. What’s your favorite foreign cuisine? I've actually been exploring Italian pasta lately. I'm not a big fan of foreign food that I've tried, though. Have you ever moved to another state? No. Did you do anything productive today? No. .-. Can you say the alphabet backwards? No, actually. Do you like flowers? Of course; does anyone not? Have you ever thought you were gonna die? I didn't care if I did or didn't. What kind of mood are you in today? I was honestly really depressed through most of it. Just health stuff was really getting to me. I just woke up from what was honestly like a four-hour nap and I feel all right, I guess. What are you craving right now? I REALLY want Domino's jalapeno pizza. Is there anyone you would seriously punch right now if you had the chance? No. What is worse, physical or emotional pain? Definitely emotional. Have you ever walked in on somebody doing something… questionable? When Dad still lived with us, I think he might have been watching... you know... on TV when I came into my parents' room for something. Idk for sure though. I didn't ask, and I don't want to know. If you were to make videos on YouTube, what would they be of? Oh god, idk. I don't want to make any. What I'd have most fun with would be reptile education, but I 1.) have literally one snake, 2.) am not extremely educated on a good number of them and don't want to be misleading, and 3.) I would run outta content fast. So, leave it to Snake Discovery, haha. Posting pictures of yourself in a bathing suit on the internet - ok or not? Yes, it's okay????? If you're talking about me personally though, you won't see me dead in a bathing suit picture. Do you typically laugh when somebody falls down? No, I gasp and see if they're okay. What is the most disturbing movie you’ve ever watched? Paranormal Entity. The ending is... a lot. Your opinion of Katy Perry, please? I like a couple of her songs. If you could say anything to your Mom right now… what would it be? "Thank you for absolutely everything."

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''leave a scar'' by marilyn manson

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lyssismagical · 4 years

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Did my heart love till now? For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night

Parkner Week Day Four: “I will pepper in the fact that I am gay.” / coming out / first date

Peter slips out onto the fire escape, desperate to escape his obnoxious roommates for even a minute.

The city is dark and quiet, despite it only being eleven. Peter’s surprised, considering it’s New York, but the borough they live in is different than Queens or Manhattan ever was.

Harry and Gwen’s bickering follows him out onto the fire escape, so he shuts the window behind him, muffling their voices. They fight a lot. He knows they mean well, they love each other deep down, but they’ve both got big personalities, lots of opinions, and they’re both too stubborn to step down from a fight. Peter’s been appointed as the peacemaker of the group, but even then, there’s only so much he can do. It’s easier somedays to leave them to fight for a little while, get it out of their system, than to try to get them to reconcile.

It doesn’t help that they’re all struggling college students, desperately trying to make a name for themselves in a big city like New York. Harry wants to be a director or maybe join the fashion scene if he can, Gwen wants to make it as an actress, and Peter’s dream is to get on Broadway. They’re all nineteen, though, barely scraping by at NYU or AMDA, trying to pay rent with their minimum wage jobs as waiters.

It isn’t particularly easy, but when has anything ever been easy?

Just because the chances are slim and there will be a lot of struggle, doesn’t mean any of them are willing to give up on their dreams. They’re all prepared for the hardships as long as they have each other.

“What light through yonder window breaks?” A voice calls out from the street below where Peter’s feet dangle. “It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green and none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love!”

Peter hasn’t read Romeo and Juliet since he was in high school, but he’d know those lines anywhere.

He can’t see whoever is quoting Shakespeare up to him, too many shadows cast in the street, but the voice is deep with a southern drawl, projecting easily up to where Peter is.

“O, that she knew she were! She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold, ‘tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, od entreat her eyes to twinkle in their sphere till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!”

“Do you just have it all memorized?” Peter calls out, knowing it’s meant to be his line. He can’t help the smile as the mysterious Romeo laughs from the streets below.

His voice is softer as he speaks without lines. “I played Romeo for three weeks worth of performances last year. I saw you sitting up there, and couldn’t help myself.”

Peter frowns, thinking back to last year. At AMDA, he auditioned for Romeo, but he ended up playing a background character with a single line instead. He was told it was because he was only a freshman, but it was a pretty big hit to his ego. He can’t remember who actually got the role of Romeo though.

“I don’t suppose you quote Shakespeare to just every sad looking person sitting on their fire escapes?”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Romeo says. “You go to AMDA, don’t you? I think I remember seeing you around… You don’t happen to work at that diner on 64th street, do you?”

Peter laughs. “I don’t know how you know that, but yeah, I do. I’m a sophomore at AMDA, double majoring in musical theatre and performing arts. And spending nights at that diner to pay rent.”

“Me and my friend get dinner there all the time. I remember you because Cassie kept pointing you out as one of the greatest dancers in one of her classes.”

The blush that creeps up Peter’s neck makes him feel warm all the way to the core. He’s been working really hard in his dance classes to get where he is now, it’s nice to get that kind of recognition. “That’s very nice of her.”

“I was pointing you out because you happen to be one of the prettiest people I’ve ever seen,” Romeo adds on. “And you have a lovely voice.”

Peter tries to summon any piece of confidence he can, but comes up mostly empty. “Would you mind stepping out of the shadows, so I can compliment you too?”

Romeo laughs again sweetly, and then he’s stepping out from where he’d been leaning against a building across the street. He walks to the middle of the deserted street until he’s properly under the light of the one of the streetlamps.

“O, speak again, bright angel! For thou art as glorious to this night, being o’er my head as is a winged messenger of heaven unto the white-upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him when he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air,” he says.

Romeo is gorgeous and Peter remembers him too. Harley Keener, a Junior at AMDA, in the same musical theatre program as Peter. Harley’s wearing a pair of tight jeans and a flannel, blond curls bouncy and messy, blue eyes wide and sparkling, hands lifted towards Peter as he recites his lines with so much passion and truth.

“You’re calling me and angel? When you look like you do?” Peter blurts. He can hear Gwen’s muffled voice rising behind him and knows he doesn’t have much more time until they finish their argument and come looking for him. “You were brilliant as Romeo, too. I played one of the guards, but I watched your performance every night.”

Harley smiles, showing off his adorable dimples. “I would’ve loved it if you could’ve played opposite me, though. I think you would’ve made an amazing Juliet.”

“I think the world would’ve rioted if they saw a guy playing Juliet. I think Shakespeare would’ve risen from the dead just to have a heart attack.”

Peter can barely stop grinning at the not-so-subtle hints that Harley’s into guys too.

“We’d make a pretty amazing duo, though, don’t you think?”

“My ears have no yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue’s utterance, yet I know the sound: Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?” Peter calls out, putting on his best Juliet voice.

Harley laughs brightly. “You skipped a few lines, but I’ll let it slide if you come down here.”

“If they do see thee, they will murder thee.”

“Is that a no? O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?”

Peter shakes his head, already pulling himself up to his feet. “I’ll be down in five, Harley. You want to get coffee?”

“I’d love to get coffee.”

Grinning, Peter pries open the window and slips back into his apartment where Gwen and Harry seem to have finally gone quiet.

He changes into a nicer outfit quickly, nearly face-planting in his haste to tug his jeans on, and then he skips into the living room to say goodbye to his friends.

“You have plans?” Harry says when he sees Peter. “I thought you were staying in tonight?”

“I met somebody!” Peter practically squeals, bouncing on his toes. He can barely contain his excitement. He hasn’t dated anybody since high school, spending college focused on his career and education, but he’s not about to turn somebody like Harley down.

Gwen lifts an eyebrow. “You met somebody… on the fire escape?”

“We may or may not have been quoting Romeo and Juliet… We’re getting coffee. I’ll catch you both up when I get back, okay?”

Just as Peter’s about to turn away, Harry grabs his arm. “Wait, who was it? Do we know them?”

Peter, blushing furiously and so giddy like he’s a lovesick teenager, says, “Harley Keener. He played Romeo last year, remember?”

Both their jaws drop in shock, eyes wide. They remember him, for sure. It’s hard not to remember somebody like Harley.

Peter doesn’t bother sticking around any longer, racing out the front door to get down to Harley.

Apparently, Harley knows a nice coffee place that’s open at the late hours of night, so he leads the way, bumping shoulders, teasing each other, and making small talk mostly about their friends and school.

“I don’t know if this is too forward,” Harley says when they make it to the coffeeshop. “But I just wanna know if you’re into guys or not. I’m gay… If this is totally platonic, that’s cool too, I just want to know.”

Peter grins, unable to help himself. “I’m bi, so… I thought we were being pretty obvious how we felt by saying we should be two of the most famous star-crossed lovers there are.”

Harley laughs, leading Peter to the counter to give their orders. “I suppose… So, this would be a date?”

“I was kind of hoping so, yeah. If that’s okay?”

“It’s perfect, yeah.”

Harley pays, if only because Peter managed to forget his wallet in his haste to get out of his apartment, and then they start walking back to Peter’s apartment.

Harley talks about how he’s from a small town in the middle of nowhere, Tennessee, how he always dreamed of making it on Broadway like Peter, how scared he was submitting an application to AMDA, how much everything changed when he got accepted. He talks about his family, his mom and little sister back home, how proud they are of everything he does, how he’s going to work so much harder for them. He talks about his experience in New York, how different it is compared to Rose Hill, how much excitement there is, how fast it moves and how full it is.

It’s strange to hear about New York from an outsiders perspective. Peter’s only left New York twice. Both times for Academic Decathlon which took him to DC and to Toronto.

In turn, Peter talks about May, how much he loves her, how much she’s supported all of his decisions. He doesn’t say much about Ben or his parents, but he says enough that Harley links their free hands together and squeezes comfortingly. He talks about Harry and Gwen, about school and his job, how much stress has been piled on his shoulders by everyone wanting him to choose a more possible dream. How he refuses to give up on his Broadway dreams.

They make it back to his apartment all too soon, hands still linked, noses and cheeks red from the cold.

“This was really nice,” Peter murmurs. “I would invite you up to my place, but I have two roommates who are crazy obnoxious and loud and a lot. I’d really like to do this again, though.”

“Me too. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now, I didn’t think it would be like that. Quoting Shakespeare isn’t the greatest pickup line.”

Peter shrugs, tugging Harley a little closer. “It worked.”

“Is there anyway I could get your number?”

“I’ll give it to you in exchange for something,” Peter bargains, smiling dopily.

“And what’s that?”

“Kiss me?”

Harley doesn’t waste a second, pressing their mouths together and backing Peter into the brick wall of his apartment building, free hand grabbing Peter’s waist while trying not to spill his coffee. Peter wraps his arms around Harley’s neck and shoulders, smiling into the kiss.

Eventually, they do have to pull away, both of them grinning at each other and they let out twin breathless laughs.

Harley fishes a pen out of his bag, presenting it and his forearm to Peter.

He jots down his number with a little heart, trying not to think too much about the wiry muscle in his forearm and how much he really wants to see Harley’s biceps too. He leans up to kiss Harley once more before he pushes open the door to his building.

“I’ll see you around?”

“Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.”

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @justme--emily @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay

#lyss writes #parkner week 2020 #I'll catch up I swear #I know how behind I am #parkner #peter parker #harley keener #harry osborn #gwen stacy #parkner fic

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littlebitoffanfic · 4 years

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Celebration

Fandom: The Collector/The Collection Character: Asa Emory – the collector Relationship: Asa Emory/reader Request: Since I have seen you do some slashers, can I request Asa from The Collector? Something sweet where the reader works with him and is an alibi and then saves him when Arkin comes for him in the collection?

You knew him from your work although you didn’t know him well. Asa was a private man, reserved to his office and displays for the museum. You were tour guide with a hand in some of the office work. After all, the museum didn’t get an awful amount of funding to be able to employee more office workers. Today, you were happy. It was a sunny day, which meant people were less likely to come to the museum for an indoor activity. Your tours still ran ever 2 hours, but a smaller group had less questions and you could normally be done within an hour, leaving an hour free. You all but skipped down the halls like a school girl, your project held tightly in your arms as you stopped outside Dr Emory office. knocking three time, you waited for him. He towered over you, and had such a demanding presences that made you weak at the knees. Your crush on his was not unnoticed by your co-workers.

“Good morning.” You smile, trying your best to work through the flutters in your chest. “Its 1.30.” he stated, his eyes unreadable. “Oh, well, good afternoon. Could I steal a few minutes of your time?” You ask, nearly slapping yourself in the face for your mistake. His eyes darted to the folder in your arms and he stepped aside, allowing you to enter. This was a privilege in itself. Barely anyone was allowed within his office. But Asa seemed to tolerate you more than the others. Perhaps because you were his neighbour. Now that had truly been a happy accident. His previous neighbour was selling and you were looking for somewhere when you moved here. It just so happened that your neighbour to your left was also a co-worker. Entering his office was like entering a new world. The walls were decorated with various bugs throughout different ages in their lives. Butterfly’s, beetles and roaches but the most prominent member of his displays were spiders. Your attention was drawn to a particular specimen. Pinned in a shadow box was a blue spider. The sign under called it a Cobalt Blue Tarantula. “Wow, those markings are fascinating.” You mumble aloud, more to yourself that to the mans whos office you were in. “Truly. The Cyriopagopus lividum.. native to the borders of Thailand.” Asa speaks so fondly of the dead creature that it makes you smile slightly. There was no denying his love for his work. “Are they venomous?” You ask, purely out of curiosity. “Yes, but the venom not strong enough to kill an adult human. Although its not pleasant.” Asa walks past you to his desk and drawing you from your thoughts. “Now, you wanted something?” “Yes, I was wondering if you might help me with an exhibition.” You hold out the folder to him as you sit at the other side of his desk. He takes it and opens it, showing a sort of mood board you had put together ranging from other exhibitions to enclosures to photo life-spans of certain creatures. “an exhibition?” His eyes flick up to meet your own with curiosity. In truth, you hated how under appreciated he was at the museum and his knowledge should be put to good use. “Yes, for insects. Of course, I’d do most of the work, but I’d really apricate someone who I can fact check with and can offer some insight.” You smile sweetly, and the small smile that pulled at Asa’s lips told you that he was in.

-------------time skip ------------------

Your time spend with the entomologist was one of the most pleasant and interesting interactions you had had in a while. Walking to his office, you held your papers in your hands. You were about to knock when you heard voices inside. Pressing your ear against the door, you listened. “Dr Emory, unless you can provide an alibi for your whereabouts on Saturday evening, we will have enough to arrest you under suspicious of connection with the collector killings.” A voice spoke with authority. Your heart stopped. The collector killings had fascinated you ever since they had come to light. And Asa, well, he was a private man. If they were threatening such a thing, there must be something behind it. And you wanted to know. The two men that seemed to cloud your thoughts could be one. Your mind thought quickly as you came up with a plan. Knocking on the door, you walked in without waiting – something you never really did. Once inside, you acted like a deer in headlights. Two men sat opposite Asa’s desk in suits. “oh, sorry. Are you from the board?” You asked sincerely but you didn’t let them answer before quickly adding. “Look, Dr Emory and I are neighbours. Its perfectly reasonable for us to spend our evenings and weekends in each others company. Besides, if Tiffany told you about us, she has been having an affair with the janitor.” You could tell Asa was just as stunned as you were. One of the men smiled and stood. “You don’t need to be alarmed, miss. We are from the investigations team.” He then presented his ID badge to you. “Oh, gosh. I am so sorry.” You looked stunned, despite already knowing. “Its okay. But I am interested in what you said. Do you know where Dr Emory was on Saturday evening between 5pm and 11pm?” The man leaned back on Asa’s desk while the other twisted to fully look at you. “He was with me.” You said, talking to the two detectives. “At my house.” “with you? He said he was home alone.” The one with the strong jaw line narrowed his eyes at you. “Yes, well, its not against any policies, our director has been known to fire people for having… interpersonal relationships with colleagues. We’d agreed to keep it a secret. He would have been trying to protect me, in case this got out to the others.” You explain to them, not daring to look at Asa. You knew you were playing with fire here. But what you said wasn’t a stretch. The director had fired a member of the geology department… for sleeping with his wife in astrology. He really cared what staff did as long as they did their job. And didn’t fuck his wife. “Is this true?” He asked Asa, who gave a single nod. “And is there anyone who can corroborate this?” The detective asked you, more kindly than the others. “Not really. As I said, it was a secret so I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us. Although, you can ask half the staff in this building and they’ll tell you that ive had a crush on the man since I moved here, and they know we have been spending more time together. They are so fond of teasing me for it anyway.” You manage to draw a chuckle from one as he jabbed the other detective in the shoulder which earned a smile. Apparently, there was a similar situation going on where they were. “Right, well, we’d better be on our way. We’ll be back in touch soon.” The one sitting rose to his feet, nodding to both you and Asa before he and his partner left. They left and the door had closed for a brief moment before you felt someone grab your arm and you were twisted to meet Asa. He didn’t say anything and his cheeks were slightly red, but his ears were bright red. “So, you are the collector?” You breathe, looking up at him with a small smile tugging on your lips. “What do you want?” He growled, his voice low and menacing. Oh, he wasn’t happy. “I want to know.” You breath, stepping closer to him. “You take parts, right? What do you do with them? Keep mementos? Are you making something?” His nostrils flares out, obviously angry. You understood. You had let yourself into his world, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. He couldn’t kill you because it would point the fingers back to him. No, it was smart to keep you close. He let out an exasperated sigh, reaching up and pinching his brow. “look, once this has blown over for you, I wont say a word. I don’t expect anything for it. If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.” You reassured him. “Why?” His eyes narrow at you, but you shrug. “honestly, you fascinate me.” You confess to the man, even more intrigued than before. You saw the smirk that twitched at the side of his mouth.

----------------- time skip ------------

The world of the collector was one you never dreamed you would see inside, and you loved it. It took trust to get him to let you see. First you saw the inside of the hotels lobby, then some traps, then some of the beautiful creations he made, then his prize possession. you never participated, but you provided a bit more support for him, offering help from the side lines in exchange for information and his time. If he was suspicious of you, he couldn’t deny the genuine interest in your eyes as he spoke, or how you hung on every word of his. He seemed to love how you marvelled at everything with a child-like innocents. Wide eyes and a curious mind. He kept you very close, at work and in your personal lives. It took 5 months in total for the cops to ease up off of Asa, but they still occasionally found their way to his house, watching it. He would come to yours in those situations, still keeping the façade up that you were in some kind of relationship. Not that you cared. You found that the two of you had a lot in common which made the time easily spent. Of course, his dogs loved you. When you came round to his, they were pawing at the floor to get to you but waited for their master to give them the signal to move. They really were puppies at heart. Also, sometimes you thought Asa just said they were there to spend time with you. Either way, you didn’t mind. Tonight, you were buried in a book when a harsh knock at your door made you jump but you hurried to answer it, finding a slightly wet Asa. You smiled, stepping aside and allowing him to step in. “You’d think the police budget within the millions by how much they come around.” You giggle, helping his jacket off his shoulders to hang up to dry. He hummed in response, wiping his face with a hand to try get the stray rain droplet off. “So, how was your recent game?” you asked as he followed you into the living room, where you had been reading. You collapsed back into the couch and held your book on your lap. “Uneventful. No one worthy to take.” He mused as he walked over to your book shelf and pulled out the book he had been reading last time. As he returned to your sofa to sit beside you – a show for the police outside – the book fell open to the page he had been reading. But instead of the paperclip he had been using to keep his place, it was a book mark. A novelty bookmark that you had swiped from the gift shop. It was one of those fake 3D ones, with spiders moving on green leaf’s. You raised your book over your mouth to hide your grin. “very amusing.” He soft chuckle left his lips as he placed it to the side. You giggled, moving to reposition yourself. Your sofa faced the TV which was to the right of the window. Meaning anyone who walked by outside could see in. but it was a quiet neighbourhood. Apart from the undercover police. You lay on the sofa, your legs draped over Asa’ lap which you rested your head on some pillows propped up against the arm rest. Asa rose the book without tearing his eyes away from it to allow your legs to move before lowering to rest his forearms on your knee and thighs. Despite being a bit of a play for the police, it began to feel a little more real. You would engage him in conversation through out the evening, and he would tear his attention away from the book to ask you about your day. In fact, you had started to think that Asa had missed this. With the police’s interest dwindling, so had his trips. Even your encounters in work were now limited as you had finished your exhibition. Or many it was just the part of you that had fallen so madly in love with the man that wished he wanted your company. Your eyes left the page to glance at his face. mature features with intelligent eyes. You hated how he could make your heart stop. Maybe this was fake to him, but it was so real to you. Turning your attention back to your book, you didn’t look up until the sun had fully set. Glancing at the clock, you were surprised to see it was nearly 10pm. “Gosh, I swear I’ll never get use to these changing sunsets. Every year it takes me by surprise.” You sit up, stretching as Asa chuckles. Leaning forward, you press a kiss to his cheek before lifting your legs off his lap to stand up. Asa followed, and you smiled when he marked his page with the bookmark you had gotten him. “You’re nearly finished. I told you it’s a page turner.” You nodded to the book, which he was nearly finished save for 50 pages. “Yes, all the more reason to come back.” He shot a look over his shoulder that made you smirk. Playful teasing had become something you adored in the man. It was another reason that made you doubt this was fake. They couldn’t hear what was happening, so why play around. Sliding the book back into the slot, he picked up the remote which had been forgotten on the sofa to go to the window and place it on the stand. A ploy for him to see if they were still watching the house. “I think you’re right. They get far too much funding. It could be going to the museum.” He mused as he turned back to you. Maybe they needed to see more. Or maybe you wanted more. Just to test the waters. Walking up to him, you reach up and placed your hands on his shoulders. “Kiss me?” You whisper to him, pressing your body against his own. Wide eyes met your own and you couldn’t help but giggle. “They can see through the window.” That was enough to encourage the man to duck down, pressing a kiss to your lips. he could have lightly kissed your lips and pulled away after a few moment, but he didn’t. In fact, you were sure he had forgotten all about the car outside. His arms wrapped around your waist and you were pulled tight against his strong chest as his lips fought your own for dominance which you quickly surrendered. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, making you moan as reach up and place your hand on the back of his head near his neck to keep his mouth to your own. Not like he was pulling away any time soon. you felt him push you backwards and you allowed him to push you till your back hit the wall and he pinned you to it. they couldn’t see you anymore, but you didn’t care. Raising your right leg, you hooked it around his hip as his hand trailed down your side and followed the curve to your thigh, holding you in that position. He was driving you crazy, his touch was like fire as you cling to him. When he does pull back, you are left a panting mess with rosy cheek. But his tell was his red ears despite the smirk on his lips. “So, tell me, where does the line between fake and real stop?” he asks, keeping his face close to your own. “With a kiss like that.” You bite your lower lip, completely aware of how his hand had kept your leg hooked on his hip. “The police aren’t outside. They left over an hour ago.” Asa’s voice was low, barely about a whisper. “They did?” You raise your eye brows at him. A nod answers your question and you were left pondering your next move. “Good.” As leans down, sealing his lips over your own.

-----time skip ------

You were sitting in your living room, half heartedly flicking through the channel when you notice Asa’ car drive past your window. Smiling, you turn off the TV and grab your small bag. It was a Friday, which meant that Asa worked late. But it also meant you would be staying over with him. A few weeks ago, shit had really hit the fan. You really didn’t know what happened, expect that the hotel was burned to the ground, and Asa only just escaped with his life. He was badly hurt, and you were thankful that he had taken a week off for holidays. It had been holidays he was going to spend with you in his cabin up north, but plans changed. You stayed by his side during his recovery. Asa had lost nearly everything that night. His creations, his sanctuary, his dogs, his prizes. But he had been thankful to come home to you. He had extended his own holiday but you returned to work the next week. He said he had fallen while on a hike so no one questioned his cuts and bruising when he did go back. You took your bag and left your home for the evening, locking it up as you set to go to Asa. He had regained most of his energy and health back, which you were hoping he might be up for something a little more… activity related tonight. The lingerie in your bag certainly hoped so. he was already out the car and into the house as you walked up. But something caught your eye. In his living room, there was someone hiding in the corner. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognised the man. His name was Arkin. He had been the one who had escaped Asa, the one who caused his injuries. You only recognised him because Asa had pointed him out when the new came on one evening. And you highly doubted that he was here to say a friendly hello. Running around the back, you ducked under the window so as not to be seen. You ditched your bag in a bush as you made your way to the back door just as you heard heavy metal music blare through the house. You wanted to scream to Asa, but the glint you had seen in Arkins hands wasn’t enough to tell you if it was a gun or a knife. Slipping into his kitchen, you heard the music being turned off and then silence. You took a large knife from the knife block on the counter and held it as if to stab. And you were willing to. Then you slowly opened the bottom draw, which had some duct tape in it. You round the edge, only slightly pulling it off. If you were going to hurt someone, they cant make a lot of sound. You moved into the hallway which connected to the living room and dinning room. “All those insects. You’re quite the collector.” A voice, Arkins voice spoke, making you pause as you made sure no one knew you were here. “In a 200 mile radios from where we last saw each other, there are 14 licensed entomologists. You were number 12.” As Arkin spoke, you moved slowly down the hallway, looking behind you ever second in case someone else was here. “Your daddy ran a museum, didn’t he? Fucked you up real good.” His words made you feel sick. Asa never spoke of his father. His mother was held with high regard, and he said he wanted you to meet her when she was next in town. But he had shut off when you asked about his father. Arkin was right. “Turn around.” You pressed your back against the wall as you inched closer to the doorway. Tape in your left hand, the edge taped to your finger, and the knife in the other. You could see from the glass display cabinet that Asa and Arkin were standing face to face near the entrance to the dinning room. Arking had his back to you. And a gun raised at Asa’ face. Fear rushed through you as the analogy of ‘don’t bring a knife to a gun fight’ flooded your mind. “Are you here to kill me?” Asa spoke with a calmness you couldn’t fathom. “No. that would be too nice. First im gonna make sure feel everything that I felt. Then im gonna kill you.” You could hear the smugness in his voice. “So that you can never hurt anyone-“ He was cut off as Asa lunged at him. But Arkin gave a swift jab to the face, causing him to tumble back. Into a red box. Your gasp was covered as Arkin flipped the box and started slamming the lid shut again and again, growling “fuck you.” Before the lack closed. he stepped back, gasping for air. He thought he was alone. Darting into the room, you raise the knie and bought it down into his right shoulder and an angle. He instantly dropped the gun. Letting go of the knife for a moment, you grabbed the roll of tape and started wrapping it round and round his mouth. He had only just managed to let out a cry of pain as his legs gave way under him. He reached up, struggling so you grabbed the knife and pulled it from the flesh. Using the sharp, bloodstained blade, you cut the tape and he collapsed to the ground moaning. You gave him a quick kick in the face before kicked the gun that had fallen out of reach. The last thing you needed was neighbours calling the police for gunfire at the house. You raced over to the box. “Asa, its me.” You reassured him through the small walls in case he tried to attack whoever opened the box. When you pulled the lid open, he scrambled to his feet, the anger in his eyes blazing as he found his attacker on the floor. Arkin was groaning, unable to move just yet but you were sure he’d be up and about soon enough. “Your hands.” You whispered, reaching out and taking his right hand which was covered in blood from Arkin slamming the box down. Your heart broke. He had not long healed. Arkin began to come around, his eyes darting between the two of you as he realized what had happened. He looked at you with an unimaginable about of rage and anger in his eyes as he tried to scream. Asa darted forward, twisting him around and pinning him to the ground, a knee in his back and his hand pressing on the new wound. “The tape.” He commanded of you, and you immediately grabbed the duct tape which had rolled away slightly. Finding the end, you saw Asa grabbing Arkins left hand and you mirrored with his right. Bringing them forcefully behind his back, you taped them in place, then went to tape his ankles together. Once satisfied, Asa hauled the man off the ground and threw him into the box, the lid closing over with the force. Asa flipped the latch. Looking him inside. You didn’t realise you were panting and shaking until Asa was looking at you. Racing forward, you wrap your arms around his torso and bury your face in his chest. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” He ask, holding him as tightly as you could. A bloody hand stroked your cheek as another rubbed your back to sooth you. “No, you got here right on time.” There was a softness to his voice that made you melt as you looked up at him and smiled. “I’m too late to be a guard dog. Ludwig or Vivaldi wouldn’t have let him get close enough to hurt you.” You shake your head as you pull back, taking his hands in your own once again to inspect the damage. But he turned his hands over and took your own. “How about we go up to the cabin this weekend?” Asa askes, his question not very well fitted for the currant moment. “huh?” Your eyes glanced to the box which was moving slightly as Arkin struggled. “Oh, we’ll take him. And, since I am out of commission right now, perhaps I can show you some tricks.” Asa smirked as your eyes light up at his words. “Yes!” You bounce on the balls of your feet. You went up on your tiptoes to kiss him, resisting every urge not to pull him upstairs to his bedroom right now. Pulling back, you dart down and pick up the gun, offering it to Asa. “I’ll go get some stuff to see to your hands. And I’ll run back and pack a quick bag and then come and pack your things. I think I should drive, though. You’ll have to give me instructions.” You rattle off, the excitement obvious in your voice. “Oh, you’ll get use to taking instruction this weekend.” Asa whispered in your ear, making you blush and bite your lip with a smirk. Arkin seemed to get a burst of energy and started flaying around in the box, which only moved slightly. “He truly is annoying, isn’t he?” you huffed, hating the moment was ruined by him. Asa simply chuckled and walked up to the box, sitting on it and stopping it from shifting. As you flitted around, gathering supplies and seeing to his hands and then packing his things, Asa watched with a soft eyes. He would be lying if he said he trusted you from the start. And even more so if he admitted there had still been a small part of him that thought you were with the police. but that doubt was well gone. And this weekend, he wanted to celebrate this strange relationship. And oh, what a celebration it would be.

#the collector #the collection #asa emory #asa emory x reader #asa x reader #the collector x reader

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