#why bother trying to fit in if its literally impossible for most of them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

husbandohunter · 4 years ago

Text

A Small Predicament [Baby Genshin x Reader]

Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo

Synopsis: Cursed for a week, the boys either have to live with it or find a cure as soon as possible. You on the otherhand hoped otherwise.

(A/n): It only takes ONE glance for me to start having ideas. It was twelve in the morning yall, enjoy~

Oh here's part 2

--------

Scaramouche

• "Oh you shrank? I couldn't tell-"

• Threatens that he will murder you to pieces and burn your remains but his voice was so squeaky and high pitched (voice crack) that you couldn't help but burst into a tearful laughter.

• Its payback time Bully him, take his hat and hover it above his head. Truthfully, without his hat Scaramouche looks like a little schoolboy. Overall less intimidating.

• Tries glaring. Cute. He's really bratty as a kid, sitting on a high chair (which you had to help him get on) and demanding his servants to do his bidding. In reality, his personality never changed. You realized that even as a grown up he still acts like this (bratty kid in a grown man body).

• The curse made his week a living hell. Signora had the audacity to pull his ear when he misbehaves. Childe constantly messes with his hair while giving head pats and the WORST of all, pinching his cheeks. Scaramouche never wanted to commit arson so bad in his life.

• Eventually finds a cure so he doesn't have to deal with it anymore and orders everyone to never speak of it again. Though, he's plotting how he'll get revenge on everyone who made fun of him using the very same curse (You better run).

~~x~~

Diluc

• "Oh…Oh my! Diluc you're just so cute!"

• Diluc grimaces as you glomp him in this state. How can you help it? With his head so small it makes his hair all the more fluffier! His coat no longer fits him to the point the sleeves had made past his fingertips. He tried wielding his claymore again, only to lose balance and fall flat onto his bum

• (insert kid voice "Retribution!") Did I mention the babyface?

• Diluc tries to act as if everything was normal, acting like the Darknight hero and Mondstadt's Tycoon but fun-sized. He couldn't. There was no way people would take him seriously in business meetings. Same with fighting abyss mages, his smaller form was too much of a disadvantage. Thus you ended up doing most of his paperwork.

• One time you caught him sitting on the floor couldn't reach his office desk while reading away the various books for a cure. It was three in the morning. You told him it was way past his bedtime and he argues saying when did he ever have a curfew schedule. In the end you managed to convince him and he begrudgingly obliges.

• The type to NOT ask for help even when it's obvious that he really needs it. Before he was the one who helped you reach things from the top shelves, oh how the tables have turned. He avoids Kaeya like a plague unless he was in it for another round of funny remarks. When he wanted to go out and get some fresh air, you insisted on accompanying him. Worst mistake in his life. A travelling merchant bumps into you and commented that you had a very cute son. Diluc was mortified.

• The day ended up with him sulking in his room. Although it was tempting, you resisted from cooing over his adorable form after days of treating him like a child. It wasn't because you were teasing him, Diluc just works so hard that you wanted to spoil him a bit. At least he could still play a game of chess with you.

• When things went back to normal, Diluc ensures that you will NOT see him as your son.

~~x~~

Kaeya

• "Well look who it is, my little Prince Kaeya~"

• Tries really hard not be bothered by it at all. Kaeya still maintains his suave facade, throwing in a couple of flirting lines here and there (and forcing his voice to go a few octaves too low in which puberty has yet to occur HA). Though no matter what approach, he couldn't ignore the sparkling mischievious glint in your eye. You were obviously not taking him seriously.

• Things couldn't get any worse. He lost his masculine physique and boob window, he wasn't able to go to certain places without supervision. But the worst thing of all was that he was underaged. Kaeya hated the fact he couldn't drink anymore, he even insisted you to sneak him a few bottles (which you refused) and had to settle with plain beverages such as fruit juice (what an insult). He was never really grounded since his childhood days but he certainly felt like he was grounded now.

• Kaeya still kisses you on the lips whether you like it or not. If you ask him to sit on your lap, he will find a way to turn the position into his favour such as resting his face between your breasts. You're not gonna treat him like a kid, nuh-uh, he actively avoids it.

• Since his personality still remains, Kaeya is a naughty child. He will use his innocent appearance to sway people (even you) to get what he wants. That was how he was able to take a sip of the wine he stole somewhere (he wouldn't tell you). Diluc scolded him heavily and threatened to ban him from drinking from his Tavern for a week (they ended up arguing, Kaeya being the passive aggressive little shit he is).

• He was extremely relieved to return back to his normal form again. He has so much to catch up (specifically his bedtime activities with you *wink wonk*)

~~x~~

Child(e)

• "Hmmm to be honest, this actually suits you very much."

• Unlike the other boys, Childe was completely okay with it. Turns out that YOU were the one who was not going to be okay. If you thought taking care of Teucer was energy-draining then expect Childe to take that tenfold and beyond.

• You've officially became his full-time babysitter who is in desperate need of a raise (and rest). You can't take your eyes off of him and archons forbid that he will ever meet Klee. One point he'll be running ahead by your side and the next you'll find him getting himself in a 1vs7 situation with some shady looking treasure hoarders. Childe genuinely thinks he could take them on but the curse downgraded his abilities. You carried him and barely made out of it alive. (This made you ponder whether the best solution would be to strap him against a chair for the time being…)

• Childe being a child will eat all the candies and ice cream he pleases. You wonder if the curse also turned him a few years back or was it that he acts like this simply because he wanted to (it was the latter). He loves being spoiled, spoiled by you! Childe demands your full attention, spoon-feeding his meals, back rubs and head pats. Yep, he's definitely doing this on purpose.

• Did he just call you 'mommy'? (Childe has mommy kink confirmed). He has so much energy that it was exhausting, you literally had to drag him away from what ever he was doing in order to get him to bed. "No Childe, your sleeping time is 9p.m stop whining." He bargained that he'll sleep if you sleep beside him (you didn't get any sleep. You knew what he was planning. In the end, you tried to make sure he didn't sneak out behind your back.)

• Finally you were able to get out of that hell-hole. Childe promised to make it up to you, you deserve it after all~

~~x~~

Small (aka Xiao)

• "Did you know in the Liyuean language, Xiao translates to small?" You didn't say that out loud. Not when he's this angry (this angy)

• He just stands there, crossing his arms and grumbling. You were hesitant to touch him in case he might hiss at you. Xiao has always been short, maybe an inch taller than you, but seeing him like this made you think 'my almighty yaksha can't be this cute♡'

• He gets mad when you no longer call his name for help. How could you? He's just so precious~ Xiao makes it clear that no matter what form he takes, it doesn't make him weak ("Adepti and you mortals are nothing alike." Or so he says but you could tell he wasn't running as fast as he used to because…small legs). You may not comment on it aloud but he can tell just by the look on your face and it irritates him.

• Also the type to not ask for help but worse. Xiao is an agressive little kid, he seems as if he'll be willing to bite someone's finger off if they try to pet him (He gives strong cat vibes, so thats understandable). His spear was too big for him to wield so he often has to put it away or else he might knock someone over with it. Xiao hates being short so you'll be hearing him complain alot.

• Since he was an adepti, he didn't need to sleep however, the curse must have brought down his power by a significant amount to the point you DID catch him napping. You almost swooned out loud just by taking a glance upon his face. For once he didn't wear his signature grumpy look. Xiao appears like a normal child, one full of innocence. His snoring was soft and breathly but that just meant he was deep asleep. (You wished to take a picture).

• Of course, everything had to come to an end (much to your disappointment), he still complains about the incident to this day.

~~x~~

Zhongli

• How is it possible for a baby to still look so handsome? (Must be his godly abilities)

• Zhongli is unfazed by this 'curse' since his past lives have already taken many forms. Though for some reason whenever he walks down the streets of Liyue, young girls, mothers, ladies all come him was and start complimenting him and gushing over him (he was suffocating). They'd squeeze him tight or squish his cheeks, it only takes once glance before the little girls start blushing and hiding behind their moms.

• Needless to say, despite what form he is in, Zhongli is still able to get free stuff. He got some free candies and some free kites to play with. You had to help him carry his items. Zhongli ends up tripping too much because his tailcoat reached his feet (he decided to just take it off. You had to hold that too). Seems like he can have anyone do things for him in the end HA.

• He still got that drippy voice and you're just like ???? "What on Teyvat Zhongli, you're a kid." This is why you can't see him as one, its nearly impossible.

• Actively avoids Hu Tao and Childe. Once Hu Tao caught sight of him and chased him for hours, he couldn't stay in one spot knowing that she might just pop out of no where. Childe still spoils him, however Zhongli feels irritated by the fact the only things Childe buys him toys (its different when other people do it.)

• Everytime you guys go back strolling through Liyue, you had to hold his hand in case more women come swarming hin again. You swear that at this rate he might get kidnapped because hes just such a beautiful baby.

• Zhongli learned an important lesson after his curse was lifted: no matter how many years he lives throughout never take a form of a child.

~~x~~

Albedo

• You find him buried beneath a pile of books and had to dig him out before he suffocates.

• Albedo has the cutest eyes, they're big and round full of curiosity and they sparkle too (he has the prettiest eyes out of everyone tbh). He is the only person who is fascinated by this outcome and immediately goes in the wild to test out his new physique.

• He was always curious why Klee T-poses when she runs so he decided to try it out himself. She was thrilled to find out that she now has a little brother to play with. In the end, Albedo indulges in the games she always wanted to play but couldn't because he was too old: princess dress up tea parties.

• You felt many things when you saw Albedo wearing a frilly gown and a plastic tiara tucked on his head. Deep down you knew regardless of what gender Albedo was still pretty. Klee even had the guts to redo his hair and hardly anyone was able to recognize it was him at all. He has pigtails, PIGTAILS! You made sure to burn that image into the very depths of your mind forever.

• The only advantage was the he was ablw to fit through small spaces, other than that, being small was way too inconvenient. He knocked down a few of his potion bottles which damaged the floor (thankfully not him) because they were lethal (he wonders how Klee was able to not injure herself when using bombs). You carried him and lifted him to alot of places such as trudging through the snow because Albedo would surely fall on his face due to his small form.

• Enough was enough, he only lasted a day with this and decided to just make a potion and put an end to the curse once and for all.

#genshin impact #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact headcanons #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #Kaeya #kaeya alberich #tartagalia x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #nya writes #scaramouche x reader

7K notes · View notes

impostoradult · 5 years ago

Text

I finally figured out why it feels like Supernatural murdered a unicorn (AKA why you need to STOP telling me to watch Black Sails)

I’ll start by saying, everything everyone else has been saying CERTAINLY bothers me:

- the queer-baiting - the bury your queers - the undermining of Dean’s character arc - the wasted opportunity for a certain kind of overall narrative closure - the flat out disrespect to Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles

All of that bothers me tremendously.

But there has been something else rather ineffable about this that has left a horrible taste in my mouth that I couldn’t quite pin down until last night. Bear with me, if you will, because this will require some set-up.

*** This is not the first show to ever disappoint me in a spectacular fashion, nor will it be the last, I suspect. And one of the ways I’ve always coped with that disappointment was to remind myself that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right. (”It” being any number of things from just pure narrative emotional coherence to not burying your queers to not stringing along your queer audience and then yelling fuck you to them on the way out)

But somehow that assurance -- that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right -- has rung particularly hollow in this instance, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why until yesterday.

I kept asking myself, why do I still have this feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach, like something was lost here that can never be recovered?

Because something was lost here that I am doubtful can ever be recovered, and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else talking about this aspect of it at all.

***

A few months ago, TV critic Maureen Ryan did a great interview piece with Mike Schur (of Parks & Rec/The Good Place) discussing the death of long-form TV in the streaming era. They explore how the longer seasons and longer runs of traditional broadcast/cable TV provided an opportunity to tell particular kinds of stories that you simply can’t when seasons are 8-10 episodes and series typically run 2-4 seasons (thanks Netflix).

One key thing we’ve all lost in this new era of highly condensed TV storytelling (and of prestige TV narrative styles)? The traditional (several season’s long) slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance. Not only is there simply no longer the time or space to write such romances, it has also come to be seen as hacky, manipulative, cheap, artistically impoverished, low-brow, a embarrassing vestige of the era before TV became art™.

Everybody is trying to be Fleabag now. No one wants to be Frasier. (”It’s really more like a 10 hour movie” they all like to brag)

Obviously TV still has romances, even ‘drawn out’ romances. But ‘drawn out’ in 2020 is like 2-3 seasons, maybe. More commonly it’s like half a season. Take Schitt’s Creek. The number of episodes between when David and Patrick first meet and when they first kiss? Seven. Seven episodes. Half a season. If you watched it live, it took less than 2 months for them to move from introducing that dynamic to consummating it. And I’m not bagging on Schitt’s Creek; I think the David/Patrick’s story is very lovely and well-written.

But Niles & Daphne (Fraiser) had to wait 7 years and over 150 episodes before they finally got there. Josh & Donna (The West Wing) had to wait 6+ years, and 145 episodes. Mulder & Scully (The X-Files) had to wait 7 seasons and 143 episodes. Booth & Bones had to wait...you see where I am going with this.

And my point is (and I can’t believe I never realized this explicitly until now): there has NEVER been a queer slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance of that type on TV ever. EVER.

I’m going to say that again, because I think it bares repeating:

There has never been a queer, slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance that fits the 100-150 episode paradigm of delayed gratification on TV.

Not ever.

I can’t think of ONE example Not a single, solitary one. And I know queer TV pretty well. Arguably the closest we’ve ever come is Legend of Korra, and that ran 50 episodes, a THIRD of the length of old school will-they-won’t-theys like Booth & Bones or Josh & Donna.

Queer people have had a fair number of canonical romances on TV by now, even fairly long running ones. But we never got a primary/front-and-center romance that you had to root for for 100+ episodes before you got any kind of canonical consummation.

That is a particular kind of TV experience that queer people and queer characters were just 100% shut out of until it was too late. And because of how the TV landscape has changed in the last 10 years, I don’t know that that opportunity will ever come back around in our lifetimes.

***

Dean and Castiel are/were a legacy of an earlier era of TV, an era that still contained the possibility for a will-they-won’t-they of that particular mold. There were other shows that could have also filled this gap at one time - Rizzoli & Isles, OUAT, House MD, etc. But one by one all of them were killed off, their queer romances unrequited, until Supernatural was the only one of its’ generation left standing.

And they should have acknowledged that they were a species about to become extinct.

There are plenty of other valid and compelling reasons Supernatural should have gone full Destiel, don’t get me wrong.

A) It would have been the most emotionally satisfying ending to the series and to those characters (and that would have been reason enough).

B) It would have stopped the manipulative queer-baiting of the (disproportionately queer) fanbase (and that would have been reason enough).

C) It would have been queer representation of middle-aged men, of bi men, of queers who came to their queerness later in life (and any/all of those would have been reason enough).

D) It could have been a glorious subversion of the bury your queers trope, considering how often they’ve died and been resurrected (and that would have been reason enough).

But point E) on this list is the reason this one hurts in a singular way that no one even appears to be acknowledging.

Almost all of the other wrongs and missed opportunities contained in this Supernatural debacle have the possibility of being rectified (at least to a degree) elsewhere. I can and I likely will get more bi male characters from TV as time goes on. I can and likely will get more middle-aged queer characters. I can and likely will get more queer characters coming to their queerness later in life, and starting queer romances later in life. I can and likely will get more queer characters who aren’t killed cheaply and prematurely. I can and likely will get more genre TV shows with sprawling myth arc plots that are resolved in a coherent, satisfying way. I can and likely will get Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles involved in other projects that value their work and their talents.

All of those other things are at the very least POSSIBLE, and many are even likely.

But a queer 100-150 episode slow-burn romance a la Mulder & Scully or Niles & Daphne or Booth & Bones? That is the one baton Supernatural dropped spectacularly that no one else even has the possibility of picking up again for the foreseeable future. (They don’t even write those types of romances for heterosexuals anymore!)

Seriously. It was a TV unicorn. And rather than letting it run wild and free, they stabbed it with a rusty nail.

***

Given the monumental shifts in the TV landscape that have occurred in the last decade, I don’t know that TV will ever go back to the slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance spanning 100-150 episodes. Today it is a miracle if you can get ANY show to last longer than 50 episodes in the first place.

And that is the piece of this that makes it feel (to me) like they murdered a unicorn.

Because queer people have gotten a lot of things from TV, and they will get a lot more as time goes on. But that one? That one could very well be a totally extinct species.

That is the larger missed opportunity here that has left this feeling especially hollow and destructive. That is the thing that makes me balk when people tell me to go watch Black Sails or Pose or whatever other prestige TV show is doing this representation ‘better.’ Because that’s not really the loss I am mourning here. I KNOW there is ‘better’ representation elsewhere.

But the will-they-won’t-they/slow-burn romance is a qualitatively unique thing that queer people literally just never got. Ever. There is no substitute, no alternate, no other show I can turn to with that kind of build-up and pay-off for a queer couple, and there probably won’t be in my lifetime. Not unless the TV industry undergoes another monumental evolution similar to the streaming revolution that shifts the incentives back to telling those types of stories again.

All those shows you want me to displace Supernatural with? None of them can give me the one thing I uniquely wanted (and could have gotten) from Supernatural. THAT ALTERNATE SHOW DOESN’T EXIST. It doesn’t exist. And I have no reason to hope it will ever exist in my lifetime.

So stop telling me to look somewhere else; you don’t understand what made this one a unicorn.

***

Addendum: The only other possible show that could perhaps fill this gap is It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (re: Mac/Dennis). But I’m hesitant to say it exactly meets that criteria, for a number of reasons:

1 - It’s far less serialized relative to Supernatural and (except for a handful of stand-alone episodes) very little of the story is grounded specifically in Dennis/Mac’s romantic dynamic (unlike SPN, where it is absolutely central to much of the narrative)

2 - IASIP is fundamentally satirically in nature/tone which makes it much harder to have genuine romantic pathos (not impossible, but harder)

3 - All the characters on IASIP are fundamentally crummy people who you aren’t exactly supposed to root for. Which doesn’t mean a romance between two of them can’t have its value/charm/worth but it’s not the same as when it is between characters who unequivocally deserve nice things/happy endings

#Supernatural #Destiel #queer representation #sorry this is long

8K notes · View notes

spinster-sisters · 4 years ago

Text

Precious. JYN

restaurant worker! au (idk its just gengeral slice of life)

TW: size kink (this is yunho we are talking about) boob stuff (this is me we are talking about, praise, dom! yunho, sub! reader. there is some unwanted inappropriate touching done by an older guy but it doesnt last long.

WC: 5k

The very first thing you noticed about the restaurant you now worked at was how hot the manager interviewing you was. Yeah, you had worked with conventionally attractive people before, but most of them found a way to make themselves unappealing through words or actions. Not Yunho however, a month into working as a waitress you had to simply conclude that there was nothing not to love about him. Of course, he was dashing, that much was obvious, but it was so much more than that, he was unbelievably considerate of others and fiercely protective of his crew, he had a million-dollar smile and could charm his way out of any problem with a customer. Not to mention he was built like a God with both the height and muscles to make your mouth water. Yunho was lucky, and things just seemed to fall into place around him.

Of course, you were aware of this, as he made it impossible to forget.

As time progressed you became more accustomed to your coworkers and better at your job, soon you found a place in the tight-knit group of friends that worked together so work was usually fun.

Except for today. You have been at this job for 6 months now and somehow, with the exception of Yunho, you found yourself on a shift solely staffed by newbies without a clue. And it was a very busy night. You had lost count of the number of times one of your fellow waiters had to call you over to answer a guest question or how many times it was you who had to apologize to them for their server's mistake but it was starting to get to you.

You had a brief moment right in the middle of dinner service where all of your tables were eating happily and you would have a moment to rest. You knew that if you stood there for a moment longer you would be called over by one of the other waiters so you quickly made your way over to the bar where Yunho stood at the POS system. You used his size as an advantage and literally hid behind him. Of course, people could still see you, but at least you weren't standing directly in front of the waiter's station where you would surely be bothered.

You heard the man laugh quietly, and though you couldn't see his face you bet he was hiding a smile.

"Rough night?" He questioned, talking in a way as not to draw attention to you.

"Of course I would get stuck on a shift like this. Not a single person on the crew tonight knows what they're doing! I'm surprised you're even here, I thought the gods of the universe loved you too much" you finished your mini-rant in a mumbling tone, rubbing your eyes before looking out into the dining room just in time to watch the newest crew member, a thin gangly boy named Trevor, spill a glass of water all down the front of an older woman, and you groaned.

Yunho chose to laugh quietly again before speaking up, knowing that now that there was a new disaster your conversation would be cut short once the newbie found you.

"Don't be so hard on them, you were that stupid when you first started," he joked before looking back down at his screen.

"No, I was not!" You cried, "besides why is everyone bothering me? You're the manager shouldn't you be dealing with angry customers? That is above my pay grade." You finish as soon as the young waiter spotted you and began to make his way over.

"Because I told them to," Yunhi replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And why would you do that?" You asked thoroughly annoyed. Coming out from behind the man as Trevor was about halfway across the dining room.

Yunho laughed his brightest laugh. The one that made your stomach swirl with butterflies. He turned finally and looked directly at you, just before the waiter was in earshot he spoke,

"Because you're cute when you're grumpy,"

And that is another thing about Yunho that was impossibly unfair. The man was a relentless flirt. And that wasn't just to you, anytime he made eye contact with anyone it's like he can't hold back the wink.

Finally, your peak time was over. After the incident with the water, the rest of the rush seemed to pass without a problem. There were only about two more hours till you could crawl back into the warmth of your bed and give your feet a real rest.

You had just finish bussing a table when the door chimed again. You could hear the host talking from where you were standing, and her words made your heart sink.

"Well of course Mr. Miller! You want your regular table I'm guessing,"

And then the reply in a groveling tone,

"She better be here tonight, I am starting to think she avoiding me,"

The "she" in question was you. And yes you were. Mr. Miller was a middle-aged sleazy man who came in close to close every Friday night demanding that you serve him. For the past few weeks you have asked Yunho if you could have Fridays off like he did, but due to some call-outs both of you had to come in.

You highly considered running to the back and feigning illness to go home, but it was too late.

"There she is!" The gargley voice called out. Admitting defeated you finally turned to look at him, and with the biggest fakes smile, you could muster you replied.

"Hey, Mr. Miller,"

From the moment he sat down he was already laying it on thick.

"Well, aren't you looking as nice as ever? Some might think you trying something," he winked at you. You had to hold back your vomit. The man was and had been since the moment he first sat at your table 6 months ago that you were his alone, if you spent too much time at another table instead of entering him he would throw a fit. If you didn't laugh at one of his jokes about your body he would throw some line like "come on, give me a smile." If you didn't fully play into the delusion that you were interested in him he would push even harder. And he didn't even tip.

So you played along "Well you know me, I always gotta look my best for you," you said trying to be friendly to appease him, but already knowing damn well that tonight he was going to be insufferable.

You took his drink order and escaped from him as quickly as you could. The other thing you hated about him was how long he stayed. Well after he finished his meal he would stick around for a while watching you. So you weren't even surprised when you felt his eyes on your body as you walked away.

Yunho was observing this interaction from afar completely confused. Friday was one of Yunho's days off every week so he had never seen this before, and he must have looked confused because the host had walked over to him to explain.

"It's weird, right? A child could see how much she hates him but every Friday he comes absolutely convinced that it's her favorite day of the week."

It was getting late, and there were barely any customers left in the dining room when you finally took his empty dinner plate from his table. Not that he was ready to leave yet.

"You know, I've been thinking" he starts before you can walk away, "how does someone as pretty as you end up working at a place like this?" He asks peering at you from over his glass of water.

"Well a girls gotta pay rent," you reply with the fakest giggle ever.

"If I had you, you wouldn't have to work a day in your life," he said, "what do you say, honey, you could quit this place for good," he asked setting his water down and grinning at you dangerously. This scared you. You couldn't help but let your smile falter for a moment, this you couldn't encourage.

"I don't know," was all you could say trying your hardest to make it all seem like a joke. You instinctively step back from the table. In a brief moment, you noticed his hand moving twords your body but it was too late, he had already put his bent fingers on your leg and gripped it.

"Come on, you know I could treat you right."

You physically recoiled but his grip was strong. You were legitimately terrified. He had suggested on a few occasions before that he would wait for you in his car after you close and watched you, he knew which car was yours and could easily follow you. It was clear he didn't take no for an answer.

You didn't know what to do, you simply stood there petrified with the man's grimy hand moving up your leg. Just when it was going to reach the hem of your uniform skirt you were pulled away behind the familiar height of Jung Yunho.

"Sir if you touch any of my employees again I will have you kicked out." Gone was the playful tone that permeated Yunhos normal speech. Instead, he was icy and cold no room for negotiation in his voice. But that didn't stop Mr. Miller from trying.

"Calm down son, me and my favorite girl were just having a polite conversation." He said looking at where you were peeking out from behind Yunho, clearly expecting you to back him up. Instead, you looked anywhere but at him.

"No sir, you were visibly harassing one of my waitresses. it is inappropriate to talk to anyone that way much less if they are working and unable to walk away. If you leave now there will be no further issue." He said, still trying to speak civilly despite his growing agitation. In your desperation to not look at the man you glanced around the room. All eyes, both employe, and patron were staring directly at you. This made it so much worse and chose to look directly at Yunho's side profile.

"Who are you to tell me what to do! I am a paying customer and a loyal patron. I will talk to whom I please!" The older man's voice began to rise clearly not liking the way this conversation was going.

"That girl behind you has been my waitresses for 6 months and if I want to touch her I will!" You heard a fist slam on the table. You jumped and Yunho pulled you farther behind himself. You couldn't help but fist the back of his shirt in terror when you heard the scrape of a chair on the floor. Mr. Miller was now standing, trying his hardest to get in Yunho's face despite how the younger man towered over him.

"If you don't walk away right now ill beat your ass boy!" Miller screamed, getting as close as possible to Yunho. You practically cowered into Yunho's back, still clinging onto the fabric of his black dress shirt like you would physically unravel if you let go.

Yunho stood stoic while the man yelled. Afterward, he took a pause, before speaking.

"Trevor, call the police and tell them we have a customer harassing our staff and threatening violence." He spoke with a defining certainty, no room for an argument from Trevor or Mr. Miller.

Yunho's gentle hand took hold of your upper arm to lead you away from the man. He turned you away from where he stood dumbfounded, and lead you back into the office, and locked the door.

Yunho lead you to one of the two chairs in the cramped room fumbled around for a bit with the water cooler, bringing you a small paper cup to drink from before finally taking a seat himself. The room was small, from the way you were sitting and Yunho's long limb his knees brushed against your own.

You stared and him and he did the same to you, neither saying a word. The man before you looked remarkably calm for the ordeal he just faced but based on the concern in his eyes you looked shaken. You hadn't realized you were crying till the drops landed on the shaky hand still grasping the paper cup for fear of life.

"Please don't cry" was all he said at first. He was silent for a moment but your tears didn't stop. He shifted a bit and the knee touching your own brushed the outermost part of your thigh. He sighed.

"Why didn't you tell anyone how bad he was? Why didn't you tell me?" He spoke calmly. He didn't sound mad in the slightest but his words brought a dry sob from your lips. He looked almost scared for a second before correcting himself in a pleading tone.

"Please don't think I blame you in the slightest. What happened was not your fault," one large hand came to rest almost timidly on your leg.

"I just wish I could have stopped this before it happened."

It has been a few weeks since the incident. News of what had happened had spread around the staff quickly and although Mr. Miller had fled the restaurant before the police arrived, everyone on the crew knew that he was not allowed on the premises and if his car so much as pulled into the parking lot the police assured us that he would be escorted off the property for trespassing.

Yunho had insisted that you take the next 5 days off afterward and even when you returned everyone was walking on eggshells around you, not wanting to do anything to upset you.

The closest circle of team members made it a point to have outings every so often as many of you were quite close outside of work, and although some of them (with your best interest at heart) didn't think you should come out, it was once again Yunho who advocated that spending time alone in your apartment would do you no good. So here you were at approximately 9 o'clock outside a small bar/club getting excited about your first night of relaxation since that day.

Once you found your way into the building it wasn't hard to spot your group. Many of them were already drunk from pre-gaming and the rest of them were well on the way. It brought a fond smile to your face. When you joined the group there were cries of excitement and soon you all fell into the groove of the evening.

You had noticed Yunho the moment you walked in because he seemed to be the only sober one of the bunch. Of course, he knew how to party better than anyone, but tonight he seemed satisfied to just watch the rowdiness unfold.

You weren't drinking cuz of the practical reason that you drove yourself here today. After making your rounds talking with every one of your friends you found yourself gravitating to Yunho as you always seemed to do. He was sitting in a circular booth so it was easy to slide in next to him.

"Not drinking tonight?" You asked.

"No. Someones gotta keep an eye on these crazy people" he replied as jovial as always, instead taking a sip of what appeared to be coke.

"Well I guess I will have to help you then"

After a few hours of talking happily with Yunho while also keeping a close eye on your friends, you found yourself, once again knee to knee with Yunho. Except this time instead of sitting in front of him, you were almost sitting on top of him. You honestly had no clue how this happened, but he didn't seem to mind. Actually, Yunho himself was now sitting with his long arm wrapped across your shoulders pulling you even closer to his side.

"YUNHO" one of your fellow waiters fell into the space beside you, but with their lack of coordination they ended up bumping into you enough that if Yunho hadn't pulled you fully into his lap you would have toppled onto the floor underneath the table. But once the crowd of crewmembers was alerted of your guys' presence they all simultaneously pushed into the booth so there was no room to sit back in your spot.

You were blushing now, thankful that your friends were too drunk to notice how Yunho's arm was wrapped around your waist keeping you securely in place. As the talking resumed Yunho leaned down to whisper into your ear,

"This is all right? I can get them to move if you want," though it was probably unintentional Yunhos breath was sending shivers down your spine, which only got stronger when you finally came to realize how much larger he was then you, effortlessly keeping your body snugly against his chest tight enough to feel each breath he took, the hand wrapped on your waist was large enough to palm your whole thigh if he wanted to. And that thought was exciting.

"No, I'm fine," though you sounded a bit shaky you snuggled yourself even further back onto his lap to show your appreciation. He chuckled lowly in your ear before returning to the conversation. But your mind could not be further from it. You had never realized before how incredibly safe you felt with Yunho or more specifically in his arms and chose to instead focus on the weight of his hand on you, the subtle shifting of his thighs underneath your own as he spoke, and the deep rumble that moved your body with his own every time he laughed.

When it came time for everyone to go home you didn't want to. You didn't like the idea of removing yourself from Yunho's lap at all. But alas, it had to be done.

As the two sober friends, you two were talked with calling cabs and making sure everyone got home safely. Until finally the two of you stood alone on the pavement. You felt the need to say something.

"I don't think I ever thanked you," you said turning to face the man in the cold air. He turned his body twords you as well.

"You don't need to thank me for sitting on my lap, trust me the pleasure was all mine," he joked, and you couldn't help but chuckle along with him.

"You know that's not what I meant," you said in a small voice.

"You don't need to thank me for that either, trust me," his big smile turning smaller but sweeter. This confused you.

"What do you mean?"

Yunho sighed with a smile.

"I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet," was all he said. But your confused face brought more words out of him. He took a step closer to you leaning down and speaking in a quiet voice he said,

"You, have always been very precious to me, and that day was no different. I would go to much greater lengths to keep you safe if I had to,"

His words, although spoken in the softest tone struck you straight through the heart. You had always dreamed of being with Yunho but you had never imagined he felt the same way. He took another step, leaving almost no room between you.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, bringing a hand up to the back of your head. Words weren't forming so you chose to nod instead.

It only took a beat longer for him to lean down and press his plush lips into your own. Yunho wasn't one to beat around the bush and put all of his passion into the kiss, leading your lips with his own guiding your mouth to respond exactly as he wished.

You put your hands on his firm chest as his other arm circled your waist bringing you in even closer. Your mouths were so intertwined neither of you dared to break the kiss for quite a while, simply enjoy the feeling, but soon the need for oxygen won out. You pulled apart gasping, but still holding each other close.

You're not quite sure how exactly you ended up back at your apartment but that was unimportant, what mattered was keeping your mouth on Yunho's. You two had barely gotten through the door before your back was pressed against it in a quick motion.

Along with his considerable height, Yunho also had considerable strength, so when leaning down for you became uncomfortable he chose to instead wrap your legs around his waist and lift you.

In this new position, you were at the perfect height to move his lips to your neck. He found the perfect spot on it before sucking a dark purple mark into the skin, nibbling it a bit before licking it soothingly. The wet feeling of his tongue pulled a new sound from your lips,

"Yunho!" You whined into his ear.

He seemed overjoyed at this reaction and desperate to recreate it he rolled his hips into yours. You could feel his hard length pressing oh so perfectly into your clothed slit you desperate cry could probably be heard three doors down. The man was big.

"You sound so cute" Yunho giggled into your jaw, before pressing a sweet kiss into the skin.

One of his large hands slipped below the hem of your shirt and moved up to the cup of your bra. His long fingers groped your plush breast, holding the whole thing in his hand. The warmth of his fingers and the pleasant squeeze had you whining once again.

"Your so sensitive baby," he remarked, giving your breast another squeeze. In an attempt to keep your noises contained you reached out and pulled his head to meet your lips again. This kiss was much more desperate than the others both of your lips moving so fast it was hard to keep up, your teeth clacking together in the process. Yunho rolled his hips into yours again and you squealed into his lips.

Keeping you as firmly planted on the kiss as possible Yunho's hand fell from your chest back to your hips before pulling you completely off the wall and your arms instinctively clung to his broad shoulders.

Your apartment was only one bedroom so Yunho had bo problem blindly navigating the way to your bedroom. As soon as the door was open you were practically flung backward onto your bed. In an instant Yunho found his way onto your bed, once his back was pressed into the headboard Yunho took hold of your body and manhandled you onto his lap facing him, you were once again faced with just how big Yunho was. Both of his arms wrapped around your body pulling you close and positioning your heat directly over his dick, where an impressive tent in his jeans rubbed directly into you. The loose skirt you were wearing did nothing to cover your panties. You kneed into him finally taking the initiative to grind down repeatedly onto him.

"Awe, baby you look so cute like this, all flustered and needy. Look you're making a mess on me." You hadn't noticed how wet you were until this point but he was right, you were completely soaked through the thin material of your underwear, and with each roll of your hips, you were dampening his jeans.

"Yunho," you begged "please touch me,"

"But you look so good like this. I could watch this all day. Sitting pretty on my lap, just waiting for me to fuck you."

"Please?" You cried still desperately chasing the friction his jeans were giving your clit. He flashed his million-dollar smile before giving in, slipping one veiny hand into your panties cupping your whole heats in his hand for a moment, wetting his fingers before sliding two long digits into you. You showed your appreciation in a moan and clung to his broad shoulders again.

"Please Yunho! I want more. Please fuck me." You begged.

"Not yet, baby, I gotta open you up first. Don't want to hurt you do I." As he spoke he speaks the pace of his fingers scissoring them open inside of you stretching you wider. You bucked into his hand.

"My little baby is fucking herself into my hand. How cute," your exhaled loudly then dropped your head onto his shoulder tugging at his shirt begging him to remove it. Yunho chose to first use his free hand to slide your own top of your body before taking hold of your neck and pulling your upper body away from his. With your help eventually, his shirt was pulled from him leaving your view of his beautiful chest and bulging muscles open to admire.

You almost forgot about the hand moving inside of you while you ran your own up and down the Yunho's chest, trying to feel every bump and ridge there was. Your eyes were glazing over in wonder, but you were soon brought back to reality when another finger pushed inside of you, joining the others in your pulsing pussy. Your head rolled back in a moan.

"Like what you see baby? Because I am really enjoying this view." You were sitting so pretty on his lap your skirt had been pushed up and your soaked lacy panties matched your bra perfectly. In all the movement your chest was starting to spill out of your bra.

"Baby you look so fucked out and small right now and I haven't even done anything yet, are you sure you need me to fuck you?" He asked teasingly.

"Yunho, please," your nails began dragging down his golden skin leaving a trail of red lines, "please, please fuck me." Spewed past your lips. A wicked smile graced his lips.

"You want me to fuck you into the mattress?" He asked.

"Yes! Please!" This was almost embarrassing but if anything your flushed tone only made him happier.

"No, I don't think I will." He said pulling his finger out of you.

You whined.

Yunho undid his belt pushing his pants down just enough to pull his expressive length out of his boxers. You watched with bated breath as he stroked himself a few times before meeting your eyes.

"How about you ride me instead?"

You nodded eagerly almost lunging forward. Yunho helped support your body as you hovered over him, before lining you up and pulling your body down onto him. The stretch was painful at first, you could feel him deeper than anyone else had ever reached but you clenched down on him appreciatively. You took a moment to gather yourself, half expecting him to thrust into you, but he stayed perfectly still. You meet his eyes with your own going wide and he giggled.

"I'm not moving baby if you want to get fucked you have to do it yourself." As he spoke he pulled both hands off you, resting them on his thighs.

You sat breathless for a second longer, unable to form a coherent thought, but the sudden twitch of his dick inside you brought you back to the task at hand. Slowly but surely you began moving, lifting yourself till only his tip was inside you before falling back down. You both groaned satisfied but it only lasted a second before you repeated the action, and then again, and again, slowly building speed each time and realizing quite moans every time he filled you up completely.

You had now set a fast pace, you were unsure how long you could keep it but the growing pleasure filling your abdomen kept you moving. Yunho's eyes were trained on you, switching from your blessed out face, to your bouncing tits, to where his long dick was disappeared into your cunt each time it reappeared coated in your juries.

"Baby, if only you could see yourself right now," he spoke over the sounds of skin slapping and pretty moans, "honestly you look good enough to eat sweetheart"

His words of praise-filled your ears and encouraged you to move faster, desperately clenching on his dick feeling it twitch return along with his deep rumbling groan. Your hands were still firmly planted on his chest and you used this grip for support trying once again to increase your pace. Your thighs were beginning to burn but it felt too good to stop, not when you were this close.

"Yunho, please help me," you whined, your legs faltering in their attempt to keep moving.

"Oh? But you're doing so well baby," he said with an adoring smile watching your face.

"Please Yunho?" you asked running your palms down the ridges of his chest once again. Your building pleasure had started to plateau as you couldn't keep up the pace, your thighs starting to burn even harder. You were so close but you couldn't put yourself over the edge and if growing moans from the man in front of you were anything to go by then he was right there with you.

He seemed to consider this for a moment before chuckling.

"I guess my baby is just not strong enough to make herself cum. I suppose I could help with that."

You only had time to breathe a sigh of relief before you were thrown back onto the covers. Yunho's large frame loomed over you with a sinister smirk. You barely registered the anticipation in your body before he slammed his entire length back into you. Setting a brutal pace. You cried out instantly and your voice rang through the walls of the apartment like a symphony.

Each time Yunho's hips connected with your own he hit that perfect spot inside of you bringing more noises from you. One of his hands came down onto the mattress beside your head and the other took hold of your thigh using it to maneuver you into the exact position he wanted.

Now Yunho was grunting along with you trying hurtling both of your twords your orgasms at an incredible pace. Just as you were about to be thrown over the edge Yunho connected your lips again swallowing your moans. It only took one more perfectly timed thrust before you came toppling over the edge. Although your lips were still connected, it didn't do much to help the lewd sounds spilling out of you. The pleasure came from your core in waves, arching your back and making your legs twitch violently.

Not long after you came down from the high your body began pulling away from Yunho's thrust but he held you in place.

"Just a little longer baby, I promise."

And just when the buzzing pain of overstimulation subsided, Yunho filled pulled out of you and spilled his sticky cum across your body. He stood above you for a moment, you both were panting but you were clearly the more worn out of the two.

Yunho's eyes moved across your whole body once before meeting your own eyes.

"Your precious"

#yunho smut #ateez smut #ateez au #yunho scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions

434 notes · View notes

emf005 · 4 years ago

Text

Love is real

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff! Reader

Warnings: FLUFF!! Draco is a complete softy and it's adorable, talk of suicide, confusion, a bit of angst...

Summery: You are a huffelpuff who doesn't belive in love. Draco is unsatisfied and devises a plan to get you to belive and possibly fall, in love.

You set your chin on Draco’ shoulder and looked at what he was doing. Potions. Groan. You hated potions with a passion.

“Draaaaacooooo!” you sang in his ear. He tried to keep a straight face but just ended up biting his lip from trying not to laugh. “Draaaaaaacoooooo,” you sang again.

“Yes, Y/N?” He asked, attempting and failing to hold back a chuckle.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Potions.” You frowned.

“But I’m sooooo much more interesting!” You grinned. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Yes, Darling, you are. But I need to finish this.”

“Why?”

“Because it's graded.”

“Why?”

“Because Snape made it that way.”

“Wh-” he put a hand over your face and glanced at you with an arched eyebrow.

“You aren’t going to let me get anything done, are you?” You shook your head like a little kid. He chuckled and took his hand away from your face and set down his quill. “You just don't like potions because you aren’t a natural at it.” You pouted at his completely true statement.

“It's boring! And Snape has a personal vendetta against me!” You crossed your arms and pouted, making him laugh.

“Aw, you poor thing,” he teased, rolling his eyes and going back to his work. You took a seat next to him and put your hands on your arms. He worked silently for a few minuets before finishing and packing everything up. “I still can’t believe you made me take muggle studies with you,” he huffed as he slung his bag over his shoulder. You giggled and walked with him through the halls.

“It's an easy grade!”

“For you maybe! You're halfblooded! I still don’t understand the function of a toaster! What's its purpose?”

“To toast bread! It is literally in its name!” You laughed.

“And then phones. What is the purpose when you can just send a letter?” You giggled and took your seats near the back of the class.

“It's faster! And plus it's like talking face to face but from long distances!” He just shook his head and leaned back in his seat.

“Magical culture is just better.” He sighed and you rolled your eyes.

“Welcome everyone! Welcome welcome!” The professor called out to the class. “Today we will be discussing muggle stories.” He said excitedly, though most of the class didn't want to even be there. “We are starting with Romeo and Juliet By William Shakespeare.” You groaned and slouched in your seat. Draco raised an eyebrow at you.

“What's with the reaction?”

“This is one of the most Cliché plays ever.” You hissed. “The love,” you made a gagging noise.

“A Hufflepuff who isn't a fan of love?” he teased, but you just glared at him. His smirk fell. “Wait, you really don’t believe in love?”

“It's a chemical reaction humans have to other humans. Its natural instinct to get them to reproduce,” you explained with a curt nod. He just stared at you.

“You must be joking.” You stared him down before turning back to the professor to listen about the play that is so overrated.

“Y/N!” Draco called, running down the hallway after you. “Y/N, wait a second!” You paused and smiled as he caught up with you. “You can't just say something like that and just leave.”

“I think I just did. And I’m about to do it again.” You turned and started walking away but he grabbed your wrist.

“Why though? You're a Hufflepuff!”

“And you're stereotyping again. Listen, Draco,” you sighed and rubbed your temples. “My home life isn't the best. Love lacks in nearly all aspects of my life. You can care for something deeply, but love isn’t… its not…. Its a lie.”

“You can’t actually believe that.” You shrugged, tugging at your sleeves.

“All my life, its what I’ve seen. My mother and father have been through more divorces than I can count. My siblings are in horrible relationships and they are at their partners throats all the time.” You admitted quietly. “Someone is always in tears because their heart is being torn out. If love was real they wouldn’t constantly be miserable,” you turned and slipped your wrist from his grasp and took off down the hallway. He just watched after you.

He had been friends with you since first year, complained to you about his home life, about his expectations, and all the while… you were dealing with your own struggles. How hadn’t he noticed that before? Well, he was going to change that. He’d get you to believe in love. He didn't know how, but he would!

“Y/L/N!” You turned to Draco as he jogged down the hall at you. You were heading to muggle studies. You smiled at your friend as he slowed to a walk.

“Where's the fire?”

“I have a proposition for you. A bet of a sort.” You hummed, never able to turn down a bet. “If I am able to get you to believe in love by the Yule Ball, you have to go. Not with someone, you just have to go.” You cocked your brow at him.

“What if I win?”

“Well, you won’t, but if you do I’ll leave you alone about it.”

“No teasing, no bringing it up?”

“Zip.” You inhaled and thought about it.

“Alright. Deal, Malfoy. If you can do the impossible, then I will go to the Yule Ball. But if not, you have to stop bothering me about it indefinitely.” You stuck out your hand. “Shake on it?”

“Don’t trust me?”

“Can never be too careful with you,” you teased. He shook your hand and you headed to class.

You sat in your usual seat at the back of the class, a copy of Romeo and Juliet sitting on the table. You groaned. He smirked.

“Well, look. The most Cliché story in all of history,” he teased.

“They kill themselves for each other.” You hummed. He paled and looked at the story. “They also get a lot of other people killed in the process.”

“That's horrible!”

“That's romance! People who can control you because they stole your heart! They can manipulate you, think you can’t live without them!” He just stared at you.

“Nothing about love appeals to you at all, does it?”

“No.” You looked away, his eyes widened.

“You’re lying!”

“No.”

“Yes you are!”

“Shush! No, I’m not! Nothing about it appeals to me! It has destroyed people! Why would that be appealing to anyone?” He shook his head.

“That may be true, but you were lying. Are you afraid of it?” You laughed. It was fake.

“Scared of love? That's a good one!” His mouth dropped and you knew there was no getting out of this.” You stood and ran out of the room. You’ve read Romeo and Juliet before, you would get whatever assignment that was given from someone else in the class.

Being afraid of love. What a joke you were. He was probably laughing his head off at you. You would be.

He didn't see you for a few days after that. He wanted to talk to you about what you had said. You did have a bet, but to make sure you were alright.

He sat in the library and he heard your voice from the isles. He jumped up and scurried to where you were. You were trying to reach a book on the shelf but struggling. He grabbed it off the shelf for you and handed it to you.

“Oh! Then-” you paused when you saw him. You turned and started to turn.

“Wait wait wait!” You stopped and turned back around, your eyes were sad.

“What do you want, Draco?” You sighed and looked down. “Wanna laugh at me? The Hufflepuff afraid of falling in love?” He shook his head.

“No! No, I wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked really upset.” You were speechless.

“Oh! Oh. Um, I’m ok.”

“Did you really think I would make fun of you for that?” He looked kind of hurt.

“I mean, maybe? It's ironic how I’m a Hufflepuff and how out of touch with my own, or anyone else's, feelings I am. I don’t trust people, Draco. I never really have. And I trust you, but… this stupid wall that I’ve built up is just to tall for me to tear down. It was better to avoid you and not see you laugh at me,” you said quietly and looked down at your feet. “Uh, sorry.” He just stared at you for a moment before doing something Draco Malfoy did not do. He pulled you into a hug. You were shocked for a second before hugging him back, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

“I understand, I’m sorry,” he muttered to you, and in that moment you realized something. Something utterly horrible and terrible. You did believe in love... because you were in it. You were in it so much, that you didn't even realize that you were in it. And you were in love with your best friend. This could ruin yours and his life. Because that's what love did. It took and it took and it took and then it left you broken on the pavement with no one. You had seen it happen before. You had wanted it so bad up until that moment. And then you had buried that emotion deep inside of you so that you would never have to go through it. But now it was surfacing. Ready to destroy you just like it did to Romeo and Juliet.

Ever since your realization, you had buried it in an even deeper hole, but that hole turned into a cavern that threatened to swallow you. Every time he was near you, talking to you about love and how great it actually could be, your heart was pounding. You were deaf to everything else but him. You hated it. You couldn't stand it! It was tearing you apart from the inside out and you wanted to just die!

No!

No no no no no. No dying. You would not be one of those people. Ever. You would win this bet. You would kill these feelings and be the normal happy Hufflepuff you were known to be!

“Hey, Y/N!” Your stomach fluttered and your heart skipped a beat.

Dammit!

“Hey, Darco,” you said happily, turning around to face him. “What's up?”

“Well, since the bet’s almost over and the Yule Ball is coming up, I have one more idea.” You swallowed. Not another one! This boy was going to kill you.

Stop being such a stereotypical Juliet!

“I think it would only be fitting to give you the full experience of what it can be like.”

You chuckled softly and readjusted your books. “Oh yeah, Dray? Like what? Take me on a date?” You teased.

“Actually yeah.” You stopped walking. Your heart stopped beating. Your entire body stopped functioning.

“Wh-what?”

“I mean, let's be honest. I can tell you everything that's great about it and how every relationship doesn’t end up with someone getting their heart broken, but you have to actually see what a romantic situation is!”

No!!!

“Yeah sure,” you shrugged. “When and where?” He beamed.

“I’ll pick you up at your dorm tomorrow at seven.” He smiled and walked on. Your smile dropped and you nearly collapsed.

Why did I agree! Why why why why? What the fuck is wrong with me?

You smacked your head off the wall earning a few strange looks from your peers but didn't stick around to see if they would ask you if you were ok or not. You took off towards the Hufflepuff dorms. Your stomach twisting and turning with every step you took.

You were finally safe in your dorm room only to see your friend, Maria, staring at you from her bed.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Why do you look like you've been running away from something?" You started to sob and she was in her feet with her arms around you within two seconds, shushing you and telling you it was alright. But it wasn't. "What happened?"

"Re-remember when I told you about my family. And how my mum and dad have been divorced and-and my siblings always end up crying over lost loves and and and how my brother threw himself off a bridge because-because of it? And I promised to never be caught in that trap?"

"Honey you didn't." You let out another sob. "It's ok. It's ok. Who?"

"Dra-Draco. And-and he asked me out on a fake date and I-I accepted and I don't know what to do!" You wailed. She kept silent for a moment.

"Well, I've known you've been in love with that boy since day one and he's-even if he hasn't realized it yet-has been in love with you just as long. Now, I'll tell you what we are going to do."

"What-what?" She helped your face in her hands and looked you in the eyes seriously.

"We are going to get you all dolled up for this date, whether or not it's real. You are going to knock this boy's socks off."

"But-but our bet. I-I can't lose. I can't go to the Ball!"

"Sure you can. And I bet you anything, you'll be going as his date," she smiles and holds you. "When's this date with him?"

"Tomorrow at seven," you sniffled. She nodded.

"Then it looks like we have a date to start getting you ready for." She smiles at you and you smiled gratefully back.

Draco was pacing his dorm room twisting the ring on his finger. Why had he done that? He had asked you out on a fake date. If he was going to ask you out he wanted it to be real. He flipped on his bed with a groan. What had he gotten himself into? He had fallen for a girl who didn't believe in love. How lovely.

He had wanted to ask her to the Ball. Perhaps as more than just friends. But when he asked if she had a date, she said she wasn't going. This whole thing was exhausting. He did see what she meant. The love in her family did seem…Stressed. But that didn't mean all love was terrible. Right?

"Merlin," he mumbled and ran a hand through his hair. "What am I getting myself into?"

Maria zipped up the back of your orange and red dress. She had put together the best outfit for the occasion. She had given you black leggings under the dress and a pair of boots with a black infinity scarf and a heavy jean jacket. Then she did your hair up in a high ponytail and a black scrunchie around your Y/H/C hair. She had put oranges and yellows and reds as your eyeshadow and a darker lip stick on you. You looked great.

She smiled at her good work and helped you put your jacket on. Maria squealed behind you, obviously excitedly she wouldn't stop talking about how she had shipped the two of you since the day you met. It was slightly irritating, especially considering you didn't exactly know how to feel. Should you be happy? Sad? Angry? What were you supposed to be feeling?

You sighed and collapsed on your bed, ready to go to sleep right then. The makeup was heavy and you weren't used to having so much of your cleavage exposed, courtesy of Maria's dirty mind.

"Maria, I don't know, isn't this a but…Much? It's not even a real date!"

"Riiiight," she winked at you, making you huff and cross your arms. You felt like you were going to vomit. Maybe you could get away with not going because you were sick?

"Y/N?" Jess knocked on the door and smiled at you. "Wow, looking good. Anyhow, Draco said you were expecting him?" You frowned. Too late. You stood and brushed off your dress looking back at Maria who gave you a thumbs up. You attempted a weak smile and left your dorm room. Your stomach was a wreck, your head hurt from thinking and you were exhausted from lack of sleep.

You had spent all night trying to think of what to do. You didn't want to end up like your brother, or your family, or Juliet. Up until this point… Until Draco… you were perfectly content with being sure love was horrible. And you were still fine with that! But, what if it wasn't? What if it was great? What if it was all perfect and then it just went up in flames like you've watched every relationship around you end up. You opened the portal and stepped out.

Draco was standing there looking around the hallway awkwardly and bouncing in the balls of his feet. He looked at you as soon as you stepped out of the portal and his jaw dropped. You bit your lip and looked down.

"I-I can go get changed if I did it wrong? Maria helped and-"

"You look beautiful," he assured you, taking your hand in his. You swallowed trying to steal your heart.

No no no no! Stop being so sweet! I hate love I hate love I hate love!

"Tha-thanks," you stuttered out. He smiled and pulled you after him.

"Come on. I got everything planned!" He smiled childishly, making you laugh and run after him as he pulled you.

When Draco said he had everything planned, he wasn't joking. He had pulled you up to the Astronomy Tower where he had had a picnic setup and a bubble spell cast around the area so that the wind wouldn't affect the two of you. You gaped at the scene.

"Woah," you whispered, he laughed and pulled you down besides him. And the weird part of it? It wasn't awkward. It was perfectly normal in every way. It was just like talking with your friend, but the butterflies of him being so close were definitely a difference.

After that you two went around the grounds, him keeping you under his arm to protect you from the winds and the chill, which worked. But you really don't need it because you were all warm inside from him being so close.

Did he always smell this good? Peppermint and pine?

Odd combination that strangely worked for him.

Oh my God! Stop it! You can not fall in love! Or, rather fall farther in love.

And it didn't help that Draco was a perfect gentleman. He offered you his jacket when he noticed you were shivering on your own, but you just laughed him off saying that he would be cold.

"Not with you here keeping me company," was his response and put the jacket over your shoulders. You blushed and grabbed the jacket to hold it tighter.

The night went too fast and you often forgot that it was a fake date. It was just to prove to you that love wasn’t bad. That love was real. And you hated that he was right.

“So.” he said at the end of the night, his hands in his pockets as he swayed between his heels and toes.

“So.”

“Who wins?” You looked up at him confused. “Do you believe love is real?” You swallowed and looked down, sliding his jacket off your shoulders.

“Yeah. Maybe. You win,” You handed him his jacket back, which he hesitantly took back. You laughed and shook your head. “Looks like I have to hurry up and go dress shopping.” You smiled at him and pressed the combination to enter the Common room. The door opened and you stepped in, stopping before closing the door. “Thanks, Darco,” You smiled at him over your shoulder. “I’ll-I’ll see you tomorrow,” you entered and shut the door, his mouth still open from where he was trying to say something. Anything. But nothing ever came out. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go.

He slunk off to his dorm room with slumped shoulders and his jacket on his arm.

Your back hit the wall and tears formed in your eyes. You cried into your arms and shook off the person who put their hand on your arm.

“Y/N/N.” You hiccupped and fell into Maria’s arms. She held you, whispering how sorry she was.

“I was so stupid!” You sobbed. “I-I promised myself I wouldn't become like the rest of my family! I promised myself!”

“You can't help these things, Y/N/N. I’m so sorry.” You cried into her shoulder as she led you up to the dorm room so you two could have some privacy.

You told her how perfect everything was. How he had planned the perfect date and then how you had forgotten it was all completely fake. She just shushed you as you sobbed. Saying it would be alright. The worst part though? Now you had to go to the Yule Ball and see him there with some other girl on his arm.

Why did you have to go and fall in love?

Maria was doing your hair, putting it up in a semi-messy bun with strands falling down the sides of your face. Your Y/F/C dress was dazzling. It flowed out when you spun and was slung off to one side so that one of your shoulders was exposed. Your makeup was done to match your face and although you looked like a princess in your glittering dress, you didn't feel like one.

No one had asked you, but you had to honor your bet with Draco, like he would notice if you weren’t there or not. Maria put her hands on your shoulders, signaling that she was done. You stood and looked yourself over in the mirror, still frowning and feeling self conscience.

The dress hugged the top of your body, making your figure quite noticeable. At least it was higher up than the dress you had worn on your “Date” was. There were sparkles dusting the entire thing and you really did love the dress.

Maria squeezed your shoulder. You looked back at her.

“You’re always welcomed to hang out with me and Nolan,” she offered, but you just shook your head.

“He’s your boyfriend, Maria, I’m not third wheeling. Plus this is your guys’ night.” You smiled at her. She was gorgeous. Her dress was yellow and black with blue underneath it to represent her boyfriend’s house. It was brilliantly beautiful and you couldn't help but just stare in awe at her. She was one of the most beautiful girls in your year. She pulled off anything. She smiled sadly and held your hands.

“Well, if you need the company….”

“I’ll come find you,” you promised. She squeezed your hands again and left the room. You looked yourself over and ran your hands over the dress, something it out before making your way down to the Great Hall.

Awkward wasn’t the word for what you felt. No. You felt something far beyond awkward. You were sitting, alone, at one of the tables on the side, watching Pansy Parkinson throw herself at her date… Draco Malfoy. Your chest tightened. God, he looked perfect. He always did, you had recently noticed, but looking at him now from across the room, twirl her across the room with the stoic face… Your heart beat out of your chest.

“Excuse me?” You looked up to see a Durmstrang student bowing and holding his hand out to you. “Would you, uhm… Dance with me?” You smiled. He was one of the shyer ones you could tell. Not often you found one of them. You took his hand and stood.

“I’d love to.” He smiled and led you out onto the floor. He twirled you around and you laughed. The two of you talked and danced and laughed. He was quite nice. And the awkwardness fell away, but the throbbing of your chest did not.

Draco was “listening” to a story Blaise was telling for the thousandth time. He let his gaze travel the crowd, searching for you for the millionth time that evening. He hadn’t seen you yet and knew you wouldn't back out. He ended up taking Parkinson, which made him want to gag. He finally caught your figure and it took his breath away completely.

Your hair was done up in a fancy messy-ish bun with strands falling into your face. Your make up was simple and your dress… He couldn't stop staring at you. Then he noticed you were being led out onto the floor by someone. A Durmstrang student. He swallowed and followed the two of you out with his eyes.

Your dress flowed around you as you danced with him. Your laugh rang through the crowd as you laughed with him. Your smile was bright as you smiled at him. That wasn't supposed to be a Durmstrang student. That was supposed to be him. Draco Malfoy. It was supposed to be him making you laugh and twirl like that. It should’ve been him making you smile that brightly. He swallowed and left Pansy’s side, making a beeline for you. He tapped the student on the shoulder.

“Mind if I cut in?” The Durmstrang student opened his mouth to probably say yes he did mind, but just ended up shaking his head. He squeezed your hand, whispered something in your ear, and kissed your cheek, making your face flush before leaving the two of you alone.

Draco held out his hand and raised an eyebrow.

“May I have this dance?” You rolled your eyes and took his hand, hating the way you felt electric pulses shoot up your arm.

“You already scared off my only dance partner,” you joked as he led you to the dance floor.

“I’m sorry. Figured I had a right to at least one dance with my best friend.” You chuckled as he twirled you around the floor.

“What about your.. Date?” You glanced at Pansy who was glaring daggers at you. Draco rolled his eyes.

“No one else to take,” he mumbled. You frowned.

“Could have taken me,” You pouted and looked away from him. He seemed shocked by your statement, and honestly you were surprised you said it aloud. “I mean, you are the reason I had to be here in the first place. Thanks for making me miserable by the way.” He scoffed.

“Please, you were having a nice time cuddling up to that Durmstag.”

“Watching me now?”

“Hard to miss.”

“And what's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, but it seems you now believe in the concept in love and are simply… looking for it.” Your jaw clenched and you ripped your hands from his.

“I never was looking for it!” You hissed and stormed out. Draco stood still for a moment before rushing after you.

“Wait! Y/N!” He chased you out of the Great Hall.

“Leave me alone, Draco!” you called over your shoulder.

“Y/N! Just, wait!”

“Go back to your date! I’m sure she’s waiting for-” Draco grabbed your hand and turned you so you fell into him. “You.” You two stared at each other for a second before he releases his grip. You rub your wrist and look away from him.

“What was that about?” He asked after a moment, you didn’t answer. “Y/N.”

“Nothing, Draco. Don’t worry about it,” you muttered.

“Don't worry about it? Of course I’m going to worry about it! You're my best friend, Y/N. How can I not worry about it?”

��Because it's your fault!” You shouted, looking at his eyes, your own watering. You couldn’t do this. You turned away from him and started to walk down the hall again.

“What do you mean ‘my fault’? What's my fault?” You froze and kept your back to him as you answered.

“I was fine, living my life not believing in love. Without believing that it was real and I couldn't be touched by it. That I wouldn’t end up like my family… like my brother,” your voice broke and you turned to him. A single tear escaped your eyes. “But then you had to make me see that I had fallen in love without realizing it. You had to wake me up from my dream. You had to go and make me love you!” You were full on sobbing at this point. Full on screaming. Your chest was heaving and he just stared at you with an open mouth. You wiped the tears from your face and sniffled. “And now,” you added softly. “And now I’m just like the rest of my family.” You buried your face in your hands and started laughing and sobbing all at once. “God! I’m just like my family!” you shook your head. “Might as well just jump off the Astronomy tower now! How about old fashioned-and-and poison myself!” You laughed, tears flowed down your face. “How-How about a dagger then?”

Draco just watched you have your break down. Sobbing and laughing and talking about suicide. He couldn’t move. And when he did, he had no control of his body. He did what he wanted to do from the moment he had met you.

He walked up to you, put his hands on your face and kissed you. You immediately kissed back, not knowing what you were doing in the slightest.

The kiss wasn’t soft. Not in the slightest. It was hard and desperate. You fisted his dress robes and pulled him in tighter against you, trying to get as close as you could to him. When you finally broke for air, you were both gasping for breath. He rested his forehead on yours, still holding your face.

“Never say that again. Any of that.” He rasped, his voice horse from the kiss. Hoarse was better than no voice at all, which is what you were left with. “I can’t lose you. Not now, not ever. I don’t care if you were joking or serious. Please don't scare me like that.” you pulled away and looked up at him. He looked down at you, his own eyes slightly watery. You opened your mouth to talk but you couldn’t get any words out, so you just closed your mouth and nodded. He sighed and kissed your head.

After a moment you got your voice back.

“So does this mean that you like me back?” You asked. He chuckled and looked down at you, kissing you again, softer this time.

“Yes. This means I like you back,” he smiled and you smiled up at him, eyes still glassy.

Bonus:

“And they lived Happily Ever After,” your daughter read and shut the book. You walked in and leaned on the doorway a smile on your face.

“What were you reading, Sweetie?” She turned the book over and squinted at the cover, sounding out the letters.

“Cinderella?” You nodded.

“A muggle story?”

“I found it in one of the trunks.” You came in and sat down on her bed next to her.

“And what did you think of it?”

“I don't understand it.” Your son walked in the room, a year older than your four year old, and crawled on your lap.

“What don’t you understand?” You asked.

“Well, how can they get married if they just met? How can you truly love someone you don’t even know?” Your son looked up at you for an answer as well and you smiled at the two. You hummed for a moment and leaned back in the bed and stared at the ceiling.

“Well, you can’t.” You answered. “You have to know the person.”

“How do you know if you're in love?” Your son asked. You looked at the boy who had inherited your looks while your daughter had inherited your husband's. You smile at the two and sat up on your elbows.

“Well, you just do. It's odd to explain, really. There's no logic behind love.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” Draco said, walking into the room and settling down on the bed as well, picking your daughter up and settling her on his lap.

“Ha ha.” You laughed sarcastically. “Would you like to explain?”

“Yeah, Dad. How did you and mom know you were in love?” Your son asked, the hopeless romantic he was at age five.

“And what did you mean coming from her?” You daughter added, always the intuitive one. Draco thought about it for a moment and the three of you waited.

“Well, your mother didn’t believe in love, actually.” You smirked and laid back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Really?” they asked.

“Yep. She had to make it logical. Thought it was all up here,” he poked your daughter on her head, making her giggle.

“Did you really mum?” Your son asked, plopping himself down on your chest so you were staring at his face. You smiled.

“Yes. I didn’t grow up in the best household like you two. You have a fabulous mother.” Draco raised his eyebrows.

“And me?” You glanced at him and smirked.

“You’re alright.” He laughed.

“Thanks, Darling. I really appreciate that.”

“But, how did you two fall in love?” Your daughter asked again, getting slightly irritated.

“Well,” Draco began again. “I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her that I wanted to get to know her. And as I did, I grew to love her.” He smiled at you and grabbed your hand.

“That was so cheesy,” You grinned.

“Never bothered you before.” You rolled your eyes.

“What about you, mum?” Your son asked you with wide eyes. The one thing he had inherited from your husband.

“It sort of hit me all at once. I was so against it for so long, I never realized that I had fallen in love until he hugged me in the library at school.”

“That was where you realized it?” He asked. He hadn’t realized that was the moment you had fallen for him. You nodded. And he paused. “You're telling me that you let me believe you didn't believe in love that entire time?”

“It was only a few weeks.”

“And I could have taken you to the ball.”

“Are we still on that?” You sighed.

“We never left it,” you laughed.

Your children looked at each other in confusion.

“So…” your daughter began. “You slowly fell in love and you hadn't realized you fell in love? I don’t get it.” You smiled at the girl with platinum blond hair.

“One day you will.”

“Will I get it one day too?” He asked, sitting up. You put a hand on his cheek and smiled.

“One day.” You nodded. “Why don't you two go get ready for dinner,” you urged. They scrambled off your laps and ran to the dining room. You smiled and sat up.

Draco took you in his arms and kissed your forehead. You hummed happily.

“So the library, really?” You laughed. And looked up at him from his lap.

“Not going to let this go, are you?”

“What about that date? I was sure that was where I got you.” You shook your head.

“No, that made me cry for about three hours,” his jaw dropped, making you laugh.

“That was the perfect first date. How did that make you cry?”

“I was struggling, ok? And the fact that it was fake…” You drifted off, too sad to continue. He kissed you, bringing you back to the present.

“It was real to me,” he murmured. You smiled and leaned up, connecting your lips again. The butterflies in your stomach still fluttering like it was the first time.

“I’m glad to hear that, because it was pretty real to me too.” He smiled down at you and you smiled up at him, feeling as if you two were back at Hogwarts and were just teenagers wandering the hallways arm in arm.

Hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!!!

#draco malfoy #draco fluff #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco x you #draco x y/n #huffelpuff #hq angst #fluff and angst

76 notes · View notes

theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years ago

Note

You wrote your opinions on the Order of the Phoenix, what about the Death Eaters? That's another way of saying Lucius, Bellatrix, and anybody else. I honestly feel that we're running out of HP characters for you to write your opinion and reasoning about, so yeah~

We honestly are. When people start asking me questions about Harry’s nameless and faceless classmates I feel like we’re scraping the bottom of my barrel of Harry Potter opinions.

Though, that said, this is still a very large ask if you want me to analyze very Death Eater ever or even the Death Eaters as a whole (which is worthy of its own post).

So, we’ll compromise, and I’ll just look at the two you name dropped.

Lucius Malfoy

To me, Lucius is by far one of the more intelligent Death Eaters. He’s the guy who makes them almost look classy. I say almost, because Lucius is still a racist domestic terrorist and as the series goes on Tom gleefully drags him into being less classy by the minute (his house becomes a POW camp and housing for the dregs of society, Lucius just sobs, trying to be thankful he’s somehow still alive).

Lucius is rich, sophisticated, and is probably the most politically powerful man in the country. He has a beautiful wife he has... a son (sorry Draco, but you do not live up to your father) the guy has it all.

Which makes it very surprising that he got dragged into this mess. But you see, Lucius is paying for that tragedy we call youth.

Also, as a caveat, I’m about to headcanon hard and will not bother to get into the details of why I think x, y, or z in this post.

Ten years prior to the start of canon, Lucius is a very young man, probably very charismatic, certainly believes he’s intelligent and probably gets decent grades, but nonetheless the kind of stupid you see in men ages 15-25.

He’s likely chafing under his aging father’s strict guidance, knows he’s not going to be Lord Malfoy for years yet, wants to get out there, prove himself, and make a difference for his country. More importantly for Lucius, there’s this hip, exciting, new thing that all his cousins and friends are getting into called “The Death Eaters” (yes, I don’t believe the Knights of Walpurgis/Death Eaters 1.0 ever happened, I think it’s ridiculous that fandom and JKR does, I could go into why but not in this post).

The Death Eaters are led by the single handedly most beautiful, charismatic, man in Britain. (Yes, I headcanon Tom’s still blindingly attractive at this stage, because it makes much more sense to me but we’re not getting into that here.) A mysterious man by the name of Voldemort, Salazar Slytherin’s long lost heir, who has come to resurrect the wizarding world’s true heritage and purge the land of the muggle stain. (Yes, I do believe that no one, not even Lucius who is later given the diary, knew who Tom really was. I believe Regulus’ had only the vaguest idea, informed mostly by Tom’s use of Kreacher to place the locket.) This is the most exciting thing to have ever happened, the rallies probably consist of rich kids drunk out of their minds and maybe even high on a little wizard cocaine, and Lucius is down for it precisely because his father says “Lucius, this is stupid, please don’t embarrass the family.” WELL LUCIUS IS GOING TO EMBARRASS THE FAMILY, DAD! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?!

And for a while, it looks like Lucius made the right choice. Things are happening, they’re actually going out and killing the mudbloods! Unlike Regulus, Lucius never has that “wait a minute” moment as he realizes that Voldemort’s actually far more efficiently eliminating pureblood families and sowing dissention in what was once a unanimous force among the Wizengamot (the other pureblood lords aren’t necessarily pro muggleborn, per se, but they get a bit queasy at the thought of blowing them up or Merlin forbid actually blowing up their own public venues wizards use).

And then October 31st, 1981 happens, and it all comes crashing down. Lucius has to desperately lie his ass off, having only the flimsiest lie to rely on, has to hand out a shit ton of bribes, and manages to squeeze his way out of being imprisoned in Azkaban.

I’m sure Abraxas looked at his son, with his tattoo on his arm that makes him another man’s slave, at the utter destruction of the Black family, and just shook his head going, “Clean up your mess, Dumbass Son”

And Lucius does to the best of his ability. While some will always suspect him of being a Death Eater, while some know it, he’s able to climb very high in influence in their ridiculously tiny community. Granted, I do think he messed up, and could never for example run for minister given everything (if Crouch can’t rerun then Lucius certainly can’t). He also shows us that in some ways he is not above the law, he’s very afraid his house will be searched without warrant in The Chamber of Secrets, and this is in part why he dumps Tom Riddle’s diary off onto Ginny.

However, he wields total control of the Prophet, has a seat on the Wizengamot, has the ear of the current Minister, is on the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, and has his hands in pretty much every pie he can.

I imagine during this period Lucius grows up. He brushes the indiscretions of his youth under the carpet, gleefully leaving it all behind him, and the only real friend he maintains contact with from that period is Severus, the least zealot like of all of them. (Crabbe and Goyle Sr aren’t friends, they’re minions).

Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a racist slime bag, and I don’t think he really regrets the domestic terrorism. He just regrets nearly getting caught and putting his entire family’s security on the line. He witnessed first hand what happened to the Blacks.

And then the worst thing happens: Tom Riddle rises from the dead. He rises, impossibly, from the dead when Lucius has his own hand caught in the cookie jar.

Lucius has been living a life of luxury and influence while his great master, the man he had pledged everything to, was dead. Worse, Lucius took what was described as a treasured item to be protected at all costs, and not only threw it away but sent it to Hogwarts where it caused massive havoc and was ultimately destroyed.

And Lucius, I imagine, no longer wants to serve a master.

But he has no choice. And so begins Lucius’ descent into misery and hell as he’s given an increasing set of impossible, horrific, tasks in punishment that involve him watching as his wife and son are put through hell.

I believe Tom holds a special place in his cold, black, passive aggressive heart for Lucius Malfoy.

First, Tom makes Lucius’ house his headquarters. Oh, Lucius, you have a very nice, very large, estate? Why don’t you host your beloved, mad, cousin, her equally mad husband and brother-in-law? Oh, Bellatrix threatened to cut off your ear? Well, she’s just so passionate!

Second, Lucius is told to go get the prophecy. Well, this is easier said than done. He nearly succeeds but then it all turns into the world’s largest clusterfuck that ends in two notable things. First, the prophecy is lost forever, shattered. Second, the government admits that Voldemort is truly resurrected. Both of these things are very bad in Tom’s book. And the blame can easily be put on Lucius’ head.

In response to this, Draco is now given an impossible task that Draco is too stupid to realize is designed to cause him (and his family) as much misery as possible. Draco is to assassinate Dumbledore.

Likely, Tom was already informed by Snape that Dumbledore was dying. The blackened hand was too obvious a tell coming from too obvious a source for the pair to have hid it. I think trying to hide such information would have immediately blown Snape’s cover. So, Tom knows the man is dying, and doesn’t see fit to tell Draco this.

Instead, he tells Draco, “Kill Dumbledore as soon as possible or I deliver you to Fenrir Grayback.” Draco, however, is young and stupid, so he honestly thinks he is doing this to restore the family honor, earn glory for himself and for the cause, and is expected to do this entirely by himself. As a result, when Narcissa begs Snape to aid Draco, Draco blows them both off and only accepts help from Bellatrix because HE CAN DO THIS ON HIS OWN! DRACO IS A MAN.

This, of course, doesn’t work out either. Draco doesn’t deliver the killing blow, Snape does, but Tom decides to give him a pass.

Instead he moves on to his next plan which is making the Malfoy manor his torture chamber and POW camp. Even Draco, at this point, realizes this all kind of sucks.

And then Voldemort finally dies a second time, and I’m sure Lucius just stares numbly at his malformed corpse, wondering if it will really take this time.

So that’s Lucius for you, paying always for his mistakes, and pretending he’s just as much of a nutcase as Bellatrix to fit in.

Bellatrix LeStrange

God, compared to the novel that is Lucius’ ridiculous life, I really don’t have much to say about her because I feel like there’s not much too her.

Bellatrix reminds me a lot of the Manson family, she gives off those same vibes. Point being, I think even before Azkaban (while Azkaban certainly didn’t help), she was insane and a little too worshipful of Voldemort.

I guess I can start there, I don’t think Bellamort is a thing, at all.

Tom may have, probably did, have sex with her before he died but afterwards? In that body? Forget about it.

That said, I’m sure Bellatrix both wanted to have sex and is convinced she did have sex to produce whatever the hell Delphi even is. It just wasn’t with Tom, and probably was Rodolphous with a Halloween mask on his face as they got a little too into role play.

And there we go, I suppose, I can’t take Bellatrix seriously. You often see her portrayed as sexy femme fatale Death Eater, the most competent of all of them, if a bit of a sadist.

Oh she might be a very good duelist but she’s... Bellatrix.

She prances around in corsets, shrieking madly, and just what part of that is supposed to be femme fatale? I literally cannot take her seriously on any level. When I even try to write her seriously, in very serious stories, I end up with lines like the following:

"My lord, if there's anything you need… Anything from me, specifically, as a woman…"

- Bright Eyes

That was my best attempt. That was the best I could come up with. It’s still something that belongs in a comedy.

So, I don’t think Tom really corrupted her. I think without Voldemort she still probably would have been blowing up Diagon Alley, just in a much less organized manner.

Even in canon she does ridiculous things. For example, Bellatrix, frankly, could have easily avoided prison.

For weeks after the dark lord fell neither she, her husband, Barty, nor her brother-in-law were arrested. Bellatrix in grief and utter disbelief that the dark lord could ever do something so mortal as die, said “remember that other house our lord mentioned, THEY MIGHT HAVE INFORMATION, LET’S GO MURDER THE LONGBOTTOMS!” They torture and kidnap Frank, demanding he tell them where their master is, THEY KNOW HE KNOWS. He doesn’t know. They go too far and torture the man into being a vegetable. “Shit, GET THE WIFE!” They go get the wife, do the same thing, with the same results.

They now have no information on the dark lord, two well regarded aurors tortured into brain damage, and are quickly caught and brought before the court with absolutely no “I was imperiused” excuse they can give out.

How am I supposed to take her in any way seriously?

I mean, to end your life killed in a duel with Molly Weasley. That just says it all.

#ask #anon

288 notes · View notes

script-nef · 4 years ago

Text

An actual break | Gojou Satoru

Category: fluff

2.6k words; Beach date [4/6]

← Previous chapter | Masterlist

You haven’t been to the beach in months. So a car trip for hours, where you can blank out and peer out of the window to enjoy the wonderful and ever-changing scenery is amazing. Dipping your feet in the water or eating from food vendors or enjoying the warm summer sun on your skin. Perhaps getting a tan if the weather is perfect. This would all be perfectly enjoyable and possible.

If it wasn’t for work.

“[Surname]-san, why are you coming with us? You said you can’t fight.” Itadori calls from the backseat, nestled not-so-comfortably between Fushiguro and Kugisaki.

Wouldn’t it be better if Kugisaki is in the middle since she’s the smallest and the skinniest? The thought drifts into your head but you soon understand why. As soon as the words leave his mouth it’s met with a firm and resounding slap on the arm. Itadori’s yelp of pain is silenced under her hiss of “God, you’re so tactless! Now move over, it’s getting cramped with all of the bags.” Ah, she didn’t want to sit in the middle. And what bags? I didn’t bring any.

They keep their banter up and a quick glance to both Gojou and Fushiguro indicates that they have no intention of stopping it. Gojou is actually humming through the bickering. Why do I have to be the adult? He’s like, 5 years older than me. That’s literally what he said as the reason to drive instead of you.

“It’s fine, Kugisaki-san. I’m coming along because there’s been a lot of cursed spirit activity around here and I need to see if something abnormal is happening. I’m not going to get in the way of the fight so you don’t need to worry.” You send Itadori a smile through the back mirror which he responds with a quick nod, then a confused look.

“Isn’t that Gojou-sensei’s responsibilities?” The mentioned adult laughs and smoothly makes a right turn. You want to slap him.

“Normally, yes, but he insists on being insufferable.” You turn to face them, leaning onto the seat with a scowl. “The report he made was nearly illegible and last time something like this happened, and I had to sit down with him for 3 hours to complete it. Even then, he was going off topic half the time and trying to distract me. Itadori-kun, Kugisaki-san, listen to me. If he doesn’t do his work, you have to practically force him.”

“Doesn’t work.” Fushiguro comments while looking out the window. Gojou has the audacity to laugh again.

“We had a great time! You were laughing your head off by the time we were done.” A light tug on your shirt makes you sit back properly. The scowl stays in place.

“I missed dinner! And I missed the last episode of Haikyuu thanks to that!”

“Fine, fine. I’ll take it up by buying you dinner, okay?” He must be kidding if that makes up for missing your favourite anime. Kuroo came and went thanks to him. The car comes to an abrupt stop just as you’re about to complain again. “We have arrived!”

Salt wafts in the air as the sea twinkles underneath the afternoon sun. It’s hot today, and humid enough to make your clothes stick to your skin, which is gross. Sunny and warm means a swim will be ideal, but you have to take care of the whole recurring curses thing first. Previous reports have said that they were all mid-level, so hopefully Gojou’s students won’t have that much of a problem taking care of them. That also means they, including you as well, might have the opportunity to relax for the rest of the day.

The actual spot is somewhere in the nearby forest, filled thick with trees and so large that even if someone went missing it would take ages to search. An ideal hunting place since a lot of people visit there. Numbers dropped quite a bit after the fifth person “went missing”.

The first task is to cover the place with a curtain. Since the place is so large and not encompassing the entire place was deemed too risky, large amounts of cursed energy is required. Hence Gojou’s efforts right now.

“[Name]-san.” Kugisaki calls you. “Are you coming in with us?” Her voice is tentative, like she doesn’t want to offend you. It’s kind of funny because she shows more respect for you than her actual teacher for some reason. Gojou complained about it before. She doesn’t know the extent, or more accurately the lack of, your powers and has a right to be worried. All she knows is that you can’t fight.

“Ah, I am coming in, but I’ll stay far away from the fight. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“And I’ll be right by her side!” Gojou snaps into thin air, linking his arm with yours. “Your personal bodyguard! But I’m sure you guys can handle this one.” Still humming a tune, he sends them along their way with a reassuring smile. You smile at Kugisaki and wish her good luck. Shooting Gojou a suspicious glare, she runs ahead to the two boys and starts whispering. They look back at the two of you and get into what seems to be an argument. A bad thing to do right before a possibly life-threatening mission.

You watch the group disappear deeper into the woods, fear gripping at your heart. This is actually the first time in the field after years of being tucked away in an office. Ken-chan specifically requested it due to your unique cursed energy situation. Apparently that was the first time he asked for a favour to the principle and he never asked for anything again. They can handle themselves, you’re sure, but Itadori already had a close call.

“Worried?” Gojou, on the other hand, sounds like he has no concerns in the world. Maybe that’s a testament to how much he trusts his students. It doesn’t alleviate your agitation. “It’s fine, we can just take a break here and if trouble comes, they can take care of it themselves.” You stare at him incredulously. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I’ll step in if something goes wrong. You’re all in safe hands.”

There is no one better than him in terms of fighting with cursed energy. How on earth someone like this gets imbued with endless power, you’ll never know. Sighing, you take a seat on a fallen log. The moss on them tickles your fingers. It feels nice, something to distract you from your brain being its usual bastard and thinking the worst case scenario. Gojou plops himself down right next to you.

“We can go see them if you’re that worried, mother hen.” Nudging his leg shuts him up. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on reaching out for their cursed energy. Eight signals flicker from where they went, three blazing stronger than the others. One of them is nearly blinding. Sukuna is on a completely different level. If there’s that much of a difference in energy, they’ll finish soon and come back to have fun for the rest of the day. God knows they need it.

Your eyes flit open and come face to face with Gojou’s blindfold. It causes you to fall backwards and you brace for impact with a little yelp. But Gojou’s arm surrounds your abdomen, lifting you into the air and onto your feet. Heartbeats thud in your ears thanks to the sudden adrenaline boost.

“Did I scare you?” His laugh is cheeky. “I’m bored… Wanna play 20 questions?” As usual, his train of thought is impossible to even attempt to follow. A window of hundreds of tabs wrestling to be the first all the time is probably what the inside of his mind looks like.

“Sure, why not.”

Fushiguro, Itadori and Kugisaki all perk up when they receive the news of a day off to enjoy the beach. Since it’s closed off to the civilians, it’ll be like a private party. Something to keep their mind off of another mission that’s bound to come soon.

While they run off to the beach, you go to talk to the park rangers for the paperwork. Gojou asks if you want company but someone needs to supervise the children. The process takes barely 10 minutes anyway.

When you come back to the beach, the trio is screaming in the sea while trying to fight each other. Even Fushiguro is laughing. Childlike innocence is beautiful and long overdue. Two huge parasols and towels are laid out nearby where they’re playing. Gojou is out of his usual attire and in a swimming trunk. His blindfold is still on. Is this what was in the bags?

Now that you look more closely at the students, they’re all in swimwear as well. Looks like you’re the only one that didn’t get a memo.

“Heya! Done?”

“No thanks to you, Mr The-Whole-Reason-I’m-Here-In-The-First-Place.” He laughs at the nickname.

“You should change.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit. Nobody told me and I was just thinking of dipping my feet.”

“Nobara brought you one. It’s in the bag labelled ‘If you look inside I’m going to kill you.’” Laughter comes out at the absurdity.

“Why did Kugisaki—”

“Because she wants you to relax. Now come on! Let’s have fun!” he pushes you excitedly towards the car. It’s really weird how someone your senior has more energy than you and his three students combined. Sighing, you trek back and find the bag. It really is labelled that, in caps. Kugisaki is a good kid.

There’s a bathroom nearby for you to change in. The wind is still pretty strong when you walk out but you’re saved thanks to the school jacket. There’s also a pair of flip-flops. Ken-chan must have helped since they all fit perfectly.

Itadori is being half-drowned when you come back. Fushiguro and Kugisaki are merciless when it comes to fighting. Gojou smiles as you walk into his line of sight. Scooting over to let you into the shade, he lies back onto the towel and stretches his legs out into the sun with a slight groan. You stay sitting up, watching the three children absentmindedly.

Sunlight tickles your feet. The sea breeze stops it from being too hot but it’s slowly getting stuffier under the jacket. Quickly discarding it, Gojou catches your eyes while you fold it up.

It’s impossible to tell if he’s awake or sleeping thanks to his signature blindfold, but this is the most relaxed you’ve seen him in years; hands folded behind his head and muscles completely loose. Small scars dot his body, probably gained from fights which he deemed insignificant enough to bother Shouko with or heal himself. In a way, it’s a reminder for all the battles he’s survived. Pretty easily too, you’re guessing. There’s a deep one on his stomach and your hand moves towards it for some reason.

Long fingers intercept your hand just before it touches the scratched skin, entwining themselves to you. One end of Gojou’s lips quirks up.

“I’m going to be embarrassed if you keep looking at my body, you know.” You immediately attempt to rip your hand back but he’s got you locked tight. He’s not even using Infinity. Heat threatens to explode your face because he’s been awake all this time and you’re going to die from shame. “If you wanted to touch me then you could have just asked.” Your fingers graze against the skin on his stomach for a split second but he loosens his grip and you will be damned if you don’t take that chance.

Gojou cackles, enjoying your flustered state, and he’s halfway to suffocation because he’s laughing too much. His instincts still allow him to move out of the way for your punch. Doesn’t stop him from laughing though. Even his students, who were screaming and playing like they didn’t have a care in the world, are looking at the two of you. God, where’s a hole for me to die in right now?

Eventually, his laughter dies off. He’s still chuckling though. His teeth glint in the light as he gives you a wide smile. A sense of foreboding washes over you.

“Up we go!”

“What?” Two arms hook under your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly into the air. Your body bounces in his arms every time he takes a step closer to the sea.

“Wait Gojou, wait wait wait wait!”

“Gojou-sensei wai—”

The water is freezing.

“Gojou Satoru, I’m going to kill you!”

“That’s admirable! I’m sure you can do it!” Fushiguro snickers as you swipe an arm at Gojou, who moves away effortlessly again. Hair is plastered to your face and this rage is not going to subside unless you rip the blindfold off his smirking face and dunk his head into the water. But he keeps dodging you, just barely, as if to taunt you further.

Exhaustion sets in quickly since moving around in water is a lot harder and anger eats away at your stamina. Just as you’re about to give up, Gojou’s face is slapped with a wave of water. Everyone looks to Kugisaki. She has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Pfft.” Fushiguro’s laughter breaks the silence. Itadori snickers at Gojou’s drooping hair. Soon everyone’s laughing. Then Gojou whips water that hits all three of them straight in the chest with a resounding smack. They immediately retaliate with a wave that you get caught up in.

It somehow turns into a students vs adults fight. Delighted laughter echoes in the air as everyone yells and shrieks when assaulted with icy water. There’s an unspoken rule to not use cursed energy, which is why your side is being pushed back. There’s no beating three excited kids when they’re on a holiday high.

Backtracking a bit to get away from the constant surges of water, you don’t realise you’re going deeper and deeper into the sea. A rock shifts underneath your feet and you’re plunged into the cold grips of the sea, not even given enough time to call for help. Panic overtakes your senses as you squeeze your eyes shut, hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

“[Name]!” Warmth engulfs you as Gojou lifts you out of the murky depth, worry and dread weaved into his voice. You blink rapidly as he gently brushes the hair off your face, and you see his eyes without the blindfolds for the first time. “Look at me, are you alright?”

They’re… indescribably beautiful. It’s the purest and translucent blue you’ve seen in your life, able to beat the colour of the ocean or the sky on its clearest days. It could compete with even the most exquisite sapphire locked up in a vault underground. And they’re clouded with concern and fear because of you.

“[Surname]-san!” Bringing yourself up by hugging Gojou’s neck, you see the trio wading through the water to you, dread clear on their faces. Itadori reaches you and rapidly asks if you’re fine and that he can’t possibly describe how sorry he is. It looks like he’ll dig his head into the ocean floor if you ask him to do it. Like he’s waiting for you to reprimand him.

But all that comes out is laughter, bright and childlike. They all look at you like you’re crazy. You have no idea why you’re laughing either. Maybe you’ve finally gone insane.

But being in Gojou’s arms, seeing his and Itadori’s face relax, brings you so much happiness. Tightening your arms around Gojou’s neck, you rest your head on top of his as he calms them down.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from nearly drowning, maybe it’s something else, but your heart thumps rapidly into your ribcage, probably loud enough for him to feel.

Next chapter →

#gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou imagine #gojou satoru imagine #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojou #gojou satoru #fluff #series #female reader

277 notes · View notes

attemptinghaikyuu · 4 years ago

Text

Fake Dating: Akaashi✨

A/n: I’m a simple person, with simple needs, and what I need is Akaashi to be real and tell me I’m doing a good job...

G/n reader

Akaashi Keiji

You met through your friend Bokuto

He had introduced you two at a volleyball game at the start of the school year

Akaashi was quiet, but you and Bokuto managed to pull him into a conversation, even getting a couple laughs out of him, which is rare

Don’t worry, you cherish the smiles and laughter you get from him, you can tell he doesn’t do it too often

You also found out he was in the same year as you

The next day when you got lost on your way to class, he helped out

It was friendship from there baby✨

Oh, you’re not feeling well??? Akaashi is pulling you to the side, asking if everything’s alright

You don’t wanna bother anyone about a problem?? Akaashi is their, he can just tell when something’s up and will be helping if he can

If it’s making you uncomfortable and talking about it isn’t what you want???? That’s fine too, Akaashi is there comforting you with just his presence

When Akaashi is nervous (and you can tell by the way he plays with his fingers) you do everything in your power to get him feeling better

Telling jokes, giving advice, hugging him, some space and an ear to listen?? You are trying it ALL

Sometimes y’all will compete to see who can get Bokuto out of his emo moods first

And not gonna lie, it can get intense

No messing around, it’s almost an all out war

Sure, it was fun and games at first, but somewhere in that chill competition, things became do or die

Oh, your friend is sad cause he didn’t remember to bring a water bottle?

The squeak of shoes, as you and Akaashi sprint, to get your own bottles can be heard by everyone in the gym

Everyone: *sigh* just another day at pra-

Y/n and Akaashi: *wrestling each other to the floor* victory will be mINE!!!

The only problem is, Bokuto ends up figuring out what the two of you are doing, and he gets so flattered and excited over his two best friends working to make him feel better, that he’s instantly up and smiling

Now you have no idea who wins

When you try to ask, he says you did it together and you have a group hug

Bokuto, thank you..

You still wanna know who won though >:/

The volleyball team ends up voting to choose who the winner is (it was you this time!)

The team loves you!! Half of them have a crush on you

You’re too busy being a dumbass, doing dumbass things to notice though😭

Other teams that Fukurodani go up against, will see you and sometimes they’ll try to ask for you’re number

Usually, you’re around someone on the team, so people don’t mess with you too much

There too intimidated

However, you couldn’t be around them all the time

You really needed to go the bathroom at the game that had just ended, and you had some time before you could meet up with your friends

You’re actually pretty quick, since you wanna talk to Akaashi about a math problem you’re stuck on

You already told him you needed his help with it, he’d probably be looking for you soon

Finishing drying your hands, you run out of the restroom to search for him, only to be stopped by a player on the losing teams side

He pins you to the wall and dang... he’s tall and you can’t move away

He’s asking for something

It’s incredibly hard to pay attention to what

You only picked out a few words, those being: number, cutie, and my house

ItS pAnIcK tImE🥳🎉

You consider punching him

Before you can try, someone’s pushing the guy away and grabbing your hand, gently tugging you away from him

“Sorry, but I’m afraid my S/o and I need to go and celebrate a certain victory, against the team we just beat.”

The guy is spluttering as you two walk away

You feel a squeeze to your hand, and when you look up at your friend, you can’t help the smile that finds it’s way to your face

“Thanks Akaashi, or should I say, my heroic boyfriend?” You teased, pausing when you hear an unholy screech

“WHAT???” Bokuto looks between you two from behind. “ARE MY BEST FRIENDS DATING WITHOUT TELLING ME?!”

“Wait, Bokuto that’s n-

He’s not letting you finish that sentence😔

It’s pretty funny until he brings up a classmate who you do not like, they’re always rude and don’t stop when you ask them to leave you alone

Well, apparently they’ll be disappointed to know your taken

Akaashi can feel you stiffen beside him while Bokuto talks about them

He knows they’re not the nicest, so he’s also surprised that they like you

He makes a split second decision to get the person to leave you alone

“Bokuto-san, we were actually about to tell you, we planned our first date for after the volleyball game and we wanted it to be a surprise.”

Your shocked squeak is covered up in Bokuto’s shouted “Heys!” of understanding

Once outside, away from Bokuto, you ask Akaashi what’s going on

“Your classmate, the one Bokuto was talking about, if they think we’re dating, then chances are they’ll leave you alone.” He says it like it’s obvious, and it does, honestly make sense

You nod your head slowly, questioning one last thing, “Why not tell Bokuto? Shouldn’t he know... I mean, he’ll tell everyone we’re dating..”

“Bokuto wears all his feelings on his sleeve, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone we’re dating like it’s true, if he knows we aren’t,” he turns to you. “Don’t worry, we can explain everything once no one’s bothering you.”

And ya know what, y’all kinda knew what you were signing up for

It was obvious Bokuto would tell people about your newfound relationship!!

You just didn’t know the whole school would know by the next day

Most everyone is in tears over the two of you dating

People are mourning the fact that they now have zero chances of dating either of you

It’s a bit awkward to adjust at first

But Akaashi makes it easy to get into little habits

Hand holding becomes your favorite, you fidget with each other’s hands a lot too

It’s really comforting having him by your side

He makes this dating stuff simple, it’s a team effort that you’re never afraid of working on

You both fit together so well, that you forget it was to get your jerk of a classmate, to leave you alone

That’s why, after six months, you’ve completely forgotten it was fake

I mean, who wouldn’t?? Akaashi literally makes it impossible for it to feel fake

He’s doing cheesy couple things constantly

And you do them right back

Little notes, that have cute reminders to drink water and take breaks or getting each other’s favorite snacks on stressful days, is a regular

Simple gestures from Akaashi, seem to mean a lot more to you now

Because you definitely like him and don’t consider what you have as fake🥺💖

So, after the teams victory at nationals, high on adrenaline, you and Akaashi, sprint to each other, and kiss

It’s super dramatic

Bokuto is screaming over how happy he is for his friends, the team is silently wishing they could be in the middle of that kiss, and Akaashi’s pulling away with a chuckle and question

“I hope this means you feel the same way that I do?” He pauses to interlace your fingers. “Because I really like you.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi x gender neutral reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x you #fluff #fake dating #this ones kinda on the harem side #but Akaashi’s s/o would definitely have a harem #like him :3 #twinning

153 notes · View notes

trident-dragion · 3 years ago

Text

Over the Nexus Deck Profile: Genex

"It is nearly impossible to build a Deck centering around "Genex" monsters since their effects have little to no relation to each other." ~ Yu-Gi-Oh! Fandom Wikia The Genex archetype is... to put it bluntly, more of a punchline than a deck. There are three different variations of it, all with different art direction and strategies, which CAN work together but are largely self-contained. The Genex monsters themselves are largely underwhelming and ineffective, though there are a few gems. Those gems, however, do not make a deck together, but instead are usable in other decks, with the notable example being Genex Ally Birdman. However, what if... we were to try anyway? This is my Genex deck, designed to emphasize the archetype as much as possible. This includes the extra deck; every single Synchro monster in there is a Genex monster, because if I played stuff like Red Dragon Archfiend, I'd basically never make the actual Genex Synchros. And if I'm not doing that, why bother playing a Genex deck to begin with? So, the monsters aren't very good, but what about the spells and traps? Well, they're the reason Genex is so bad. See, Konami making three different variations of the archetype was seemingly an alternate to doing what they do with literally every other archetype in the game, which is MAKING spells and traps for them. There is not a single spell or trap card for Genex monsters. None. So, this deck fills up on all of the staples, along with a favorite tech card of mine; Instant Fusion. Rather than relying solely on the clunky main deck Genex monsters, Instant Fusion gives us a toolbox of non-Tuner Synchro material we can use to access almost anything we want whenever we have the corresponding Tuner. Trouble is, most of the Synchros specifically require Genex Controller, which this deck can access easily, but if we have a Birdman instead our options become a little more limited. There are substitutes for Controller, but we can access the real deal often enough, and Birdman's effect is powerful enough to make it worth running despite its limitations. So, after a lot of testing, I came up with a build that's actually kind of... fun? There's some novelty in using these monsters, and hey, some of the Synchros are pretty decent. This deck is helpful for learning how to use those Synchros and how good they are, so you can slot them into other decks if they would be a good fit. Genex Ally Triforce is a good example, but I think Locomotion R-Genex and Vindikite R-Genex have potential too. The fundamental issue with these Synchros, though, is they're designed to work in both Genex decks, AND attribute-focused decks, but not at the same time. Look at Thermal Genex up there for example. The attack increase is unlikely to get very high in a Genex deck, while the burn effect is likely to be irrelevant in a FIRE deck, ironically enough. You may try to come up with some kind of hybrid deck that uses Genex monsters alongside an archetype of your chosen attribute to get the most out of one of these Synchros, but my brain isn't big enough to come up with something like that. Fun fact about the Extra Deck though, with my Instant Fusion strategy it includes exactly six terrible, obscure DM Fusion monsters, and nine Genex Synchro monsters. Oddly poetic! MONSTERS (20): Genex Controller x3 Caius the Shadow Monarch x3 Genex Ally Birdman x3 Genex Furnace x1 Genex Neutron x3 Genex Searcher x3 Genex Undine x3 Sangan x1 SPELLS (13): Dark Hole x1 Giant Trunade x1 Gold Sarcophagus x2 Instant Fusion x3 Limiter Removal x1 Mind Control x1 Monster Reborn x1 Mystical Space Typhoon x2 Swords of Revealing Light x1 TRAPS (7): Call of the Haunted x1 Dimensional Prison x3 Mirror Force x1 Solemn Judgment x1 Torrential Tribute x1 EXTRA DECK: Dragoness the Wicked Knight x1 Fusionist x1 Kaminari Attack x1 Karbonola Warrior x1 Mavelus x1 Vermillion Sparrow x1 Genex Ally Axel x1 Genex Ally Triarm x1 Genex Ally Triforce x1 Geo Genex x1 Hydro Genex 1 Locomotion R-Genex x1 Thermal Genex x1 Vindikite R-Genex x1 Windmill Genex x1

#yu-gi-oh!#world championship 2011: over the nexus #deck profile #genex #thermal genex #locomotion r-genex #vindikite r-genex #instant fusion

2 notes · View notes

the-gay-prometheus · 4 years ago

Text

Frankenstein AU Segment - “The Reunion”

Oh hey- it’s been a minute since I last posted one of these, huh?

As I’ve kinda been alluding to, this isn’t the segment that I’ve been needing to write, but it’s the one I felt like writing over the past few days. So it just so happens that for once in my life, I’ve actually written something chronologically relevant to the last segment I posted! As in... this literally takes place almost directly after “Willful Disobedience.”

I’ll admit I kinda rushed the ending of this one a bit, and I think it shows, but it does what it needs to do so I’m just gonna keep it as is for now.

I can’t think of any serious warnings necessary for this one, but feel free to ask me to add warnings/warning tags if you see anything that you think should be warned about!

As always, likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are appreciated and encouraged!

It was a nightmare that awoke him that dreary, stormy night. Though he knew logically that there was nothing to fear, now that the thing he had created had been missing for at least four months, still he couldn’t help but feel those same eyes watching him from the shadows. Shuddering at the thought of that disturbing dark-lipped grin and the strange garbled sounds that had roused him from his slumber on the fateful night of its creation, he lay awake in bed and stared up at the ceiling. “You have nothing to fear,” he muttered aloud, repeating the phrase in his mind hoping that maybe if he said it enough times, it would be true. Yet a sudden bolt of lightning and crash of thunder caused him to yelp and hide under the covers, trembling in a cold sweat. Only one thought eased his troubled mind, and though he resented the idea of once again bothering Henry so late at night, he felt he might go mad if he stayed in his room alone for any longer.

When he silently opened the door to Henry’s room, he fully expected to find him asleep - instead, Henry was sitting upright with his journal and quill in hand. He had been staring out into the storm, but as Victor opened his door his attention snapped away. Though at first he appeared surprised, the expression of shock faded into one of concern. “Another nightmare?” he asked quietly, shutting his journal and setting it along with his quill aside. Victor didn’t answer, simply nodding silently while standing shakily in the doorway. Henry moved over on the bed, and gently pat the place beside him, gesturing for his dear friend to come sit with him. Victor unsteadily strode over, sitting in the place beside Henry but turning his face away. “Do you… want to talk about it?” Victor shook his head, clinging to himself and holding back tears. “Is there anything I can do other than just… be here?” There was no reply from Victor except a sniffle and a shrug of his shoulders. The pouring rain pounded at the glass of the window like some unwanted stranger begging to be let in, a deafening sound in a moment of silence between the two of them. “Would it… help to be held?” Victor gripped at himself tighter and clenched his eyes shut, shuddering as he nodded. When he felt the warm embrace of Henry’s freckled arms wrapping gently around him, something inside him shattered and he burst into a fit of sobs. Henry gripped him tighter, hushing him softly as he wept. Another roar of thunder caused Victor to jump and grab hold of Henry, clinging to him as though his life depended on it. They stayed tangled in each other's arms until Victor’s sobs turned to quiet sniffles, and the rain turned from violent downpour to a gentle, steady fall. When Henry released him, he sat back and reached out, carefully wiping the tears from Victor’s pale cheeks. “Better?” he asked with a kind smile and compassionate gaze. Victor nodded, sheepishly smiling himself, though his smile quickly faded and he shuddered at the thought of once again being alone with his thoughts.

“Better for now, yes, but... would you mind if I stayed the night?” he asked, his voice still hoarse from crying.

“Not at all! Bring a blanket and make yourself at home-” He paused, his eyes suddenly filled with concern. “Are you ok going back and grabbing one on your own or…”

“I’ll be fine,” Victor answered, waving his hand dismissively and hopping down from the bed.

What happened then was a blur, a faded memory with only fragments remaining. He ran after exiting Henry’s room, back to his own to quickly grab his favorite wool blanket and nearly panicked at the sound of a tree branch tapping and scraping at his window, Somehow from there he ended up back in Henry’s room, making a cozy nest for himself on the floor where he decided he would sleep for the night - complete with extra pillows that Henry provided him with, and it was there with his blanket wrapped tightly around himself that his eyes began to close. When they opened, however, he was no longer on the floor but instead lying in bed next to Henry, who slept soundly with his face turned away. Victor’s eyes opened wide at the sudden realization that somehow, in his sleep, he must have climbed up into the bed. As he tried to remember why or how it happened, his memory flashed with tiny glimpses at some other horrifying nightmare, and he realized all at once that in his fright he must have come to Henry for comfort, only to find him sleeping. He stirred, slowly trying to move toward the edge of the bed, but as he shifted, Henry turned in his sleep, now facing him, and he froze. Unwilling to wake his host, Victor lay perfectly still, moving only to shift back to laying with his eyes to the ceiling. He stared upward, but he felt no fear there lying next to Henry. His breathing was slow, his heart calm, and his mind at peace. Yet still, he found himself entirely unable to sleep. Henry shifted and murmured something beside him that sounded like it might have been a name - his name. Victor turned his face toward him, partially curious to see if Henry had awoken or was beginning to wake, and soon turned his entire body on his side to face him as he realized his eyes were still closed and his expression was that of someone peacefully sound asleep.

Something about that moment took Victor’s breath away. He had long known that what he felt when he was with his dear friend was something far deeper than a general platonic affection, but the pieces of his affections suddenly seemed to click together as they lay together in simple silence. His brown eyes began to well with tears once again. “I have searched so long for greatness and power, hoping that it might fill some final void within me,” he whispered, though he knew Henry couldn’t hear him, “yet all this time, all I needed to feel whole was this - just to be here, just to be with you.” He turned himself onto his back again, staring upward as tears slowly streamed down his face. “Why can we not just stay like this? Why can we not just be this - be us?” His gaze fell back onto Henry, and he felt a dull pain from deep within him that throbbed with every beat of his heart. “Would you even want that? Or is this wrong? Am I wrong?” Henry shifted in his sleep, and it seemed for a moment that his eyes might dare to blink open, which frightened Victor into silence at the thought that he may have just bore his entire soul to his most trusted friend. He didn’t wake, though, instead simply heaving a soft sigh in his slumber as he went entirely still once again. The sky outside began to lighten as the first rays of sun peeked over the horizon and filtered through the window, some soon resting upon the fiery waves of Henry’s hair and revealing the dormant ember-like brightness that had been concealed by the darkness of night. As dawn passed, Victor stayed staring at his dearest friend’s fair face, and as he stared he reached out, tracing the air over a cluster of freckles with a smile. “Andromeda,” he breathed, recognizing the latest in a series of constellations he had discovered over the years. He wanted so badly just to reach a little further and touch him, as though he were afraid that maybe it was all some illusion, some cruel trick that he could be so close and yet so far from where he wanted to be - from who he wanted to be. Instead he retracted his hand with a gentle sigh and lay there in silent wonder, letting his mind wander with visions of what could be, or what could have been. Henry stirred beside him once again, his eyelids twitching. Victor felt himself freeze again. What would he say? What would he do? Would he be angry? Would he pull him closer? Would he do nothing at all? From the corner of his eye he caught sight of a tall shadow on the wall beyond, looming ominously. He felt his stomach churn and his heart race with both fury and fear, until suddenly everything stopped. Everything was still - too still. “This isn’t right,” he whispered to himself. “He wasn’t there.” Just as Henry’s eyes slowly opened, he blinked.

Tiny shafts of sunlight filtered through miniscule cracks in the wooden log walls, illuminating particles of dust that floated through the air. Victor squinted as his eyes opened. For a moment, he smiled, half expecting Henry’s hazel eyes to be gazing back at him, but instead there was the bare wood of the cabin walls and the small stream of light that aligned directly with his sight and blinded him despite its meager size. He pulled his wool blanket over his face with a groan to block out the light, and though he tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep, there was an aching in his chest that kept him awake. Though he knew it was impossible, he kept hoping and wishing that somehow, some way, he could simply will Henry into existence there with him. Finally growing exhausted of his pining, he slipped out of bed, pinning his blanket around himself as a cape, and stepped out of his room. The creature lay sleeping soundly on the floor in front of the fireplace, that being the only place he ever slept despite having a room of his own. Victor paused, staring down at him for a moment, suddenly envying him. After having been calmed from another night terror, the creature seemed so peaceful and at rest in his sleep, while Victor seemed to be cursed only to dream of memories that pained him and made him feel all the more lonely and lost, twisted and changed by fears he so desperately tried to suppress. Cautiously stepping over his creation’s outstretched leg, he made his way to the door and stepped outside into the light of dawn. At first he shielded his eyes from the light, but as they adjusted, he strode toward the edge of the ledge and paused just before the rock dropped off into a steep cliff, just so most of his feet were still on solid ground though his toes hung over the edge. It was a dangerous place to stand, especially with the strong breeze that pushed its way through, but the danger of it was the last thing on his mind as he stared ahead, his hands clasped behind his back.

A feeling of homesickness flooded through him, though he couldn’t quite discern what it was for. Was it for Geneva, for the lake and the forests and the view of the mountains from below? Was it for the home and family he left behind so many years ago? Or was it just for Henry himself- He shook the thought from his head. "That's silly," he muttered aloud. "You can't feel homesick for a person." Yet when he thought about his soothing voice as he read some ancient poem or story, or the way he held him when he was scared or sad; when he thought about the way he could paint a picture with words or tell a story through sketches, that feeling of homesickness only grew more prevalent. In his heartache, he hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, nor had he heard when they stopped, followed by the clattering of a walking stick and pack being dropped to the ground. Instead, it was a voice that broke him from his thoughts, sending both a wave of heat and an icy chill through his veins.

“Victor?” He turned his head, and swore he was hallucinating. Standing there bathed in the golden light of the morning sun was the exact person who had been consuming his every waking thought. In a moment of something between blind panic and overwhelming joy, Victor thoughtlessly fully turned to face him while stumbling backward - except there was nothing to stumble back on. One foot slipped from the edge of the cliff, and he flailed his arms, trying to push his balance onto the one foot that still remained on land despite that one beginning to slip as well. Just as he was about to fall back to what would most certainly have been an inevitable death, a hand grabbed one of his flailing arms by the wrist and stopped his fall. He glanced back as fragments of stone tumbled off the cliff, falling through the air until they could no longer be seen. His breath caught in his throat at the thought that he could have just perished due to his own carelessness, but when he looked back up he felt his heart flutter. Henry was staring down at him with a look of both terror and relief in his eyes, wisps of his orange hair that had escaped being tied back drifting over his face and catching the sunlight like thin streams of fire, gleaming and shifting in vibrant shades of auburn with each waving motion of the breeze.

“H-hi Henry,” Victor managed to stutter breathlessly as he gazed upward with wide eyes. The grip on his wrist tightened and he felt himself blush, so he turned his head away as Henry hoisted him back up onto solid ground, only to blush harder as his friend suddenly pulled him into so tight of an embrace he thought his frail ribs might crack. Though it was slightly painful, the sudden rush of euphoria from being once again wrapped in Henry’s arms overrode any pain he felt. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh, or cry, or maybe both at once, but whatever the case, he clung to Henry tightly in return, silently hoping that this was in fact reality and not just some waking dream. Henry pulled back, placing his hands on Victor’s shoulders as Victor reluctantly released him.

“My dear Frankenstein,” Henry murmured. The words shot straight through Victor, words he had been longing to hear for the months he had been away, words that only Henry ever spoke, and he felt as though he might faint at the mere sound of them.

“It’s… it’s been far too long,” Victor managed to whisper, leaning his head to one side and resting it on Henry’s hand. Henry returned the gesture with a comforting smile.

“It has,” he concurred, seemingly searching Victor’s face for answers to some unspoken question. Victor looked back up at him, his own eyes wandering for want of answers, and as he stared, his gaze turned to a sudden look of confusion and concern as reason and logic began to overtake his senses.

“How did you find me?” He paused, then stepped back and pulled fully away from Henry’s touch. “Why aren’t you still at Ingolstadt?” Henry shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m taking time off,” he answered simply. “After you left I was so worried - about you and your family, I guess - I just… couldn’t keep my focus on my studies, so I decided it might be best to come home and take a break.” Victor was about to reply, but went silent as Henry suddenly went rummaging through one of his pockets and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “As for how I found you,” he began, waving it in the air, “I got your letter!” Victor gave him an odd look.

“...Letter?” Henry unfolded it and looked it over.

“You don’t remember sending this?” Victor thought long and hard, trying to consider all of the possibilities - maybe he had sent something and forgotten? Or maybe he had written and sent something in some daze of confusion and lost all memory of it? Neither made much sense, but they were the only answers that seemed to come to mind.

“Not to my knowledge, no.” He reached out. “Do you mind if I take a look?” Henry laughed as he shook his head.

“Of course not! You’re the one that wrote it, after all,” he replied as he placed the letter into Victor’s hand. Victor read it over, growing more confused and concerned with himself. Henry was right - it looked exactly like his handwriting and the tone of voice in the letter seemed to match the tone he so often used in his typical letters to Henry from his time in Ingolstadt before that same fateful day that he arrived there. “Whatever the case, whether you wrote it or not,” Henry began, smiling and resting one hand back on Victor’s shoulder. “You have no idea how delighted I am to see you again.” Victor hid his blushing behind the paper as he inspected it closer.

“More like you have no idea how delighted I am to see you again,” he mumbled. The letter certainly seemed flawlessly his own creation, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t recall when, or frankly how, he would have sent it. “When did you say you received this?”

“I… hadn’t said, but it was yesterday evening.” Victor’s expression became even more contorted with confusion, and Henry himself began to worry. “Is there something wrong?”

“Henry… I never wrote you a letter.” Henry stared.

“I’m not sure if I should be more offended or concerned by that sentence, but I think the answer lies somewhere in the middle.” The thought that he might have offended him sent a twinge of guilt through Victor, and he glanced up with a sigh.

“That’s not to say I didn’t want to write to you. It’s just… I can’t leave this place. It’s a long story.”

“You did mention that in the letter, something about how you were unable to leave. That’s part of why I left as soon as I received it - I figured you might be in trouble, but you look perfectly well, other than perhaps a bit thinner than usual.”

“That’s just it-” Victor began, looking back down at the letter. “If I’m stuck here, then how would I have gotten this letter to you?” Henry thought for a moment.

“Well, it was delivered by someone who wished to remain anonymous if that makes any difference. Perhaps there was someone who had come here that you forgot and had asked to deliver the letter?” Victor shook his head.

“Impossible. I would have known if someone else had come. There’s no one here except me and-” He paused, his eyes catching on to something strange, a pattern in the way each character was written. He knew his own handwriting - it was sloppy at best, yet typically at least legible, and he never wrote one letter the same way twice. That was the problem, though - the handwriting looked nearly identical, yes, but it was too perfect. Each letter, though sloppily written, was written in nearly the exact same style, as though it had been copied. It was such a small detail, something he himself with his ever observant eyes barely caught on to, but it was enough to alert him that he was right - he never wrote a letter. “It was forged,” he said out loud suddenly. Henry took the letter from his hands and gave it a closer look. “You know my handwriting, Henry. It’s imperfect. I’ve always complained about how imperfect and inconsistent it is. But this? It’s…”

“Perfectly imperfect,” Henry muttered, finishing his sentence for him. “Now that you mention it, I see what you mean. How fascinating… whoever wrote this put a lot of time and care and effort into trying to make it look and sound like you, and certainly nearly managed to achieve it.” He folded the letter back up and returned it to his pocket, but as he did, he repeated Victor’s own words in his head. “Did you say there was someone else here?” Victor didn’t answer. He barely heard him, as he became lost in his own thoughts, trying to decipher who had written it and how it could have been delivered, and how the author would have known his whereabouts.

Perfectly imperfect, he thought to himself. Perfectly imperfect… His eyes went wide and he felt as though his blood was draining to his feet as he went pale and his stomach seemed to twist itself in knots. “Perfectly imperfect,” he repeated aloud, as though in a trance. Henry gave him a concerned look, and reached out, taking his hand gently.

“Victor? Is there something wrong?” Victor trembled, then suddenly tore his hand away and made his way over to the belongings Henry had dropped, gathering them up and placing them back into Henry’s hands.

“You need to leave,” he demanded, his tone hoarse yet dark. Henry blinked.

“I’m… are you sure?”

“Yes I am sure.” He wasn’t sure - but all he knew was he suddenly felt a surge of fear and fury rising through himself. Henry stared, seemingly analyzing him, then gently placed his things onto the ground again.

“No you’re not-”

“Yes I am,” Victor interrupted. His breathing quickened as his heart began to race. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to appear as calm as possible, he rested a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “You need to leave, Henry. You’re not safe here.” Henry’s hand dropped to the rapier he kept sheathed at his side.

“Victor, I can protect myself - you know that. Whatever it is, rest assured, I will be fine.” He reached up, placing his hand over Victor’s hand. “What I’m more concerned about is you and your safety.” Victor looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. “Why are you really here?”

“I told you, it’s a long story,” he uttered, his voice almost like a low growl as he suddenly pushed Henry back. “One that I don’t have the time to tell. Go, Henry. Leave, and don’t come back - for your own sake.” Henry stumbled back as Victor pushed him, and though he desperately wanted to refuse, he sighed and began retrieving his things.

“If that’s really what you want, then I’ll go,” he answered quietly, trying to hide the sorrow in his voice. His tone sent Victor’s mind reeling and a sudden shock of pain in his heart, but he strengthened his resolve and continued to hurry Henry along. Exhausted from his journey and now pained by rejection, Henry trudged along, until out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of something that made him stop and raise his head. It was the cabin he saw, quaint and carefully constructed of logs likely found from the mountain forest. “Oh!” he exclaimed, causing Victor to pause as well. “Did you build that?” he asked, glancing back toward his friend.

“No- well- I- It’s not important. Time to go,” Victor grumbled, pushing at him again. Henry stepped away from him, nearly causing him to fall forward, and walked toward the little dwelling with curiosity.

“It’s… nice, actually,” he complimented, looking it over and glancing at his surroundings. “Must be pretty wonderful to be living in such a beautiful place with such an incredible view.”

“No, it’s a living hell of my own creation. Come on, Henry,” Victor pleaded, grabbing hold of his arm and trying to pull him away. Just then, the door to the cabin creaked as it opened, and Victor froze. He dared not to look, and a million scenarios raced through his mind. Had that demon lured Henry here to hurt him? Would Henry attack it out of fear of its hideousness? Would it attack him back? Panic began to course through him, but as the door closed, it wasn’t chaos that ensued, but instead Henry’s kind voice and cheerful disposition that rose over the mess of disastrous thoughts that tumbled around in his head.

“Oh, hello there! And who might you be?”

#*casually drinking my loving henry clerval juice*#...it's coffee. loving henry clerval juice is coffee.#victor frankenstein would agree with me i think.#(or really it's whatever you want it to be uwu)#also yes Henry carries his rapier with him everywhere because he thinks it makes him look cool-#oh and also for protection but mostly because he feels very important and heroic when he has it #and Victor is a disaster gay but we all already knew that.#anyways-#on to the usual tags #frankenstein au #clervalstein #(technically it's more of- clervenstein pining hours but- still)#head empty clervenstein thoughts #clervenstein my beloved

27 notes · View notes

a-lil-perspective · 4 years ago

Text

I have been silent for some time now. I have refrained from exhibiting any plaguing thoughts that might warrant me the label of “that person”, but I’m at the point where I’ve had my fill.

Ramble under the cut so as to not... offend or inconvenience anyone. There’s absolutely no obligation to read this. It’s Tumblr. You can block/ignore me. The option to do so is readily accessible.

I’ve been a Bad Batch fan since day one. While I didn’t start creating that very same day, it was relatively close. Point being, I’m a long-time dedicated fan. As the premiere to their series draws closer, I feel like there is going to be a great shift, rift here. That being said, I figured now is as good a time as any to make this post.

I love those boys beyond words. They’ve been the one constant in my life amidst a rapid and debilitating change. I love getting to give them life, even if my interpretations aren’t the most accurate.

Yes, I am a new Writer and yes, I am new to Tumblr, as I am sure both of those things are painfully apparent.

I get that it is impossible to please everyone. It’s something I’m learning more and more with each passing day. It’s something that gets harder to swallow, even more so.

I’d like to say that being here has been a largely positive experience, with all of these great connections and opportunities. But honestly? It’s been more isolating than anything. I’ve actually never felt more isolated than since I joined a year ago.

As a content creator or even just a general blogger, I don’t ask for much. I don’t ask for anything, in fact. I consider myself very low maintenance. I don’t demand/harass/play the martyr for reblogs. I have never mentioned it once, and never will. Some people on here are so damn passive-aggressive about it, and quite frankly, it’s embarrassing. It’s very stigmatizing. While I completely understand the frustration surrounding the like-to-reblog ratio, I think it’s neither tasteful nor reputable to threaten to call people out for not reblogging your fics. I wish I could say I was joking on that one. But I’ve seen it profoundly. Not cool.

And yet, no one says anything or raises any concern there.

Yet I make metas, harmless rambles, and I get shot down? Seriously?

—I need to “chill”, it’s “overkill”, I’m “overthinking”. I and my content are apparently just so damn arduous to interact with.

If you don’t like me, please just move on. There are plenty of other Bad Batch creators for you to enjoy. You know that. My work is absolutely not the final say, and I’ve never claimed it to be.

What is so wrong, with sharing one’s thoughts? Why do people inherently have a problem with other’s creative efforts? I see it time over again. Why do I feel like if I was making a bunch of smutty posts it wouldn’t be as much of a problem, that it in fact would be infinitely more welcome? (Absolutely NO shade to people who create smut, okay? I’ve made my own share. I admire those bold enough to do so regularly. I absolutely love them. Please teach me your ways).

This ramble really has nothing to do with the most recent event regarding my contributions. Rather, it’s a culmination of experiences over the past several months that have brewed and festered to the point where I can no longer keep downplaying it.

Social media, at its core, is one big popularity contest. It always has been, it always will be. But I’m not here to win. That’s never been my objective. That’s not what I’m about. Surprise (or not), I am not a popular blog. Not by a long shot. I’ll never claim otherwise.

I don’t ask people to view/interact with my content, I’m not an activist, I can’t even fathom exuding that kind of confidence. Even though I, admittedly, crave it. I suspect I crave interaction as much as the next creator. It’s a nice feeling. Yet there’s never been any obligation for it, especially with me, so I don’t understand what the problem is. As I’ve said, there are ample ways for you to block/avoid me. It’s the internet. In this day and age, there’s no excuse for viewing anything you don’t want to.

I came here in the hopes of finding like-minded individuals, uplifting and interacting, and exercising some otherwise stunted creativity.

All Tumblr as taught me is that creating and contributing is largely a thankless, empty endeavor. You can give and give and give and be reduced to nothing. There’s a profound imbalance between “giving” and “receiving”, and in regards to both ends of the scale, it’s became apparent to me that if you don’t cater heavily and in unreasonable degrees or get “noticed” by a popular blog, you get nothing, and your efforts are null and void.

Truthfully? I constantly feel like I walk on eggshells here, and it’s all I can do to not crack under the pressure, even though it’s my blog and my headspace. I should feel comfortable and free to express myself here, and I don’t, and I’m unsure of how to achieve that sense of stability. To be completely honestly I feel like a constant bother and a nuisance. When I post, I literally feel like there is a collective eye-roll that comes with people receiving a notification from my blog. Even though I know, rationally, that can’t be true, that’s an absurd level of thinking. I can’t say I can pinpoint exactly where it stems from.

But regardless: I hardly ever talk about/create the things I actually want. I only recently just got ballsy enough to share some metas, and we all know how well that’s going. I try not to have smut out of respect for my asexual/minor mutuals, even though the tag to blacklist is very much an option. I try not to bring up conflicting topics, Tumblr, political, or otherwise, even though with proper tagging I could. But I try not to even bring that into existence. Even though it’s my right to, I don’t.

I don’t actually feel like I fit into any narrative here, especially in the Bad Batch fandom; even though we are all basically the same steadfast group of bloggers. We all know who we are. We all coexist in the same space. It’s nearly impossible to be unaware of each other, at this point.

And yet, I’m not in a bunch of Discord servers or backed by a team of beta readers and all that jazz. It’s basically just me talking to myself out here. It’s very isolating.

Part of that—most of it—is my own crippling social anxiety, and the genuine belief that I don’t deserve to be in the same space/servers as all of these brilliant creators. Because I’m just me, and there’s not a whole lot of value there. With that mindset, it’s hard to actually feel like I belong anywhere. I know that is a mindset I have to conquer alone.

My excitement over my creations has largely dwindled into nothing. I seldom ever bounce my ideas off of others—another issue that stems from the fear of presenting as a burden—and even though I try to write for myself, even that fire has pretty much died out. I’m not even sure how or if I could even reignite it, at this point. It’s really quite sad. It makes me very sad, actually. All I wanted was to safely ramble, project all my thoughts and creativity that has otherwise been repressed through prolonged detrimental circumstances.

More than anything, I wanted to find and hold onto something that makes me feel useful, meaningful, happy. More and more I wonder if that’s even possible. I don’t think it is, not here. I often wonder if joining and sharing on Tumblr was a horrible mistake. I miss the innocent joy of when I first started creating. It was so simple. I’m trying to find that simplicity again.

But I’m burned out. I’m running on fumes. I have been for some time.

At this point it goes beyond just “taking a break” from Tumblr. It’s the fact that it all feels like this meaningless, monotonous cycle. I wonder every day if I am an isolated case in experiencing these emotions.

And yet, come tomorrow I will still be here, business as usual.

I’m not asking for sympathy or playing the victim or attacking anyone or trying to guilt-trip into more interaction. I am very aware of my shortcomings and incorrect mindsets. I’m just trying to make sense of it all. I feel very disconnected from everyone here and it’s lonely. This took a lot for me to share. I will most likely delete this because anxiety will eat me up, as it does with everything I post. Yes, everything.

#personal #lil rambles

40 notes · View notes

robinsarm · 4 years ago

Text

Just a Little Anxiety Before you Leave

I’ve unfortunately allowed one of my in game habits to fester and it’s now become a short, one off fic for the Zarina x Deathslinger ship. Enjoy :)

(Word count: ~2400)

(Some mature topics included)

There were times Zarina could get along with the killer she’d arrived with, The Deathslinger. He may have been very rough around the edges and you needed a pickaxe to break through his cold and unforgiving demeanor. But, Zarina had done that on many occasions before. However, right now, Slinger was getting on the girl’s nerves.

She’d been left on the dusty ground of Dead Dawg Saloon for the fifth time now. It wasn’t anyone’s outright fault, the killer just didn’t seem to want to hook her past the first time a few minutes into the trial. She’d had the foresight to bring a loadout that countered such strategies, but it only worked as long as her teammates were feeling altruistic.

They weren’t...not this trial at least.

Yui was busy keeping Slinger’s attention, Nancy was making sure not a totem was left in the small town, and Quentin...well, Quentin had fallen asleep. The killer got tired of hearing those unrelenting crows circle over the boy, so he’d been killed off quickly.

As Yui was placed onto her second hook of the trial, Nancy finally made it to Zarina who’d been crawling towards her the entire time.

“Sorry,” Nancy tried to apologize, but Zarina didn’t stay to hear her out. She turned on her heels and sprinted towards the old saloon. There was a chest out back she wanted to search and, hopefully, get a med kit. However, before she could even pass the killer shack, Nancy screamed, having been speared by the relentless bounty hunter.

Zarina let her head fall back in defeat; why did it always seem like she had to babysit the entire trial? Rolling her eyes, Zarina took a right instead of her intended left and quickly hobbled back towards the water tower. Yui was hooked right behind the dilapidated buildings lining a majority of the town. By the time Zarina got there, the poor girl looked like she’d been beaten to an inch of her life.

“I got you-”

“Don’t!” Yui interrupted her, shocking Zarina into stepping back.

“What? Why?” Zarina asked quickly and instinctively looked down at her feet.

“Nancy’s on death hook,” Yui said with a struggle, right as their last teammate was stabbed to the ground. “One of us is going to make it out. Just take it,” she added, referring to the hatch.

“Why don’t you take it? You can run him better than I can,” Zarina protested, raising her arms to either side of Yui’s torso.

Yui shook her head, her fight with the Entity swiftly coming to a close. “I’m done with this trial.” Her grip on the Entity’s claws began to slip. In a panic, Yui shouted, “There’s a med kit in the basement,” before the Entity plunged it’s finger-like claws into her body and hoisted her into the sky.

Zarina couldn’t stand watching that part of the sacrifice. She’d seen it plenty but it still didn’t get any easier. She wiped Yui’s blood from her face and neck before beginning the search for healing anew. Nancy was hooked not five seconds later; now Zarina was in a rush.

Thankfully, the killer didn’t immediately come for her, so Zarina made it to the basement before ever catching sight of the cowboy. Yui was correct, in the chest was a completely unused Emergency med kit. For a moment, Zarina wondered if Quentin had searched the chest but left the kit for someone else. Like the thousands of times before, Zarina unpacked the kit and used it effortlessly on herself until there wasn’t a wound left bothering her.

Leaving the med kit behind, Zarina bolted from the basement, knowing her time was limited. Find the hatch, that was her only objective at this point. As she left the basement, a feint but noticeable ringing buzzed in her eardrums. She knew what that noise was and already knew it was too late.

In less than a second, the killer shot his gun sending the precisely aimed spear directly into her right side. Not only was she primed to lose another health state, but she quickly realized she was about to lose them both. That spear hit sent a wave of nausea through her system, her skin erupted with goosebumps and she gained the overwhelming thought that she was going to die.

She was exposed.

Zarina yanked on the spear, trying to pull it loose, meanwhile glaring at the killer. “You brought the coin, you fuck!” she screamed at him as he pulled her closer.

“You’re only figurin’ this now?” he yelled back, then laughed as he slashed her to the floor.

Going from fully healthy to dying on the ground was something Zarina hated worse than anything. That action usually broke bones or tore major arteries. It hurt worse than anything Zarina had ever experienced, so she avoided it no matter the cost. But now, she was back on the ground - back to where she started. Now, she was bordering on hating this man.

“Can’t you just-” Zarina paused to spit out a glob of blood out from the back of her throat- “kill me?”

The Deathslinger chuckled whilst reloading his weapon. “Now why would I do that?”

“Fuck you, Quinn,” Zarina hissed as he got closer.

“Oh,” Slinger cooed. “Big words coming from the person who takes them literally.” The killer had dropped low, practically down to Zarina’s level to give her that comeback. He was so close she could feel him breathing on her neck. She knew what he was doing. He’d toyed with her before. She wasn’t going to give him any sort of satisfaction this time, however. She remained stone-faced, staring straight out into the small, desert town, all the while trying to ignore him and the heat flushing her cheeks.

Slinger laughed again when she didn’t responded then resumed his position, towering over her. “Quit bein’ so stoic. You’re missin’ your escape.”

“My escape?” Zarina questioned in her head then gave the killer a narrow stare.

Slinger was still smiling, but he was shifting his gaze between her and something off down the road. Zarina considered the circumstance then pulled herself forward into the dusty road. Turning her head was all she needed to do to see it - the hatch. Down towards the center of town, the metal square seeping black fog mocked her from its impossibly far distance. She gave Slinger another look, this time with more spite behind it.

“Well go on then,” he joked. “I haven’t been pickin’ you up, have I?” With that, the killer walked a few paces in front of her, then turned around and waited for her.

Zarina wanted to scream, maybe even throw a fit and call him a few choice words that would really get her killed. Instead, she lamented, took a long painful breath, and began the crawl.

Right off the bat, the gravel scraping her ribcage and stabbing into her open wounds was enough to make her want to quit. Mixing that with Deathslinger’s added nervous ticks as he waited “patiently” only made her more irritated. The man wouldn’t know how to keep still if his life was on the line. He paced, he tapped his good foot, he inspected his gun and even began cleaning it in a few spots. It was the comments that slowly picked at Zarina.

“Damn your slow for a young one,” or “I think my mum, 6 feet under, might beat ya to it.”

The only thing that kept her going was the fact that she’d brought Tenacity. The distance between her and Slinger and the hatch were all closing fast. If she had to endure this harassing torture at normal crawling speeds, Zarina would have just given up.

As Zarina passed the stagnant killer, she let herself wonder if he was actually letting her go. But, like the godly timing this killer always seemed to have, Slinger smothered that thought as she heard the spurs of his boots clinking towards her. She stopped just as Slinger stepped over her, now standing with a boot on either side of her ribcage.

“What?” she grumbled as she tried to look back up at him.

“You’re goin’ a bit faster than usual. Remind me what you’re runnin,” Slinger asked with a tone in his voice Zarina didn’t like. He was tormenting her and now she was wishing she hadn’t used her Unbreakable earlier in the trial.

“Tenacity,” she answered begrudgingly.

“Ah, that’s right. How ‘bout we slow ’r down a bit,” Slinger insisted more than asked.

Zarina almost immediately ignored him and continued crawling; it was an action she instantly regretted when Slinger prodded his spurs into her sides. She yelped and tried rolling away only to be stopped by Slinger’s other leg.

“Slow it down,” Slinger repeated more firmly this time, then resumed his normal stance.

The list of things Zarina wanted to call Slinger at this point had reached an extended scrolls length. She was so fed up and just wanted to go back to the campfire. She could rant and rave there about how annoying he and this entire trial had been. Most likely she was just going to sleep her anger away like she always did. Sleep sounded intoxicating at that moment, so Zarina focused on that.

The survivor made a conscious effort not to move too quickly. She’d start a crawl then stop, making sure no part of her was about to run into the knives that were Slinger’s spurs. As she crawled, Slinger stepped up with her, slow and steady. That’s how they moved for what felt like minutes. She crawls an inch, he steps forward, she crawls a few more inches, he steps forward again. Zarina hated it.

Eventually, Zarina ignored the killer entirely and focused on only two things: the rhythm and the heavenly whistle of the hatch not 10 meters away from her. She counted the meters the best she could. 9...8...7. With each passing moment, Zarina’s heart pounded harder and harder with excitement, with hope. Adrenaline was surging through her veins, making her shaky. Once she was close enough, Zarina forgot all about the killer above her and resumed crawling at her faster pace.

Another mistake she was quickly corrected on.

“Now what did I tell ya!” Slinger reprimanded as he reached down and grabbed her shirt.

“No! Wait,” Zarina screamed.

She was so close. If she reached out she’d be able to touch the edge of the metal escape. Just one more second and she’d be gone.

“You messed up Kassir. Shoulda listened,” the killer taunted as he slugged her effortlessly onto his shoulder.

Tears welled in Zarina’s eyes. Another death. After all that torment, she’d let herself believe that he was going to let her have it. She felt embarrassed and humiliated. For once, she let herself cry. Instead of wiggling at a chance for freedom, she gripped onto the back of his coat and held on for dear life.

“Caleb, please,” she begged with a shaky voice. “I’m sorry, please. I’m sorry.”

The killer stopped in his tracks and gripped onto Zarina’s shirt tighter. “I ain’t fallin’ for your crocodile tears-”

“I’m not faking!” She screamed as more tears leapt from her eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Slinger lamented softly. He was hearing the emotion in her voice now. Setting his weapon against the shack wall, Slinger used both hands to gently slide the survivor off his shoulder. Zarina didn’t get far before she latched onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist and hugging his throat like she’d fall off if she didn’t.

“Love, I was only playin’,” Slinger said, trying his best to calm the girl that was glued to his torso. “I was gonna give ya’ the damn hatch.”

Zarina didn’t try to make any additional comments. She was currently focused on keeping herself quiet. She may have felt like an absolute hot mess but she didn’t want to irritate the man any further with her sniffling and lack of control over her emotions.

Slinger, trying his absolute best, gently patted Zarina on the back while he paced around the area. Eventually, he figured she needed support, and he needed a bit of weight off his lungs, so Slinger lifted her up under her thighs. All Zarina could offer in return was a small apology that barely escaped her throat without cracking.

“I really get you this wired?” Slinger asked genuinely as he walked over to the windowsill of the shack to lean against it.

“No, I just-” Zarina cut herself short, feeling her throat about to give out again.

“Settle, love,” Slinger whispered and gently kissed her shoulder. “Breathe for a minute.”

“ ‘m sorry,” she mumbled into his coat.

“Quit your apologizin’. You didn’t do nothin’,” Slinger said. “Shoot your shit when you’re calm enough.”

A man of many words this one wasn’t, but Zarina liked that. Slinger was always straight to the point, sometimes being a little harsh, but she could take it. She’d be a pretty bad journalist if she couldn’t handle a few expletives.

Eventually, the survivor got around to calming her mild panic attack. At the first sign of her settling down, Slinger questioned again if she needed to speak her mind. There wasn’t much Zarina could say that she hadn’t already vented to him about before. So, she just shook her head and feigned exhaustion before trying to remove herself from the killer’s arms.

“I don’t give a shit how tired you are,” Slinger told her flatly. He kept her fixed to his chest then began the short walk back to hatch. “When you get back to your friends, bring your ass right on back here.”

Zarina raised an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see it. “What do you have here that I’d want?” she asked, playing along.

Slinger shrugged. “Quiet night. Apology whiskey. Maybe some make-up sex.”

Heat rushed to Zarina’s face again as she tried to stifle an excited laugh. “Whiskey’s fine.”

“And so are you,” Slinger quickly added before safely dropping her at the foot of the hatch. “Now hurry on and get your ass on back here.”

Zarina laughed for a moment before her wounds reminded her that she’d better get going. “Thank you, Caleb,” she said softly before dropping into the cool darkness of her escape, fully intending on returning to the blazing heat of that old western town.

#the deathslinger #zarina kassir #dbd #I fully intended on making this short #then it turned into 6 pages #dead by daylight #caleb quinn

16 notes · View notes

onecanonlife · 4 years ago

Text

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 6,284

Chapter Warnings: swearing, panic attack, vomiting, past mind manipulation, discussion of s.uicidal thoughts/behaviors

Chapter Summary: Wilbur has a couple of tough conversations, and he and Schlatt discover something interesting.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Eight: but it gets hard to stand (i)

He is floating at the bottom of the ocean. It is dim and peaceful, and there is dappled light all around, shifting with the waters. He breathes, and fluid fills his lungs, but it moves as easily as if he were inhaling air. His hair floats in front of his face, gleaming white in the glints of sunlight. That should be strange, perhaps, but he feels so very calm. Nothing can reach him here. No care, no hurts. The water is holding him, and he is at rest.

But he is drifting upward.

The surface is approaching. The dimness recedes. There is light overhead, bright and warm, and he is moving toward it swiftly. Still, there is no cause for concern. He watches languidly, content to let it happen.

Is there a reason to fight it?

Surely not.

The waves break around him. He breathes in air. The sun is on his face.

He wakes up.

He lays there, still and quiet for a few moments before he musters the will to move. His breathing seems loud to his own ears, the only sound that he can make out. The roof above him is not one that is familiar—so, not Tommy’s house, then, and he wonders why that is. His mind is blank, and he’s sure there’s something he’s forgetting.

He rolls over and props himself up on his elbow. The lighting is dim, the torches flickering, the bare minimum placed to avoid mobs spawning inside. He’s lying on a cot near the wall, and from his vantage, he can see an area with pews and a dull golden bell, and a towering pillar of water in the center of the space he’s in. Recognition sparks after a few seconds; he’s only been inside a few times, but he knows Church Prime when he sees it.

There is no one else here. He is alone. Is there a reason for that?

He stands on shaky legs and immediately regrets it as his head spins and pounds, like the worst hangover of his life. Drinking would explain the memory issue, but he’s staying with Tommy, so that doesn’t sound like something he would do. Even when he does indulge, he almost never drinks to the point of blacking out. So that doesn’t make sense, but he’s at a loss otherwise. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, and as soon as he thinks he can move without toppling over, he makes his way over to the center of the room, tottering unsteadily.

From here, he can see the front door. Outside, it is night, the Prime Path illuminated in the darkness. Something about that is off, he thinks—wasn’t it morning, the last thing he remembers?

The last thing he remembers—

He frowns, turning to the water, and absently, he runs his fingers through it. Cool and wet and gentle to the touch, and he remembers

(people around him people shouting and he can barely breathe and nausea rolls over him and his head is killing him and his mind is full of a red haze and he wants to go he wants to go but they’re not letting him and there’s water poured on him and forced down his throat and he nearly chokes but finally there is some kind of relief and it all falls away)

He freezes. Withdraws his hand from the water slowly, as if he’s stuck his hand into a mass of thorns and has to pull back out without being pricked.

The Egg. They went to see the Egg.

And the Egg

(oh Prime what did you do)

reached inside of him and picked through his mind and his memories, offering him what he thought he wanted most

(took you and hollowed you out and tried to take the parts that might be redeemable and replace them with itself and make you its creature completely and utterly)

and he let it, let it inside with barely a fight, and he almost hurt Tommy. He almost killed Tommy.

He almost killed Tommy.

A breathy whine escapes him, and he slaps his hand over his mouth as he doubles over, resisting the urge to dry heave. He almost hurt Tommy, almost killed Tommy, and all because he allowed a fucking Egg to whisper to him, because he allowed himself to be taken in and taken over, and he’s lucky, really, that he was able to snap out of it. It’s horrifying to think about, that he might have killed Tommy at the Egg’s direction, killed Tommy and felt triumph over it.

It was in his head.

He loses the battle against his nausea. His knees hit the floor, and he is wracked with dry heaving. There’s nothing in his stomach to come up. It just hurts. His breath hitches, air coming in fits and bursts, and whimpers and moans escape his throat at quick intervals, noises that are wounded and animalistic, but he doesn’t think he could hold them back if he tried. He’s crying, too, but that’s a given. There’s no one here to see, at least. No one here to see his shame, his weakness.

The Egg whispered to him of fire, and he wanted it. The Egg whispered to him of fire, and that’s all it needed to do before he embraced it with open arms.

The Egg whispered to him of rest, and he did it again. And Tommy was there. Tommy was there for all of it, and now Tommy knows that it’s all a front, a lie, a sham, and the miserable creature that got shoved back into this body is nothing like the older brother he wanted, nothing like the older brother he deserves. Scratch the paint off, and what is there but wreckage?

He hunches over, wraps his arms around himself. Tries to breathe. It’s difficult. He wonders if he should bother.

“God, there you are,” someone says, and—not someone. Schlatt. It’s impossible to mistake that voice for anyone else. Which is good, because Wilbur is not currently about to look up. He can’t even manage to get his lungs to cooperate, much less the rest of him. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I never took you for a pious man, Wilbur. Wilbur?” The voice changes, becoming more cautious, and then: “Shit, Wilbur.”

There is no noise to warn him of his approach. Schlatt moves soundlessly, now. But there is a blur of motion just in front of him, and blue enters his field of vision. A wave of calm washes over him at the sight of the color, but not enough. Not nearly enough. He can’t breathe, and he’s not certain that he wants to try.

“Alright, come on,” Schlatt says. “You know the drill, follow my breathing.” And he breathes in and out, very loudly, very purposefully. Out of habit, Wilbur attempts to follow, but he can’t manage it, his chest collapsing in on itself, his breath stuttering and gasping. “Okay, that’s okay, let’s do it again. You know how to do this, Wilbur, you’ve done it before. God, you shouldn’t have to rely on a fucking ghost to tell you how to breathe. That’s just pathetic. You can do it, come on.”

He almost laughs at that. Would, if he had the breath for it. He doesn’t think he’s ever found Schlatt’s vitriol more comforting. And all the while, Schlatt keeps up the pattern, his chest rising and falling with air that he doesn’t need to take in, and slowly, Wilbur manages to fall in time with him.

(they’ve done this before, once upon a time, back before everything, before this server, back when they were young and stupid and the best of friends, and Schlatt always relied on him to get him home after having a few too many and he always relied on Schlatt to calm the hornet’s nest that his mind became, sometimes, when all the world seemed to shrink around him, boxing him in and silencing his voice. they knew each other so well, then, trusted each other despite the warning signs)

“You good?” Schlatt asks. He’s so far from good that the question is ridiculous, but he nods. “Great. You look like shit.”

He does manage a laugh, then, short and bitter. “I feel a bit shit,” he concedes. “Is it that obvious?”

“I mean, I didn’t want to say anything,” Schlatt says. “But I feel like it’s my solemn duty to inform you that you look fucked up. I can’t leave you alone for two minutes, can I?”

“Been a bit longer than that, I think,” he says. “Where did you go, after the prison?”

“Well, you remember how Dream was being a fucking creepy asshole, right?” Schlatt says dryly. “Yeah, that had me freaked. It felt like—I don’t know, he was looking right at me, and it felt like I’d been dunked in a fucking, a fucking oil slick or something, like I could literally feel his eyes on me and his fucking—his murder vibes or some shit, I don’t know.” His form flickers around the edges, his face pulling into a grimace. “So yeah, I dipped. Went to go get something to drink, except I remembered that I can’t fucking do that, so I fucked around for a little while. Saw the crater, did all the tourist shit. Saw Quackity, actually, did you know he’s got, like, fiances now or something? No clue how he managed that. But then I decided to come bug you some more, except you weren’t at Tommy’s or literally anywhere else, and everyone I ran into looked grim as hell. I half-expected to find out that you’d managed to die again or something, or that you’d blown up someone else’s city. But here you are.”

He raises an expectant eyebrow at the end of that speech, not out of breath at all, the bastard.

(he always did like the sound of his own voice. it must be difficult for him to be silenced, for him to be able to stand in the middle of a crowd and have no one know that he’s there at all)

(at the heart of him, there is a part of Schlatt that just wants to be noticed, just wants to be paid attention to. Wilbur knows because they are the same)

Wilbur mulls that over in his mind, and gets stuck on the last part.

He bursts into laughter. He can’t help it. And it’s not very nice laughter, either, probably lands somewhere on the wrong side of deranged, but he can’t stop.

“What’s so funny?” Schlatt demands. “God, you’re such an asshole, I’m trying to have a conversation and you’re—you’re crying again, could you cut that out?”

Schlatt is beginning to sound genuinely alarmed, so Wilbur supposes he should make an effort. He gets a handle on the laughter and reaches up to touch his face, giggles still escaping him every few seconds. His cheeks are wet again, his vision blurring.

“Do you know about the Egg?” he asks.

“The—is that a code for something? What fucking Egg?”

“There’s an Egg underneath BadBoyHalo’s house,” he says. “It’s what’s spreading those red vines across the server. And if you go down there and see it, it talks to you and offers you things and gets in your head to try to override your free will.” He smiles. “I don’t recommend it.”

Schlatt is silent for a long moment, just staring, eyebrows so high that they look like they’re trying to escape his forehead.

“You’re not high, are you?” he eventually asks.

“It offered me destruction, Schlatt,” he says. “Fire and blood. And then it tried to get me to kill Tommy, and I almost did, but I didn’t, and then we tried to leave, and it offered me rest.” He smiles wider. “Rest, Schlatt. I wanted it so bad. I don’t remember how we got out of there. I didn’t want to leave.” He smiles wider still, and then something breaks, and he buries his face in his hands. “I wanted it so fucking bad, I wanted to rest, I still want it, but it was in my fucking head and fucking with my brain and I can’t—” He makes a low noise, pressing his hands harder against his skin, as if that will do anything at all.

“Jesus,” Schlatt mutters. “That’s—that’s fucked up. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“I don’t want you to say anything,” he mutters. “I don’t want me to say anything. I don’t want to be here. I fucking—I hurt Tommy, after I said that I wouldn’t. I hurt him. I hurt him.” He lowers his hands a bit, peering up at Schlatt, who looks very discomfited.

“Don’t start crying again,” Schlatt says, “please, I’m not equipped for that. This is—” He cuts off, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Jesus, Wilbur. The kid’s still alive, right?”

“Of course he is,” he snaps.

“Then talk it out or some shit, I don’t know. That kid thinks the world of you, man. No idea why, but there’s no accounting for taste. Just talk about it.” He shudders. “I don’t know why you’re asking me. You think I know shit about healthy relationships?”

“I woke up alone,” he says. “There was nobody here. I don’t know where anybody is, or if anyone’s hurt, or—I don’t remember how we got out, so what if something happened? What if it got me to do something and I don’t remember it?”

Schlatt is looking more and more out of his depth. Under any other circumstances, it would be funny to see him squirm, but there is no enjoyment in this. Wilbur wants

(Phil)

someone, anyone to tell him what to do here, to tell him how to make this right, but there’s no one but Schlatt, and it wouldn’t be fair to expect something like this of him, even if he thought he could.

“I’m sure they’re all fine,” Schlatt says. “Probably stepped out to take a piss somewhere.”

He draws in a shuddering breath. Maybe. Maybe. That doesn’t feel right, but maybe. He’s still shaking, and though he wills himself to stop, it makes no difference. He feels weak, feels pathetic, feels like the worst kind of traitor, to himself and to everyone around him, and the worst part of all of this is that he doesn’t know how much was the Egg and how much was him. Because to be sure, he could feel it influencing him. It’s easy to pick out in retrospect, the way it wormed its way through his thoughts, twisting him all around, and thinking about it now makes him nauseous again.

But in the end, it only brought out what was already lurking under the surface. What he’d been well and determined to push down, to ignore.

(and in some cases, not even that. a mask only goes so far, only serves so many people, and it takes a long time before the wearer can forget what lies beneath)

It is instinct, really, that has him reaching out, seeking physical contact. He’s always liked using touch to ground himself, to reassure himself

(Phil’s wings wrap around him and they feel warm feel like safety feel like home feel like he is protected and he is not alone if only for a moment if only for a moment he wishes that it could have been different could have been not like this but his course is set his ending penned and all that’s left to do is sign)

that he is real, that he is alive. His hand goes straight through, of course, and electric frisson runs up his arm. Schlatt makes an irritated sound, but puts up with the attempt, and Wilbur blindly tries again, even though he knows it will be futile. He wants something to hold, and in the absence of anyone else, Schlatt will do, but Schlatt will not actually do because he is dead and a ghost and Wilbur is alive and not a ghost, so he is left clutching at what might as well be empty air and wishing desperately for a connection.

He just wants—

(they are the same, they two, linked in life and linked in death and now in)

Something shifts. Undefinable, but undeniable. There is a sudden stinging in his chest.

His fingers curl around Schlatt’s arm.

They both freeze.

“What the fuck,” Schlatt whispers.

Experimentally, he tightens his grip. The fabric under his fingertips is solid, a bit scratchy. There is a strange lack of body heat, but Schlatt is as tangible as he is.

What.

Schlatt’s hand shoots out suddenly, landing on his shoulder. The weight is present and real, and he meets Schlatt’s eyes.

“What the fuck?” Schlatt repeats, louder this time. “What the—how are you doing that?”

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know, except that his chest hurts, right where his scar is, and if he focuses, he can sense what almost feels like—a tether, perhaps, though he’s not sure that’s the right word. Some kind of connection, some kind of tie between them, and it’s as if energy is flowing down it, from him to Schlatt, and actually, wow his chest hurts.

It’s not as if energy is flowing down it. Energy is flowing down it. He’s getting tired. Too quickly for it to be natural.

(he didn’t think to check, didn’t think to wonder, but if Schlatt was brought back by the same power that ripped him back to life, why is Schlatt still dead, dead and a ghost, when he is alive and not?)

“I don’t know,” he stutters, “I don’t know how I—”

It’s new, and a bit frightening, and somehow, the fear gets in the way. The tether snaps, vanishing just as soon as it was formed. He lurches forward, surprised by the sudden loss of contact, and Schlatt’s hand swipes through his chest. Schlatt curses, eyes wide and wild and—not quite scared. Not quite scared, but perhaps something approaching it.

“Do that again,” he demands. “Fuck, do that again, you—”

“I don’t know how I did it in the first place,” he protests. “I can’t just—”

And then stops. Outside, there are voices. Distant, but getting closer.

Schlatt takes a long look at him, and he doesn’t know what kind of expression he’s making, but Schlatt spits out a string of curses and stands, stomping off further into the church. It would have more of an impact, he thinks, if his feet actually made a noise when they hit the ground. He thinks that perhaps they would have, half a minute ago, and he thinks Schlatt thinks so, too, judging by the glare he shoots back at him.

He stands, feeling far more exhausted than he did only moments ago. And that is saying something.

“—not a choice, you get that, right?” Tommy is saying. He and Tubbo enter the church side by side. They both look—terrible is a word for it, certainly. The bags under their eyes are dark and thick, their hair sticking out every which way.

(this is your fault definitely your fault you failed them and you know it)

“We can’t just—” Tommy continues, and stops abruptly as he sees Wilbur standing there.

For a long moment, there is silence. No one speaks. No one moves. Wilbur traces over Tommy’s face, and he can’t even begin to interpret the emotions there, and that hurts, hurts worse than the fading ache in his chest, because he should be able to read his brother. Should be able to know him. Right now, he feels a bit like he’s looking into the face of a stranger, a stranger of his own making, and he doesn’t know how to fix this, doesn’t know if he can.

(the words still ring out in his head: I lied I lied I lied)

“You’re up,” Tubbo says, his voice carefully regulated. Tommy says nothing.

��Yeah,” he says. “I—you two, I am so—”

“Don’t apologize,” Tommy snaps. “Don’t—I’ve told you, I have had it up to here with you and your shitty apologies. Don’t do that. I don’t want to hear it.”

Wilbur opens his mouth, and then closes it again.

Because that is the thing: he has nothing else to offer. Apologies are all he can give, because at least he means them. Promises, he can make, but he breaks them just as easily. If there is some action he can perform, he doesn’t know it. And it’s too little, too late, too late to mend the damage he has caused, and it weighs so little against the side of the scale that holds all of his sins, but it is all he has. All he has, and if Tommy won’t accept it, he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Okay,” he whispers, and silence falls again. The water gurgles softly at his back.

“Okay then,” Tubbo finally says, “okay,” and it’s in a tone of voice that is tired and exasperated and worried all at once, a tone of voice that implies fine, I’ll do it myself if you two are going to be stupid, and it’s a tone that Wilbur has heard before but never like this, to this degree, and it sounds a bit like Phil, really, when he thinks about it. “Okay, so are we going to talk about what that was, then? I feel like we should. But I guess we don’t have to if you’re not up to it, Wilbur.”

“Fuck that,” Tommy says. “No, fuck that, he’s talking. You’re talking, you shit.” He stabs a finger toward Wilbur.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “yeah, I owe it to you. I’ll—” And then he has to stop talking, because he suddenly gets very dizzy, the room tilting on its axis. He blinks, and then he is sitting on the floor, Tommy on one side of him and Tubbo on the other, Tommy all but yelling in his ear.

“—the fuck are you standing up for, you shithead? Prime, you’re so stupid, do you know that? Do you know that you’re stupid?”

He keeps going, and Wilbur opens his mouth to apologize, only to shut it again, because Tommy doesn’t want apologies, does he? So he says nothing at all, and Tommy falls quiet, and the damn silence is overwhelming, overpowering, an unbridgeable gap between them.

And then—

“Wilbur,” Tommy says. Just that. Just Wilbur. Somehow, it manages to carry a wealth of connotations, manages to say why did you do that and why have you been lying to me and a dozen other things all at once.

And Wilbur doesn’t have a good answer.

“What happened in there, Wilbur?” Tubbo asks, and he supposes he should be glad that they’re willing to sit by him, that they’re not flinching away despite everything, that they’re sticking close. He wouldn’t blame them if they wanted to run and never look back. Some of that wariness has returned to Tubbo’s eyes, and he thinks he can see some of it reflected in Tommy’s, but they’re both still here, so perhaps that counts for something.

Little though he deserves it.

“Tommy, you didn’t hear it, right?” he checks, voice almost a whisper, and Tommy mutely shakes his head. “But you did, Tubbo. What did it say to you?” The words come out slow, reluctant, clumsy.

“A lot of things,” Tubbo says. “Some stuff about power. Mostly the power to protect myself. But I’ve got that already, so I didn’t feel too keen on listening to a breakfast food. And then it started insulting me. It was really mean, actually. Didn’t make me feel great. I could feel it, kind of, in my head. I think that’s how it hurt my feelings so much.”

He closes his eyes. Nods.

“It was in my head, too,” he says. “It—I’m not any better than I was, really. I’ve been lying to you. I want to be. Prime knows I want to be. I’ve—I’ve been trying.” Embarrassingly, his voice cracks. “I swear, I have. I don’t want to be the person I turned into. But that person’s still there, is the thing. I could be him so easily, if I let myself. And even maybe if I don’t. Once I start sliding, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.” He passes one hand over his face, and then keeps it over his eyes, shielding himself from their judgment. He doesn’t want to see their reactions to this. “The Egg—it shoved its way in and brought all of that out. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to stop it.”

(he was a child born of music and summer breezes, once, laughter and quicksilver charm. that went into the fire, burnt to ash, and the thing that came out was a child of the flames, flickering, dancing, and a bloodsoaked smile, and he got so tired of being that so very quickly and the sword was a relief in every sense of the word because finally the fire was put out, doused by cold, gleaming diamond, gentle blue, and his father’s tears landed on his face and he could feel them, finally, after so long burning)

(but he is born again and the fire leaps high and he can only keep it banked for so long)

“You did stop it, though,” Tubbo says. “You snapped out of it. It wanted you to hurt Tommy and you didn’t.”

“Barely,” he murmurs. “I—I swore to myself that I wouldn’t hurt you again. I swore, but I failed, and I—” No apologies. Tommy doesn’t want apologies. “Fuck.”

He keeps his hand pressed over his eyes. The darkness is calming, just a bit.

(it’s a place to hide, the coward that he is, and he is the pied piper leading the children and running away before he can face consequences because that’s all he knows how to do)

And then, Tommy yanks his arm down. He flinches at the sharp motion, at the sudden pressure on his skin, even as he leans in to the contact.

“Wilbur,” Tommy says, low and serious and more than a little angry. It’s not his usual fury, not his loud explosiveness. This is a simmering, slow, pointed anger, almost frightening in its intensity. “You listen to me, and you listen to me right now. You didn’t—you need to stop going on about failing, alright? Because you didn’t. The Egg wanted you to hurt me, and yeah it was terrifying and definitely not okay, but you didn’t. You did stop yourself. You gave the Egg what for. And I—” He breaks off, scowling. “I’m not gonna be able to say this right. But I know, okay? I’ve always known. I know that that you is there, I’m not stupid. I saw it in the prison. And sure, it’s actively scary, but I can see it, yeah? The way you’ve been trying? I know that you don’t want—and I don’t want—it’s not even that you, not really, because that you didn’t care, okay? I saw it, I lived it, I know what you’re like, and the you back then got too tired to try, not like you’re trying now. Do you—do you understand what I’m saying, Wilbur?”

(the you back then was exhausted and sick and spiraling and broken from the stress of presidency and then exile and all you ever really wanted was to make something good and to have it ripped from you was more than you could bear and you were just so tired by the end and you are tired, so very tired now)

He stares. “I—think? But—”

“No, no, no buts, I’m not fucking done. So maybe the Egg got in your head and fucked you up a bit. It sucked and it was scary, but you stopped yourself, and if it happens again, you’ve got us, okay? It’ll be fine as long as you let us help you.” Tommy sucks in a deep breath. “That’s not what I’m upset about. I mean, I am fucking upset about it, but that’s not what I’m most upset about.”

“Then what are you most upset about?” he asks, thoroughly bewildered by now. He understands what Tommy is trying to say, but not his logic, not his apparent willingness to continue to trust him. He should know better than that,

(because how many times did he hurt him in that dark ravine, how many times did he manipulate him, how many times did he snap)

should know better than to place faith in him now that he knows him for what he is, what he continues to be. And he doesn’t understand why this is, apparently, not the thing that he’s most worked up over.

Tommy doesn’t answer right away.

“The fact that you have to ask,” he says, “the fact that you have to ask, now that is fucking terrible.”

Wilbur glances at Tubbo, hoping for clarification. But Tubbo just stares back, the corners of his eyes pinched. He wishes he had an excuse to turn around; he wants to see if Schlatt is still here.

“Wilbur,” Tommy says, and Wilbur looks back at him, because it is Tommy’s voice that cracks now and Wilbur feels a thread of alarm run through him, “you said—you said it would give you rest.”

The words hang in the air, unchallenged, unanswered.

“You kept fighting us,” Tubbo says quietly. “All the way until we got you up here to the holy water. We were lucky that Puffy got there to help. I’m not sure we would’ve been able to do it without her. And you were—you got really sick, but you were still fighting us, and then you went to sleep for a day and a half.”

He jerks at that, and glances outside. “A day and a half?” he repeats, somewhat numbly.

“The whole thing happened yesterday,” Tubbo says. “You slept all the rest of that day, and all of today, too. We were scared you weren’t going to wake up.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tommy mutters. “But you would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you? If you hadn’t woken up.”

He meets Tommy’s glare. It’s an accusation, nothing more and nothing less. Tommy is angry. He deserves to be.

There is a lie on his tongue. But it would be fruitless now.

“Maybe,” he says, and feels both their gazes on his face, and amends that to, “Yes.”

He doesn’t know what else to say. There should be no more lies. But he doesn’t know how to explain himself, doesn’t know how to explain the weariness that weighs down his bones and the way he struggles to function and the way he can’t stop remembering what it was like in those final days, what it was like to know that his story was coming to a close and he was the villain and he was fine with it, because even if the ending would not be a good one, at least it would be an ending. He doesn’t know how to explain that he never intended to survive the rebellion, that one way or another, he sought his own destruction, and that death was rest and peace but no true healing. He doesn’t know how to explain that he’s regained perspective and the capacity to regret and the desire to never, ever hurt them like he once did, but not any will to live for himself. Not any desire to stay in this world that has taken and taken and taken and put his pieces back together all wrong.

He doesn’t know how to explain any of it. And even if he did, he wouldn’t. They don’t deserve to have to deal with that.

(they are children, still, despite your best efforts, too old for their age, but they should not have to carry the burdens of their elders on their backs any longer)

“Oh,” Tubbo says, small and quiet.

“Why,” Tommy says.

He closes his eyes.

“Do I really have to explain it?” he asks.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Tommy says, “I want to know why you didn’t tell us.”

He opens his eyes. Tommy is glaring at him, but it’s not quite anger anymore; it’s desperation, and fear, and worst of all, a terrible, horrible understanding,

(there is a boy with blue eyes gone grey and the boy stares into lava and Ghostbur isn’t sure that any amount of blue will make this better but it’s all he has, is all he can offer, and he allows the worst implications to flutter out of his brain like butterflies in favor of good cheer because it’s the only thing he can do to help and no one wants him to be the way that he was, so this has to be better, better to be a fool than a monster so a fool is what he shall be)

and he wishes it weren’t there. Wishes he didn’t know exactly why it is.

(he should have killed the green bastard then and there and hang what Tommy wanted, they all would have slept the better for it)

“It’s not your cross to bear,” he says. “It’s mine. It’s my own fault, and you shouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“So you thought lying to our faces was better?” Tommy demands. “You thought you could slap a smile on and it’d all turn out okay? That’s not how it works, Wilbur. I know that.”

Tubbo makes a noise, wounded.

“But really, you didn’t think it was something we’d want to know? That you still have a fucking death wish? What were we supposed to do, play around at being a happy family until you just up and died again one day? Because the last time you didn’t tell us something like this went so very well?” There is a flush spreading across Tommy’s cheeks. “I’m sick of people lying to me, Wilbur. I’m sick of you lying to me. How the fuck are we supposed to help you if you don’t tell us that you need help?”

He finds himself at a loss for words.

(he hasn’t been thinking about it in those terms. hasn’t been thinking about himself as someone who needs help, someone who deserves help. he is fire and he is ash and he is a spectre given physical form and he still doesn’t know what his purpose is, doesn’t know who brought him here and for what, so he has set himself to righting the wrongs he committed against his brother, but he hardly needs to take care of himself to do that, does he?)

(does he need help?)

(you made an ending but the story went on and you are back in it now, and who is to say there is no different path, no good road to set your dust-weary foot upon, and the sun shines regardless of what you do and indeed who is to say there will not be such endings?)

“I don’t want you to die, Wilbur,” Tommy says. “I can’t fucking do that again. You can’t leave, alright?”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to be here right now,” Tubbo puts in, still subdued. “We can help you learn how again. You’ve just got to give us the chance.”

It’s that that does it. Said so innocently, so determinedly, as if it’s that simple, as if there isn’t a thing with teeth and claws lurking below his skin, ready to lash out at anyone and anything, himself included. And he doesn’t understand it, not really, doesn’t understand why these two are so willing to help him after everything he’s put them through, doesn’t understand how they could think him worthy of it.

“Oh,” he chokes out, and distantly thinks that he is really crying too much today.

“Aw, jeez,” Tommy says. “Oh no, don’t—don’t cry, big man, come on. We don’t need to do that.”

Maybe. But on the other hand, maybe he does, and Tommy is very close, he suddenly realizes, and Tubbo, too, both of them close enough to pull into a hug, as long as they don’t object, so that’s what he does.

And they don’t object.

He should not, perhaps, be clinging to them as hard as he is. But they don’t tell him to stop, so he doesn’t.

For a while, they sit there, and he hugs them and they bury themselves into his side, and it’s almost like being back at home again, like Techno will come marching out of the woods with his sword mounted over his shoulder and Phil will call them in for dinner any moment, and in a few minutes he’ll get a message from Schlatt on his comm inviting him in on his latest business venture that is actually a thin veneer for a scam, like always.

He glances up, and Schlatt is nearer, in his field of vision, considering them with a raised eyebrow but a thankful lack of mockery. He rolls his eyes when he sees him looking, but from Schlatt, that’s practically a ringing endorsement.

He should probably say something about Schlatt’s presence at some point. No more lies.

In a minute, perhaps. For now, he holds his brothers tight and tries to let himself believe that everything is going to be alright.

(easier said than done)

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #tubbo #jschlatt #alivebur #glatt #/rp #cat writes fic #long post

27 notes · View notes

mariaiscrafting · 4 years ago

Note

can i ask why you dislike dream? im not being passive agressive or something lol i am genuinely curious

S’all good, kinda figured you weren’t being, and a lot of people have asked me this lol. There are so many reasons, and I’ve said this so many times already, but I’ll try to go over some of the main things I can remember:

1) Arrogance: kinda put me off how he’s always responded to criticism. Always kinda had an air of superiority about shit, and it never really bothered me on its own because I think lots of CCs are arrogant & I’m arrogant myself, but combined with all of the following, it became a reason for me to dislike him lol

2) Manipulation of his audience: look, I kinda always knew that CCs with huge fanbases, especially CCs who grow this quickly, have some kind of grasp of how to treat and foster their audience to their greatest advantage. I’ve always been wary of CCs that put on soft or nice personalities, especially since the whole Shane Dawson debacle. But with Dream, it’s been a whole other thing ever since his cheating response video, and I’ve never been able to see him in a good light in regard to how he responds to his fans, ever since. I went into it in a lot more detail back when I first watched the video, the day it dropped, but I’m too exhausted to scrounge that post up, so I’ll summarize: that video had a very specific strategy that he used to victimize himself and appeal to his fans’ compassion for him, and after rewatching the video for the third time that day, it felt gross and calculated to me. The way that he focuses very little on the actual mathematical part of his argument. The way he frames the issue of the mods having favoritism or bias. It was already proven on Reddit and throughout Twitter that the numbers the mods looked at were for good reason, and not because they just wanted to pick the numbers that made Dream look the worst, but that’s how he framed the argument. When I logged onto Twitter and Tumblr that day, there were thousands of fans who had latched onto what he said in the latter half of that video and coming to Dream’s defense, and that’s kinda when it hit me: this guy fucking knows what he’s doing, and he’s doing it well, and I really really dislike it. There’s about a hundred other ways he manipulates his audience, including not coming to people’s defenses when huge chunks of his audience attack them (even though the people had respectful and correct criticisms of him), defending stans so adamantly in the face of antis, and posting periodic alt tweets that help garner the illusion that he super cares about his fans; but, that cheating response video was the major red flag, for me.

3) Cheating & lying: as is likely no surprise to y’all, I think Dream cheated lmao. At first, I was ecstatic that he had actually made a detailed response video and put out a report with the help of an actual professional, but as I read up on his supposed statistical argument and dissected the parts of his argument that felt off to me, I realized maybe he had cheated. Talking to some STEM major friends of mine, who weren’t into MCYT but had obviously heard about the whole debacle because they like Twitter and Minecraft, kinda put the nail in the coffin for me. I’m not nearly smart enough or have a good enough memory to detail exactly why I think he cheated on this blog, right now, in April, but essentially: his main argument relied upon claiming mod bias, instead of a sound mathematical or statistical argument; there’s no way of proving that the world files he provided to the mods and in the open source weren’t altered; the statistical problems he points out (i.e., stopping effect) don’t actually skew the original mods’ model nearly as much as his supposed PhD guy would say; and the odds he comes up with might not be nearly as impossible as 1 in 7 trillion, but they still come up to around 1 in 100 million, which is still fucking ridiculous, considering that there are only, like, 120 million people in the world who play Minecraft. Not impossible, but laughable that he expects people to believe that. But... I guess they did, lmao. The thing that peeved me the most about the whole thing was the adamant lying lmao. When you look at the situation from the perspective of “dream cheated,” you realize just how fucked up all his Twitter responses, his adamance in streams and that video, and the general mood among his friends is... idk man, it’s just highly fucked.

4) Relationship with stans: look, there are significant numbers of his fans that take part in Twitter cancelling vendettas, who spread around information about other CCs and their fellow fans that is false and meant to villify them, etc., and he never fucking says anything. It really, really bothers me. There are too many instances to enumerate, but a few that have caught my eye were when Dream stans would attack Techno, prior to their battle and when a Native American woman politely explained why he shouldn’t use Native music, he responded and said he wouldn’t, but tons of stans continued to attack her in her replies for “being so harsh/mean.” Like, he knows that just one word from him will make his fandom follow his beck and call. All it would’ve taken was one fucking word. There are so many fucking people that have been harrassed off of social media platforms because of the hivemind that is dttwt, for christ’s sake.

5) Reddit posts: All of the above were reasons for me to mildly dislike the guy prior to the Reddit posts, but they weren’t really enough to make me stop posting about c!Dream or reblogging fanart or reading DNF fics or watching Manhunts. I kinda just clowned on the guy, answered the occasional ask about the cheating thing or something related, and left it at that. The Reddit posts not only pissed me off for their content, but for the lying, as well. Do you think I fucking cared about him cheating at speedrunning Minecraft, of all games? Fuck no. What I cared about was the adamant lying that went into the whole debacle. Kinda the same with the Reddit posts. I’m one to usually forgive creators who acknowledge past errors, obviously. It is creators who try to brush stuff off, or even worse, create an elaborate lie to cover up allegations, that put me off a fuck ton. This is the reason I could never be comfortable with watching Pewdipie after I realized all the shit he had brushed off, and it’s now the reason I can’t go back to watching Dream. There is so much evidence that points to guilt, including but not limited to: his first move when the slideshow dropped (before posting to Twitter) being deleting as many old Discord messages as he could, the contradiction between him at first denying the account was his at all then changing the story to say he shared it with a friend, the wording and phrasing in the political posts being almost identical to the non-political posts that were clearly him (i.e., the one that explains his demographics perfectly), and the timing of the political posts (some of them being posted mere minutes after posts that were verifiably him, like the picture of Patches to the cats subreddit). People can claim that he’s likely changed, and what this it matter, as long as politics don’t affect his work now, but I can’t believe this fundamental misunderstanding of why bigotry in entertainment matters. I’ve always had a problem with the adoration this fandom has for cishet white men, and the constant criticism of non-cishet, non-white, non-men, but this really feels like the final slap in the fucking face. It’s like everyone truly believes that it doesn’t matter, that his beliefs couldn’t have possibly affected the way he’s treated fellow CCs in his circles or any of the number of people that depend upon Dream, directly and indirectly, for employment/CC clout. It’s like everyone truly believes that political ideology has no effect on the way we perceive, treat, and behave around other people in literally any field, not just politics. I, just... Christ. I don’t really wanna unpack my emotions about this whole thing right now, so I won’t. I’ll just say: I dislike Trump supporters and ex-Trump supporters alike, I dislike conservatives who claim they’re centrists (every fucking guy my age does this, it’s infuriating and makes me want to bash my head into the nearest wall), I dislike people who levy their fans against criticism - even when it’s righteous - and I dislike people who lie about their past actions; Dream fits all those categories, so I dislike him.

#lol would it be okay if this were my last dream crit post? im very tired #i just... diont wanna talk about him anymore lol #dream critical #discourse #/neg #asks #Anonymous

18 notes · View notes

gildedmuse · 5 years ago

Text

I'm a little late on getting this second part up, but it's not like tv shows have schedules or time frames or anything so it's fine.

Sora: Warrior Of The Sea

(A RedHawk Production)

BTS Blue Ray Extra: Costumes, Hair & Make Up (Part Two: Sora & Allies)

Boa's, Zoro's and X. Drake's (cast as Brími) as well as Ace's non raid suit are all pretty easy deals, since they're all upper ranking marine uniforms. Fortunately, officers are given a little more freedom with their uniforms, allowing Bon Clay to added some of the characters' personalities to their appearences.

So of course Boa Hancock brings in a team of her own fashion consultant to design Vice Admiral Reijin Umiko uniform form scratch. She couldn't bare to spend a whole who knows how many seasons in something forgettable and drab. And since Production Policy is "just try not to piss off Hancock" she ends up with the uniform she wants. Which is mostly just a marine cape, no sleeves, and a variety of designer outfits.

X. Drake's character, Himiya Brími , is a retire Rear Admiral, though he still stays in touch with his naval contacts, and acts almost as an outside consultant. So the costuming department decides to go with something navy like but without the officer coat. They go with a short white jacket with red fur accents that looks like Brimi might have worn it as a uniform at one point only the marine insignias are all gone. He wears black, leather like pants and gloves that go up to his nearly his wrist despite most of that being under the coat to cover the burn marks up and down his arm. The jacket is typically left unbuttoned, showing off the tattoo of his former division - the Fire Lizards.

Portgas D. Ace looks handsome as hell in full navy dress, identical to what Captain Akitsuyo Sora. is seen wearing in the comics, and also hates everything about it. Why are the pants so tight? He runs hot already there's no way he can deal with three (three!) Shirts. He wants to throw it in a dumpster and burn the whole thing.

Eventually they agree that he can go shirtless, but he has to wear the full proper captain's coat, not just hang it over his shoulders like most do. They get him some slightly more comfortable white trousers and let him wear black boots beneath them. Bon Clay accents the uniform in his characters colors and everyone but even Law eventually comes around and agrees it works.

Of course, Sora's more iconic look is his stolen Germa 66 Raid Suit. The costume department upgrades that design, same as they had the other Raid Suits, mostly by streamlining it, adding the more technological looking boots, adding in some detail to his gloves and.making the helmet a little less goofy (although of course it's still a must as neither Germa not the navy know Sora's identity at the start. At least it doesn't have a seagull on it like in the Saturday morning cartoon). Basically, they just being if closer in line with the other raid suit designs.

Somehow, even with the helmet, Ace looks amazing in that, too.

For Roronoa Zoro's uniform as Lieutenant Tadahiro Daichi, Bon Clay stats him off in just the basic lieutenant uniform, assuming Zoro will likewise have tons of notes. (It's a bit concerning he brought his swords with him). Surprisingly, he has no comments. He doesn't even bother looking in a mirror, instead making sure he can still move enough in sword fight, which he totally can. So he's fine with it.

Law thinks it might be an actual miracle.

Until Bon Clay speaks up. He really hadn't been expecting no comments and he refuses to accept it. You can't put him next to the main character wearing a genetic uniform. He pretty much demands Zoro strips on the spot so he can fix this travesty. Law is quick to leave before the headache starts.

When he comes back, Zoro's has a much baggier coat that goes just bellow his waist And is inexplicably light green. He has the sleeves, which would swallow him otherwise, rolled up high. Its technically on, except it's big enough that it keeps falling off his shoulders. By all rights it should fall open and off except just under the waist there's a belt has been added for his swords, making the V shaped opening look like a very short kimono.

To counter the lose fit of the coat his pants - dark green cause why not - seem impossibly tight. Laws surprised they got him in those without a fight. The only part of the once white uniform to remain the same color is a white sleeveless button down vest that, again, is way too tight for Law's liking and also somehow looks worse than if he were just shirtless. There's no way he can fight in that thing, he can probably barely /breath/.

Law keeps waiting for Zoro to start making comments but again, he has nothing to say. He does his little practice moves, slides the sword back around his waist and finally smiles.

"I like the belt, this is way more practical," he tells Bon Clay. Law wonders if he knows what the word practical means. Pants that cling to every curve of muscle and a vest with buttons clearly meant to be ripped off is not suddenly made practical just because there's an easy place to hang a sword. Also, he's suppose to be a high ranked marine but they can't buy him coat that fits instead of one that keeps slipping off his shoulders?

So of course everyone but Law thinks it's perfect (even though as far as he can tell Zoro never once actually looks in mirror. It seems the ability to still do his own sword fights really was his only requirement.)

Law can't explain it, just like he can't really explain why he dislikes Zoro so immensely, but he hates that costume.

Because of course this is before they even strat shooting, meaning Law would still be pissy at Zoro by this point, and suddenly he finds himself pissed off and turned on all at once.

Law is going to look back at this in a year and hate himself when it finally clicks. He just left Zoro, shirt already falling off, with Ace - who the whole crew agrees looks incredibly sexy in the uniform and that was before he lost the shirt - and not only is Ace not irrationally upset at Zoro, he's all too happy to help out the newbie actor even if it's just something like reassuring him how he looks amazing in costume and hey if Zoro has any questions or something he can always come to Ace. His door is always open to Zoro.

@devilfruitsaladfordinner

Law hates Ace in part because Ace is just so open about flirting and he does it so easily and he's so sexy when he does it and fuck, nope, not going there. Not going to that weird place where the thought of Ace and Zoro together makes him want to scream but it also conjures images of them together infront of him on a bed at his mercy and THAT IS NOT WHERE HE WAS SUPPOSED TO GO WITH THIS

BEPO I NEED A DISTRACTION

.....

Yeah basically.

Peng got his WHAT stuck WHERE?

@gildedmuse

He's angry and he's jealous but he's also about three seconds away from pushing Zoro up against Ace because Law can't help but find the idea of Zoro begging for two men so incredibly sexy it literally breaks his brain. Oh, he's still jealous as fuck, but that doesn't stop him wanting to rip that damn uniform right of the stuntman and see how far him and Portgas-ya could push him until he breaks.

@devilfruitsaladfordinner

Ace is confused but not upset

#sora warrior of the sea #a redhawk production #conversations with internet people #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece au #costumes #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #boa hancock #x drake #bon clay #the zolaw au nobody asked for

61 notes · View notes

prismatales · 5 years ago

Text

Comfort

All my love and gratitude goes to @sugacookiies, @pixxiesdust and @hawks-senseis for beta-reading this, you guys were some of the greatest help I've ever had! ❤

Pairings: Bakudeku x Reader

Warning: Tw:Depression, Tw:Suicidal thoughts, angst, fluff and comfort.

Fingertips slam a frantic yet steady pace against the keyboard, your eyes go back and forth between each paragraph with a growing sense of panic. All your senses are running on nothing more but pure anxiety and stress, not even the thought of eating something crosses your mind as the one and only thing to worry about seems to be this specific assignment.

Neither of them can remember the last time they saw you in another spot of the house that wasn't that chair before the computer, sure sometimes you take a break to go to the bathroom, but sleeping? That word doesn't seem to have a meaning in your vocabulary.

Except for that one time you fell asleep on the couch for less than 30 minutes before startling yourself awake and jumping away from the plush cushion to keep working.

Both Midoriya and Bakugo knew how important it was to complete your thesis, but was it worth it when your health and body is on the edge of giving up? They both know how badly this kind of routine can end up affecting your health.

The last time you got this stressed it ended up fucking up your stomach all the way from the esophagus to the intestines. The whole digestive system was so affected it started to feel like your stomach was literally burning itself into nothingness from the gastritis you developed. You had to get treatment for two whole weeks, which was right before your high school finals, and it was one of the worst experiences you've ever had to go through.

There's a reason a huge portion of people going through College ends up feeling dead on the inside, the overwhelming amounts of work, spending so much time in the library one could literally claim they live there, assignments and impossible amounts of field work, all of that could be more than enough things happening at the same time to cause plenty of people to go insane. And if that was bad enough, preparing your Thesis was like one of the deadliest of trials.

Just from the look on your face, it was obvious you're starting to develop another health trouble just like that time, the tips of your fingers start pressing right on the spot above your stomach with a face full of discomfort.

Deku's the first one to see that and in less than five minutes he's already outside on his way to get some medicine, he doesn't think twice about using One for All to go faster.

Everyone in the apartment was more than used to hear mumbling during the day, courtesy of your beloved Deku, but not even Bakugo was prepared to hear you of all people mumbling such dark things the very next day, when the stress began taking a harder toll. He could hear every single word loud and clear even when he's standing near the kitchen counters at the other side of the house.

"Why do I even bother?...It's not like anything I do even matters..." He can hear the the long sigh followed by more self hatred while he's stirring the noodles for dinner. "Sometimes I wonder if people would even notice that I'm gone...hahaha...I wanna die"

"...! That's it!" The wooden spoon gets slammed roughly against the marble counter, searching through his pocket Bakugo pulls out his phone to text Deku, who's already on his way home from patrol.

It takes less than an hour for the two of them to be there right besides you trying their best to comfort their shaking and panicked S/O, it makes them feel useless seeing how much you're struggling to hold on to the remains of your mental stability.

And when they hear the next course of muttering they know things are just about to get worse unless they do something about it.

"I can't do this anymore...I just can't," The tiny voice coming out of your mouth was heartbreaking. Your whole body is trembling uncontrollably as Midoriya walks up behind the chair, he lifts your whole body so he can take you to the bedroom, that way you could finally get some well deserved rest and calm down, in the meanwhile Bakugo goes back into the kitchen to fetch you something to drink.

Their dynamic was simple and yet effective, most of the time Izuku tends to be the one calming both of you through words, if that's not enough to help he's trying to find another solution to the problem through physical actions. Katsuki on the other hand tends to prefer being the one letting his actions speak for themselves first, even through the smallest of gestures he's always looking out for the both of you, in a reverse context to Deku, when his actions are not enough he's trying to make an effort to comfort you with his words.

Everything came crashing down inside your head like a landslide in the middle of a storm, bringing chaos and despair from every direction. It's easy to recognize the signs of your depression kicking in due to all the work piling up at once, and they're aware you're one of the most dedicated and passionate persons when it comes to your studies.

Midoriya tried to lay you down into the soft mattress and walk away to get that blanket they bought specifically for this type of occasion, but his shirt is quickly clutched into a tight grip, the broken sobs are barely audible to someone not paying enough attention have him on high alert as he realizes you've already started crying.

He has no other choice but to ignore his quest for the blankets and sits back on the bed. His back rests against the headboard while you're laying on your side, face resting softly against his well-toned chest, your body surrounded by his own arms that hold your shaking body against his with the hope that it can help you relax.

Bakugo comes into the room shortly after, carrying your favorite cup steaming with some nice and warm drink, your favorite judging by the glorious smell coming out of the cup in small puffs.

He carefully passes the cup to the green haired man sitting in bed before walking to the corner of the room and towards a dark gray, medium sized basket where the additional blankets are kept, rummaging through the furniture he finds one of the biggest, fluffiest and softest blanket of them all before walking back towards the bed.

It takes you awhile to process what's actually happening because of the storm running through your head. But eventually, between the reassuring words and sweet whispering, the shaking and the crying slowly, but very slowly starts toning down until nothing but a small whimper can be heard every now and then through your bedroom.

In less than a few minutes you've already been wrapped in that beloved blanket while resting between two warm and fit bodies, leaning back against the headboard with a comforting drink in hand.

"Are you feeling any better?" Izuku's voice is soft and sweet, just in case there's something still bothering your mind, at the same time one of Katsuki's hands is busy rubbing circles in the section between your shoulders in a steady rhythm, the feeling of his calloused and scarred hand touching that portion of skin helps relaxing your exhausted self at an almost exaggerated level. The last thing they want is for you to have another breakdown.

You want to reply but your mouth quickly opens and closes, so all you can manage to do is give them a soft nod in response, too tired to even try and talk to your sweet boyfriends.

Sometimes the negative thoughts come during these kinds of moments to try and bring torment. It makes you wonder if one day they'll get tired of this and leave after realizing you're nothing more than a hindrance.

"Don't even think about it, Dumbass," Katsuki growls from his spot at your left side "I recognize that look on your face when I see it, you think you're worthless don't you?" That hand behind you makes its way to your shoulder, pulling your whole body towards him and positioning you in a way that makes your head rest on top of his well toned shoulders. For someone who's body is so nicely sculpted, the place where your head lays is one of the most comfortable places where somebody could rest.

"You are one of the strongest people I've ever met. You've always been someone who rarely allows small shit like this get the best of them" Katsuki's hand had long ago left your back to run his fingers through your hair, the friction against your locks of hair and scalp has a soothing effect that relaxes everything from your whole body to your mind.

A small tear manages to escape, but this time is out of relief and happiness for literally having two of the most wonderful lovers by your sides. The exhausted smile that spreads over your face sends the both of them into a state of relief.

"What did I do to deserve you both?"

Deku lets out a soft laughter while Katsuki just smirks in satisfaction.

"Existing."

MASTERLIST

@t-amajiki @undead0relived @shoobirino @bnha-ra @godtieruwu @mysticalite @bnhabookclub @gallickingun @unbreakableeiji @savagetrickster

#mha imagine #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #bnha midoriya #midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #reader insert #Tw:Depression #Tw:Suicidal thoughts

199 notes · View notes