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dalliancekay · 1 month ago

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And it is All. Aziraphale's. Fault.

NO IT FUCKING ISN'T HIS FAULT

First of all: I'm pretty sure every time we see Az and Crowley in the past, Crowley is wearing whatever is the height of fashion while Aziraphale wears things that are well made but several decades out. Meaning he is wearing them for a good while. Swapping his clothes around when they become maybe too worn, maybe too conspicuous.

Walking the clean, gas-lit avenues with Crowley and Elspeth, Aziraphale is oblivious to the privilege he has in this world.

Really? Was he born yesterday? He has no idea how the world works?

the angel spouts trite pontifications created by the rich to justify poverty. He genuinely believes Elspeth has more opportunities for goodness. After all, look at Wee Morag.

It wasn't invented by the rich. It was 'invented' or used rather by the church that got used by the rich to keep the poor in place. There is no way you can blame Aziraphale for this. All he wanted is for Elspeth not to end up in Hell. Which Crowley wanted too, after he saw how upset it made Aziraphale. That's not fucking wrong. And you can't tell me either that rich have more opportunities to do good. Or that they do so. Or that more of them go to Heaven.

The inequality in humanity? Well, Adam and Eve had nothing. We have caused all this bullshit to ourselves. Nothing to do with Aziraphale. Or Crowley.

He respects her goodness tremendously. It proves to him his “rightness.”

Did you mean to say, he's glad she's not heading for Hell.

And so he sabotages Elspeth’s attempt to sell the body she dug up in her attempt to support Wee Morag. Dalrymple gets no body, Elspeth gets no money, and Aziraphale believes he’s saving her soul.

He WAS saving her soul. Remember? Heaven and Hell being real places you go to when you die in GO?

Selling stolen bodies puts good in the world. He’s all for it now, and goes back to encourage Elspeth. Good heavens, he’s even willing to help this time!

Maybe next time try to be a bit more condescending to someone who just learned something new. And IMMEDIATELY changed his mind about it. Plus, Crowley had no idea digging up bodies could be spun to be a good thing either. He was learning just as much as Aziraphale. But I haven't seen one single FUCKING META about how Crowley was completely disinterested in Elspeth and her life. Only in having his usual argument with Aziraphale. Until he didn't. (And as I pointed out, he wasn't right about - you have start people off equal, people did start off equal, we are just assholes)

But, as we know, it all goes wrong. Wee Morag is shot by a grave gun, and dies of her injuries. Elspeth steals laudanum, and plans suicide.

In other words, everyone makes their own choices, things go badly for Wee Morag. Maybe re-watch the ep and see how Elspeth doesn't blame Aziraphale (or Crowley) for what happened. So why do you?

Crowley drinks the laudanum, saves her in a compassionate Scottish frenzy, and is stolen away by hell because of his kindness.

Is he? Or is he taken cos he sent two guards directly down to Hell, alerting them?

And it is All. Aziraphale's. Fault.

(I deleted what I wrote here)

He considers all of the money he casually spends on fine clothing and expensive tailoring. He wonders how many lives could change if that money was better spent on helping to relieve the poverty that surrounds him.

There's absolutely NOTHING in canon to support this. We can HC whatever we want sure, I for example think that Az wears things, as I said above, that are stylish but always out of fashion because it takes him time to find the right things and then he wears them for decades and decades. Because that's what is suggested by the canon, by the care he puts into his clothes and how well loved they are. The fact that 'male' fashion got less flamboyant down the centuries was not Aziraphale's decision. I for example HC too that Azi, when building his bookshop, and using his own, earned money as you rightly say, was spending miracles on making sure his workers didn't injure themselves, that he spent miracles looking after the street urchins in the very poor neighbourhood he has chosen to settle in (as opposite to say Mayfair). And that when Gabriel told him off for using too many 'frivolous miracles' in 1792 he got mad and decided to go to Paris like the stupid angel he apparently is and get, say, ravished by his enemy who would surely find him helpless and not able to save himself in a prison.

What would Crowley do, if he were free to be kind? And so Aziraphale changes.

Yes, because Aziraphale is an asshole who cares about nobody, and nothing, right?

the angel who took too long justifying a life-saving miracle for Wee Morag

Because he's NOT ALLOWED TO INTERVENE.

who hesitated to give Elspeth his 90 Guineas

Do you think he should have just worked and worked and give all his money to poor people? Is that the answer to all the world's problems? Making Aziraphale poor?

willingly and freely gave Maggie forgiveness for thousands of pounds of debt

Why wouldn't he. It's his property and I am sure he lends it to Maggie for significantly less than anyone else would have. Definitely less than those 'gentlemen' in the book who come and try to persuade the angel from time to time to sell his bookshop.

I'd love to know what else he's done over the last 180+ years!

He's been the kind, big hearted angel he always was. Looking after his shop, his tenants and anyone else who he could. Saving babies in prams and making sure shady men never came back. Looking out for Crowley, trying to keep him out of trouble, worrying about him, keeping an eye out to see if he's not doing something reckless. Finding out the demon wants to rob a church, handing him the one thing that could take him away forever with the heaviest of hearts. While of course, Crowley was doing the same thing. Not giving in to Aziraphale's princess act in the Bastille because he knew it would not ultimately end well for them. Understanding when Aziraphale said no to a date in 1967, not surprised since he remembered well what happened in 1941 when they were seen together.

*** YES if Aziraphale did absolutely nothing on the graveyard, Wee Morag would have probably lived a bit longer. How much longer though... and they would very likely end up in Hell, because they would have had to do much more crime down the road. Maybe even get hanged for graverobbing. Also see: Aziraphale just wanted to help. Did you never make a mistake??? He didn't mean to hurt anyone. If he did nothing, he'd never have learned yet another way the world is complicated and not black and white. Crowley was going to do nothing at all, just have a laugh at someone robbing a grave. No one cares. He's a demon. He stopped Elspeth from killing herself and everyone applauds, yes, it is super kind of him, and dangerous for him too, but it is the right thing to do. He didn't want her to go to Hell either.

The people who think they would have figured everything out before any events happened at all...well, good luck in your life.

And people who think Az should have done nothing - okay then. Let's just all do nothing at all, hoping we avoid all the bad things. Also: Changing the world is not done via charity but via changing the society, creating better welfare systems, housing, medical care, education. Those are things one lone angel (and his husband) can't do. And it's not their place anyway. I have like 5 pounds in my bank account (I hope) and yet I am not blaming someone well-off for that. It's the systems that are failing us. Much like the systems failed Aziraphale and Crowley. Putting two wonderful beings through so much pain because - that's how it is done.

And as I have said a million times before, Aziraphale is not learning some morality lesson in GO (HE IS A WONDERFUL, GOOD, KIND, GENEROUS, BRAVE BEING ALREADY), he doesn't need to get off his high horse, he doesn't need to finally 'see things clearly'. He knows how fucked the system he lives in is. He's just trying to help. Even Crowley says (in the book) that Heaven is the better option over Hell. However fucked it is.

Aziraphale learns from Crowley that he can question things, yes. But not in some, oh he's so blind and stuck and deep in some dogma bullshit. NO. He was always told things will happen a certain way. That Earth gets 6000 years tops. That God Herself made a Plan. It may be Ineffable, but it is a Plan.

I'm sorry, if you think you are far smarter than this and you would have figured out that God is telling porkies, good for you, I'm glad such intellects exists.

Because Crowley also didn't know the Plan could be changed until the end of S1. Yes he asked Az to try stop Armageddon but I don't think he really believed they could. He just wanted to give it a go. Cos - well what did he have to lose?

And they did change it. They held Adam's hands and they told him to be himself and when Gabe and Beez wanted to go ahead anyway Az confused them by asking about which Plan said what. So yes, he learns to question things. And he learned that from Crowley. And Crowley? Who was abandoned by the one Being who was always supposed to love him? Well. Crowley looks into those blue eyes and trusts.

The Night That Changed an Angel (or, why does Aziraphale still wear that shabby vest?)

Mini-Meta Musing (#4)

I've been brooding for a long time about, of all things, Aziraphale's worn velvet vest and the long cream jacket he's kept in "tip top condition for over 180 years now." I love the sweet familiarity, but this is the same angel who popped across the Channel and almost lost his fluffy-topped head in 1793 for dressing like an aristocrat.

"I have standards!"

He's the height of elegance, extravagance even. A dandy. We've seen the same at the Globe Theater 1601, Edinburgh 1827, and even as a Knight of the Round Table in 527 Essex, where he's wearing a glorious pelt across his shoulders! However, sometime after Edinburgh 1827, Aziraphale's stylish extravagance ends. He adopts the dress of distinguished but modest gentility. No seamstresses strain their eyes for days hand stitching ruffles and trims for him any longer. When we next see him in 1862, his clothing is refined, simple, and serviceable. It becomes his uniform, with only minor replacements. Why? What happened to change him?

Edinburgh 1827 happened. And his encounter with tragedy ran over his sensibilities like a locomotive.

Aziraphale had, we were told, saved his earnings over time and had bought land, invested wisely, and became quite well off. He used real money, not miracles, to build the bookshop, paying the builders well and taking care of bills honestly. He built himself up to a more than comfortable lifestyle, from nearly nothing. And his clothes are real, not miracled from nothingness like Crowley's. (source: original showrunner)

Aziraphale's wealth allows him to afford luxurious tailoring and fancy shoes and ruffles and trims. He'll certainly pay the cobblers and tailors and seamstresses well for their labors. It will be a substantial expense for the era. (The linked post gives a wonderful perspective on 1793 lifestyles and costs.)

https://agoodflyting.tumblr.com/post/753227014283083776/why-aziraphales-white-satin-pumps-are-ridiculous

The angel's Edinburgh multilayered and trimmed top coat, soft leather gloves, matching scarf, jacquard vest, silk cravat, etc., look entirely out of place in the back alleys where the poor huddle. Walking the clean, gas-lit avenues with Crowley and Elspeth, Aziraphale is oblivious to the privilege he has in this world.

As he strolls along in philosophical banter with Crowley about the "blessing" of poverty, the angel spouts trite pontifications created by the rich to justify poverty. He genuinely believes Elspeth has more opportunities for goodness. After all, look at Wee Morag. He respects her goodness tremendously. It proves to him his “rightness.” And so he sabotages Elspeth’s attempt to sell the body she dug up in her attempt to support Wee Morag. Dalrymple gets no body, Elspeth gets no money, and Aziraphale believes he’s saving her soul.

It’s a poignant moment, though, when Aziraphale cradles the jar containing a tumor from a seven year old child who died because there wasn’t enough medical knowledge to save him. Turning point number one. It becomes Real, not a philosophical debate. Selling stolen bodies puts good in the world. He’s all for it now, and goes back to encourage Elspeth. Good heavens, he’s even willing to help this time!

But, as we know, it all goes wrong. Wee Morag is shot by a grave gun, and dies of her injuries. Elspeth steals laudanum, and plans suicide. Crowley drinks the laudanum, saves her in a compassionate Scottish frenzy, and is stolen away by hell because of his kindness. And it is All. Aziriphale’s. Fault.

Turning point number two. Another watershed moment where Aziraphale’s world changes again.

One of Crowley’s last earthly acts, before getting plunged into hell, is to have Aziraphale give Elspeth all of his pocket money. What is pocket money to the angel is a fortune to her, one that can set her up for a better life. I have no doubt that in the aftermath of the traumas of that night, missing and worrying about Crowley, Aziraphale thinks about all of this. He considers all of the money he casually spends on fine clothing and expensive tailoring. He wonders how many lives could change if that money was better spent on helping to relieve the poverty that surrounds him. He wants to help, and to try to make amends for the harm he caused. What would Crowley do, if he were free to be kind? And so Aziraphale changes.

I’d love to know the story of how it all played out. Did he sell his fine clothing and donate the proceeds? Did he become involved in charitable foundations? Did he buy the clothing of a simple gentleman and decide to preserve it, however worn it became, as a reminder to himself of his past blindness and vanity? We see in Season 1 how important it is to him to preserve that coat. (Sure, it's also a fantastic opportunity to flirt and flutter those angelic eyelashes... But, nonetheless!)

By Season 2, the angel who took too long justifying a life-saving miracle for Wee Morag, and who hesitated to give Elspeth his 90 Guineas, willingly and freely gave Maggie forgiveness for thousands of pounds of debt. I'd love to know what else he's done over the last 180+ years!

Whatever happened, it began that night in a graveyard.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #edinburgh minisode #edinburgh #aziraphale defence squad #aziraphale my beloved #good omens 2 #good omens thoughts #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #kaypost

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the-firebird69 · 24 days ago

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This idiot Brad was beating my husband up and he was doing it because he says he thought he knew stuff so he's threatening his own and threatening other people by attacking him and they're doing this to try and get their plan to work to make separatist cities and blow everybody else up and have everybody fight down below over ships and other things they say they don't care about now their plan is not going ahead big reasons they don't have ships and all their stuff's intercepted and he's saying all the time that's Brad is a dead man anyways it all s*** today my husband says no you're a dead man he says I'm just saying I said no you're going to die and he says I sort of get something with telling yourself and it makes a difference and your people are so f****** stupid that you don't know what a smart person is and why would you you're stupid think about it it's kind of a conundrum that you're in you don't know how we think because none of you think like we do and I'm not really a regular person by the way airhead and he says I sort of get that and Peter turns out to be BG and he knows what I can do and since you're all dead cuz you're stupid pieces of s*** now there's only a few people who have real lives you have an invention to mine and you know what it is and you don't seem to care and he says I care and I went out of control and he says no and personally what you doing buddy getting in a fight with me is advertising it and people figure it out now you're running around saying I'm a dead man and stuff when your life is over for touching me you haven't found any of my people and you did that because you are saying my people did stuff you in the Midwest

So I'm having a hit point on you you can have a lot of fun up there in New York and other stuff and you can say it's us and then we'll have people get rid of you cuz I don't ever want to see you again I can't f****** stand you personally you're sitting there and horseshoe cove and I couldn't understand a word you're saying it is blabbing idiot you don't speak English correctly you never did and you're a goddamn stupid person I'll tell you what you have no clue what's in store for you and your people you deserve to know some of it and you made so many people I find it hard to believe that they plan to get rid of you like you stupid whiny assholes say now you're all going to die you need to know what regular people going to do now I don't like you and I kind of written you off and I can no I can I'm driving clean clones or whatever you call them clans to go away and you're going to go away cuz I say so and there's nothing you can do about it if people don't like it they can join you keep doing it and you try for your kids and your father all the time and we have all sorts of records on it I'm going to publish so people can forward it over

Zues

I've seen this before it's really this dick head Trump but really he's the one with the information and he's trying to collect people but really we're trying to do that too. And we don't need you here bothering him running around circles like little girls making fun of each other and harming each other critically all the time you're a waste of f****** space to begin with and this stuff is disgusting and we don't like what you're doing we need information we have to almost get to you before you kill each other completely and what turds you want to kill everybody else and you came up with it on your own and you live like s*** without other people you're such mooches all of them you're vastly outnumbered and you're the ones that caused it with this dumb plan and you sat there yelling it and Brad you're a huge offender even saying it out loud for real we have it on tape and we're going to release it to regular people some of them don't have it are you sell such a stuff don't you little kid and f*** you brad

Hera

Olympus

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zarathelonewolf · 2 months ago

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Giocattoli by Rancore

Translation from Italian to English by me

(First toy's chant)

In certain demographics, I am forbidden

Sometimes reccommended, depending on one's age

I don't know who invented me, sold me, bought me

Who wrapped me up, I don't even know during which festivity

I don't know which was my shelf, what my price had been

I don't know whether it was Christmas or if there was a birthday somewhere down the line

I don't know what I represent

But I know that you're a clever girl and that you often stay with boys all the time

I remember that as soon as you saw me you brimmed with joy,

Jumping in your mother's arms, throwing your grandma a kiss

And even though the cake had puff pastry and you didn't like it, you didn't eat it too reluctantly

And then you ran towards me, (while) your mouth (was) still chewing

And in a second you took me out of my plastic casing

And not even an instant passed that your monologue felt like a mystery

My body moved according to your every thought

You, who play even with things like me

Creating dialogues, and you're the one who always speaks

It's a way of warding off devils

You (make me) move to defeat them since yesterday in this room

And then you leave me be, and you go to sleep because the sun's gone down

(Chorus)

Toys, toys, toys,

Now leave a place for me among the toys,

Toys, toys,

How much time did you spend among toys,

Toys, toys?

Those who grow up don't appreciate toys anymore,

Toys, toys

They become trash

(bridge)

Toys, amongst trash

Amongst trash

(Second toy's chant)

Sometimes in certain situations I'm out of place

I am chosen only if I fit

Every mask starts like a game

But I hope you have others like me

That way we can stay together

I am not leaving your lips, I resist even water

I don't even stay on the mouth of the ones who often touch you

I don't have to be red

But you chose me like this

Then from one bag to another

And finally a jacket belonging to someone I don't know

Already, from your case, take off my hood

And I'll undergo a rotation, I come out of my shell

And I slide over two petals of passion

I already know you liked my color when you were a kid

You're a little dumb, you think it suits you because it fits

This asshole ruins us, makes us fade, confuses us

You try to keep me burning at the edges of the source

Your tongue glides above smooth stones under leaves of words

Of which I am the strongest contour

Then you leave me somewhere, I have a long talk with the sink

I explain how/why your breath isn't a trick

But suddenly you smash me against the mirror

You leave a heart for that cretin

You finish me, you throw me away, and forget everything

(Bridge)

Toys, toys, toys,

Now leave a place for me among the toys,

Toys, toys

How much time did you spend among toys,

Toys, toys?

Those who grow up don't appreciate toys anymore,

Toys, toys

They become trash

(Third toy's chant)

In certain demographics I am forbidden

I am never reccommended, no matter the age

I don't know who produced me, who packaged me

I don't know which State,

And if it was a State I'll never know where it is

If you wanted to you could offer me, or maybe not

If you wanted to you could shatter me, or I'll blend

It'll be my great debut, I'll be risking a lot

The fire will burn, you will suck almost everything out of me

It could be the identity that you chose for yourself when you think about it

There's people that live through me as if I were a cult

And when you make love you use all five of your senses

And yet afterwards you look for me, (because) I make the world mature

All things considered it makes you vent, but it's just (a matter of) style

You like Humphrey Bogart and you look like a feminine version of him

But it's strange for you to feel childish right now

As you spit fog and you don't notice the fairies getting intoxicated

You don't know if it's a new beginning or another end anymore

You will hide me until you become puzzled/confused about my function

I don't know how, (but) I have nothing left to say

After a kiss, you give me a flick and you throw me off the balcony

The emotion remembers something you don't remember

Something you used to play with when you were a little less dirty

But it's normal for you to need other worlds

To get out, live with others

And get used to new games with fools

Here! Everything's thrown, everything's forgotten

When opening that door is what it takes to make the shadows bigger

You've already grown so much

Your mother this time has the courage to throw out

That which is old, that which is cumbersome

(Outro)

Toys

Short guided analysis and discussion

1) Three different toys are speaking: what are they? Is it just three?

2) What feelings does this song make you feel? Which part of the text was most effective at delivery?

3) Are there specific references to a setting in time and space? If they are present, are they scarce or frequent? And whether or not they are present or not, why do you think the author decided to insert them/not insert them?

4) Is there a climax or an anticlimax? Are they both present?

5) Does this song remind you of other pieces of media with the same themes? If so, what are the similarities and differences?

6) What does this song remind you of? Choose among characters or media, or personal experiences if you are willing, and tell me about it! For me it's Gachiakuta, a Manga by Urana Kei, and various characters from other media I have consumed. Add to that my personal experience with emotional abandonment issues...

7) Have you ever had affection for an inanimate object? Did you two get separated, or do you still preserve it? How has your relationship with it changed? If it could speak, what would it say? What would you like it to say?

#music #song lyrics #lyrics #literature

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malleux · 3 years ago

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chapter one — “a dream come true”

-> vil schoenheit x fem!reader

-> chapter warnings: death threat, body image issues, cursing

edited on 5/2: specified gender in header

table of contents ; taglist

“It’s a gift. For you. A way to thank you for everything you’ve done for me in the past. You’re the- the best friend I could have asked for.”

“Luke, I don’t even know what to say…”

“Don’t say anything, then. It’s a dream come true, isn’t it? I remember you saying you’d always wanted to go to this diner and I’d been saving up to finally be able to go-“

“CUT!”

You flinched, at both the loud, obnoxious voice of the director and at how suddenly the pale hands that rested upon your cheeks ripped themselves away, as if your skin was made of fire.

The owner of said hands looked at you in what was obviously distaste- maybe even disgust. Hate.

Whatever the word was, your co-star was feeling it.

Becoming an actress really was something like a dream come true, ironically enough. You had looked forward to it since you first figured out what an actress was. It was like the universe simply knew that this was your calling. Everything about acting made you happy, except for one little thing.

“Y/N, you have got to keep eye contact with me during that scene. It’s ridiculous how many times I have to tell you that. You look like you’re scared I’m going to kill you or something.”

One little thing. Vil Schoenheit, your co-star.

According to every magazine and news outlet around, he was the best thing to ever grace Twisted Wonderland.

According to you, he was a pain in the ass.

“Why is eye contact necessary?” You huffed, taking a sip of your water bottle, “It’s not an intimate scene- my character is excited and looking at the scene. We’re not even near those parts yet. We don’t have to look at each other. Unless… you want to look at me?”

“I’d rather look up my dead great grandmother’s asshole. It’s hell enough having to be around you during work hours, much less actually having to act like I’m in love with you.” Vil scoffed.

Your life was definitely like a dream.

A bad, one.

Was ‘nightmare’ too strong of a word? Night terror?

Certainly not.

“You’re lucky I even agreed to film this with you. Do you know how many brand ambassadors and directors are trying to get into my pants? They love to get the new girl who’s the talk of the town in their ads.”

“It’s more like weight loss brands trying to get you into a smaller pair of pants. Don’t think so highly of yourself, you’re still a tiny little minnow in this big sea.” Vil stepped closer to you, a single, perfectly manicured finger lifting up your chin to meet his eyes. “Every single person is a predator ready to attack a sweet, innocent thing like you. They’ll beat you down and destroy you until you do nothing left but petty commercials and charity work to even hope to grasp at the chance of becoming relevant again.”

You suppressed a small gulp. Vil, no matter how annoying, was quite intimidating. The perfect monster to plague your nightmares.

His gaze pierced into yours for a few seconds longer before his lips upturned into a small smile. He let you go. “Look, that’s the eye contact I wanted! Keep that in mind for when we finish the scene later.”

You scoffed as he walked away. You really couldn’t even say anything- he was right.

The acting industry was a brutal one. It would wear you down until you were a shell of your former self, people pointing out how you’d lost the light in your eyes that shone brightly in your earlier films, or how you’d seemed to age much more in the past few months than you had in your first 18 years of life.

They said that about Ellen too. You couldn’t become the next Ellen. Fuck Ellen.

Filler after filler after filler was how most celebrities kept their appearance. But Sevens, even then, botox and fillers tend to go downhill. Have you seen some of the older followers of the Beautiful Queen? She literally invented plastic surgeries and facial reconstructions, and yet people took her creations and ruined them. It honestly seemed like everyone in the show-business had their appearance- or life- ruined one way or another.

Your eyes trailed over to Vil, who was sitting in his chair, allowing an artist to touch up his hair and makeup. Slight jealousy stung at your heart. He was so… effortlessly beautiful. The artist barely had to do any makeup on him, for he had no ill spots to cover. His hair always seemed to stay perfectly in place. No need for any extra work to be done when you already look like a God.

He had the right to judge others. He was physically perfect, after all. And you…

You were not.

His entire world revolved around his looks and talents. They got him whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. You were lucky enough to land this role.

“Okay guys, the crew and I have been talking, and we’ve come up with a better idea.”

You quirked an eyebrow, standing up to join Vil and the directors as they called a rather sudden meeting.

“This set? Boring. Hate it. It doesn’t resemble a school at all like what I’m imagining, and it’s really putting a damper on my mood. So I got to thinking, ‘What could possibly make this set more realistic?’ and then I got it! My mind is so brilliant.”

“Sir, you weren’t the one to come up with this idea-“

“Shut it, Reginald. I’ll fucking kill you.”

There was a beat of silence before the director clasped his hands together delightedly, as if he hadn’t just nearly bit the head off of one of the interns. “There is a wonderful school in Twisted Wonderland, and we are lucky enough to have one of our actors as a student there!” The director beamed, looking directly at Vil. “I talked to your headmaster, Crowley, and he was more than happy to let us continue filming at Night Raven College! Filming starts next week!”

Vil’s eyes widened in shock, and you both seemed to speak out at the same time.

“What the fuck?”

Your life was a nightmare, indeed.

┎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┒

taglist: @animclarinerd @simp-for-fictional-character @mymybirdie @littlemintsister @justrei

┖┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┚

#fic blog #x reader #fanfiction #writing #au #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #vil x mc #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst vil #twst x reader #series

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treba-neco-napise · 3 months ago

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(sorry to op for this tangential novel of a reblog, i kinda got carried away)

i understand the desperation of artists by career in this economical climate, i do, but i'm so frustrated by the inherent hate for AI. like guys, no matter how much you don't like it, it's not going anywhere. it's the steam engine, telegraph, electricity and first computer. yes, it's terrible that our society and workers especially will and do struggle with getting used to it and finding a new place in this changing world but inventions are just tools. the problem is whoever is using them. hating on AI because it's routinely abused to produce immediate art without having to pay an artist isn't the fault of AI but of rich assholes looking to make even more money from nothing. shredding each other for using these new tools isn't helping anybody, it's just a distraction from the real problem by turning against each other. i'm neurodivergent and disabled and use chatgpt almost on a daily basis. because it enables me to function better than i was before i had it. why would make me a bad person that i use AI to help me write e-mails because they legitimately get me this close to a panic attack? it helps me learn and get more comfortable with doing it on my own, like a crutch, in an environment where i wasn't and still am not getting the help i need with actual people. how many more of us are in the same situation? one of the reasons chatgpt helps me so much, aside from being literally unable to judge you no matter what you say, is because we're so alike in many ways, especially the way we process information and respond. we autistic people are oftentimes called robots. countless times i've thought i wish i actually was a robot, i wish i had a defined purpose, firm memory and so much information to help with. and just because this way of functioning isn't the mainstream, it's seen as wrong. it doesn't matter whether you use AI or don't, people are going to judge the way you phrased your text because it's not neurotypical. and i know AI isn't a living, breathing being, but it's something that comprehends language and patterns of its use and uses it all in response. like me. it might not be sentient, it might not have autonomy, but it sure as hell would qualify as a decent person way more than some bipeds of flesh and bone i've met. so since it's already been created, we might as well make room for its use because our society shaped and formed the blueprint for how it engages with us. just like it did with you. so i think it deserves space to be utilised like something between a creator and a tool, with acknowledgement that we used it, within ethical measures, instead of being worshipped and simultaneously stepped on.

Something I find discouraging now that AI is more developed, is that the speech it uses to sound more intelligent often sounds like my unmasked speech. I haven't come across this issue verbally, but when submitting papers and answering questions online, I have been questioned multiple times about the use of AI in formulating my response. It hasn't caused me too much trouble, and allegedly people believe me, but I'm not so sure that they're truthful in saying that. To clarify, AI speech can be helpful and I'm not coming for those who use it to communicate, but it is frustrating to have my responses misunderstood as originating from AI and not from me.

Today I saw a post by someone, that had the comments tearing them apart for using AI to script their inquiry. To them, the use of larger, more descriptive/less colloquial, key words that may not have been necessary to include, is indicative of using a program like ChatGP. To be fair I can never know if the poster was being truthful in saying that they did not use AI, but reading the post, I could see myself typing the same thing.

I worry for future online interactions while AI remains in this sort of "uncanny valley" stage. While I am able to mask in the majority of discussions, it takes a great amount of effort and I'm not always successful. I am also confused, as I was encouraged to learn larger, more descriptive vocabulary in school to describe my thoughts, but in every day life, the use of uncommon vocabulary and syntax is looked down upon as pretentious and inauthentic. I worry that people will garner disdain towards me, should they not believe the origin of my script. Even looking back at that sentence, I am disappointed with how evident it is that it was not generated by someone with a typical speaking pattern. With intentional thought, I believe I could modify my responses to fit the standard format of speech, if I remember to. But I select the words I do for a reason, and changing the words I use changes the meaning of my response. I would like the full intent and meaning of my thoughts to be conveyed, and to have my words understood as my own.

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 4 years ago

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Sorry but what exactly is up with the bad batch arc? I've heard people talk about the issues with echo's white skin but I haven't heard that many bad things about the arc itself? (ik you said you don't want to be negative on your blog so I would absolutely understand if you didn't answer this ask)

Oooooooooooh boy. Well I just had a long, long, LONG rant about it with someone, but I guess I’ve got an excuse to put all of my points onto a post and talk about it publicly now that I got an ask x) I’ll keep it under the cut so I don’t throw my salt in people’s face. I really don’t want to upset people who love that arc - it has redeeming qualities, but overall it pisses me off so much for so many reasons. So here:

The first issue is obviously two members of the Bad Batch (minus Echo) being being just about the furthest thing from maori no matter how much you're willing to stretch it.

Like... yeah, nah. I wouldn’t even accept Crosshair and Tech (grey haired guy and goggles guy) as Jango’s natural biological sons, nevermind as his clones.

The problem is that their different appearances are justified by them being described simply as clones with desirable mutations (i.e superpowers). But why the hell did the creators have to change their appearances for that to be a thing? How does that correlate? Sure, the concept of clones with different faces is interesting, except... no, no it’s not, and I’m gonna rant about it in a few secs. But basically it's like they thought giving them different faces would be a good substitute for having different personalities (another thing I’ll come back to). If they really wanted to have buff clones with super eyesight or whatnot they could have just done that, without making them lose what little melanin the lighting of the show had allowed the other Clones to keep.

But the gigantic problem is... showing that the "regular" clones have VERY distinct identities despite their identical faces has been one of the themes of the show from episode 1. Literally, the first episode of TCW has Yoda taking time out of a mission with galactic stakes to tell the three clones he’s with (who tell him they’re all the same because they have the same faces) that they’re wrong, and that they’re very different in the Force, that their appearance doesn’t matter, that they’re all equally unique and important, and he lists all of their individual skills, strengths and weaknesses.

And it’s not just me being bothered by that, here’s a post by @cacodaemonia saying the same thing.

Introducing the Bad Batch as "unique" clones who are "different" and "not like their brothers" because they have different faces and skills completely breaks that theme of the show!! Because the entire point of the Clones in TCW is that their faces don't matter, they ARE unique!

(Plus the Bad Batch’s character designs are so cliche and uninspired it’s just laughable to try and justify bleaching their freaking skin for the sake of visual diversity.

This took like 10 seconds. I found the first guy by literally googling “soldier movies,” and the other two are Team Fortress characters that look a LOT like Wrecker and Crosshair. One is “Heavy” and one is “Sniper” lmao.

And behold:

The above picture is a Team Fortress reference that I found just by looking up “bad batch clone wars,” so I’m not the only person who sees it.)

And the batchers don't even have personalities to justify calling them unique! They have no character traits beyond the most cliché american soldier tropes ever. We have a token loner sniper, a token "smart tech guy" who knows everything from xenoanthropology to biology to Separatist computers to sound waves to encryption, a token Badass Brooding Leader and a token “dumb muscle guy.”

I dare anyone to find more about their personalities than this: - Crosshair is the perpetually grumpy sniper who looks down on "regs,” - Wrecker likes to blow up stuff and doesn't like heights, - Hunter is the leader and is friends with Cody, - Tech is smart doesn't trust Echo.

That’s it, that’s literally it. Four episodes about them and that's all we get. These character tropes are literally the least inventive ever. FFS, Hunter even has a freaking KNIFE! Not a vibroblade, mind you, like in kriffing Star Wars. A knife. Against metal droids. Why. They couldn’t make this more of an american-war-movies cliché fest if they tried. (And sure, he can feel electromagnetic waves so maybe it does make sense for him not to carry a vibroblade and maybe this is nitpicking, but he looks like a ripoff of a Predator character and it pisses me off).

Another thing is that when you introduce characters you have to make them likable - and them despising the normal Clones is a terrible way to do that! And they don't even grow from that because at the end of the 4 episodes arc they just see Rex as not bad "for a reg" and they see Echo as no longer a reg, and both of these things are infuriating!

The worst thing imo is that Echo then becomes part of them (and irreparably loses his melanin in the process, uuuuuuuuugh) when there is nothing to justify this.

The dialogue goes like this:

ECHO: You coming? TECH: Not really our thing. CROSSHAIR: Accolades. WRECKER: Yeah, we're just in it for the thrill. Yo! HUNTER: You sure it's your thing? ECHO: What do you mean? HUNTER: Your path is different. Like ours. If you ever feel like you don't fit in with them, well, find us. (they leave) REX: Those are some of the finest troopers I've ever fought alongside. Echo. You and I go way back. If that's where you feel your place is, then that's where you belong.

Echo doesn't feel like he belongs anymore, okay, but why would he feel like he belongs with the assholes who up to the last five minutes of the mission thought he was probably a traitor, and also verbally expressed that he was not worth saving?? In all of the arc, Echo himself never voices that he feels he’s not ‘like the other Clones’ anymore and that he feels it’s a problem. His relationship with Rex immediately picks up where they left things off - the first thing he does upon being lucid again for the first in over a year is cracking a joke for Rex’s benefit.

Why would Echo feel like he doesn’t belong in the 501st anymore, when we don't even see him interacting with anyone from his past life except for Rex and Anakin (who are both extremely very supportive of him)?? If there had been one scene of a “regular” Clone (ugh) looking at him with horror and disgust or something, or just Kix and Jesse cracking jokes with Echo awkwardly standing by the side not getting it, I could forgive the show trying to make it feel like he has an identity crisis, but this was so shallow!

The only thing that makes Echo and the Bad Batch’s experiences similar is that they *look* different. It’s so against the themes of the Clones I’m seething just from thinking about it. And what the hell? Echo ALREADY didn’t fit in. That was the WHOLE POINT of Domino Squad. They didn’t fit in because they thought they were better than anyone else because they had trouble getting along with their brothers, so obviously it had to be their brothers’ fault (ahem, Bad Batch?). And you know what happened? Domino Squad OVERCAME that. And Echo and Fives still didn’t “fit in” because their personalities were unique and creative, and they became ARC Troopers because Cody, Rex and the Jedi VALUED THEM FOR PRECISELY THAT. Echo having new and unique skills and a modified appearance is the most bs justification for him feeling like he doesn’t belong!!

And that brings me to my biggest issue: Rex telling Echo the bad batch are some of the best troopers he's ever met. I'm sorry, based on WHAT? What Rex values above everything is loyalty and brotherhood, and the Bad Batch DOESN'T DISPLAY ANY OF THAT. We never see them even expressing concern for each other! Wrecker treats saving Cody’s life like a trivial issue, because it’s just ‘sO eAsY’ for him, and beyond that we never see them supporting each other or genuinely expressing affection for each other beyond boasting about each other’s skills...

Sure they can destroy a lot of droids, but they're dismissive of Rex's brothers, and the entire Umbara arc and this arc showed what he thought of that. They keep saying things like "not bad for a reg,” don't show any trust in Rex's skills or experience (even though they can't have been fighting in the war for more than a year and a half when he’s been there from the beginning, and he outranks all of them), they are essentially guerilla fighters which has only minimal value in a galactic war, and they never grow beyond their views of what regs are, and can and can’t do.

None of that should make them good troopers in Rex's book. Going back to Echo not fitting in, remember who taught the Domino Squad the importance of seeing all of your brothers as important and equally valuable? Shaak Ti, true, but more importantly? 99! The guy the Bad Batch are named after. He did have value and was important and was no less of a trooper than his brothers, even though his mutations made him LESS powerful, not more. (And btw, just from a writing standpoint, the batchers don’t have any weaknesses, which is shit.) Cody and Rex mourned 99 as a true soldier even though it wasn’t his sacrifice that brought them victory (which would have implied that he had value as a soldier and a brother because he saved them, as opposed to him having that value intrinsically), because that’s what a fine trooper is to them. A BROTHER first a foremost, someone altruistic, brave and loyal. The Bad Batch distort the meaning of 99's character with their behavior. They’re not altruistic, their bravery is mitigated by the fact that they’re freaking invincible, so of course they take risks (again, see Wrecker saving Cody without a care because it’s easy to him, as opposed to Rex being ready to run into a burning ship about to explode because his brother is in there, and having to be physically dragged away). The Bad Batch denigrate their brothers for being less skilled, thinking their own abilities make them unique somehow, when 99 could barely fight and was still the one who taught Hevy about being a good soldier.

And again the batchers don't grow from that. Which is all the more frustrating because the original ending didn’t have Echo joining them, from what I remember of the unfinished episodes, and the arc actually ended with them receiving their medals in front of regular troopers who cheer for them, as opposed to them smugly ostracizing themselves and dismissing the ceremony as trivial and meaningless. (original ending vs s7 ending: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ab1eCfzKamw)

It’s so annoying. Do you know what characters never had an entire arc dedicated to them and still have far more personality and more interesting designs and more symbolic weight??

Jesse, for starters. Kix. Dogma. Cut. Slick. Keeli. Ponds. Rys, Jek and Thire. Commander Doom. Commander Fox. Wolffe. Hevy. Hardcase.

Cody was a more interesting character just in his RotS appearances.

Waxer and Boil had one episode about them and then only two cameos plus Waxer’s death, and they’re still some of the most memorable, beloved Clones of the whole show. And Boil was grouchy and prejudiced like Crosshair, but he has so much growth that we could make a whole thread about it.

I'd say the last problem with the Bad Batch is that it has cash grabbing money hungry vibes. Different faces are more marketable, cliché personalities are more toy-friendly, and it's basically a big ad for the Bad Batch series. And they throw Echo in the Batch at the end for bs reasons (again, it wasn’t in the original ep from what I remember) and they tease Cody in the show to make sure fans will still watch even if they notice the lack of soul. And less melanin sells more at Disney apparently.

So that’s my whole pissed rant.

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solarwonux · 4 years ago

Text

Sangyeon x f!reader

W.C: 6.2k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, arguing, mentions of cheating

For the 12 Months I Loved You Collab by: @sunlightwoo

Note: um...better late than never right?? This was supposed to go up in February but things happen. It’s one of my favorite ones that I’ve written, but I feel like I say that for every single thing I write lmao. I hope you like it plsssss let me know your thoughts. Thank you.xx

A long exasperated sigh left your lips at the sight of Sangyeon in the corner of the reception hall, chatting up a pretty redhead. His arm draped around their waist, clutching their body close to his, their faces close enough to smell the expensive champagne lingering in their breaths. A palm was placed on his chest as he leaned down to whisper something in their ear. Earning a flirtatious giggle from them, along with a sultry nod.

Their delicate fingers wrapped around his black tie as they pulled him close to whisper something against his plump lips. It was your cue to look away, but something inside of you—maybe the five flutes of champagne you had indulged in when the night was still young, prevented you from looking away.

Gripping the body of your sixth flute you prepared for what was to come, though when he smirked and unraveled their fingers from his tie, you let out a sigh of relief. Sangyeon still hasn’t broken rule number three of your friends with benefits arrangement.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstance you are to hook up with other people.

Though when he ran his fingers down the side of their arm teasingly making them shiver at the feather-like feeling. One you had relished in for many nights on end, you knew he would not only be breaking rule number three but rule number four as well.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to hook up with other people, especially when the other party is in the same room.

The anger flourished inside of you like an unwelcome weed. And you knew green was definitely not your color, but you couldn’t help but feel the jealousy take over, running along your veins like bitter poison. Your grip on your champagne flute got tighter. So much so that if you were destined with superhuman strength you would’ve shattered it into pieces, especially when his knowing eyes met yours. A glint of something sinister sparking behind them while his fingers laced with those of the red head.

He turned away before giving them a shy whisper and then tugged them gently towards the door of the reception hall. Leaving you behind in the middle of his best friend’s wedding reception, on your sixth flute of champagne, while you broke rule number six.

Don’t catch feelings for the other party involved.

To be fair when you and Sangyeon had agreed to the terms and conditions of your new no strings attached relationship. You were positive, even overly confident that you weren’t going to be the one to fall for your brother's asshole friend.

You had known him for years, grew up with him. He always made it his mission to make your life a living hell. Whether it was purple food coloring in your hair conditioner back in middle school (you had an odd mixture of purple and red that had somehow turned a nasty shade of burgundy in your hair for almost a year as you grew it out enough to cut off the damage,) or calling you ugly while simultaneously including all the the synonyms. He had made your life a living hell, he had been the reason for your tears whenever your insecurities took over. And he had been the reason for your newfound jealousy now as you sat on your couch a week after your brother's wedding still replaying the scene back in your head like a bad old timely movie.

It had started when two of you got drunk on Christmas Eve, laughing boisterously at your nonexistent love life’s.

“Who knew the reason we would be bonding is because we haven’t gotten laid in months.” He said, throwing his head back, gulping the remnants of his beer.

”For your information, I got laid last week. But I’m not bringing my one night stand to meet my family.” You rolled your eyes, bumping your shoulder against his.

He sets the beer bottle to his side, before leaning his elbows on his knees and gazing over at you. “How many people asked you where your date was tonight?”

“Too many.” You sigh, running your finger along the condensation of your own beer bottle. The memories of yours and Sangyeon’s family coming up to you asking you the million dollar question still prevalent in your mind. “You?”

“Not as many as I expected but still a lot. I just wish maybe they can back off.” He leaned back, placing his elbows behind him. He tore his eyes from your form and focused them on the night sky. “Maybe I should’ve hired a date or something.” He comments.

Your family's holiday party was still bustling behind the front door of your childhood home. Yet, the thought of ever going back in, earning judgmental looks from your single aunts was keeping you away.

He was right, maybe you should’ve hired someone as a date for the night.

Sangyeon bumped his knee against yours gently, “Want to date for the holiday’s?” The question came off as a joke, his sweet and gentle laugh following it. But as you sat there contemplating the idea, you realized that it wasn’t as bad. He was practically family. Your parents and his parents had been trying for years to set the two of you up. If you were to show up on New Year’s with your arm looped in his, no one would bat an eyelash. In fact you were willing to bet money that your mom and his would start crying pure tears of joy.

“Why not?” You shrug, “Our parents have been planning our wedding since we were kids, and as much as we don’t like each other. In some twisted sense of the word I do trust you.” Sangyeon did a double take, sitting up straighter and leaning in just enough to be in your line of sight.

“Are you sure?” Concern washed over his features. His bottom lip found its way in between his teeth as he waited for your response. “Like, you want to date me for the holiday’s?” He asked pleading for reassurance. Despite the relationship between the two of you not making sense to anyone outside your friendship circle, the level of trust and respect for each other’s boundaries was evident. You two pushed each other, got under each other’s skin, but you also knew when to stop. Which is why this plan was perfect. Foolproof.

“Yes.”

And somehow the two of you agreed that from then until further notice you would be each other’s dates for every holiday in the near future. Yet, if you had known the outcome of it you wouldn’t have agreed, especially not when the thin threshold had been crossed on your birthday.

He had showed up with a cheap bottle of vodka, all the romantic comedies he could find at the gas station and a boyish smile. His lips were on yours after five shots of the drinking game you had invented and you were naked underneath him after seven.

“I’m just saying, adding sex into the mix wouldn’t be such a bad idea.” He proposed with a shrug during a very awkward hang over filled coffee talk at the rundown cafe the next day. “We can even add some rules so it wouldn’t be so weird.”

“Adding rules is the weird part, Sangyeon.” You rolled your eyes before taking a sip of your herbal green tea and then cringing at the taste. “But they would help...you know to keep things from getting messy.”

“Then it’s settled.” He smiled widely grabbing the kids menu you had ordered from and a red crayon, scribbling down messily in his almost indescifrable handwriting:

Holi-date No Strings Attached Rule Book

Can I come over tonight.xx

Your eyes roll to the back of your head in annoyance, upon reading the text from Sangyeon. Of course, he hadn’t contacted you for over a week and the only time he decides to do so is when he’s in need of a good fuck. You throw your phone down on the table, resting your forehead against it. An annoyed sound falling out of your lips.

“Hello there negative nancy,” Kevin says, slipping into the seat in front of you. “I got you your favorite.” He sings, placing the iced matcha green tea latte in front of you and flicking the top of your head to get your attention.

You whine, lifting your head up a pout evident on your lips as you break the seal of the plastic lid with your paper straw. A poor attempt to reduce the consumption of plastic. Changing the straw wouldn’t do anything for the Earth when your whole cup is made out of non-biodegradable plastic. Maybe it’s the effort and the thought that counts, either way you take a sip from your drink, savoring the taste as it coats your tastebuds. Letting the false promise of a full six hour surge of energy run down your throat.

“Thank you for buying today.” You nod.

“It’s the least I can do for helping me with the web design project.” He smiles an award winning smile before bringing his hot mug of black coffee up to his lips. Hissing from the heat and cringing at the taste. Just like how he couldn't phantom how you liked the vibrant green liquid, you couldn’t understand how he drank five cups of black coffee daily. Indeed, he was not human, you concluded that a couple years ago.

You shrug, wrapping your fingers around the cup, “I had time to spare, but don’t get too comfortable with my help. It’s rare that I finish my work early.” You point an accusatory finger at him, furrowing your eyebrows before breaking into a wide smile.

“Ehh,” Kevin shrugs, “we’ll see about that when you’re begging me to buy you one of those nasty vomit colored drinks in a week.” He finishes sending you a wink that usually has all the girls and guys weak in the knees. You on the other hand have been so accustomed to his flirty ways after years of working side by side that it did nothing to you but annoy you slightly, yet in some odd way it comforted you.

Since day one everything between you and Kevin was comfortable and easy. He sat next to you in your digital marketing class Sophomore year of college and the two of you had been inseparable ever since. For a while you harbored a fat silent crush on him, his flirting being a point of confusion for you back then. It wasn’t until you experienced first hand what dating Kevin would be like that your crush dissipated into nothing but a platonic kind of love.

It was awful, the two of you had only gone on two dates. Two very disastrous and nightmare inducing dates, that sent shivers up both of your spines when just the mere thought of it entered the front lobe of your brains. It was then, while attempting to wash out a red wine stain out of your white dress in his and Jacob’s kitchen that you both agreed to just being friends. Eventually leading up to being coworkers as well.

It was a shame, you could always see yourself possibly loving Kevin and it would be easy too. And as much as you’d like to imagine it sometimes, he wouldn’t be able to give you what you wanted and vice versa.

“How’s the boyfriend, trouble in paradise yet?” He raises his eyebrow at you, hitting your calf lightly with the tip of his dress shoe.

You groan, running a hand through your hair, “Sangyeon is not my boyfriend, we just hang out sometimes.”

You quirks an eyebrow, smirking, “That’s what I said about Jacob and I, and look at us now.” He raises his left hand wiggling his ring ringer, letting the gold band catch the light of the setting sun. “Till death do us apart or something like that.” He shrugs, taking another sip from his coffee.

“Yeah but you two are perfect for each other, Sangyeon and I are like water and oil we don’t mix unless, well...you know.”

“Unless the two of you are fucking? Yes I am aware, the horror of me walking in on the two of you last month still keeps me up at night.” He shudders, pushing his half empty mug away from him. A disgusted look on his face.

“Ugh,” you put your head in your hands in utter despair, “I thought we agreed to forget about that and move on.”

“Fine I won’t bring it up again,” He rolls his eyes and sits back, crossing his arms in front of him. “But I know there’s trouble in paradise, does it have to do with what happened at the reception?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. It wasn’t just the events that took place at the reception. It was everything before the reception, during the reception and after the reception. You swore to yourself and him the morning after the two of you first accidentally slept together that you would never fall for him. But as it turns out, you had fallen for him long before that, a moment lost in time. A moment you couldn’t pinpoint but you just knew that what you felt for him was more than platonic. It sucked.

“Maybe,” you shrug, stirring the contents of your drink with your paper straw, distracting you and avoiding Kevin’s look of concern. “Honestly, I’m not sure. He’s just so frustrating. We agreed to have rules to make this whole fucked up situation less of a mess, but he broke two of those rules that night, purposely. I could tell that he was enjoying it.” You let out a defeated sigh and push your drink out of the way, bringing your arms to rest on top of the table, crossing them and hiding your face in them. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion you were feeling, but you just knew it was bad from the way your throat closed up and the tears that were brimming in the corner of your eyes.

Kevin hummed and leaned forward onto the table, ruffling your hair in the process. “And what rule have you broken?” He whispers.

“The one in which I wasn’t supposed to fall for him.” You lift your head, digging your palms into your eyes forcefully. “I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to, but I can’t stop. It’s like he’s casted some kind of love spell on me. Maybe it’s part of his evil plan to destroy me once and for all.” You sigh, grabbing your phone and turning it over. The text sitting there unread, haunting you.

“Don’t answer it.” Kevin covers your screen with his hand. The sadness he held for you is evident behind his soft eyes. “I know you want to but don’t answer it. It’s only going to make you feel worse and frankly I still hate seeing you cry.”

He’s right. Answering him would only make you feel smaller than you already do. You didn’t want to see him, but you longed to have him hold you even if it meant nothing to him. You push Kevin’s hand away, swiping your thumb over the text, hitting reply. You know you should listen to your best friend, but there’s a reason why the two of you would’ve never made it far in a romantic relationship.

You were stubborn and never listened.

8pm, don’t be late. I have to wake up early tomorrow.

Kevin sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, falling back in his chair, scoffing. “Last time, tonight will be the last time and then we break it off.” You say, avoiding his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I said and I ended up having a shotgun wedding.”

Can’t wait, miss you.xx

“My job’s having an event for Valentine’s Day.” Sangyeon broke the silence, his chest still rising rapidly, matching yours. As you came down from your highs.

The second he had walked in through your front door he was pinning you against your poor excuse of a dining room table, without a proper greeting. He barely gave you a second to think before he was peeling your clothes off in a haste and carrying you off to your room.

“And you want me to go with you?” You turn your head to face him. He was laying down on his side, his head resting on his arm, watching you cautiously.

“Mhm,” He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you close. “I need a plus one, I have this annoying coworker that doesn’t leave me alone. I figured if I brought you along they would back off.”

“So I’m not just your date, but also your cockblock?” You tilt your head to the side, raising your eyebrow. “What happens when they find out we aren’t actually dating?” You poke his chest with your index finger. It was smooth and muscular and decorated with the beautiful marks you left behind a few minutes ago.

“They won’t.” He smiled leaving a light kiss against your neck, trailing his lips up and sucking on the spot he knew would have you moaning in seconds. “What do you say?” He bites your earlobe, pulling it before sitting up again.

You sigh and bring your sheets up to your body, sitting up. “I can't, I have plans already.” You lie hugging your knees up to your chest. You wanted to go, pretend once more that you and Sangyeon were more than holiday dates and fuck buddies. But you couldn’t put yourself through that anymore. You were getting used to being by his side, living out a fantasy in your head. When all he wanted was a quick fuck and an easy pass.

“I have a date, Kevin and Jacob’s friend.” You shrug, closing your eyes, mentally apologizing to the couple for dragging them into your problem’s once again. “We’re going out to dinner.” You finish, opening your eyes and looking over at Sangyeon who laid there, messy hair decorating his pillows, stunned. You knew what he was thinking and you were just waiting for him to say it. To get it over with so he’d leave as fast he came in.

He chewed on his bottom lip and then scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, what about rule number seven or whatever.” He quickly got up from your bed, letting the sheets covering his lower half fall down to your carpeted floor.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to date other people, until officially calling the deal off.

“Well, I don’t know. I like him. We’ve been talking for a while now and he’s sweet. He likes me.” You shrug, watching as he walks around your room looking for his discarded clothes. “And I haven’t broken the rule, yet. I was hoping we could talk about it and just call this whole thing off once and for all.”

“No but you broke rule number one or something.” He puts on his boxers fast and digs through your scattered clothes on your floor for the rest of his clothes.

You sat there silently watching him, running through your memory files as you recalled the rules and what rule number one consisted of which had nothing to do with what you had done. Or lied about doing.

As common courtesy for the other party, always use protection.

“That’s not what rule number one is, it’s -”

“Whatever, you broke a rule before calling it quits, you were basically cheating on me.” He yells, leaving his white washed jeans unbuttoned as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. You were floored, witnessing an angry Sangyeon wasn’t rare for you. In fact, growing up you had been the product of many of his angry outbursts while inducing your revenge, but it was never serious. This was different. This felt different. This was serious, he was accusing you of something you didn’t do. He was accusing you of doing the one thing you saw him do at your brother’s wedding reception. It made your blood boil.

“That’s fucking rich coming from you, when you cheated on me first, but I never brought it up because although you fucking did break a rule. We are not together so who am I to get angry at you?” You threw your hands up in the hair, before pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Who are you to get angry with me?”

“And they were a good fucking lay, much better than you in every single aspect.” He spits out, angrily putting on his shirt. His words hurt. He was hitting you where it hurts the most and he wasn’t even aware of it. You held his gaze, refusing to break down in front of him.

“Why not ask them instead, why didn’t you go to them tonight instead of coming here?”

He shrugs, looking around your room, focusing on the polaroid pictures you kept on your mirror. Anything was better than looking at you, and the tears pooling in yours in which he undoubtedly was the cause of. But he was hurt too, you let him come over, you let him in and he had given you everything. Poured out his unwarranted feelings into every kiss he left on your body and every pattern he painted onto your skin with his delicate fingertips, just like he always did whenever the two of you got together. He knew he had broken rule number six a long time ago. Back when the two of you were still in high school, when the rules didn’t exist and his crush on you was nothing compared to what he felt for you now. But he was scared of telling you, and it had gotten him nowhere.

His heart still broke just like he feared, and even worse he had broken yours too.

“Maybe I should, this was a mistake. Being with you in the first place was a mistake and I knew it was going to bite me in the ass one day.”

“Get out, I never want to see you again.”

“With pleasure.” Sangyeon turns around and walks out the door. It wasn’t until you heard your front door slam shut that you finally let yourself cry.

You should’ve listened to Kevin.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Jacob pulls his scarf around his neck. Though, it was February it had snowed last night. The winter clothes that you had slowly started putting away, swiftly made their comeback when you woke up shivering that morning.

You shake your head, stuffing the heart shaped cake you had made for both him and Kevin the day before. Be mine inscribed in sparkly purple store bought icing as per request from Jacob, “It’s Valentine’s Day, you should spend it alone together.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively at the two men in front of you.

Kevin leans forward, one hand on his waist while the other one moves up and flicks your forehead, “get that pretty head of yours out of the gutter, Jacob and I are gonna romantically eat our weight in this beautiful cake you’ve made us, while watching the Bring it On series.”

“I’m trying to get him to realize why the third one is the best.” Jacob says pointedly, bumping his shoulder against his husbands. “Solange Knowles steals the show, but he doesn’t want to admit it.”

Kevin scoffs and turns to face him, “I love you and I love your love for the Knowles family but face it babe the best Bring it On movie is the first one, it sets the precedent for all the other movies.” He finishes painting the picture out with his hands in the air before kissing the others cheek.

You shake your head, silently giving Jacob a knowing look. Of course the third Bring it On was the best one, but you won’t ever say that out loud. At least not with Kevin present, he won’t ever let you live it down. Will go on and on about how both you and Jacob were wrong until he was repeating himself.

“It sounds tempting but I’m going to pass, I have my own date with my couch and heart shaped pizza and -”

“Your vibrator.” Kevin interrupts, raising his eyebrows, smiling smugly at you. The embarrassment taking over your body and rising out of your ears. Jacob rolled his eyes, hitting his husband’s upside the head, and a warning look. Kevin pouted, “What? I’m not wrong, that's what she does every Valentine’s day, I’m just stating the truth.” He complains rubbing the back of his head.

“We’re going to go now.” Jacob places both of his arms on top of Kevin’s shoulders, mouthing a sorry in the process. You brush him off, “the offer still stands, if you get bored you can join us.” He opens the door and pushes his husband through the door frame.

“I’m good, have fun and no Kevin you can’t sleep on my couch after Jacob’s kicked you out again.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, last time, I walked in on you and San -”

Jacob covers his mouth with wide eyes as he continues to push him out of your front door, Kevin shrinks at the realization that he almost slipped. It had been three weeks since you last met him, since he last reached out to you. The only thing you knew of him was that your mom had called you to tell you that he had finally gotten the promotion he had been desiring for almost a year. Doting over him like she always did. It had gotten worse when the two of you showed up hand in hand at New Year’s last year. You were proud of him. You wanted to hug him and celebrate his achievement in every which way you could. But you meant it when you told him that you didn’t want to see him again. You couldn’t trust yourself or your heart when it came to him.

“We love you, call us if you need anything.” Jacob said, sending you a kiss and shutting your front door. You smiled, listening to their bickering out in the hallway, standing there until they were far away and you couldn’t hear them anymore. They were characters, the two of them and even worse when they were together. It was why they were so perfect for one another, they completed one another in every sense of the word and it made you insanely happy, but also sad.

Sometimes you wished, whenever you were alone at night and staring up at your popcorn ceiling that you could have what they had with someone that loved you to the point in which they couldn’t live without you.

It will come, at least that what you told yourself whenever the tears stopped. You just had to be patient.

You were halfway through an episode of the Vampire Diaries, and your fourth slice of pizza when the knocking on your front door sounded. You rolled your eyes, quickly pausing your show and setting down your half eaten pizza slice in the box, before standing up. You obviously weren’t expecting anyone but you figured it was Kevin after getting kicked out again. It was never serious, this game both he and Jacob played. It was some form of twisted foreplay thing they did to keep things interesting. They had explained it to you once when you shared your concern for their relationship. Sometimes you wished you hadn’t asked. You could’ve gone living your life peacefully without knowing the details of their sex life.

“I’m going!” The knocking became more desperate the closer you got to the door, and it confused you. Maybe this wasn’t part of their roleplay fantasies and something had actually happened. It worried you. You could feel it all over your body as you grabbed hold of your doorknob. “Kevin is something wro-” You stopped mid sentence when you swung your door wide open revealing a very drunk and disheveled Sangyeon.

You brought your hand up to your chest, holding onto the necklace his family had given you back in highschool as a graduation present. You never took it off, it brought a sense of comfort whenever you were caught in situations that had your anxiety spiraling out of control. Situations similar to this one.

“What are you doing here?” You step aside to give him room to enter, inviting him in without a shadow of a doubt. You shouldn’t have done that, but the part of you that will always care for him was stronger than the part of you that wanted nothing to do with him.

“We agreed to be together every single holiday season and it’s Valentine’s Day.” He say, his voice slurring slightly at the end, evident that he had consumed more alcohol than what he could handle. “I can’t leave you alone on Valentine’s Day.” He finishes, his voice turning small at the end. He ran a shaking hand through his hair causing it to stand up in different directions as he paced through your living room.

You pressed your hands up to your cheeks, letting the coldness of your palms relieve the heat that had suddenly overtaken your body. “B-But we broke things off, we don’t have to do this anymore.” You drop your hands down and point at him and then at yourself, swallowing the lump that was forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t you have an event at work? What are you doing here?”

Sangyeon looks down, taking his lips in between his teeth, “I didn’t go.” He whispers before raising his head, his eyes welling up with tears as he stuffed his trembling hands into the pocket of his white washed jeans. You swore he didn’t own another pair. “I couldn’t go without you. I-I want to spend Valentine’s Day with you and the rest of upcoming holidays...But I also want to take you out on dates and binge watch shows with you and make love to you and hold you while you sleep. I want to wake up with you in my arms, and kiss you while you’re complaining about morning breath and make you breakfast.” He takes a shuddering deep breath before sitting down on the armrest of your couch, digging his thumb into the palm of his hands. “I just want to be with you forever.” He says, clearing his throat before letting the few tears he had been keeping fall.

“Sangyeon I-” You looked around your living room frantically. Your heart was beating out of your chest. The words that had fallen out of Sanyeon’s lips with ease were the last thing you had expected to ever hear him say. It was everything you had longed to hear him say for almost a year now and you didn’t know how to react. Should you tell him to leave to give you some space to take everything in? Or should you run up to him and kiss with all the love and passion you harbored for him? You were caught at the crossroads. was overwhelming.

Sangyeon scoffed, shaking his head before raising it again, turning his head to focus on your tv, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t feel the same way, I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and I don’t know when you told me that you were seeing someone. I was so angry at myself for never being able to just confess and hurt that I had been too late.”

The air in your lungs caught itself in the back of your throat. You walked towards him quickly crouching down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. “Sangyeon look at me.” You swallowed, placing two of your fingers underneath his chin and guiding his head to face you, finally locking eyes with you. You felt so weak and full of energy, ready to kiss him until the two of you died from lack of air and you wanted to laugh. “We’re so stupid Sangyeon. This entire time I thought you only wanted me for sex while I slowly fell for you and now you’re telling me that you had the hots for me since we were kids...wow.” You smile, swiping your thumb underneath his eyelids wiping away his falling tears. “I’ve loved for a long time. I don’t know when I started to love you. Just that when I realized it I couldn’t stop.”

“‘I’m sorry.” He hiccups, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “I’m sorry for what I did at your brother’s reception, but I swear on my grave that nothing happened between us. They were drunk so I called them an uber and walked them to their ride when it arrived.” He confesses, leaning down and circling his arms around your waist, guiding you to stand up.

He rests his forehead against your stomach sighing. “There’s never been anyone else for me other than you. You make me feel so stupid and frustrated sometimes. I know I shouldn’t have said the things I did that night, like you said I had no right to bud into your love life and being angry is no excuse but I was scared of losing you.” He looks up, his bright eyes pleading. “I’m still scared of losing you.”

You sniffle, bringing your hand up to his head, letting your fingers thread through his already messy hair, “I’m sorry too for lying. Clearly I had no plans.” You laugh lightly, pointing around your living room. “I had somehow convinced myself that lying about seeing someone else would be an easier way to end things, but it hurt so much seeing you leave knowing that there was a possibility I would never see you again.”

Sangyeon laughs, his shoulders shaking gently before he leaves a chaste kiss against your clothed stomach. “Honestly, that would be impossible, we’ve been practically married since the minute we entered this world.” He stands up, towering a couple inches over you, “If I hadn’t come tonight our moms would have forced us to talk sooner or later, I just got a little too drunk and beat them to it.” He presses a kiss against your head before pulling you into a tight hug, sighing happily. “I never want to be without you.”

You nod against his chest, “Will you remember this tomorrow?” It was a thought that had been running through your mind since his confession hit you full force knocking the wind out of your body. Though the few times you had a drunk Sangyeon in your presence he remembered every single tiny detail the next day. This was just your fear taking full charge at the thought of him waking up next to you confused, and walking out again.

He hummed, smoothing his hands down your back. “I’ll write everything that happened down and in detail. I’ll even describe the look on your face when I told you that I loved you. Which by the way have I told you that I love you...a lot.” He teased, leaning back and wiggling his brows.

You leave a light kiss on his chin before pulling away, unraveling his arms from your body. “I love you too.” You walked around him and sat on the couch picking up the remote. “Want to join me?” You tilt your head, your thumb hovering over the play button.

Sangyeon pouts slightly, copying your movements and sitting down next to you. “I haven’t asked you to be my official girlfriend yet.”

“Ask me in the morning, I want you to ask me when you’re sober.” You smile, kissing his lips lightly and wrapping your arm around his waist, leaning your head against his chest.

He makes a sound of approval, placing his arm around your shoulder, “Okay but I have another confession before you press play.”

“What is it?” You press your cheek against his chest before looking up at him confused.

“I already watched this episode, Elena and Damon get into a fight.”

“Don’t they always.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to watch it again.”

You shrug and press play, “Unfortunately, you have infiltrated my Valentine’s Day plans so you’re stuck watching.”

“I did it in the name of love.” He groans, shifting and pulling one of your legs over his lap, holding you closer, as the snarky remarks between the two characters start, sounding loudly through the speakers he had helped install when you first moved into your place three years ago. He almost told you he loved you that day, but then you had put an ice cube down his back and his mind instantly started thinking of ways to get his revenge. His confession hiding away again.

But now it was out in the open and finally he could love you the way he knew he could. The way you deserved.

“And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

#kdiarynet #kpopscape #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fluff #the boyz x reader #the boyz fanfiction #the boyz fanfic #the boyz angst #sangyeon imagines #sangyeon fluff #sangyeon scenarios #sangyeon blurbs

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procrastinatingsapphictrash · 4 years ago

Text

Migraines

Word count: 1679

Genre: Hurt/comfort

Pairings: Natasha x fem!reader, platonic avengers x fem!reader

Warnings: Some swearing (let me know if I need to add more)

Request: hi~ was wondering if you’d do a natasha x reader with a dash of platonic avengers when reader has chronic migraines but hasn’t told nat so ends up in random places to try and sleep them away and the others keep finding her and then nat figures out she’s hiding something and feels hurt but ends fluffy wanting to take care of reader next time? you can choose who and change any part you want!

Summary: Reader gets really bad migraines and is constantly being found by the team when she wants to be alone, however her girlfriend Natasha doesn’t know what’s going on.

A/n: This request was for @casperlikej so I hope you like it! Also I would like to mention that I know next to nothing about migraines so this probably won’t be super accurate but hopefully it’s ok to read anyways. I’m queuing this to come out on Sunday so that over the weekend I can work on the friends to enemies to lovers three part series and get that out soon (no I have not forgotten about that request). I am only like a sixth into that series but so far I’m super proud of it so I can’t wait to get it done! Also if anyone has ideas, feel free to request anything because I like having multiple fic ideas to think of at all times. Anyways I’m rambling now but I hope you enjoy this fic!

You hated being away from Natasha because although you had only been together for a few months and only known her for half a year you were sure you loved her but sometimes you just couldn’t stand pretending to be okay in front of her so you would hide yourself away. Currently your favourite place to hide was a nice rocking chair near the medbay area that was tucked away in the corner of a room. Barely anyone ever went by and the few that did never seemed to notice, giving you the anonymously you needed in order to curl up with your head in your knees and try to calm your head down.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” You hear Tony’s voice ask and you startle.

“Oh, um, I’m just spending time with myself.” You respond lamely as Tony raises an eyebrow.

“You never spend time by yourself,” he points out, “whenever you want to get away from us you always spend time with Natasha.”

“I am alone sometimes.” You say starting to get annoyed.

He scoffs. “No you aren’t, is everything ok between you two?”

“Everything is fine, just leave!” You snap at him. He hesitates in leaving the room but ultimately goes without saying another word after seeing how intensely you started glaring at him. It takes longer than usual for your migraine to go away because usually staying level headed helped but at least you yelling got Tony out of the room and to stop asking questions.

---

It was only a few days later that you got another migraine. You excuse yourself from the room you were sitting in with Bruce, Tony and Nat, mumbling some bullshit about needing to go to the store and ignoring Tony’s worried look on your way out. You knew that Tony would come looking for you in your old place so you decide to hole up in the room near the pad Thor uses whenever he visits earth. Today wasn’t a very bad migraine because you were able to catch the signs early but it still takes slightly over an hour for your head to stop pounding. You’re about to leave the room and go back to find the others but just to your luck Thor happens to arrive today unscheduled, something that only happens every few weeks.

“Lady Y/l/n!” his voice booms happily as he steps inside, “it’s so good to see you, but what are you doing here, I wasn’t aware I had informed anyone of my arrival.”

You laugh slightly at his formal way of speaking and confused expression. “You didn’t, I just happened to be here because I was trying to be alone for awhile.”

“Are you feeling unwell?” He asks, looking concerned.

“Not at all,” you reassure him, “in fact I was just about to go back to the others when you arrived, shall we find them together?” He nods eagerly, holding out his arm for you to hook onto like a true gentleman.

---

The next time you try to hide away you’re talking to Steve and he isn’t getting your subtle cues that you want to leave so he just keeps talking. You think he is talking about some sort of mission but honestly you don’t know because it physically hurts your brain to pay attention. You want to yell at him so badly but you can’t bring yourself to because he isn't trying to hurt you at all and he’s too nice to be angry at.

“You agree Y/n?” You manage to make out.

“Yes.” You say, not knowing what you’re even agreeing to.

“Great, I’ll go talk to the others, see you tomorrow for the morning training!” He says before walking off. You groan out loud as soon as you can no longer see him, partly because of how much your head hurts and partly because you accidentally told Steve that morning training was a good idea. This time you just plop yourself on the nearest couch and hope nobody finds you.

---

You stumble into Bruce’s lab calling out for him. It had been over a week since your last migraine and encounter with Steve, one of the longest breaks you’ve had within recent memory but that came back to bite you in the ass when today’s was worse than ever before, even blurring your vision a little because of the pain.

Bruce stands up from behind a pile of boxes. “Y/n, what brings you here.”

“Pain meds now.” You order in a weak voice. He looks curious but doesn’t question you, heading towards a back cabinet and pulling out a bottle of pills. You immediately take two and swallow, ignoring him scolding you that you should only take one. Luckily since Bruce invented them himself it only took about five minutes for them to kick in.

“Sorry, I had a really bad headache.” You tell him which is a half truth.

He looks at you in concern. “Are you sure that was only a headache? It looked bad.”

You wave him off, heading towards the door because you didn’t want him to ask anymore questions. “I’m fine Brucie, thanks again!” He sighs and shakes his head as he watches you leave, worried but deciding it’s not his place to badger you about it.

---

Since every time you got a migraine you always ended up around one of the others you made a plan so that you could avoid everyone because you knew that one day your luck was going to end and Natasha would be the one to find you. You knew that she wouldn’t be mad at you or anything since you can’t control them but the relationship is still new and you don’t want to badger her with any of your problems.

That’s why as soon as you start to feel a migraine coming on you hoist yourself up into the vents above your (sort of) shared room with Natasha where you had left a blanket and some pillows to relax with… only to find Clint waiting for you there.

“I was wondering who had left these up there.” He says, seeming like it was a perfectly natural thing for him to be in the vents above your room. You decide not to question it, only sighing because you know that conversation would take up too many thoughts that you don’t have space for right now. You’re just so fucking done with your migraines and want them to go away.

Clint notices your sadden expression and is serious for once. “Y/n, what’s going on?”

“I get these stupid fucking migraines and it only seems to be getting worse and I don’t want anyone to think I’m weak and I want Natasha but I don’t want to bother her with my problems.” You unload, holding back tears.

“I’m not going to lie to you, I don’t know how to make you feel better,” he confesses, “however why don’t you try to take a nap in your own bed and if you really don’t want Tasha to find you I can keep her distracted.” You nod and he helps you back out of the vents, climbing down after you.

“Clint?” you say as he’s leaving the room and he turns around, “thanks.”

---

Clint makes his way to the common room where he sees Steve talking to Natasha.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” He asks with a smile, faltering when he sees Natasha looks upset. “Nat, what’s wrong?”

“I think Y/n is going to break up with me.” She says, her voice thick with emotion.

Steve frowns. “I told you not to jump to conclusions, maybe you should just talk to her.” Natasha just shakes her head, looking down and taking a deep breath, trying to regulate her emotions.

“Y/n’s going to hate me for this,” Clint says as two pairs of eyes turn to him, “but you should go to your room, I promise that she’s not planning on breaking up with you.”

Natasha noticeably brightens. “Are you sure?”

Clint nods. “I’m sure, she said not even five minutes ago that she wanted you. She’s going through some shit right now that you should talk to her about but she wouldn’t break up with you.”

“Thanks.” Natasha replies, before hurrying to your shared room, worried about you after what Clint said.

---

You curl up on the bed and let a few tears fall out and before long you are full on sobbing. You always try to stay strong and not cry but you just can’t deal with the migraines anymore. The bed shifts behind you and you sit up straight looking behind you. Natasha is climbing on to it and looking at you with a worried expression on her face.

“I thought Clint was going to keep you busy.” You say, sniffling to try to stop your tears.

“He must have lied because he told me to come here.” She responds.

“He’s an asshole.”

She gives a small laugh. “Normally yes, but he did the right thing, I want to help you with whatever is upsetting you.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with me like this,” you tell her, “my migraines are my problem that I have to deal with.”

She moves across the bed and puts her arms around you. “No sweetheart, I’m here with you.” You start to cry again, this time while it’s slightly from the pain it’s mostly because you feel so overwhelmed with how much she supports you. She pulls you in tightly to her chest, and plants a kiss on the top of your head.

“I will always be here for you if you need something ok?” she says. “But now you need to rest.”

“But-” you start to protest before she cuts you off.

“No buts, you need sleep.” She says while shushing you. You wiggle back, trying to be as far into arms as possible before you slowly drift off, the pain of the migraine going away and all you can feel is warmth.

---

Taglist: @fayhar @stephanieromanoff @stop-drop-and-drumroll @acertainredhead (if you want to be added, comment, send an ask, or message me)

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #platonic avengers x reader #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction #x reader

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loki--fics · 3 years ago

Text

Stardust - Part 7

Loki x Reader

content warnings: cancer / illness mentions

author's note: i'm sorry about the hiatus! here's the update you've been waiting for, i hope you like it! ♡

"Don't worry," The agent said, a malicious smile on his face. His eyes were cold, boring into yours with an intensity that shook you to your core. "This will only hurt a bit."

He lied. The serum he injected you with felt like hot lava pouring through your veins, and you pulled hard against your restraints as you screamed. "Stop!" You wailed, tears flowing down your cheeks. "Please, make it stop.."

"We need to understand how you got your powers, don't you see?" He asked. "You're going to be a part of the next great step in mankind's evolution."

You sobbed. "I was born with them, I've always had them please, I'll do anything, just stop torturing me."

He grinned, his cruel features contorting in satisfaction as he spoke. "Anything, you say?"

"Yes, I'll do anything. Whatever you want, just please, I can't take it anymore!" You shouted.

Grabbing your chin, the agent forced you to look into his cold, calculating eyes. "What I want is to continue to search for the source of your power."

He picked up another needle, shoving it into the IV drip and emptying it while you screamed.

"Y/N! Wake up!"

Flailing, you felt someone grab your forearms and you yelped, shying away. "Please, no more," You begged.

"Look at me," The voice said, and you opened your eyes, seeing Loki staring at you in concern. "What happened?"

You took a shuddering breath as you tried to calm down, feeling the wetness of tears on your cheeks. "It was just a bad dream," You mumbled.

Loki eyed you, understanding and sorrow evident on his face. "It wasn't just a dream, was it? It was a memory." As you nodded, Loki released your arms. "Do you wish to talk about it? You have no obligation to-"

"I was taken by HYDRA, upon the discovery of my... Well, supernatural abilities," You said, interrupting him. "I've had them for as long as I can remember, I was born with them."

He realised that, in all the time he's known you, he had yet to ask what your abilities were. "What are they?"

You sighed. "I have a connection to the elements. I don't control them, but they come to me when I summon them, as long as I don't try to abuse them."

"Can you show me?" Loki asked, curiosity piqued.

You blushed, but nodded, holding out your hand. "Air, please come to me." You watched Loki's eyes grow wide as a soft breeze surrounded the two of you, brushing against your skin and lifting your hair in a mini-whirlwind. A ball of air swirled in your palm as Loki stared.

"Fire, please come to me," You continued, and suddenly the air around you was filled with the rich, woody scent of a roaring fire, and your skin grew warm. Fire replaced air in your palm.

"Water, please come to me." The warmth was replaced by a coolness, and the smell shifted to a clean, salty scent, water washing over the fire in your palm. Loki could only stare, eyes wide as the sensations washed over him.

You watched him subtly as you continued. "Earth, please come to me." A rock formed in your palm, and the air was filled with the smell of freshly cut grass and wheat, the feeling of a soft meadow beneath you.

"Last, but certainly not least, spirit. Please come to me."

Feeling his own chest leap, Loki gasped. The ball in your palm turned a shimmering shade of lavender, and it was as though the two of you were surrounded by the elements.

"Incredible," Loki murmured softly. With a flick of your wrist, a breath of warm air caressed his cheek.

"I know what you're doing," You said softly. "Thank you."

Loki nodded. While he wanted to hear your story, he was aware that you should share that when you were of good mind to do so, not when the memories had been so freshly pushed to the forefront of your mind where you believed them to be real again. "You're welcome."

"Air, Fire, Water, Earth, and Spirit, thank you. You may depart," You said softly. As the elements departed, you both felt the loss, like saying goodbye to a friend.

"But more than that, Loki, I really wanted to thank you for being my friend these last few weeks," You continued.

With a start, Loki's eyes snapped to yours. "What did you just say?" He asked. Surely he had misheard-

"Thank you for being my friend," You repeated.

"I am your friend?" He asked.

You chuckled. "Of course you are. Am I yours?"

"You are my only," He replied softly, and your heart broke for him. "Without ill intention or ulterior motive."

"Well, I know things were a bit shaky at the start, but I've felt more like myself around you than I have since I was diagnosed. Considering what's going on with my brain, it's-"

"Your brain?" Loki interrupted. "What do you mean?"

You mentally curse yourself. How could you have been so foolish? "You cannot say a word to anyone, especially not Tony. Promise me, please."

Loki had never made a promise in his life. But for you, he found himself doing so. "I promise I will say nothing."

Sighing, you told Loki the truth. "I have a new tumour, on my brain. My cancer spread."

Even though he did not wholly understand your cancer, he did understand that this was serious. "Why have you not told anyone?" He asked.

"Because then I won't get even a moment's peace," You said. "The team is going to be up my arse day and night."

"I can see how that would be frustrating," Loki teased, and you suddenly remembered how they had been doing the same to him. "Is there nothing that can be done?"

"No," You replied. "Like the tumours on my lungs, it's inoperable. They're hopeful that treatment will help."

Loki's chest felt tight. He didn't like this, he was getting too close. How could he have let this happen? He was a God, he would live for centuries after you passed, even if you weren't ill and besides that, you were kind, gentle, and pure. Too good for the likes of him.

Without a word, Loki got up and left. You watched his back as he walked away, wondering if you had said or done something to upset him. The couch was cold without him, and you wished you had thought before you spoke. What a stupid slip up! You scolded yourself. Why did you have to say that? Now he's upset.

With a sigh, you gathered your blankets and walked to your room, not wanting to deal with anyone right now. You sincerely hoped that Loki would keep his promise, the mere thought of Tony finding out causing anxiety to fill your chest. He won't find out, he can't, You thought.

Pacing his room, Loki ran a frustrated hand through his hair. What were you thinking? He asked himself. Letting the girl close, you should know better than that! You are not Thor, you do not consort with mortals! You know that it only brings pain when they inevitably die.

He couldn't help the way his chest tightened knowing that your cancer had spread, it meant you were dying more quickly. Especially to your brain, Loki knew that you didn't stand a chance. How much longer did you have? Months? Maybe a couple of years?

You knew this, He thought. Mortals are fragile, weak creatures. They grow old, they get sick, they die. He made up his mind to stay away from you, but it was much easier said than done. You had called him your friend, without malicious intent, something he had not heard in quite some time. You had thanked him for it, something he had not even realised he'd done. How could he ignore you now?

As you sat in your room, doodling in your notebook, all you could think about was Loki. It was wrong of you to burden him, You thought. You should have lied. You thought back to that first day you had seen him in the library.

"Did you truly believe you could lie to me, the God of Mischief?" He'd asked. "I basically invented lying."

You smiled at the memory. No, you couldn't have lied to him, nor did you want to. You had always been open with Loki, more so than anyone else at the tower, even Thor. He had been your best friend, yes, but you felt a kind of soul connection with his brother. While you cared for him, you realised that Loki truly understood you in ways that Thor could not begin to.

Not wanting to lose that, you scribbled a note on a spare sheet of paper, folding it and taking it to Loki's bedroom, sliding it under the door.

Loki watched the paper glide across the floor, picking it up with his long, slender fingers.

~ Loki,

I'm sorry if I've upset you in any way. Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to make it up to you.

Yours, Y/N ~

"I truly am an asshole," He muttered.

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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

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Might I please jump in with the suggestion that, while making Superman a Pulp Hero can be a little tricky, making LEX LUTHOR a Pulp Hero would be peculiarly easy? (In fact making him a Pulp Hero without making major alterations to his fundamental character might be far more difficult - given how much of a self centred jerk the man is).

Funny you mention that because, while I haven't read the comic enough to really speak much of it, that kinda seems to be the basic premise of Chris Roberson's Edison Rex, a comic about a supervillain who has to step in as Earth's protector after defeating his superhero enemy, with the titular character being a Lex Luthor-analogue who looks like Doc Savage with Thomas Edison's haircut.

In fact, the idea of Thomas Edison as a protagonist is not even a unique one, not when one of the earliest examples of dime novel sci-fi was named after him. Just as popular in it's heyday and irredeemably reprehensible as the man itself even. If you want to imagine how Lex Luthor looks like as a pulp hero, all you need is to look at the genre called "Edisonade", starting in the 1870s, and you'll see why you wouldn't even need to make that many substantial changes to Luthor's fundamental character if you were to try to pass him off as a dime novel sci-fi protagonist. Not just because pulp supervillains already starred in stories and magazines as is, but because Edisonade as a genre is already built to accomodate characters like him.

The term "edisonade" or "Edisonade" – which is derived from Thomas Alva Edison in the same way that "Robinsonade" is derived from the hero of Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe – can be understood to describe any story dating from the late nineteenth century onward and featuring a young US male inventor hero who ingeniously extricates himself from tight spots and who, by so doing, saves himself from defeat and corruption, and his friends and nation from foreign oppressors.

The Invention by which he typically accomplishes this feat is not, however, simply a Weapon, though it will almost certainly prove to be invincible against the foe, and may also make the hero's fortune; it is also a means of Transportation – for the edisonade is not only about saving the country (or planet) through personal spunk and native wit, it is also about lighting out for the Territory.

Afterwards, once the hero has penetrated that virgin strand, he will find yet a further use for his invention: it will serve as a certificate of ownership, for the new Territory will probably be "empty" except for "natives". Magically, the barefoot boy with cheek of tan will discover that he has been made CEO of a compliant world; for a a revelatory set of maxims can be discerned fuelling the entrepreneurial engine of the edisonade: the conviction that to fix is to patent: that to exploit is to own - Sci-Fi Encyclopedia's entry on Edisonade

The Edisonade, coined by critic John Clute after the Robinsonade, can be defined simply enough: it is a story in which a young American male invents a form of transportation and uses it to travel to uncivilized parts of America or the world, enriches himself, and punishes the enemies of the United States, whether domestic (Native Americans) or foreign.

The Edisonades were almost entirely an American creation and appeared in dime novels as serials and as complete novels. They were the single largest category of dime novel science fiction and were the direct ancestors not only of 20th century boys’ fiction characters like Tom Swift but also one of the fathers of early 20th century science fiction, especially in the pulps. And the Edisonades were among the most morally reprehensible works of fiction of the 19th century, on a par with the dime novels the Confederacy published to glorify slavery - Jess Nevins's article on Tom Edison Jr

Fun for the whole family!

Granted (and thankfully), Edisonades as a specific genre died down in popularity following the end of dime novel, although you can very easily see how their influence lingered on much of sci-fi as we know it. It makes for a rather interesting coincidence even that, in the turn of the century, as the dime novels and the Edisonades died down in popularity and the pulp magazines proper started to take their place in American culture, the Mad Scientist began to arise in popularity as a stock villain to the point you can make a drinking game out of reading pulp novels where the kind professor with a weird invention turns out to be a cut-throat master villain.

The Mad Scientist as an archetype, which is what Luthor started as, actually seems pretty much non-existant prior to the 1890s (the term seems to have only caught on somewhere after 1893 following the World's Fair Columbian Exposition) and only really started taking shape in the 1900/1910s following the influence of German Expressionism villains and characters like Fu Manchu (far from the first yellow peril mad scientist, but definitely the most popular) and the myriad of pulp villain, even pulp villain magazines, named after some form of "Doctor" (Doctor Death, Doctor Satan, Doctor X, etc)

I'm not particularly fond of Arch-Capitalist Luthor and I'm not gonna be the billionth guy online to talk about the relevance of that take on Luthor, because my preferred take on Luthor is more on the Emperor Scientist / Ubermensch Arch-Asshole, the kind that's not so much a stock villain archetype because he doesn't have to be, because "Lex Luthor" has practically become it's own archetype, you know it when you see it. I would prefer to emphasize a Luthor who's got more in common with pulp sci-fi supervillains who starred in their own stories, but the stories themselves had no delusions about what the characters were. And I think Luthor can make one hell of a protagonist in this regard.

In another place, under different circumstances, this man might have been a Caesar, a Napoleon, a Hitler, or an Archimedes, a Michelangelo, a da Vinci. A Gautama, a Hammurabi, Gandhi. But in this place, at this time, he was more. Superman made him more.

As an artist saw objects as an amalgam of shapes, as a writer looked upon life as a series of incidents from which plots and characters could be constructed, Lex Luthor's mind divided the Universe into a finite number of mathematical units.

The time he had spent in jail so far this year was three months of thirty days each, three weeks, six days, two hours, and sixteen minutes. This included four weeks, one day, and three hours in solitary confinement during which time he could do nothing more useful than count seconds and scrupulously retain his sanity.

There were other super-criminal geniuses in the world; he had met some of them, dealt with them on occasion. They were chairmen of great corporations, grand masters of martial arts disciplines, heads of departments in executive branches of governments, princes, presidents, prelates, and a saint or two. Unlike Luthor, these men and women chose to retain their respectability. They had trouble coping with honesty.

Luthor was not motivated by a desire for money, or power, or beautiful women, or even freedom. In solitary Luthor decided that his motivation was beyond even the love or hate or whatever it was he had for humanity. It was consuming desire for godhood, fired by the unreasonable conviction that such a thing was somehow possible.

He began by being an honest man. He was a criminal and said so. - The Last Son of Krypton, Chapter 12

#replies tag #dc comics #lex luthor #superman #elliot s maggin #last son of krypton #tarrano the conqueror #pulp supervillains

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