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imthebadguyyy · 3 years

Note

maybe something like interviewer asking her sexist questions and the boys stand up for her , after that interview she feels insecure and the boys comfort her . that's just an idea you don't have to write it !! <33

I hope you like it, and I'm so sorry about the delay 😭 I couldn't find my footing with this one, and I hope it's what you wanted ! Have a lovely day 💙

The One Where They're There For Her

Pairing - One Direction x Reader (6thmember!female!reader)

Fandom - One Direction (Directioners)

Summary - A particularly sexist interview decides to reduce you to just a sexual being and makes no effort to hide his misogyny. But the boys are there to support you.

Warnings - sexualization of the lgbt community, sexist comments, swearing, (honestly I hated myself for writing some of the comments here,and I'm so sorry)

Being a part of the biggest band in the world comes with certain responsibilities. Not responsibilities that come along with signing a recording contract, but those that a person deems themselves responsible for. For example, as the only female in a boyband, a female with a fanbase as large as yours, you took it upon yourself to always stand up for what's right, and to be an ally for the causes close to your heart.

That meant that your social media was often flooded with information about important causes, or your opinions on issues like feminism. Was it always well received? Heck no. There were people filled your feed with hate and comments calling you the most horrible names and labelling you a 'man hater' and a 'bitch' But you didn't let it get to you. On most days. On days like today, it was all you could do to keep it together. It had been a tiring few days, touring, recording, performing and doing an endless amount of interviews and photoshoots. It was safe to say you were on the last of your nerves, having battled your way through a makeup artist who had insisted on pointing out your flaws and had used a shit ton of makeup to cover them up. You had battled a photographer who had not hesitated to tell you that if you didn't look more feminine people would think you were turning into a man.

Before you could retaliate, Paul had dragged him away and told management to cancel the photoshoot, and find another photographer before grabbing the six of you some sandwiches and had let you all go back for a quick power nap at the hotel. Then in about half an hour he had woken you up, to get you ready for another interview. That's how you were here, in a white jumpsuit and a black blazer jacket, paired with black heels. Another day, another interviewer that got on your nerves. But this one, this one was different. This interviewer was different, but also the same. Another misogynistic man who thought he was entitled to stare at your ass and cleavage, and eye fuck you as you settled into a seat in between Niall and Zayn.

Settling in, you crossed one knee over the other, plastering a fake smile onto your face, as the man leaned back in his chair, throwing you a sleazy smirk. Noticing the look, Zayn shifted so you were out of view of the interviewer, but in view of the audience. It was in moments like this that you were a 100× more grateful to have your boys. They were well aware of how sleazy some interviewers could be, having had plenty of experience with them, and Zayn and Louis in particular were very protective about the way you were treated. Squeezing your thigh softly, he leaned back a little, lips settling into a thin line as he looked at the interviewer with a cold look. A little behind, Louis threw the interviewer a dirty look.

"So, One Direction! Congratulations on the album, as you all know its out on November the 22nd, with eighteen new songs, including the singles Night Changes and Steal My Girl Speaking of stealing girls, do you think I could steal your number Y/N? And may I mention, you look ver, very hot in that outfit" The interviewer joked, throwing you what he thought was a sexy smirk. (P.S - it wasn't) Answering with an awkward laugh, you shook your head, as Niall tensed up beside you. "Aww come on, your'e a pretty girl, I'm a handsome guy, let's go out sometime" he pressed on, ignoring the growing anger in Harry's eyes. "That's umm, nice. But no thanks, I'm not going to go out with you" was your answer, as you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Picking up on your nervous tic, Zayn moved his hand to rest on your knee, stopping it from bouncing up and down.

"Aww come on baby, what is it? You like girls or something? Because I wouldn't mind being a part of that action either" the sleazebag chuckled, ignoring the disgusted look Liam sent his way. "That's rude" Liam said, while Zayn tightened his grip on your knee. "Oh come on lads, are you telling me the idea doesn't appeal to you? Two women together, mm, makes me all excited just thinking about it, especially if one of them's Y/N" That comment was all it took for Louis to stand up, turning to the man and saying in a voice much rougher than his usual voice, "Alright, that's fuckin' enough, what the fuck is actually wrong with you?" he was backed up by Liam, who stood up, going to tower over the interviewer, whose eyes had lost some of the sleazy look in them. "All you've done since we walked in here is make those disgusting comments about Y/N, and it's sickening. Have some fucking respect" he practically spat.

Behind him, Zayn took your hand in his and pulled you to your feet, noticing the slight glossiness in them, leading you back to the dressing rooms, while Niall, Liam, Louis and Harry stayed back to continue to snap at the interviewer. "That is no way to treat a woman, and not only are you disrespecting her, you also made those god awful events about seeing women together. Your'e a shame to every single person in this room by talking like that" Harry continued, glancing over his shoulder to check if you were okay.

"And no, it doesn't excite us, because we are not assholes, and you are, a disgusting sleaze who does not deserve the job he has. Fuckin loser" Niall chimed in, standing up and storming out. Louis stood up as well, turning to directly face the cameras and the cameramen and sound technicians, who had all looked shocked when the man had made his comments towards you. "I sure as hell hope you have that on record, so you can see just how fucking sexist this industry is to women. Y/N does the same job as us, works just as hard and has the same number of awards, nominations, and records and yet you decide to only focus on her body, clothes, love life and sexuality. Get a fucking life" he spat at the camera, before walking away himself, eventually followed by Harry and Liam, who apologized to the outraged fans before leaving themselves. As they made their way to the dressing rooms they could hear the audience telling the interviewer to apologize to you, their anger at the way you were treated echoing through the building.

Walking in, Harry caught sigh of you curled up in one of the armchairs, with Louis sitting beside you, while Niall and Zayn talked to a furious Paul. "He had no damn right to treat her like shite, and you need to make sure that he knows those comments were un-fuckin-acceptable" Niall was saying, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "And to make those sickening comments about wanting to get action? Can't we sue him for something?" Was Zayn's reply, glancing over his shoulder at you to make sure you were still okay. "We can't sue him, atleast I don't think we can, but I'll have someone let the smug bastard know that he needs to learn how to respect a woman" Paul said, before leaving the room to give the six of you some time together before you had to head back to the hotel.

"How're you feeling darling?" Louis said, moving over and patting your knee so you moved. "I'm okay" you mumbled back, letting Louis settle in next to you, leaning back to rest on his chest. "He had no fuckin right to say any of that, and don't you let it trouble you for a second" Zayn added, pouring out a cup of tea for you and for Louis and Harry. "I don't care about what he said, I couldn't care less, but it was just so frustrating, sitting there and listening to him just sexualize a whole community of people. You've got to be in a really sad place to think of shit like that. That's what annoyed me. You think I give a damn about what he said about my clothes or wanting to take me out on a date? It was the way he was talking, like he was sure any woman would be glad to have him that irked me. He's really tiresome" was your reply, as you reached forward for a sip of your tea. "That's the right attitude love. Haters gonna hate" Harry said.

"I know that. But I just wish I could punch him once, which sounds mean, but he does kind of deserve it" Niall said, earning a laugh from you. Niall was never usually aggressive, and even now, he wasn't particularly rude but it was rare to see him wanting to punch someone. "It's okay Niall, you don't have to. I can do it myself, but I won't" you replied, leaning up to squeeze his hand. "Besides, Ni, if you went and punched him, I'd do it too, and then we'd all go to jail" Liam chimed in, scrolling through his twitter. "Twitter isn't happy either babe. #stopsexualization and #Y/Ndeservesbetter is trending already" he added, showing you his phone. "If it means some of these sexist asses get their heads out of the sand, I'm happy. But I dont want to to think about it now" you replied, cuddling closer to the warmth radiating from Louis's body.

"Okay, we won't talk about it. Do you want to go back to the hotel?" Harry asked, standing up and walking to the door "No I want to go to Nando's. Anybody else hungry?" You asked, to nods of assent from the boys. "I'm starving. Those stupid sandwiches didn't fill me up at all" Zayn said, standing up to grab his coat and wallet. "I know and I'm craving some hot Peri Peri chicken with some fries. Do you think they'd let me put the lemon and herb sauce on the fries?" You asked, standing up yourself, earning a laugh from Louis. "Your'e an international superstar babe, I think they'd give you some lemon herb sauce" Liam joked.

Laughing, the six of you made your way to the car, with Harry and Niall squishing you in between them, as Louis sat in the back with Liam, and Zayn sat in the front with Paul (he was driving thank GOD) "I'm proud of you darling" Harry chimed in suddenly. "I am too" Niall added. "You know I am" Louis said, before Liam added "Always babe" and Zayn turned to smile at you before adding, "We are all proud of you, and we always will be, not only because you do a damn good job of not listening to the haters, but because you do what you think is right" "Awh come on, your'e gonna make me cry" you mumbled, leaning into Niall's shoulder. "Almost makes me feel bad for teasing you about having an extremely low spice tolerance the last time we were at Nando's Haz" you smirked, earning a roar of laughter from the boys.

"That chicken was spicy love!" "It was lemon and herb with no peri peri!" "And it was spicy!"

And just like that, you were back to messing around with each other. Sleazy interviewers would come and go, but your boys were always there to support you. Always.

-------

A/N - Thanks for reading ! I'd also like to apologize on the behalf of this fictitious interviewer I made up, I felt so bad while writing some of this 😭 anyways, I hope this is what you wanted! Enjoy !

Tags - @zaynkissbot @gucci-hazza @bxtchboy69

#one direction x reader #one direction x sixth member #one direction imagines #one direction fanfiction #one direction #harry styles x reader #liam payne x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #niall horan x reader #zayn malik x reader #imthebadguyyytags #harry styles #niall horan #liam payne #louis tomlinson #zayn malik

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azucanela · 4 years

Note

pls some headcanons for Bakugou, Shinsou and Shoto when the reader kisses them infront of everyone. Thank you :)

KISSING THEM IN FRONT OF EVERYONE

FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI, SHINSOU HITSOHI TODOROKI SHOUTO

SUMMARY: in which you and the boys kiss in public, and now everyone is screaming. oh no.

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

WARNING: season three spoliers, insecurities, arguments,

A/N: i wanted to do scenarios bc this was too good ugh thank YOU for requesting this

BAKUGO KATSUKI

lol so HAVE FUN WITH THIS ONE

you two are already dating but you keep it on the down low because its Katsuki and he’s like ew people knowing i have feelings other than anger? ew ew ew

you’re fine with it, but if he thinks its bothering you he’ll talk to you about it and smother you with affection, but he’ll act like its nothing

wants to rub it in his faces that you are his girlfriend, yes, but also he doesn’t want the teasing that comes with it. he knows for a fact that all his friends would bully him because he is SOFT FOR YOUUU and he’s also just a generally private person

you respect this and like it’s fine woo yeah okay it’s nice being the only one that sees the side of him that’s all soft and cute and affectionate

i can’t really see the two of you slipping up unless it’s influenced by a lot of emotions

where do these emotions come from? you might ask

his kidnapping.

you were a mess, but it was lowkey, real lowkey. and unlike the others you do not support trying to save katsuki on their own, trusting the heroes to do their job is the way to go.

so you don’t go with them. the next time you see your lovely boyfriend is when he’s giving kirishima money

so naturally, consumed by all the fear and panic you felt while he was gone, you kiss him!

and he kisses you back and its really soft and oh-

what a shame the whOLE CLASS IS THERE

everyone is really confused, but they’re happy because they think that the two of you finally addressed the clear tension between the two of you, all it took was a lil kidnapping

except then you pull apart, completely disregarding them, your hands on his face, “baby are you okay?”

you don’t call someone you haven’t kissed before baby

then it clicks for the rest of the class

SCREAMS.

so much yelling

oh god have fun with that one

the bakusquad is yelling at him for not telling him, the dekusquad is scolding you for not telling them, there’s just a lot of questionable things

katsuki will get SO FLUSTERED because this is not what we wanted

at least the attention was off of his kidnapping now

maybe that was your goal idk 👀

Katsuki really wished everyone would shut up about his kidnapping, it wasn’t something he wanted to think about right now, or ever if he was honest. So much had happened in the past few days and he was still struggling to process all of it, and the disgustingly warm welcome he’d received to the dorms wasn’t helping. It was gross.

He’d shoved cash into Kirishima’s hand, rolling his eyes when he began to panic at the possibility that he’d taken it from Denki, shutting down the idea almost immediately.

And then he saw her.

Y/N was shoving past everyone and heading to him, and he couldn’t help the relief he felt when he saw her. Katsuki was grateful she hadn’t been involved in the little escape plan Deku had hatched out, but seeing her made him feel calmer than even as she practically tackled him, hands coming to his cheeks as she brought him into a kiss.

Their lips molded together perfectly, his hands coming to her sides and holding her like he’d never let go as her hands gripped his face rather harshly. It would have been the perfect moment, had the rest of his class not been there.

Y/N seemed to disregard this as she pulled apart, eyes darting across his figure as his brows furrowed at her clear distress. “Calm down, idiot.” His cheeks are turning red as he realizes that everyone is staring, but he can’t help but focus his attention on her as he feels a wave of relaxation wash over him as she begins to run her hands all over him in search of injuries.

“Oh, I’m sorry, for caring about your wellbeing.” She grumbled, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso when her hands left his face. “Baby, you scared me.” His arms wrapped around her shoulders securely, as he rolled his eyes, though Katsuki wouldn’t deny he was appreciating all the attention she was giving him, he was beginning to feel embarrassed as he allowed her to hold onto him.

As if the kiss hadn’t been enough to astonish the rest of their class, the pet name simply amplified their shocked as they all cried out, “baby?” Kirishima had exchanged looks with Mina, who looked equally confused before returning their gaze to Katsuki, a look of betrayal evident on both their faces.

Stupid barbarians. “SHUT UP EXTRAS!” Katsuki exclaimed, holding Y/N tighter to his chest as his cheeks flushed red, he could hear her laugh against his chest. “Can’t a guy hug his girlfriend in peace.”

“GIRLFRIEND?”

He was grateful for the subject change, though he didn’t appreciate the fact that his relationship had been exposed, until he looked back to Y/N, who beamed at him.

If she was happy then it was fine he supposed.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

welp

this one will probably have the funniest reaction

you did not just kiss him, in front of all these people, was that a joke?

i think he’s the only one you wouldn’t already be in a relationship with, purely because this is just 10x funnier

so ever since the two of you first started hanging, there have been people criticizing you for befriending him at all, because of his quirk, they just cannot believe that the Y/N L/N is hanging out with Shinsou Hitoshi

but also, ever since the two of you started hanging out, the bullying has lessened immensely, most because you threatened everyone it was really subtle, but they got the message

nobody screws with Y/N L/N

anyways, you two are probably hanging out again, and it’s been a while since you got one of those comments, which is the main reason this one sets you off.

“quit hanging out with that freak L/N, he’s gonna ruin your chances at becoming a pro.”

shinsou was used to this, and your violent reactions, so he immediately brought a hand to your arm to ensure you didn’t commit a murder, shaking his head at you

you turn back to him, and you’re lowkey glaring at him before turning your piercing eyes back to the other guys

and without breaking eye contact with them, you grab Shinsou’s face, earning stares from everywhere in the cafeteria, and then kiss him

shinsou is shocked

shinsou.exe

you killed him.

he did not anticipate this um, you kinda caught him by surprise with this one, he genuinely did not think it was possible for you to feel this way for him

when you pull away, the kiss is almost like magic

you don’t mess with Y/N’s friends, much less their boyfriend

When Y/N beams up at Shinsou, he can’t help the way his heart skips a beat. It’s ridiculous, he knows this, and he hates that he can’t prevent it. Shinsou is no fool, he knows Y/N L/N, a UA student that could potentially be a member of the Top Ten heroes in the future, would never like him. He wouldn’t be shocked if she befriended him entirely out of pity, given how students used to treat him prior to their unlikely friendship. She’d weaseled her way into his life, despite his attempts to avoid her, ignore her, and even tell her off, she’d stuck around.

And yes, Shinsou had made the mistake of liking her. On days like this, he’d entertain the possibility that Y/N liked him back, because sometimes she hugged him for longer than average friends did, or maybe she’d press a kiss to his cheek, or even hold his hands.

That was probably just something best friends did.

“Hitoshi! Don’t you know what this means?” She exclaimed, hands finding their way onto his shoulders in the middle of the cafeteria.

Yes, she used his first name.

Shinsou rolled his eyes, trying to keep himself from getting flustered purely because her hands were on him, “Y/N it’s not a big deal, and besides-”

“We’re going to be in the same class!” Her hands move from his shoulders to around them as she pulls him into a hug, “I’m so proud of you.”

He’s shocked that she’s saying these things, and its clear she has more confidence in him than he does. Aizawa had offered him daily training to get him onto the same level as the other Class 1-A students, and he’d be joining them the next semester, assuming everything went well. “It’s no guarantee.” He mumbles, wrapping his arms around her torso.

Shinsou felt Y/N swat his back as she pulled away slightly, much to his dismay, “you’re so talented! Of course, he’s gonna let you in.”

She sounded so sure, and Shinsou felt his heart swell with pride.

He moves to speak, only to be interrupted by a passerby, “L/N. Come on, quit hanging out with that freak.” Y/N recognized him, James, he’d bothered Shinsou before, and he’d tried to get Y/N to stop hanging out with Shinsou and been unsuccessful. “He’s just gonna ruin your chances at becoming a pro.”

Y/N pulls away slightly from Shinsou, her brows are furrowed as she moves to confront him, only for Shinsou to grab her arm, shaking his head. “Don’t.”

Turning to glare at the guy, Y/N scoffed, “is this because I rejected you?”

“He asked you out?” Shinsou asked, but Y/N gave him a look that said they’d discuss it later. She could remember the day vividly, he’d asked shortly after she returned from hanging out with Shinsou, telling her she could do so much better, and so much better meant him.

She disagreed. And now Y/N couldn’t help but feel bothered as their argument begins to draw attention from others within the cafeteria, she can see in the corner of her eye that Izuku has come to a stand. Though Iida is grasping his shoulder to try and prevent him from doing anything irrational, they all knew Y/N could stand on her own.

James scoffed at her words, “you probably rejected me because he made you.” The implications were dark, the idea that Shinsou had forced Y/N to befriend him and reject James, though he’d never used his quirk on her and swore he never would.

Shinsou found himself releasing Y/N’s arm, taking a step backwards as he sighed, only for her to grab his hand and yank him closer before taking his face in her hands and kissing him.

She was kissing him.

Oh.

Shinsou’s mind empties as Y/N pulls away, turning back to James as she says, “my boyfriend doesn’t need to make me do anything.” And the boy practically stomps off in frustration, grumbling about Shinsou’s stupid quirk or something of that sort. Not that either of them are paying attention as Y/n brings a hand to the back of her neck awkwardly, searching her mind for an explanation.

“Boyfriend?” His voice is soft, small, and he knows there are other people in the cafeteria but he can’t bring himself to care about their stares.

Y/N turns to him, and she feels her cheeks warm as she tries to avoid his eyes, “well. Only if you want to-”

“I want to.” Shinsou replies too quickly, his cheeks flushing.

Y/N nods, “cool.”

“Cool.”

Izuku can’t help but beam as he watches the interaction, hitting Iida’s arm repetitvely as as he exclaims, “does this mean I’ll be able to study his quirk more?”

Tsu just sighs, “this means we don’t have to listen to her pining anymore.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

THIS ONE

probably the most relaxed about it, not flustered at all, you tried thoughh

your relationship isn’t really a secret, it’s just that neither of you are that into PDA.

there will be occasional cuddling on the common room couch of the dorms during movie night, but that’s seen as normal to the rest of Class 1-A. during dates, there will be hand holding, a kiss on the cheek, an arm around the shoulder, otherwise most of the intimacy is reserved for your rooms

this lack of PDA is why class 1-A was completely unaware that the two of you were dating,

though you hadn’t tried to hide it, you also hadn’t made it entirely public, you also lowkey thought everyone knew.

mostly because it was so blatantly obvious that shoto was in love with you, but the entire class thought he was unaware of his own feelings and you were just oblivious

oh how wrong they were

you come into class one day and you see shoto and you’re just like lol hi babe and you kiss him, he kisses back, LIKE IT IS THE MOST NORMAL THING

he’s temporarily caught off guard because like i said you two don’t really do PDA, but he digs it, 10/10 would kiss you again in front of everyone, mostly because after all of the CHAOS that this kiss causes, the other boys in the class stop blatantly flirting with you

speaking of chaos

the class erupts into PURE CHAOS

so much yelling and screaming, they are so confused, have fun explaining that one

shoto is equally confused as to why they are confused and you’re just laughing because you knew this would mess with their heads. he ends up getting a little flustered by all the sudden attention the two of you are getting, but maintains his apathetic attitude.

Shoto places his bag beside his desk before pulling his things out one by one to place them onto the desk along with the small cup of coffee. Shoto wasn’t really the coffee type himself, he preferred tea, Y/N on the other hand had an obsession if he was honest. Of course, he enabled this obsession, he liked being the one to bring a smile onto her face.

Yeah, he was whipped.

He could tell when Y/N entered the room because the atmosphere seemed to change entirely, she seemed to brighten everyone’s mood despite how early it was. Greeting their other classmates, she began to move towards him, seeing that he was holding a cup of coffee, Y/N raised a brow. “You drink coffee now?” She asked as she placed her things down.

Shaking his head, Shoto extended the hand with the cup of coffee towards him, “it’s for you.” He explained, small smile on his face.

The rest of their classmates watched the interaction, Kirishima punching Kaminari’s arm as he exclaimed, “so manly!”

Bakugou scoffed from beside the both of them, “if he was really manly then maybe he’d actually ask her out.” Crossing his arms, he averts his eyes from the two, finding the class’s obsession with their relationship a tad ridiculous. Though everyone seemed to be at least slightly invested in the potential outcome at this point.

“Whatever, Bakugo.” Mina says, “L/N has the prettiest boy in class wrapped around her finger- ugh! I want someone to love me like that.” She places her head in her hand, brows furrowing as she stares at the two. Y/N is smiling widely at Shoto, who returns her smile with one of his own.

And then Y/N kisses him. As though this is an everyday thing.

Mina practically jumps out her seat, and though Bakugo would never admit it, his mouth gaped open in shock as she cried out, “did you two just kiss?!”

Shoto’s cheeks are red as they pull away, though his face remains apathetic as he looks to the ground and Y/N replies, “can I not kiss my boyfriend?” She tilts her head in confusion, laughing slightly at the outburst and the clear shock in everyone’s faces.

“Boyfriend?” Hagaruke cried out. “Why didn’t you tell us?!”

Y/N’s brows furrows as she looks to the rest of the astonished class, “did you guys seriously not know? I thought we were obvious, I literally call him by his first name-”

“We thought that was because you two were madly in love with each other but neither could confess!” Momo exclaimed suddenly, her cheeks flaming red at her outburst as she slaps a hand over her mouth.

Mina simply nods in agreement, “exactly! But now he’s buying you coffee and-”

Shoto shakes his head in confusion, “I often buy her coffee, normally she finishes it before we get to class.” He looks to Y/N, a small frown on her face, “today she woke up too late for me to walk her to school so I couldn’t give it to her then-”

“You’re so manly, Todoroki!” Kirishima exclaims, though Shoto simply looks at him in confusion as he removes his hand from Y/N’s waist.

Shrugging, he takes a seat at his desk and Y/N speaks once more, “I just don’t understand how you guys didn’t know.” Standing beside him as he organizes his things while seated, Y/N runs a hand through his hair, and Shoto’s cheeks seemed to redden once more.

“You guys aren’t normally so touchy!” Uraraka has joined the conversation, shock clear in her features.

Shoto nods in agreement, “your behavior today is abnormal, Y/N.”

Now Y/N can feel her cheeks warm as she removes her hand and takes a seat t her desk, “you guys are weird.”

Izuku simply sighs, deflating almost as he watches the interaction and leans over towards Iida, “now I owe Kacchan money.”

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hurting-fictional-people · 3 years

Text

Continued from here

At first, Hero doesn’t notice the slight changes around them.

They wake up, and the pain wakes as well, flooding them with its burn and stealing away their breath for the few instants they take to accept and relax into it before opening their eyes. Villain’s curled-up figure, snoring softly from the armchair next to the bed, is the first thing they see.

Hero lays their head back down and sighs when last night comes back to them. They wish they couldn’t, but they remember it all too well – every kind word, every worried touch and whispered confession.

Embarrassment burns their cheeks at the thought of Villain seeing their scars, the horror written across their face when they did. They were never supposed to see those – no one was, not when all of them were results of Hero’s fails, of Superhero’s discipline. They were a shame Hero carried for not being good enough, and one Villain should never have seen.

They give Villain a side-glance, sighing again at how uncomfortable their position looks, their body too big for the tight space of the armchair.

It’s only then that something clicks into place.

Hero doesn’t own an armchair.

They jerk upright, and immediately fold forward, holding their stomach when pain shoots through them. Hero catches the anguished whimper before it escapes, and only a huff of air leaves in its place. It’s still enough for Villain to open their eyes and sit up too.

“You’re awake,” they state with a yawn, giving Hero a once-over that stops at the clean bandages and makes their stomach churn.

“Where am I?”

Villain’s smirk sends waves of fire through Hero’s blood. How the fuck were they so stupid to trust Villain when they were at their most vulnerable?

“Welcome to my place. Do you like it?”

Hero bares their teeth in indignation and grips the sheets with the hand that isn’t holding their injury. “Take me the fuck back.”

“Oh, no can do, sweetheart. I gave you the nice guest room, though, I think you’ll like it,” Villain says, already standing up and calmly walking around the bed. Hero doesn’t move from their spot under the duvet, not when they can barely move without grunting, let alone get up and follow the bastard. “What do you say about breakfast? I’ll be right back with it.”

Hero can only watch as they leave the room, and the lock clicks behind them.

They fall back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling hopelessly.

Villain locked the door. Hero’s hands tremble at the thought, at how the room suddenly seems so much smaller. They had said they’d be back with breakfast, hadn’t they? But how can Hero trust Villain after they kidnapped them?

The feeling isn’t unknown, though. Hero is way too familiar with the helplessness of being locked away from the world, isolated until they were desperate enough to comply. So forlorn they were the perfect vessel for learning, as Superhero would say. It hadn’t happened in a long time, not since they started obeying the orders without question, but the terror of being alone for hours that turned into days that turned into weeks never truly left them.

You are too unruly, Hero, Superhero always said, scowling at them after they refused an order or made a mistake, if I don’t discipline you, you’ll be just like any villain. It’s for your own good, and one day you’ll see it.

And then the door would be locked, and they’d be alone. Alone until they forgot what it was like to talk and be answered, alone until they gave up on any form of pride and just screamed at the walls that they were sorry, please, I’ll do anything, alone until–

“…hope you like toast, we didn’t have pancakes, but I do know how to make really go– hey, Hero?”

They look up to see Villain walking inside, carrying a tray filled with food. Hero doesn’t cry – you don’t show weakness, Hero, ever, or will I have to teach you how to control yourself too? –, but a sob gets caught in their throat.

They aren’t alone. They are not alone. Hero shakes their head to push away the memories and glares at Villain, carefully pulling themself into a sitting position.

“Why am I here, Villain? Am I your hostage? Your prisoner?”

A shiver runs up their spine at the thought, at the punishment they’d earn for being caught by Villain of all people – being caught without putting up a fight, of all things.

“You are hurt,” they say as if that’s enough of an answer, and sit down in the armchair again, placing the tray in the bed between the two of them and pointing at the piles of food there.

Hero crosses their arms and waits.

“Just eat, Hero, we’ll talk about it after breakfast, okay?”

“How did you even bring me here?” Something vicious is curling around Hero’s heart, something unwelcome, something painful, something they aren’t ready to admit feels like betrayal. Villain doesn’t owe them anything, Hero has no right to feel it, and yet, there it is. “Did you drug me while I bled out?”

Villain averts their gaze and sets their jaw. “They hurt you,” they seethe, the rage only barely contained in their voice.

“I didn’t even tell you why or how I got hurt, you can’t–“

“I’m not stupid. You said enough for me to guess it.” Villain looks up with such unrestrained hatred, that even though they know it isn’t directed at them, Hero can’t contain a flinch.

They straighten up as best as they can to hide it, though, keeping all of the pain carefully hidden away from their features. “Superhero helped me become the hero I am today. Each of these scars is a mark of shame, of my failure. So if you want to blame someone for them, blame me.”

But instead of appeasing Villain, the words seem to have the opposite effect. They clench their fists, nostrils flaring, pupils swallowing their irises whole. “Keep talking and I won’t be able to contain myself next time I see that sad excuse for a person.”

Hero pales, trembles. And Villain, of course, notices.

“Superhero has abused and gaslighted you, and you still blanch at the idea they might be hurt,” Villain sighs, looking up to the ceiling as if searching for an explanation there. “Scars aren’t shames, Hero. Scars are traumas, and there’s absolutely no context in which they’d be a form of discipline. That’s blatant abuse.”

“Don’t talk about them like that,” Hero says rigidly, staring down at their hands. Somewhere deep inside them, hidden so far away they barely remember it’s even there, there’s a young Hero nodding and crying along with Villain’s every word. But Superhero’s words sound louder than any old, forgotten, version of Hero ever could. We don’t speak ill of our people, Hero. And if you do, you’ll have to face the consequences, they’d say between each crack of the whip.

“Just eat,” Villain sighs, hiding their face behind their hands and rubbing their eyes.

There’s so much worry mingled with ancient fear inside of Hero, they don’t even question how fast they answer to the command. They are hurting and confused and betrayed, and their mind can’t help but fit in its usual mode of complying with each and every order. Just like all good heroes do, Hero, you must obey your superiors, and therefore help the people. Show me you can obey and I won’t need to hurt you anymore.

They eat breakfast in silence, and although Hero’s mind keeps bouncing around the argument and their future, something that went unanswered keeps bothering them until they can’t help but spill it out.

“Did you drug me to bring me here?”

Villain looks them dead in the eye, lets them see the guilt lurking there – but also the truth. “Yes. You are hurt and I wouldn’t leave you like this to be even more battered by your beloved Superhero.”

“You had no right,” Hero whispers. Tears well up in their eyes, and the air gets caught in their throat, turning into gasping breaths that are not enough. Suddenly, they can’t breathe. They can’t think. Villain drugged them after Hero trusted them and let them see it all, they drugged them and took them away and they had no way to stop and they still have no way to stop it–

“Hero!” Villain shouts, holding their shoulders and giving them a little shake. It hurts their wound and makes them gasp, but it isn’t enough for Hero to stop quivering.

“You drugged me–“ is all they can rasp out, fighting to regain control of their swirling emotions.

“I gave you a mild sedative and brought you here, that’s all I did,” Villain says hurriedly, “you didn’t wake up because you were really tired, not because I knocked you out. I’d never take your will away like that.”

“But you did!”

Their stomach hurts and their chest echoes and Hero feels like they’re falling and falling and the fall never ends.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be this upset about it,” Villain exclaims, holding their hands.

Hero snaps before even they realize what they’re doing – one moment Villain is holding their hand, the next said hand is flying through the air and connecting with Villain’s jaw with a dull thud and a sharp pain in their abdomen. Two gasps of pain sound at the same time, and both Villain and Hero curl forward, holding their respective injuries.

“You punched me?” Villain says, unbelieving. For one moment, one fleeting instant, Hero freezes and waits for the blow to be returned, only twice as bad, or maybe for them to be left alone as punishment. And then the moment passes, and Villain’s stunned eyes come back to focus. Hero pants and glares at them, but even though they’re still mad and scared, there is also guilt overlaying it all now.

“You drugged me!”

“I also kidnapped you. And it was a mild sedative, you could’ve woken up– why are you so hung up on the drugging?”

As if in answer, Hero’s heart starts to pound. It screams from their chest, thrums inside their ears. Their tongue doesn’t voice any of the truths laying there, though. Not when they can still feel the bitter taste of betrayal – what would Villain do with the knowledge of how many times they were drugged as a punishment? As a ‘calming technique’, according to Superhero? As a ‘teaching mechanism’?

“Does it matter?” they bite out, shifting their weight and holding in a moan when the wound shifts as well. “I never should have trusted you.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

But that doesn’t mean anything, not really. Superhero’s said it before, and they ended up hurt either way.

“You can’t keep me here against my will. Unless you plan on tying me down and locking me up, I’m going to leave whether you want it or not.”

Villain takes a sharp breath and grits their teeth. Although goosebumps spread across Hero’s skin, they don’t back down.

“Why would you go back to them?” Villain sags on the chair, and even though their face is somber, there is something in their eyes that looks so much like pleading that Hero holds their breath. “I can protect you. You can even ‘save the city’ or whatever, I won’t stop you. But why go back to the person who hurt you? I see the fear you’re hiding, Hero. You and I both know that the only thing waiting for your return is more pain.”

“What do you want me to do? Stay here? Become a villain myself?” they scoff.

Something flashes in Villain’s eyes, something so weirdly close to pain Hero find themself at a loss for words. And then it’s gone, as fast as it appeared, and Hero chooses to believe it was only their imagination.

“Do as you wish, but I won’t be responsible for your being hurt again,” Villain says in a final tone. “And if I have to tie you down and lock you up until you’re healed and able to defend yourself, then so be it.”

“So the ‘playing hero’ part is over, huh?”

There’s so much hurt, so many places. In their belly, in their contained tears, in their heart. Hero grips the sheets and glares at Villain’s narrowed eyes.

“I never said I was playing hero,” they respond coldly, “I’d rather be damned than be anything like Superhero.”

Villain gets up after that, but stops at the door and turns around to look at Hero. They stare at each other, and in their gazes, something builds and something breaks, and as words form and die in the tip of Hero’s tongue, they seem to do the same in Villain’s, for they simply sigh and turn their back, leaving the room without another glance and locking the door behind them.

(part 3)

#whump #whump writing #superhero whump #villain caretaker #hero whumpee #superhero villain #hero whump #villain x hero #villains and heroes #traumatized whumpee #wounded #solitary confinement mention #noncon drugging #panicking #implied past torture #kidnapped whump #manipulated whumpee #manipulative whumper #conditioned whumpee

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helloalycia · 4 years

Text

girl next door [one] // wanda maximoff

summary: somebody new moves into the flat next to yours and you feel the need to introduce yourself, only to learn she's not very talkative

warning/s: none i don’t think??

author’s note: first part to a three-parter i’ve been working on, hope you like it! (also the masterlist needs to be updated so soz about that)

Shopping bags in hand, I returned from the supermarket to my flat when I saw the usually-vacant flat next door to me in use. The front door was slightly ajar, with several moving boxes in front and the sound of someone moving about inside. Huh, so someone moved in. It had been vacant for half a year now – it was nice to finally have a neighbour!

I headed to my own flat, my nosey self taking a peek through the door to see if I could have an idea of who was moving in, but I couldn't see anyone, so I continued to go into my own place and unpack my groceries. After doing so, I decided to head next door and introduce myself, excited to meet someone new in the building.

The boxes from earlier were gone now, probably all inside, and the door was shut like I usually saw it. I sucked up a breath before knocking on, a friendly smile reserved on my lips for whoever would open.

It took a moment, but the door finally opened and revealed a brunette with bright hazel eyes and a mildly confused expression on her face. She seemed strangely familiar, but I couldn't quite pinpoint it.

"Hey! I just wanted to come 'round and introduce myself. I'm your new neighbour." I pointed to my door next to hers and added, "I saw you moving in earlier. I'm Y/N."

She pursed her lips, eyes glancing around subtly before looking me up and down. "Er, hi... I'm Wanda."

I detected a slight accent in her voice with the few words she spoke and became immediately intrigued since everyone in this building was usually the same old American. I didn't ask about it though, as I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable at our first meeting.

"Nice to meet you, Wanda," I returned with a smile. "I've been living here for a year now, so if you need a hand with anything or need pointers for where to get the best Chinese, I'm your girl." I paused, expecting some sort of reaction, but she didn't move a muscle. Swallowing awkwardly, I added, "Of course, if you just need a hand with unpacking or anything, I'm also happy to help."

She still didn't reply, and in fact, she looked a bit peeved with my presence which made me realise that maybe she just wasn't a talkative person.

I cleared my throat nervously before finishing with, "I'll, er, I'll leave you to it. Sorry to disturb you..."

I chewed on my lower lip as I avoided her piercing gaze and went back to my own place. Not everybody was interested in befriending their neighbours, I got that, so I respected her decision and decided not to bother her in the future. It didn't make me feel any less embarrassed at my intrusiveness though.

I didn't think much of it until the following morning when I was watering my plants out on the fire escape. My fire escape was joined with the neighbour's – the neighbour that usually didn't exist but was now Wanda. The brunette was stood there, drinking some coffee and staring out into the distance. I debated wishing her a good morning, but decided against it as I recalled her being quite introverted. Instead, I awkwardly watered the several plant pots I had, opting to stay quiet so I could be in and out without bugging her once more.

To my surprise, she spoke up and it took me a second to realise she was talking to me.

I held my watering jug upright as I glanced in her direction. She was already staring at me, deep set eyes darkened over the rim of her coffee cup.

"What's that?" I asked, not sure what she’d said.

She cleared her throat, eyes flickering to the plants to distract from her discomfort. "I'm sorry. For being strange yesterday. You were being warm and welcoming and I just..." She paused, releasing a shaky breath. "I've had a bad past few weeks. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

I definitely wasn't expecting that, then realised how many bad days I'd had and taken out on random strangers. I didn't blame her and instead felt bad for her – moving into a new place was supposed to be exciting, so I couldn't imagine what had ruined her past few weeks.

"Well, apology accepted," I said with a small smile. "And I hope things begin to look up for you soon, Wanda."

Her lips twitched into the tiniest of smiles and I noticed how different she looked when she wasn't down in the dumps – she was quite beautiful.

I finished watering my plants before giving her a final smile. I was about to head back inside, but I hung back curiously.

"Er, Wanda, if you don't mind me saying," I started randomly, "you seem familiar. We haven't met before, have we?"

She raised her eyebrows with surprise. "Oh, really? You don't kn–?" She tilted her head to the side, as if expecting me to understand, but I wasn't sure what she wanted. "I... I guess I just have one of those faces."

I studied her curiously, trying to figure it out. But nothing was coming to mind, so I hummed in agreement. "Yeah, I guess so... anyway, enjoy the rest of your day."

She nodded. "You, too."

–

The next time I saw Wanda was probably a week later, just after I collected my mail from the mailroom. I'd received one of those random free trial boxes for a subscription I must have accidentally signed up for – a box of different flavoured trail mixes – and felt bad throwing it out since it was still food at the end of the day. There were nuts in the mixes, which I was allergic to, so I decided to knock on Wanda's door and see if she wanted them.

I hadn't spoken to her since she moved in, except for the occasional good morning on the fire escape if we saw one another, so I hoped she was a little happier compared to when we last spoke properly. Maybe whatever had bothered her was resolved now.

When she opened the door, she seemed surprised that it was me, probably not expecting me to stop by again after last time.

I offered her a smile. "Hey, Wanda. I, er, hope this isn't a bad time."

She shook her head after recovering from her surprise. "No, no, it's not. Is everything okay?" She paused, glancing around, unprepared. "Do you want to come in or...?"

"It's okay, I'm good here," I said when I saw how uncomfortable she seemed. I wasn't just about to invite myself into her flat because she felt she needed to ask. "I just stopped by because, well, do you want this?" I handed her the box, adding, "I got a free sample in the post. Didn't wanna throw it out because it's food, y'know? And I'm allergic to nuts, so my throat will probably puff up and stop me from breathing which isn't good."

I laughed awkwardly, internally cringing at how I spoke utter nonsense because of her lack of her words and my stupid need to fill the silence.

"Unless you're allergic to nuts too," I added as an afterthought, when she glanced at the packaging with no readable expression. "In which case I should probably throw them right away and this whole thing is stupid."

After what felt like an eternity of me not shutting up, she lifted her gaze, eyes softening with a hint of amusement.

"I'm not allergic to nuts," she assured me, before nodding. "Thank you, Y/N."

I relaxed, not even realising how tense my shoulders were. "That's– that's good... so, how are you settling into your new place? All good, I hope?"

Subconsciously, I chewed on the inside of my mouth, wondering why I was so eager to speak to somebody who clearly didn't want to speak to me. She was so quiet, not a woman of many words, yet I couldn't help but feel responsible for welcoming her.

"It's nice," she said, glancing around thoughtfully. "It's quiet. Private."

I nodded in agreement, eyes falling to her doorframe as I said, "Yeah, that's true. Nothing eventful ever happens here."

She hummed, acknowledging my words. I figured the conversation had ran dry and I'd stayed a little too long, so I tried to think of a way to end it without her feeling forced to. Instead, she spoke up next.

"I like your garden."

I furrowed my brows, wondering what she was talking about.

"The flowers on our fire escape," she clarified, small smile tugging at her lips. "They're beautiful."

I stifled a laugh. "I mean, thanks, but it's barely a garden. I've always wanted a proper space to grow stuff, but obviously I can't have that here."

"Well, you've done a great job with what you have," she complimented, and I was sure it was the most she'd spoken to me since moving in. I suddenly didn't feel like she disliked my presence as much as I once thought.

"Thank you," I said gratefully. "Maybe you can start your own alongside mine some day."

"Maybe," she shrugged, "but probably not. Everything I touch–" She paused, life leaving her eyes momentarily, and head looking down to her shoes. "Everything I touch dies."

I pressed my lips together, not expecting the awkward silence to follow. Wanda seemed stuck in thought and I wasn't sure how I'd managed to bring the conversation down so suddenly, especially with the talk of flowers.

"The lovely thing about flowers," I began, earning her attention and hoping to brighten the mood, "is that they only require a little love, some sunlight and some water to keep going. They tend to take care of themselves. Perfect for even the blackest of thumbs."

She let out a breath through her nose, a half chuckle and half acknowledgment of my comment. It was the closest I'd get to a response, so I ran a hand through my hair and took a step back.

"Anyway, I'm glad you're settling in okay," I concluded with a kind smile. "Again, if you need anything, I'm just next door."

"Thank you," she said, returning the smile, and her eyes sparkled as she did. "Have a good afternoon, Y/N."

"You, too, Wanda."

–

The apartment complex I lived in rarely had people entering that I didn't recognise – I'd lived here long enough to know who was who, even the postwoman and maintenance guy. So, when I was leaving for the supermarket and saw a suspicious-looking man walking down the hall, eyes checking every door, I grew curious.

"You okay there, sir?" I called out to him after locking my front door.

He looked my way, readjusting his cap lower on his head, casting a shadow over his face. "Er, yeah..." He hesitated, glancing at his phone before looking to me again. "Actually, maybe you can help me. I'm looking for Wanda Maximoff's apartment. Do you know which one that is?"

I narrowed my eyes at the tall stranger. "I'm sure you can understand my concern when I ask who's asking."

"Oh, no, I completely understand," he said with a nod, and I could swear I had seen him before. "I'm an old friend of hers."

I quirked a brow. Strange man who claimed to a woman-who-lived-alone's friend? That had trouble written all over it. And from one woman to another, I was concerned, even if I didn’t know her very well.

"That's not saying much, sir," I said, biting back the annoyance. "I think that maybe you should–"

I stopped speaking when Wanda's door opened and she popped her head out. She looked to me before spotting the tall stranger, shoulders relaxing.

"I thought I heard you out here," she mumbled to the stranger, before stepping out fully and giving me a reassuring look. "It's okay, Y/N. I know him."

I nodded, glancing at the man, before meeting Wanda's eyes knowingly. "If you're sure..."

She seemed comfortable as she crossed her arms, hugging herself. Smiling reassuringly, she nodded. I relaxed when I saw she knew the suspicious stranger.

"In that case, sorry 'bout the interrogation," I apologised to her friend. "But, you gotta understand with the whole getup you have..."

Her friend chuckled deeply, looking to his shoes with amusement. "Yeah, sorry about that, ma'am. Didn't mean to worry you. It's nice to know Wanda here has thoughtful neighbours though."

"I'm twenty-two, not a ma'am," I said with amusement, before shaking my head. "Anyway, I should get going. Sorry again."

Wanda and her friend nodded as I left them; I was just glad it wasn't some creepy perv stalking our building – that had happened once.

I headed to the supermarket to do some shopping when I saw Wanda again, this time in the milk aisle. Well, she actually saw me, her trolley stopping before mine as she got my attention.

"Oh, Wanda, hey," I greeted her with a smile. "Fancy seeing you here."

She cracked a smile. "Yeah, well, I needed to pick up a few things. Milk, actually," she grabbed some from the fridge to prove her point, "when I saw you."

I nodded, before remembering earlier and feeling a little embarrassed. "Hey, er, sorry about before with your friend. I hope I didn't offend them or anything."

"No need to apologise," she said with a shake of her head. "It's actually very nice of you to have my back like that. I mean, we don't even know each other that well, but you watched out for me. I appreciate it."

"It's the bare minimum of a neighbour," I joked, before settling into genuine smile. "Besides, I'd like to think you'd do the same."

"Of course," she agreed, nodding slightly, before her eyes drifted to the fridge.

I noticed that every conversation we shared felt unfinished, like there was more to be said but neither of us had the guts to say it. Like now, for example, I wanted to check in and see if she was okay, but I felt like I was overstepping since, as she'd put it, we didn’t know each other very well. So, I changed the subject instead.

"So, just milk then?" I asked, nodding to her trolley which had a few bits and bobs in.

She was confused for a moment, zoning back into reality, before it registered in her mind and she answered, "Along with a few other things. And you?"

"Pretty much same," I said with a shrug.

Her eyes lingered in my trolley as she stifled a smile. "That looks like a lot more than a few things, Y/N."

I almost laughed. "Technically, yeah, I guess..." I met her curious gaze, explaining, "I'm having a meal with my sister, her boyfriend and my boyfriend at my place tonight. Cooking a lamb roast." She raised her eyebrows with mild surprise, making me shrug dismissively. "It's not that big of a deal, but there's a lot to prepare and I like things to be perfect, so yeah."

She licked her lips and nodded. "It sounds great. Good luck, I guess. I'm sure it'll turn out wonderful."

"Fingers crossed."

She chuckled, glancing at her shoes, making her dark hair fall in front of her like a curtain. When she looked back up, I couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked.

"I'll leave you to it then," she said, before redirecting her trolley around me. "See you whenever."

"See you." I nodded as she walked past me, shoulder brushing mine and leaving me startled at the weird effect she had on me whenever we spoke.

It didn't last for long though, so I brushed it off and continued to do my shop. The evening couldn't come soon enough, and I soon found myself entertaining my boyfriend, my sister and her boyfriend at my dinner table.

"So I was cooking us a nice meal, as we planned, and she ended up having a go at me because of the mess I made afterwards," my boyfriend, Teddy, was explaining to my sister and her boyfriend, Caleb. "That's why I don't try to be romantic anymore."

I paused from sipping my water, looking over at Teddy with an are you serious? look on my face. Y/S/N and Caleb laughed at Teddy's story, but I wasn't as amused as they were.

"Aw, c'mon, babe, don't be pissed off again," Teddy pleaded teasingly from beside me. "It's a joke. I'm joking."

"But that's not how it happened," I corrected him, before looking to the couple before me. "What Teddy means to say is that I had just cleaned the kitchen and told him that when he cooks, he should try to clean as he goes along so it's easier, but of course, he drops cream everywhere and I had to clean it out of the crevices of the counter. All over again."

Y/S/N and Caleb laughed at my retelling of the story, and Teddy frowned playfully as he looked my way.

"And that's definitely not the reason you're not romantic," I said to him promisingly. "When was the last time you even got me flowers?"

He tried to take lead of the conversation again, straightening up and asking, "When was the last time you got me flowers? Feminism, Y/N. It goes both ways."

He was never usually this obnoxious and it was irking me. Y/S/N and Caleb assumed it was all a joke, so were laughing it off, but I was starting to get frustrated. How could he try and make me look terrible in front of my own family?

"I bought you flowers two weeks ago when you got your promotion, remember?" I answered him with a raised brow.

"Damn, she got you there, Ted," Caleb said like it was a burn.

I subtly clenched my jaw and distracted myself with sipping water. Teddy sighed and tried to wrap an arm around me, but I pulled away slightly.

"Oh, come on, you're not mad, are you? This is all in good faith, babe," he said lightly.

I downed my water and looked between them all. "I think I'm gonna get some air. You guys enjoy your drinks."

They all chorused their disagreements, but I couldn't be bothered dealing with them when they were tipsy and annoying, so I ignored them and headed to the fire escape for a breather.

When I reached the railing, I sighed immediately, feeling like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Until I heard a creaking noise and jumped with surprise before seeing Wanda sitting on her side of the fire escape, drink in hand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she said apologetically.

I breathed out, turning around and leaning my back against the railing so I could see her better. "It's okay, it's not you. I just– I forgot you could be there. Used to living without a neighbour. It's taking some getting used to."

I forced a small smile to reassure her, before looking down and taking small breaths of fresh air. Teddy could get under my skin at times, tonight being one of those times, and it was happening more and more lately. Why couldn't he just be less... annoying?

"Is everything okay?" Wanda asked, and I looked up fo see her green-gold eyes glowing in the dark under the moon light.

"Yeah," I said with a nod. I glanced inside, seeing my three guests laughing it up like I was still there. I collapsed on my chair and stared into the bustling city ahead. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Wanda hesitated. "Didn't you have that dinner tonight?"

I leaned in the palm of my hand, mumbling, "Yeah. It's still going on. I just needed some air."

Wanda must have sensed there was more to my words – it didn't take a genius to see that – but to my relief, she didn't push on. All she said was, "Oh, okay," and stayed quiet.

The two of us sat there, in a comfortable silence, staring into the city and revelling in the moon's presence. It was beautiful out, though not a single star could be seen because of the city's pollution. Instead, the moon hung high above our heads and conflicted with the many street and building lights of New York City, thriving even past dusk.

I probably could have stayed there all night, preferring Wanda's silent yet comfortable presence to whatever was waiting for me back inside. But to my dismay, I was called back in and sighed quietly to myself.

"I should head back in," I excused myself, standing up to leave. But I lingered by the door, asking Wanda, "Have you eaten dinner yet?" She seemed puzzled with my question, and I continued speaking anyway. "I made a lot of food and have loads of leftovers I can't finish myself."

She seemed to understand what I was implying and shook her head. "That's okay, Y/N, thank you."

"Wanda, I insist," I said with a small smile. "It'll just go in the bin otherwise."

She was still reluctant. "Honestly, it's fine."

i wasn't taking no for an answer though. "I'll stop by in a bit to drop it off."

"Y/N, I–"

"See you then!" I exclaimed before heading back inside and leaving her no choice to deny it.

"There she is," Y/S/N called out to me when I returned. "You feel better?"

"Perfect," I said sarcastically.

She laughed. "C'mon, we're all sorry. Besides, Caleb and I have to go now, so we want to end on a good note."

Was I being too butt hurt? Probably.

"Right, sorry," I said, looking to them all, before saying, "Do you guys want any food to bring back with you?"

"You guys enjoy it," Caleb said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It was delicious though, Y/N. Thanks for the lovely evening."

"Anytime," I said with a tired smile, before leading them to the door and looking to my sister. "Let me know when you're home, yeah?"

She hummed in agreement, before pulling me into a tight hug. "Love you, Y/N."

"Love you, too," I returned with a playful eye roll.

After bidding them a goodbye, I was left alone with Teddy, who was surprisingly washing the dishes.

"This your way of apologising?" I joked, stopping by the sink.

He glanced at me with apologetic eyes. "Depends. Is it working?"

As I met his brown eyes, I thought back to how frustrating he was acting earlier. He must have been acting out in front of guests for some reason, but he wasn't always like that. Maybe I was overreacting.

"I'll let you know when you're done," I retorted, making him smile with amusement.

As he did that, I worked on filling some containers with leftover dinner for Wanda, being sure to include a generous amount of everything.

"Who's that for?" Teddy asked, noticing what I was doing.

"Wanda, my new neighbour."

"Never heard of her."

I gave him a knowing look. "Hence the word 'new'."'

He returned the stare. "What I mean is, I've never seen her around."

I shrugged, finishing packing the containers and stacking them to carry. "She prefers to keep to herself."

"What, like a weirdo?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, Teddy. She's just private. Introverted, if you will."

"Sounds like a weirdo to me..."

I chose to ignore him as I left the flat and headed to Wanda's. She opened up quicker than usual, probably since she was expecting me this time.

"Bon appétit," I joked, before holding out the takeaway containers. "It's lamb roast with veg, potatoes, some gravy and bread."

"You really didn't have to," she said, though accepted the food. When she glanced down at it, she added, "This is a lot for one person."

I couldn't help the smile on my face. "Enough for second's. You'll have to let me know if you like it. It's my best recipe."

She snickered, eyes meeting mine. "I'm sure it's delicious... do you want to come in?"

Stepping to the side, she looked to me with what I think was a hopeful expression. I felt bad when I smiled sadly, shaking my head.

"I'd love to, Wanda, but I've actually still got my boyfriend over and I can't really, y'know..."

"No worries," she was quick to reassure. "It's– no, it's okay, honestly. I just thought I'd ask."

It was the first time she'd ever asked and meant it, which meant she was finally getting comfortable with me. I would have preferred to go in, but I couldn't just leave Teddy, nor kick him out.

"Maybe we can hang out tomorrow?" I asked hopefully. "If you want, that is. Because I want to. But I don't want to just invite myself over."

She seemed amused as she nodded. "Tomorrow sounds great. Maybe I can make you dinner, as a thank you for this food."

I grew a little excited at spending a bit more time with the quiet, reserved brunette. "I'd like that."

She nodded, lips pursed into a suppressed smile, and glanced at the food in her hand. "Great. Well... have a good evening, Y/N. And thank you again for the food."

"Good evening," I returned, subconsciously memorising the rare smile she gave me, before leaving her to it.

When I returned to my flat, all I could think about was the next night and getting to know Wanda.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #marvel imagine #scarlet witch #wandavision #elizabeth olsen

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agape-bakery · 3 years

Note

Hello, could you write Lucifer, Levi and Simeon with a MC who isn’t fazed by anything(if that makes sense) like they could be threatened and wouldn’t care?

Thanks!

-😶‍🌫️

I am basing Luci and Levi's parts on Luke at HoL, and the TSL Quiz, respectively! Simeon's part is shorter than the others, I'm sorry-

Lucifer, Leviathan, and Simeon with a MC who isn’t fazed by anything

Lucifer

You think he would be shocked? He isn't.

He thinks you're either mindlessly brave or just stupid for going up against him, and in his demon form no less

Watching you look disinterested as he threatens you while you spread your arms for Beel and Luke made him a little madder had it not been Diavolo stepping in

As he takes the time to calm down and regain his thoughts, he thought that was a one-time thing, perhaps it was just you knew that what he was doing at that moment was a bad idea and didn't act upon it

But he soon realized that wasn't the case

With every threat and warnings he gave you, you didn't care and even told him to do it if he was serious

Mammon quivered on his seat and he wasn't even the one being threatened

Lucifer was....annoyed, to say the least

Had you not been so important to Diavolo's program, he would have done all the things that he threatened you about as soon as you challenged him

But as the two of you grew closer, he now sees that 'disrespect' as something special in you

Humans are scared of demons and the unknown, they're fragile little creatures who are scared of something as small as a cockroach

To see you standing up for yourself in Devildom might have you earn a little of his respect

But even if he thinks that he still says that you should be careful, he doesn't want you ending up in danger when the time comes.

"If you continue to provoke the demons, I might just hang you upside down the chandelier and leave you there."

Leviathan

He couldn't remember much when rage took over him, but he did remember how you acted as he threatened you

Watching you be so unfazed, not scared, or begging at his mercy got him way angrier than Lucifer

His full intent at that moment was to kill you had he not been stopped

After you became his Henry, he overthinks every time you're together

What if you don't care about him just as much as you did in the TSL Quiz? What if you're just secretly disinterested and not enjoy being his friend because he tried to kill you?

You'll need to reassure him that you only act that way to the ones who threaten you or ones who aren't important to you

Hearing you say that he's important completely made him forget about his past thoughts

The brothers encourages you that you do it often so he stops moping-

Levi promises to not threaten you ever again, in hopes that your opinion of him doesn't change

He knows you can handle yourself, especially when he's at your side but he gets worried sometimes

"It's fine, Levi. I don't really care about them anyway."

Levi only wishes he has that confidence but he's happy that his player 2 is strong enough to handle themselves

He knows how brave and strong humans are (even though he trash talks some of them online)

About how kids would stand up to their parents who's in the wrong (reminds him of Lucifer), about people coming out to friends and family, how a friend would protect others even if they're scared themselves

He doesn't tell anyone but he hopes that he could have the kind of self-esteem and not care what others think but it's simply his sin, he can't help it

He's aware of trolls and cyberbullies and such too, and they took a toll on his mental health and you helped him through it, telling them that they don't know the real you and they're just random people behind the screen who wouldn't even say what they're told in front of his face

He's really thankful that you're by his side, everything became much more enjoyable for him when you're around

Simeon

Honestly, good for you!!

So long as you don't feel bad for being unfazed, he's happy for you!

He's seen it himself how strong humans really are, even if they don't think that way

And you being unfazed by backhanded comments or insulting words only adds to that fact

Luke often asks you how you're so unfazed when around other demons, and even Simeon's curious

I see him as the type to care more than you

He's not angry or vengeful about demons but no one insults you like that

He gets affectionate and teases you just to see your 'unfazed' face, it's cute to him

He doesn't get offended like Levi when you're unfazed around him, he knows that some people have resting bitch face and can't control it

Honestly, if you ask him to fight someone, he might just do it because you don't-

He WILL pull someone's hair if you or Luke don't stop him (please stop him)

Speaking of fights, he always has this proud smirk in his face whenever he sees a demon threatening you and you not caring

He thinks it's really cool

Luke is concerned

"What if they get in danger?!" Luke exclaims, worry on his expression as he and Simeon bake cookies for you

"MC's strong. It's the one who's provoking them that's in danger." Simeon chuckles

Basically, you are the boss and he is the malewife- How romantic~ ❤️

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stardustprompts · 3 years

Text

the poppy war - r.f kuang sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !! some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw : drugs , death , murder , nsfw , prostitution mention , language

‘take off your clothes.’

‘why would anyone drug themselves before a test?’

‘you’re about to be a very lucky girl, sweet.’

‘wow that’s great. really great. Terrific.’

‘your folks are assholes.’

‘well fuck the heavenly order of things.’

‘don’t you have actual responsibilities?’

‘I don’t want to get on _____ ‘s bad side.’

‘you would make a terrible prostitute. no charm.’

‘what is so wrong with getting married?’

‘do you want to die?’

‘everything is spilling out of my head as quickly as I put it in.’

‘please do not commit spousal homicide.’

‘give me a way out of this shithole.’

‘hello, I’m praying.’

‘I seduced him with my nubile young body. you caught me.’

‘you can’t scare me into a confession, because I’m telling the truth.’

‘and that means you’re shit at your job.’

‘if you cross them—- if they even think you’ve looked at them funny—- they can and will hurt you.’

‘it’s easy to lose a language when you never speak it.’

‘you’re offending them with your very presence.’

‘they’ll make you an outsider, because you’re not like them.’

‘no matter what they say, you deserve to be here.’

‘I’ll kill you. I will fucking kill you.’

‘I went out in the sun once. you should try it sometime.’

‘oh, you’re the one ____ hates.’

‘you’d be a prick too if your family was both rich and attractive.’

‘honestly? I think he just comes in here to get high.’

‘I think you’re flattering yourself.’

‘unless you’ve got a weapon, don’t aim for the face. the neck’s a better target.’

‘we aren’t here to be sophisticated. we’re here to fuck people up.’

‘this is the only kick you’ll ever need, really. a kick to bring down the most powerful warriors.’

‘power dictates acceptability.’

‘he hasn’t done anything to earn my respect. all he’s done is act high and mighty.’

‘you’re nothing. you shouldn’t even be here.’

‘consider me bullied and intimidated, just let me sleep.’

‘he’s playing with her. he’ll end it soon.’

‘they’re good at fighting, but not much else.’

‘spend a lot of time looking at ____’s eyes do you?’

‘a betrayal of that sort would not have been out of character.’

‘come on, you belong here too.’

‘they’re not going to get rid of me like this. not this easily.’

‘I’m calm! I’m extremely calm!’

‘you’d rather kill your own people than let the opponent’s army walk away?’

‘you don’t let an enemy walk away if they’ll certainly be a threat to you later.’

‘he can’t stop raving about you.’

‘oh, don’t pretend to be bashful. you love it.’

‘you’re a walking disaster.’

‘anyone this obstinate deserves some attention, if only to make sure you don’t become a walking hazard to everyone around you.’

‘I heard he got drunk on rice wine last week and pissed into ____’s window. he sounds awesome.’

‘it’s me, your favorite person in the whole wide world.’

‘I do not have a problem. you are making up this problem for reasons unbeknownst to me.’

‘you’re killing the mood.’

‘they were weak as shit. scrawnier than you, even.’

‘you’re a real asshole. you know that right?’

‘your state of mind is just as important as the state of your body.’

‘sometimes you must loose the string to let the arrow fly.’

‘because I want to break his stupid face.’

‘he’s the most dangerous when he’s desperate.’

‘from this point on you’re just going to be a danger to yourself and everyone around you.’

‘you’re too reckless. you hold grudges, you cultivate your rage and let it explode, and you’re careless about what you’re taught.’

‘I knew I was the only one that could help him.’

‘they honed his rage like a weapon, instead of teaching him to control it.’

‘one urinating statue for my easily entertained friend.’

‘I don’t believe in gods. but I believe in power.’

‘one might say you’ve been obsessed with ____.’

‘don’t look to your left. pretend you’re taking to me.’ / ‘I am talking to you.’

‘we’re studying very weird things.’

‘I don’t actually know what I’m getting into.’

‘here is what happened: you called a god, and the god answered.’

‘you know that if you don’t get answers now, the hunger will consume you and your mind will crack.’

‘you’ve glimpsed the other side and you can’t rest until you fill in the blanks.’

‘supernatural is a word for anything that doesn’t fit your present understanding of the world.’

‘I’m supposed to take it as true that you’re a god?’

‘I’m not a god. I am a mortal who has woken up, and there is power in awareness.’

‘are we getting high? oh, wow. we’re getting high.’

‘ah. the law. so inconvenient. so irrelevant.’

‘we are not madmen. but how can we convince anyone of this, when the rest of the world believes it so?’

‘the price of power is pain.’

‘I understand the truth of things. I know what it means to exist.’

‘prey do not question the motives of the predator. the dead do not question the living. mortals do not challenge the gods.’

‘I killed for you. I would have done anything for you.’

‘I have seen the end of things. the shape of the world has changed.’

‘war doesn’t determine who’s right. war determines who remains.’

‘it’s alright. I know what you are.’

‘I thought I was the only one left.’

‘we have developed the power to rewrite the fabric of this world. if we don’t use it, then what’s the point?’

‘I don’t mess with that shit. it screws you up.’

‘I understand the appeal, I really do, but I like having my mind to myself.’

‘he’s a charmer. like a new puppy. you think he’s adorable until he pisses on the furniture.’

‘there’s no routine. no discipline. nothing you’re used to. am I right?’

‘so you’re the last of your kind. that’s sad.’

‘If you hold the fate of the country in your hands, if you have accepted your obligation to your people, then your life ceases to be your own.’

‘____ feared, and so he held you back.’

‘great danger is always associated with great power. the difference between the great and the mediocre is that the great are willing to take that risk.’

‘don’t ever let go on that anger. rage gives you power. caution does not.’

‘don’t give in... you’ve been so brave... but it takes more bravery to resist the power.’

‘the nature of this god is to destroy. the nature of this god is to be greedy, to never be satisfied with what he has consumed.’

‘so. screaming at rocks. is that, like, normal behavior here?’

‘fix this. prove your worth. do your fucking job or get out.’

‘I saved your life. doesn’t that make us at least a little square?!’

‘I was scared of you. and I lashed out.’

‘I thought I was better than you, and I’m not. I’m sorry.’

‘when I killed it, it felt like murder.’

‘look, I’m happy to discuss this, really, but I’m currently leaking life out three different wounds and I think I may pass out. would you give me a moment?’

‘well maybe ____ should get his head out of his ass.’

‘ ____ is more fragile than you think.’

‘look, asshole, I don’t need you to tell me what to do.’

‘they say he can read the future. shatter minds.’

‘you misunderstand the nature of our relationship. I am not your friend.’

‘he’s not human. he—- I don’t know what he is.’

‘but ___ was never allowed to be human.’

‘do you trust me?’ / ‘no. but that’s irrelevant.’

‘you don’t know what true suffering is.’

‘I have seen more than my fair share of suffering.’

‘that boy is beyond redemption. that boy is broken like the rest.’

‘I don’t want to be saved! I want power!’

‘that power will destroy everything you’ve ever loved. you will defeat your enemy, and the victory will turn to ashes in your mouth.’

‘we’ve missed something. something’s been laid out for us, but we can’t see it.’

‘fretting won’t make the dead come back to life.’

‘there was nothing human in those eyes.’

‘It was a nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up.’

‘I don’t need your pity. I need you to kill them for me.’

‘whatever it takes. swear it on your life. swear it for me.’

‘I won’t judge him. I don’t dare, because I don’t have the right. and neither do you.’

‘you asked me why I wouldn’t stop him. now you understand. you can’t stop an avenger. you can’t reason with a madman.’

‘I am afraid of what he might do in his quest for vengeance. and I am afraid that he is right.’

‘I am about to do something terrible. and you will have a choice.’

‘they give nothing to the universe, and the universe owes them nothing in return.’

‘you cannot survive my death.’

‘you’re trying to deceive me. you don’t get to deceive me.’

‘this is not the way. this path leads only to darkness.’

‘when are you going to stop being such a damn coward? what are you running from?’

‘you will turn the world to ash, and only demons will live in the rubble.’

‘you dress up your crusade with moral arguments, when in truth you would let millions die if it means you get your so-called justice.’

‘you have not cared about anything for a very long time. you are broken.’

‘I am terrified. but only because I’m starting to remember who I once was. don’t go down that path.’

‘your country is ash. you can’t bring it back with blood.’

‘I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you.’

‘you know the worst part? we’re so close to home.’

‘did you miss me? did you miss this?’

‘I just gave him some of his favorite medicine.’

‘resistance here means suffering. there is no escape. no future.’

‘you have nothing to fight for anymore’

‘what are you defending? you owe ____ nothing.’

‘we were disposable. we were tools. tell me that doesn’t make you furious.’

‘I am sick with fury.’

‘I will die on my feet. I will not die a coward. and neither will you.’

‘we could stay here. we could stay here forever. we wouldn’t have to go back.’

‘you’ll have to live with the consequences. but you’re brave ... you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.’

‘I have lost everything I care about. I don’t want peace, I want revenge.’

‘I don’t need to sleep. I need to feel nothing.’

‘do you want forgiveness? I can’t give you that.’

‘we avenged him. he’s gone, but avenged.’

‘you have to believe that it was necessary. that it stopped something worse. and even if it wasn’t, it’s the lie we’ll tell ourselves, starting today and every day afterward.’

‘aren’t you supposed to be a seer? do you ever see anything useful?’

‘we have an enemy whom we love.’

‘I’m going to find and kill everyone responsible. you cannot stop me.’

‘oh I’m not going to stop you.’

#rp prompts #literature prompts #literature sentence starters #sentence starters #rp meme #rp sentence starters #the poppy war sentence starters #the poppy war prompt #the poppy war meme

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zmediaoutlet · 3 years

Text

in support of Texas relief, @padaleckimeon donated $100 and requested Dean Jr. meeting Sam and Dean in heaven. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

(read on AO3)

When Dad dies, Dean takes a week off. It wasn’t sudden, or a surprise. Dad had been sick for a while, his body starting to fail him. At first Dean had been scared, and then he’d been angry. He was only twenty-four when Dad got the diagnosis and it wasn’t—fair, in some stupid but essential way. He’d barely graduated from college and, yeah, Dad was kind of old, older than a lot of his friends’ parents, but—he thought, somehow, that him dying just wasn't… applicable. Dad was just—there, always. Solid, supportive, kind of boring maybe but also stronger than anyone Dean had ever known, or would ever know, and it wasn’t right that he could just be sitting in his apartment midway through a novel and get a call and kind of sigh, because he was in a good part in the book, and then to sit up straight with his hair standing on end to hear Dad say, quiet, I'm sorry, buddy. We need to talk about something. That’s what he said, first. That he was sorry.

There were treatments, but not many. Dean had flown out and gone to a few of the appointments with the oncologist and Dad had been quiet, listening to the options. He’d researched a lot of this on his own, because Dean had done the same thing, and they’d both been nodding along during the options. Injections, radiation. Chemo. Dad had asked, polite, what the life expectancy was for each option, and Dean had watched the side of his face and not the doctor, and when the answer was given Dad had closed his eyes briefly, and then looked away from both Dean and the doctor, out the window at the snowy day, and Dean had known, then.

Dad made it past Dean’s twenty-fifth birthday. He had a party with his friends, at his girlfriend’s apartment, and they tried to keep his spirits up but it was a pretty shitty party, all told. The next day, his actual birthday, he flew back out to Dad’s house and he was in good spirits—had a mini-cake, even, with a single candle that he made Dean blow out—but he was thin, and his hair was growing back in snow-white and tender-soft, and when Dad fell asleep in front of the crappy old cowboy movie that Dean had picked just because he knew Dad for some reason liked it, Dean went out onto the porch into the nearly-springtime air and he cried, pissed at himself. Pissed at everything. Then just—unbearably sad, because he liked his current girlfriend but he didn’t think he was going to marry her, and that meant that whatever girl he did marry would be one his dad would never meet—if he had kids, they’d never know how his dad concentrated like a motherfucker on crossword puzzles and obsessed over documentaries and knew every single piece of the inside of that behemoth car in the garage and was just the smartest kindest most stubborn person. Just—the best person. They’d listen to Dean’s stories maybe but they wouldn’t know, because Dad would never meet them, and that was just—unbearable, that night. In the morning, Dad made oatmeal and Dean added a bunch of sugar because Dad’s oatmeal was inedible otherwise, and Dad smiled kind of rueful like he always did when Dean did that, and then Dad said, I’m sorry, again, kind of quiet, and Dean reached out and held his hand—thin, and the bones feeling frail—and he said don’t be sorry, Dad, and four months later, Dad was dead.

Dad was always pretty up-front with him about most everything, especially after he and Mom split up. When he was twelve, Dad explained the supernatural very carefully, telling him that he was safe but that other people might not be, and why. When he was thirteen, Dad told Dean that Hell and Heaven were both real and that there was, definitely, confirmed, a God, and maybe it wasn’t the same God that other people knew but that Dad said he was kind, in his own way. The person in charge of Hell, Dad said, was maybe less so, but she wouldn’t hurt Dean, ever. Dad said he knew that for fact, and he said it so certainly, looking Dean in the eye, that Dean believed him. When Dean turned eighteen, a few months from graduating high school, Dad took him to a tattoo parlor and said for maybe the first time in Dean’s life that something was non-negotiable, and Dean hadn’t cared because what other kid in the senior year was going to walk at graduation with a kickass demonic tattoo?

There were other things, though, that they didn’t talk about. Dad said one day a lot when Dean was little but then, when he was older and it was clear that one day would be never, he just said—I can’t, buddy. I wish I could.

After the week off, rattling around the old house, and the cremation with no service that Dad had insisted on, Dean drives out to the lawyer in Sioux Falls. She’s nice. Respectful but not cloying. The Samuel Winchester Estate that Dean is the sole beneficiary of is—a lot of money. A lot more money than he knew Dad had, or that he could have ever earned. Dad has assigned some of the money to go to charities, and to some people Dean doesn’t know—the lawyer doesn’t say who in the specific, but says they’re kids of some of Dad’s old friends. Dean didn’t know Dad had many friends, much less ones who’d get trust funds in inheritance. Aside from the stock options and the accounts and all the money left over, Dean inherits a list of assets. The house, of course. The Chevy in the garage, with the stipulation that he can never sell it. A safety deposit box, from which the lawyer has already retrieved the contents.

She leaves him alone, to go through the box. Neatly organized, like everything else in Dad’s life. File-folders of pictures, printed out all old-fashioned. Some of Dean when he was a baby. Some of when Dad and Mom were still together, leaning against each other, Dean hugged between them. Some—much older, creased and faded, stored in little plastic sleeves so they can't degrade. He recognizes a few from the framed copies Dad always had in the house. Some he hasn't seen. Most of them—almost all of them—are of his Uncle Dean, who died before he was born, and he looks especially at one that just—hits him in the gut, in this awful way where he has to sit there looking at the soothing taupe paint of the conference room wall before he can look at it again. Uncle Dean's facing the camera, sort of, although he's laughing about something and not really looking into the lens, and there's Dad, laughing too. He looks… young. Younger than Dean is now. He flips the picture over. Dad's handwriting, careful: 2006, Bobby's house. Almost fifty years ago. An entire life he didn't know. He thinks again of his imaginary future kids. These lives they have, grandfather to father to son, that overlap like a venn diagram but—not enough. Not close to enough.

What's a life? How to summarize, from beginning to faded end, in a way that would make sense to anyone but who it happened to?

Dad left letters, explaining, but he's gone and the context is missing. There are so many questions Dean wants to ask but he can't, of course, anymore. The first letter is attached to the key to the bunker, where he would never take Dean when he was alive, and on winter break from med school Dean flies from Boston to Kansas and rents a car and drives alone through the snowfields.

Dark, inside. He throws the big switch and the lights crackle, hum on, almost reluctant. He has no idea how it's getting power. Dust, but not as much as there could be. A library, a kitchen. Archives upon archives. Dad had explained, but what little he'd said both in life and in the letters didn't come close. It was home, he wrote, for over a decade. The only one we had with four walls, for our whole lives, although we didn't think of it that way. I didn't, at least. Dean doesn't know what that means but he looks into the bedrooms and sees… emptiness, plain bunks and old desks and funny lamps. I just picked a random room, Dad said, and as Dean's looking he really can't tell which was Dad's. Figures. Their house when Dean was growing up didn't change a bit, no matter how terrible that wallpaper was. It's only when Dean pushes open the door to room 11 that there's any personality, and he flicks the light and stands there blinking, surprised. Guns and knives on the wall. Books, piled up. Empty beer bottles crowded on the little table. Dust, but—not as much as there could be. He walks in, cautious, this feeling in his gut like he's in someone's home and they've just walked out, and could return any moment. A food bowl on the floor. A shirt flung over the chair. On the desk: more books and magazines and a folded actually-on-paper newspaper from 2024, and a job application, half filled out. Dean Winchester, it says at the top, in mostly-neat capitals, and Dean rests a hand on the back of the chair and feels… strange. He tries to picture it—the man from the pictures, Dad's brother, filling up this space. Drinking beer and reading pulp westerns and checking out—oh, weird, magazine porn. Dean shakes his head. Impossible.

In the letters, Dad said: Hunting was all we knew how to do. With everything we knew, it was our duty to use the knowledge the best way we could. I went back and forth on it. Your uncle never did, even if I know there were times he wished he—that we both—could be something else. I don't want that for you. I want you to live exactly the life you want for yourself. No expectations, okay? Not from me or anyone else.

There are printed files that go back a hundred years. More than. Paper files, but old SSDs too, with connectors Dean has to find adapters for. Dad: If you want to know what we did, it's digitized. I know I always said I'd tell you one day, but I never knew how to say it. I'm sorry for that. I always thought I'd be one hundred percent honest, if I ever got a kid, because of how we were raised. I didn't know how hard that could be. Stuff that you'd want to say, but when it came time to just open your mouth and say it there weren't any words.

Dad wrote up all the old hunts, it turned out. Simple notes about where/when/how, the kind of monster it was, the number of people who died and the people who were saved. The people they had to explain things to, who knew now about the supernatural underbelly to the universe. He noted, too, if there were injuries, and Dean reads with his hand over his mouth a long, long litany of Dean W. shot, right arm; Sam W. broken bone in hand; Dean W. concussion; Sam W. strangled. On and on. No wonder Dad didn't make a big fuss when Dean broke his leg in the fourth grade.

He sleeps in the bunker overnight, in one of the spare bedrooms that's not room 11. There's a fan on the ceiling, dusty office supplies on the desk. By lamplight he reads the letters, on his back on the stiff terrible mattress, his eyes stinging and past-midnight tired. Our lives weren't the kind of thing anyone would want, Dad wrote. I spent so long trying to get away from it because I thought 'it shouldn't be this way' – and I was right, you know? It shouldn't have been how it was. But it was that way, anyway, and in the end that was something I was okay with. We were making what difference we could. We were happy. A lot of people have it worse.

'We'. Dad hardly writes Uncle Dean's name but he's in every letter. We, we, we. Dad told Dean stories, of course, the dumb stuff they got up to when they were teenagers, or the (sanitized, Dean's sure) adventures they had as adults, but despite the pictures on the wall at home and the pictures in the deposit box and the whole life that's here, Dean can't—see it. Beer bottles on the table in the bedroom, one on either side of the tiny table. The shirt slung over the chair. We were happy, he says, but—how? Dean can't imagine it.

In the last letter Dad wrote, I think I'm writing this when I've got a month or two left. Dr. Hendricks isn't sure. I wish I had more time, to explain how it was. Who we were. I never told you the most embarrassing thing in the world, but I'm old and I'm not going to be around and not much will be able to embarrass me anymore, so screw it. (Fifty years ago I would have gotten really mad at myself for that kind of comment; more things age can fix.) There are books about us. There's a hard drive, in the bunker. It's labelled BURN THIS. (That's your uncle's handwriting.) They're true, more or less. Written by a really crappy, amateur writer, but he was a kind of prophet, and he knew everything there was to know about us, and he wrote books for about five years, based on our life and the real things we did. Some of it is exaggerated and melodramatic. A lot of it is just how it happened. You'll have to decide which is which. I don't come off too well in some of them but I hope you'll understand that the world… I don't know how to describe it. Somehow the world felt different, then. It was just us, trying our best. I hope it gives you some idea of the life we had. No matter what happened, I'm glad that life led me to you.

What's a life?

Dean marries. Not the girl from college but a woman, later. Red hair, blue eyes. Absolutely no sense of humor beyond puns. Hates cooking and has strong opinions on movies from the 1980s. They have three kids, a girl and then a boy and then a girl again. All dark-haired, smart. Dean gives the boy the middle name Samuel and his wife holds his hand, says it sounds great.

He's a doctor. He meets hunters. He sets bones for free and prescribes medication when needed and when it will be needed. A woman, last name Novak, calls him and says you know, your dad was one of the greats?, and he meets people—older than him by twenty, thirty years, with scars and dangerous lives and guns hidden in every corner, and he hears stories. Sam Winchester, who saved the world. Dean knows—he's read the books—but there are more years that the books didn't cover, more people who didn't die because of his dad's intervention. "They were the best," one man says, shrugging, and gets no argument, nods and shrugs from every hunter in the room, and Dean goes home that night and kisses his littlest girl where she's already tucked up in bed, and he thinks: what will she know, about who her grandfather was? Who their family is? What could she possibly know?

Dean's wife dies in her eighties. An accident. A broken hip, an infection following. Still happens, even in this new century. The kids are grown, have kids of their own, and the funeral is big, and there are people at his elbow who say to him we're so sorry and who share anecdotes of her life and who support him to his chair, even though at ninety he's perfectly capable of getting to his chair himself. He's a cranky old man, he realizes. She would've laughed at him. He thinks, inevitably, of his own father's death. Silent and unmourned, except by one. What's a life.

He writes letters, for his children. The estate is handled. He calls the oldest girl and explains to her that she's going to be the executor, and that there are things she has to keep. A key. A car. Pictures, so that her boys will know where they came from. "Of course, Dad," she says, placating a little because he's old and clearly starting to lose his grip, but she'll do it. She's a good kid. Dean learned how to raise a kid from the best.

When he dies, he's expecting it. The trip to the hospital. The monitors. He knows the pain meds even if he's retired and his doctor looks like an infant but she gives him the good stuff. It's—easy. A slipping away. He closes his eyes to sleep and there is a moment where he thinks with surprisingly clarity, this is okay, isn't it, and has the feeling of someone's hand laid on his, and then he sleeps, and doesn't wake up again.

He opens his eyes in an armchair, in a house that he doesn't recognize but that feels instantly familiar. Music playing, somewhere, and a gold-tinged afternoon spilling through the window, and tone-deaf singing from the kitchen. His mind feels clearer than it has in… Tears come to his eyes but it doesn't hurt. He puts his fingers to his mouth and smiles, breathing in slow, and thinks—well, this is it. Heaven.

Time is no longer time. Space is—immaterial. There's a house, not their house, but it's roomy and it has what he needs and the bed he crawls into with his wife at the end of a day is comfortable, and that's what matters, as he lays his hand on her hip where he used to lay it always, and she sighs against the pillow and squirms and tucks herself into a fetal pretzel, like she always used to. The spill of her hair red against the pillow. Her warmth, plush against his bones. She smells not of honeysuckle or vanilla but just like warm, human skin, the faint bite of salt-sweat at the nape of her neck, the must in the morning in thin bluish light when she turns over and finds him awake, and smiles. Incredible. The weight of her is real, and the spot between her breasts when he kisses her there is real, and he'd always believed in some distant way that what his dad had told him was true—that there was a heaven, that there would be some kind of justice after death—but it was distant, and academic, because of course there was a life to live and patients to care for and children to raise and a wife to bury and a death to get through. What a thing, to come to. This place, with her hair on the pillow, and her smell. He hadn't forgotten it, in the end, after all.

The house sits in some place that feels like South Dakota. Home, or close to it. A lake among trees. A distance between things. He reads, and plays games he barely remembers from being a kid, and he watches the Ghostbusters movies again because his wife insists and they are, he has to admit, still funny, but he makes fun of the weird museum guy anyway, and she kicks him where her feet are tucked in his lap, and he tickles her in retaliation, and then—well, the movie will be there, later, when they're done.

She rides her bike every day. One day she comes back and says she was just visiting her mother, and Dean sits up and says, "What?" But—of course. What's time? What's a space, between this shared slow heaven and another? She shrugs—his mother-in-law says hi—and he sits there on the couch with his game paused, watching her go into the kitchen and shake her sweaty hair back from her face, redoing it into the practical twist at her neck like she always does, and he thinks—okay. Okay, maybe now.

The bookshelf has every book he could want, and seems to know what he needs to read before he does. Raining outside, spattering gentle on the eaves, and his wife made a huge pot of tea and took it to bed upstairs and left him just a cup, and so he sits at the kitchen table with his cup of tea and opens the book—Home, by Carver Edlund—and reads it, lingering, even if he's read it three times before online, his thumb brushing over the cheap too-thin pages of this physical copy. There's a poltergeist, preposterous. The psychic, odd and familiar. The brothers, united, and he reads the next-to-last chapter very slowly, lingering, as they find the box of pictures, as they get into the car together. Drive off, to meet some new dawning day.

He finishes his cup of tea. Puts on a clean shirt, combs his hair. "I'll be back," he says, to his wife, and she blinks at him from her nest of blankets with her own book and then only nods, and Dean goes downstairs and gets into his car and finds the road, beyond the garden gate, and drives.

He doesn't know where he's going but that doesn't matter. He turns on the car radio and it's playing—oldies, but really oldies, the stuff that was old when he was little. What childhood sounded like. Farms appear, melt away. Trees rising, through hills. He sings along, under his breath, remembering: a roadtrip to his grandma's house, Mom sleeping in the passenger seat and Dad driving through the night, and Dad singing very, very badly, as quiet as he could, and Dean thinking even as a kid that this was some private thing, to see, and he had to be silent and not show that he was awake or it would disappear. That feeling, it crept up on him at the oddest times, when he was an adult, and later. That sensation of the armored tank of the car moving through the dark, and the silence around them, and the quiet music inside, and Dad, in a world of his own, entirely separate from the world he shared with Dean.

Another hill. Climbing a mostly-paved road. Not raining anymore but the sun coming in slanted gold through the trees. Distance, and a curve, and then: a house. Old-looking. Older maybe than the one Dean and his wife share. In front of it, a car. The car.

Dean parks. He gets out, and the air smells washed-fresh, a little fecund. Like summer. He puts his hand on the hood of the Impala and it's sun-warm and he tears up, completely unexpected, and has to sit on the hood and hold his hands over his face, his heart—full, in a way he's felt since dying, but not in this particular way, this way of feeling that he thought had mellowed, a lifetime ago.

So much for putting on a good face. He wipes over his mouth and dashes his eyes clear. A porch, with new-carved railings. A door, painted blue. He knocks, his body feeling empty and clean and young, terribly young, and before he's quite ready the door opens, and it's—his uncle, in a purple plaid shirt and paint-spattered jeans and grey socks, frowning at him, saying, "Uh, hi?"

He looks—almost exactly like he looked in the pictures. Maybe forty, lines beside his eyes and heavy stubble on his jaw. The age he was when he died. Dean opens his mouth, can hardly dredge up what to say, and then he hears a voice say, "Dean?" and Dean and his uncle both turn their heads to see—Dad, young too, completely shocked, standing on the far side of the porch in running gear with sweat slicking his hair back from his head, and Dean drags in air and says, "Dad," and Dad grins at him, that big creased dorky-looking dad-smile that Dean only got once in a blue moon, and he steps forward and they're hugging, then, and it's—heaven. That's all he can think. Heaven, Dad's arms tight around him, his shoulders slotting in under Dad's because—Dad was so tall, and this is where Dean fit and never would fit again once Dad was gone. Here, under Dad's arm. Like being a kid again.

Dad's hand on the back of his head. A startled, shaky, deep breath in, and then hands gripping his shoulders, and being shoved reluctantly back to have Dad look down at his face, serious and worried. "How long has it been?" he says. "Are you—you didn't—?"

"I was ninety-seven," he says, and Dad's eyebrows go high and he smiles, big and glad and real, relieved. He touches Dean's face and Dean smiles back, tears rising again for no reason and for so many reasons. "I look good, don't I?"

Dad huffs a laugh. "You look great," he says, and then his eyes lift over Dean's head, and Dean has to turn around because—

What to call him? Uncle Dean. Standing there with his shoulder against the doorframe, his mouth tucked in on one side. Like from right out of one of the pictures, returning Dad's look. His eyes drop after a second to meet Dean's and Dean feels this odd jolt, in his chest. Bizarre, to see. He's real. All Dad's stories, the wall of memories, the books, and here he is, in grey socks, looking all over Dean's face like he's seeing it for the first time. "Guess you got your looks from your mom's side of the family," Uncle Dean says, finally, and Dad says, behind him, "Nice, dude," and Uncle Dean shrugs, unrepentant, but with an unexpected dimple quirking into his cheek, and holds out his hand to shake, and Dean takes it and has another shock at it, warm, callused, firm, real—while Uncle Dean says, wry, "Well, I guess some introductions are in order, huh?"

Uncle Dean and Dad share the house. It's nice, inside. Old fashioned in a way that feels comfortable, as Dean's come to expect. (He wonders, in a few hundred years—will new arrivals to heaven expect old-fashioned arcologies?) Uncle Dean brings beers from the kitchen and Dad takes his without even looking, drinking in Dean's face when Dean's doing the exact same to him. He looks so young. Younger, maybe, than he was even in the few pictures Dean has of him being a baby, held tiny in the crook of Dad's massive arm—some past time, some time Dean doesn't belong to, but Uncle Dean clearly does. Dad shakes his head after a few seconds, huffs again, rueful. "I don't even know where to start," he says.

Uncle Dean rolls his eyes, behind him, and says, "How about you ask the kid how he's doing, genius." Mean, but he squeezes Dad's shoulder too, and Dad bites his lip, looks at Dean, his head tipping. Asking.

It's awkward, but only in the way Dean would expect. To see his dad after so long—and both of them dead—and to explain… what? A life. Being a doctor, meeting a wife. Children. Grandchildren. "Great-grandpa Sammy," Uncle Dean fake-whispers, "told you you were old." Nudging Dad, half-sitting on the arm of his chair. Looking proud enough he could burst, although Dean doesn't know exactly why.

"Are you going to make dinner or are you just here to heckle?" Dad says, looking up, exasperated, and Uncle Dean raises his hands, says, "Oh, I'm here to heckle," but he gets up, too, says, "You get tired of the inquisition, kid, we've got more drinks in the kitchen," and cuffs Dad around the back of the head before he disappears down the blue-painted hall—and music comes on, after a moment. The kind of music that was on Dean's radio as he drove. Comfort sounds that go deep into some space beyond his bones.

"He's a lot, sorry," Dad says, after a second.

"I know, I read about it," Dean says, and Dad blinks at him, mouth half-open, before he remembers.

They have dinner. Uncle Dean makes burgers, fries, a spinach salad that Dean and Dad both groan at, and he looks at them across the table with his burger in his hands and shakes his head. No salad on his plate, Dean notices. They talk but about—nothing. Uncle Dean asks if the Broncos ever won the Superbowl again and Dean tries to dredge up an answer. Dad asks what his wife did for a living. Dean wants to ask things and doesn't know how. There's time, he knows, but for now all he can do is—watch. Dad leaning back in his chair with a beer, smiling at him while Uncle Dean tells some probably well-worn story about trying to fix the Impala in a rainstorm, and Dad was pissed for some reason and so kept handing him the wrong tools. "It was too dark to actually read the grip numbers," Dad says, patient like it's the hundredth time, and Uncle Dean says back, immediately, "Who needs the numbers? You can feel the weight in your hand!" Old arguments, well-worn, in the well-worn house. The way they move around each other, washing dishes, putting plates away. The way Dad's eyes will jump across the table, half a second before Uncle Dean's even opening his mouth, a smile already waiting to be pushed back down.

When it's night he says he should get back to his wife. "I'd like to meet her," Dad says, "some day."

"Gotta see who's willing to put up with a Winchester," Uncle Dean says, eyebrows waggling.

Dad sighs but nods, too. Dean gets folded into a hug, there under the tuck of his arm, and then he hugs Uncle Dean, too, impulsive and just—wanting to, feeling like a kid. Uncle Dean startles but hugs him back right away. "You're good, kid," he says, quiet against the side of Dean's head, and Dean nods and says, "Thanks," for more than he can say other than that, right then on this particular day, and then he gets into his car and pulls away from the house and looks back to see Uncle Dean gripping Dad's shoulder again while they watch him move away—and when he's home, after a blurring drive that's long enough for him to settle himself, he comes up the stairs to where his wife's warm in bed and slides in beside her and she says, sleepy, "How was it," and he says against her hair, "Perfect," because—it was. It was perfect.

Dean comes alone to their house twice more, on days when he needs it and doesn't see a reason not to. He brings his wife, the third time, and Dad's extremely polite and Uncle Dean asks her about engineering and Dean enjoys it, from the couch, while she gets the same interrogation he did, and they're driving home with her at the wheel, his eyes on the passing trees, before she says, "They're an interesting couple," and it doesn't strike him, for what may be a mile of blurring distance, why that sentence wasn't quite right.

It should be a shock. It isn't. That it isn't should, itself, be a shock, but he sits with it for a few days, the easy rhythm of heaven sliding around them.

He goes to see his mother, finally. She's in a place on a lakeshore. Her first husband, kind but remote, giving them space. She presses his hands between her own and he goes through the list of answers to all her questions, smiling, feeling déjà vu, and then says, cautious, that he's been to see Dad. "Oh!" she says, and doesn't seem upset. "How is he?"

"Good," he says. They never married, his parents—Dad had told him, much later, that it just didn't occur to him to ask—and he knew they didn't resent each other, but there wasn't much closeness there. He didn't realize how little until he was married himself. Still, he's cautious as he says: "He and my uncle have a place. Uncle Dean, you know?"

Mom sits back in her chair. "Well, then," she says, soft. She's youngish, too. Fifty maybe, her hair shot with grey. "That sounds about right."

He doesn't know how to ask but there's no way to do it other than just—to ask. "What do you know about him?"

Mom smiles, slow, and looks out at the lake. "Honey, your dad's a good man, but I think you know as well as I do that he doesn't give a lot away." Dean follows her look. A boat, far out on the water. Not close enough to hail. "He didn't talk about his brother, much. That said more than I think he knew it did. All those pictures. Well, you remember." She shakes her head, looking down at her lap. "I resented him for a while. A dead man. Silly of me. But then I suppose your dad could have resented Luke, if he'd—cared more. Sorry. That sounds like I'm angry, but I'm not. There just wasn't much left in Sam, that's all. He loved you and he loved someone that wasn't here anymore and there just wasn't room for me, or at least not room for what I needed. I wished I could've known him. Dean, I mean. I would've understood your dad a lot more, I think, but then—I don't think I would've ever met him, if Dean were around."

When he gets home he pulls a book off the shelf. Frail, the spine cracked badly. Supernatural, the first book in the whole series. When Dad was at college and the whole thing started. He sits on the floor by the bookshelf and lets the cup of tea his wife brings go cold on the rug, and reads again and again the scene—coming down the stairwell, finding the car in the garage, going through the details of the voice on the tape, on where their dad (Dean's grandfather) could possibly be, and Dad says there's this interview he can't skip. His whole future, on a plate. In the story, it's Dad's point of view, and he looks at Uncle Dean and Uncle Dean smirks, and Dad thinks, This is exactly what I was getting away from. Dean drags his thumb over the page, looks at the shelf. All those books. All the years in them, and the horrors in those. Hell, and apocalypse, and none of it euphemisms or easy metaphor. All the things Dad wanted to get away from—and then all the years, after, where he stayed exactly where he was. And then—a lifetime later—to come back home to a house, with a blue door, and his eyes not bothering to follow his brother as he leaves a room, because he knows without doubt that he'll be back.

In bed, he asks his wife, "When do you think the kids will get here?" and she turns over and stares at him, and says, "Hopefully not for years?"

He shakes his head, folds his arm under his head. "Duh," he says, and gets her to punch his chest lightly. "Ow. I meant… I don't know. What do you think their lives will be? Like… who will they be? I can't even imagine."

She stops trying to lightly beat him and goes thoughtful. Her thumb finds the little scar on her chin and rubs it, as is her habit, and her eyes slip over his shoulder to the distance. "They'll be—them." He raises his eyebrows, and she shrugs, rolling closer. "I mean, what do you want from me? I knew Abbie for fifty-one years and I still think that girl's a mystery. When she's… probably a grandmother herself, now, I guess. Is she still at Notre Dame? Are she and Andre happy? Are the boys healthy and do they like each other, and did she ever get Jacob to stop drawing cartoon dicks on the walls?" Dean laughs—god, he'd forgotten that—and she smiles at him, props her head on one fist. Says, softer, "Did she live the life she wanted to have? I don't know. I guess when she gets here we can ask her, but we'll never…"

No, they'll never. Dean touches the scar on her chin and she focuses on him, instead of some other world they're no longer privy to. "It's a venn diagram," he says, after a moment. "All of us. Abbie, overlapping with you and me, and then us overlapping with our parents, and on and on, all the way back. I guess we don't get to know what's outside the center parts."

"Even if there's a hundred and four crappily-written books about the other parts," she says, raising her eyebrows, and Dean shrugs, caught. She grins, shaking her head at him, and then squirms in close, tucking in under his chin. Kisses his throat, sighs. "Why not stop at a hundred? Seems random."

"I don't know, maybe the publisher wanted him to stretch it out," Dean says, and she hums, and puts her nose on his collarbone to settle in. He smooths her hair back, away from her shoulder. His favorite book is Swan Song, probably. The final one, as far as most people knew. His dad, the hero, saving humanity and the world, but that wasn't the best part. The best part was the army man, stuck in the door. His dad, looking at that, and meeting his brother's eye, and that being—enough. Just that, and all the life it represented. Enough.

"Venn diagrams," he says, aloud, quietly.

"Yes, you're very brilliant, Dr. Winchester," his wife says, mumbling. "Now go to sleep."

He kisses her hair, and does.

#ffcc #wincest #dean jr #my writing #this is again just sort of a collection of paragraphs #and it's--mostly what you asked for i think?#but mainly it's me musing about the unknowability of parents and children #so uh #that's what i was able to manage #hopefully i'll remember how to construct a story soon lol

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gb-patch · 3 years

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Ask Answers: May 15th Part 1

It’s been longer than usual since our last answer session, so I’m answering a ton of questions today! It’s so big I split it into two parts. Thank you for the patience on getting a response to these.

Thanks for reaching out to us with your questions and kind words ^^!

Sorry if this has been asked before or isn't something you can say but is there anyway for Cove to confess in step 4? I wanted him to confess in step 3 and followed all the steps to make him do it but ended up texting my family instead of Cove at the end.

Yeah, Cove can confess in Step 4!

Hello! I heard that Cove is on the spectrum, albeit undiagnosed. As someone who is ND, this makes me UNBELIEVABLY happy. I literally was brought to tears! Thank you for that!

Out of curiosity, will Cove be diagnosed in Step 4? I have a strong feeling y’all won’t make it a HUGE deal/make it out to be negative, so I’m not worried about that whatsoever! I’m just curious just he’ll off handedly mention it? Or will it just not be touched upon at all (which is ok!)?

Either way is ok, I’m just curious!

I’m happy it made you happy! Admittedly, Cove simply being someone with autism that grew up not being diagnosed was something I included for myself. I didn’t really think anyone would notice or ask about it, aha. But players did start to have questions about his traits, so I started to talk about it outside of the game. It’s great to see it get such a positive response and now I do feel like having it be a non-topic may have been the wrong choice and bringing it up would’ve been good in terms of having positive representation for that. I don’t know if I’ll find a way to mention it in Step 4 now, with how far along the game is, but I am at least thinking about it when originally it wasn’t something I really even considered.

Hey! Just wanted to say thank you for Our Life. It's been a bright spot and a needed escape in what's otherwise been a crummy year. I know you just did a Q&A post but I figured I'd ask anyway. Was just curious about Step 4. Will it be similar to the other Steps in that it consists of several different moments or will it just be one long sequence?

Step 4 is shorter than the prior Steps because it’s just an epilogue rather than a full arc of a story. It’ll consist of scenes that all happen in a set row one after the other. There won’t be a collection of Moments to choose from. But it’ll still be very sweet and fun.

¡hola!, you see, first I want to say that I love Our Life! (°◡°♡) and I have 2 important questions, would Cove cry watching titanic? and what is the saddest part according to him? (sorry for my english)

Titanic would make him cry. He’d probably think the parts showing people who aren’t able to make it to the life boats/are choosing to stay and go down with the ship were the saddest.

Hello, I wanted to ask how much you earn with creating games? Like is it possible to make a living? Thank you >< <3

How much I earn varies a lot month to month based on Steam sales, Patreon backers, and how many projects are in full production at the time. It’s also hard to say how much I make historically, since that also changes dramatically year by year. But I do earn enough to work on these games full time! I really appreciate all the support that allows me to do that.

Hey!! I was wondering for the 18+ Our Life moment, will there be an emphasis on safety/comfort for all involved? I feel like there would be just going off of what the rest of the game is like, but I wanted to ask

Yes! Cove is a nervous boy himself and also super cautious about doing anything the MC doesn’t like, so clear consent from both is absolutely needed for anything to happen. It’s a conversational sexy times Moment with stops/starts so the two can talk about how they’re feeling, rather than a heat of the moment just going for it kind of thing.

Hey!! I was wondering how long the wedding dlc would be? Will it be broken up into moments, or just one big event?

It’s one long series of scenes all in a row rather than a collection of Moments to pick from. It’s the shortest and the least expensive of all the DLCs. It’s not super crucial to get and those who aren’t into big weddings can totally skip it without worry.

HELLO AMAZING DEVS 👋 i am hopelessly in love with the worst guy ever (jeremy king) and because of this i have a really stupid question: does he really hate people who are nice to him? TvT he’s too cute to be mean to istg it’s a miracle JB held the urge to be consistently nice to him bc just look at his FACE he is so cute! thank you for jeremy’s route it’s so lovely (and awful bc he’s scum 11/10) it gave me so much laughs LMAO i hope you guys have a good day!!

Haha, thank you. He doesn’t hate them but he’s certainly not pleased with them. Jeremy is either uncomfortable with or annoyed by people being sweet on him, depending on how they approach it. He’s far more comfortable with jerkiness. It lets him relax and he can be himself without it being a problem, since he’s also a jerk. He feels a level of guilt being such a little punk to kind people, not enough to be a better person but still.

Has Cove dated or been interested in someone other than MC?

Nope! He stays single over the course of the game if he’s not with the MC.

Is Step 4 more mature? Or it's gonna be set in similar atmosphere as Step 3?

Step 4 is a similar atmosphere as Step 3. Though, it’s actually kind of less mature-topic heavy than Step 3 since it’s just a ‘hey, let’s check in on the gang to see what they’re up to’ style epilogue rather than a story arc with serious issues.

will there be new music for now and forever?? or will the old our life music be reused?

It’s gonna be a brand new soundtrack. We’ll be opening up a job position for that soon.

Hi, is it okay if we use the assets in Our Life (like the sprites) for fanworks or fan content content, like edits?

Sure! Just as long as you don’t use the assets made by those artists to make money.

Quick clarification on Step 3 choices: I hope I didn't come off rude (because I LOVE the game, really!!), I was just curious because the intro threw me off at times. For example, you could choose how you felt about Elizabeth in Step 2 (Dinner), but during the Step 3 intro, it says that you got closer to Liz and I didn't get a choice in it.

For the example, it can’t be helped that you’re closer to Liz in Step 3 than you were in Step 2 because she’s inherently closer to the MC regardless of whether you liked her or not in Step 2. Her feelings are out of your control and the game isn’t so dramatic that you can push her affection away and not let her bond with you, haha. But ‘being closer’ can still be relative. For some people maybe that means you’re best buds now and for others it might just mean you’re not fighting all the time any more. If there’s other parts you want to mention, feel free to let us know.

Did the illustrator for Our Life change?

We have many OL artists! The main artists who set the game’s style haven’t changed, but there’s multiple other artists who help finish assets.

So Miranda's type is confident and outgoing, huh? So...does that mean Terri's her type?? 👀

Haha, sorry for the late reply on this. As you might’ve seen in our post yesterday- yeah that is her type.

Hey! First, I just want to say I've really enjoyed how detailed OL got with gender identity and sexuality and how respectful the topics were handled! It's been so wonderful to play since the experiences could be close to my own (I'd be lying if I said I didn't tear up at parts). Second, I was wondering, would future games explore the topic of polyamory? I'd love to see more visual novels allow room for that and I saw you've explored the topic before.

Keep up the amazing work! ♡

Thank you! We do want to include polyamory in at least some of our future projects. Floret Bond, which might be what you’re referring to when mentioning how we’ve explored the topic before, is on hold unfortunately. So right now I’m not sure when something might release or what will be the first game of ours to come out with poly relationships (we might do something else before FB is done). We’ll have see how things ends up coming together.

Hey um. I feel like im not allowed to ask this on the private discord cuz people will yell at me but why is there so much focus on OL2 and not finishing OL1 stuff? I like the new people but i kind of want to finish cove's story and get derek and baxter stuff first. didn't people pay for it?

I’m sorry, I don’t understand entirely what’s making that situation a concern. There’s a channel in the discord for critique where no one is allowed to comment back. People can voice things they’re worried about without any way for others to push back on it. And the two teams working on the OL games are different. We try to post pretty often about how we’re hiring brand new people to start on Our Life: Now & Forever. The OL1 team is all still working on OL1 like normal. There’s only more updates on the Patreon for OL2 because the expansions to the first game are mostly script-based at this point while OL2 is just starting to get all its art, which means there’s a lot more to show off as previews.

Also, there was a Kickstarter for the first Our Life, if that’s what you mean by people paying for it. But one of the stretch goals was to start Our Life 2 early, before fully completing Our Life 1, so that the new game could be out sooner. It wouldn’t make sense to stop doing OL2 work because that would be going against what backers were promised. Maybe you didn’t get the full story before and hopefully this clears it up!

Hello! I know it's up to every player but.. What is your recommendation for playing order? Did you ever had any timeline events planned?

I didn’t make the events with a planned timeline. The events got made simply as I had ideas for them and then I just kind of organized them from left to right on the screen in an order to space out more dramatic ones between more lighthearted ones. Any order the player wants to go with is totally valid!

Hi! It's Step 4 a paid dlc or update? And how long it's planned to be? Ps. Love the game!

The Step 4 epilogue is free! The Cove Wedding DLC does cost money, though. Those are planned to be shorter than the usual Steps/DLCs.

Will we have options for what sort of job the MC might have by the time step 4 takes place?

Yeah, you can. It’s not super exact or detailed, but there are options about it.

Is there a pandemic in Our Life world, or is it just in a better timeline with no pestilence?

Our Life is pandemic-free! That didn’t exist when we began working on the project and it’s not something we’d like to feature in this story now that it has unfortunately come along, aha.

Hi, you said that you can play tic-tac-toe or hangman with Cove in Boating if you're sick/scared but I keep getting tic-tac-toe. Am I doing something wrong?

After being sick/scared you have to continue to be upset/unwell. If you calm down and decide to just chill you’ll end up playing tic-tac-toe.

Hi, GB Patch! Since Lee was initially commissioned to only appear in two Steps does this mean she won't appear in the Wedding DLC? I really like her character so it'll be a little weird to not have our cousin at our wedding, aha.

She is gonna be in Step 4/the wedding DLC after all! We’re still working with her creator to make sure it fits with what they wanted.

Is Sunset Bird based on a real place? Asking for a friend, not trying to move there or anything. 👀

It’s based on small beach towns in So-Cal, but not one specific town you could go see in real life, I’m afraid. It’d be nice if it was real, though.

—– —– —– —–

We released a new FAQ! It answers common questions and we’ll keep adding more to it. Please check there before sending an ask. FAQ Also, if you prefer to just see the main posts without all the asks/reblogs, feel free to follow our side account instead: GB Patch Updates Blog

#our life #Our Life Beginnings & Always #Our Life: Now & Forever #ask #gb patch #gb patch games #xoxo droplets

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odos-bucket · 3 years

Text

Bruce Being Super Protective of His Kids in Their Out-Of-Costume Lives Pt. 2 Re-Write

Basically this story with a little bit of extra angst injected in

Jason isn’t particularly well adapted to the kinds of social gatherings that Bruce’s position within the city demands they participate in. He attends his first event a few months into his stay at Wayne manor. He goes in fully expecting it to be terrible, and is not disappointed.

The old ladies trying to pinch his cheeks were something that Dick had warned him about. His tone had been light, like maybe it was something that he thought was funny, or was trying to think of as funny. But Jason doesn’t like to be touched, not by people he doesn’t know. He's only just starting to feel okay about casual physical affection from his new family. He doesn’t think Dick was trying to scare him exactly, but he accomplishes it anyway.

From the time the shindig begins he’s wound so tight he’s practically vibrating. He has no idea how he’s supposed to act at something like this. Things he’s never thought about before are suddenly tormenting him. He can’t figure out how to stand, or what he should be doing with his hands. He’s never been self conscious, but now he’s in this stupid room, wearing this stupid suit, surrounded by these stupid people, and it’s making him feel awkward.

The first time somebody tries to touch him he flinches away violently. He doesn’t mean to; it’s just what happens. It earns him a series of incredulous looks, from the man who had made the mistake of putting a hand on his shoulder, and a few other people in the vicinity.

Jason relocates himself quickly, not that one corner of the large room is really any better than any other.  The next time someone tries to touch him, it’s his face. He had already decided that he didn’t like the woman in question before it happened. Her voice is an annoying pitch. Her words are all condescending. And even before reaching out for him she had been standing way too close.

If the proximity hadn’t been enough to put him on high alert the patronizing way she spoke to him certainly would have done it.

When her fingers come to press against his chin- as if she wants to turn his head to examine him- he pushes her away. Again, he doesn’t mean to do it exactly. It’s an instinctive reaction (and a pretty reasonable one, he thinks).

This time, however, he gets more than a few suspicious stares. The movement itself had been subtle enough not to draw any attention he didn’t already have. But the woman replies with an outraged squawk, that suddenly brings dozens of eyes onto them, and sets Jason’s heart racing at a panicked pace.  He freezes. Being stared at had been pretty high on his list of things to avoid tonight. And now people are talking too.  “Why you little-“

“What happened?”

“Wayne’s little rat-“

“Did you just hit her?”

“Delinquent-“

“Did he just hit her?!”

The woman he shoved looks like she might be about to slap him, but he’s honestly less concerned about that than he is about the mix of curious and indignant bystanders drawing closer. They’re not surrounding him really, but it sure as hell feels like they’re trying to, and Jason’s had enough experiences being surrounded to know that it never leads to anything good. At the moment he’s having a hard time processing anything beyond the terrified impulse to lash out again, not to hurt anyone, just to get them away, so that maybe he can get away.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Oh god, Bruce. Jason’s not surprised the scene got his attention, but he’s a little startled to hear a much darker tone than his regular civilian voice.

Every muscle in his body that wasn't already tense tightens up, and heat flares at the back of his neck. He doesn't want to be in trouble. He doesn't even really know what being in trouble means in this new life yet, and he's been hoping to put off finding out as long as possible.

Bruce forces his way through the crowd. Some of the onlookers redirect their attention away as he approaches. A handful of voices from different directions make overlapping attempts to answer his question. Jason hears something about how he’s, “not as well behaved as your last stray,” but isn’t looking up in time to see how the comment makes Bruce bristle, and just feels the warm shame that he wishes it didn’t ignite in him.

Bruce reaches them in seconds, takes in the woman’s body language, and immediately drags her several feet back from Jason. When he speaks, he manages to sound like Batman (at least to Jason’s knowing ears), even without the voice modulator.

"You will never put your hands on my child again.”

Jason's not sure what he had been expecting Bruce to say, but that wasn't it, and hearing it gives him whiplash, makes his heart that had already been beating in his throat stutter to a halt.

“I didn-“ the woman begins. “Your urchin-“

“Did you touch him?” Bruce's voice is deceptively calm.

“I was only-“

“Yes or no.”

“I didn’t hurt him,” she scoffs.

“That isn’t what I asked.”

Jason wants to say that it doesn't matter, that it isn't a big deal, because really it shouldn't be. He shouldn't be afraid to be touched; it's just one more thing about him that so glaringly doesn't belong. But he's still not sure whether or not he's in trouble, and if he is then he's learned from experience that it's better to keep his mouth shut.

“Mr. Wayne, the kid attacked her. All she did was touch him.” One of the few onlookers who isn’t pretending not to be paying attention pipes in.  Bruce’s jaw grinds, as he looks slowly between the man who had spoken, and the woman.

“So you did touch him?”

“This is ridiculous!”

It's somehow the worst thing she could have possibly said. Jason already knows he's ridiculous. He can feel it with every fiber of his being, and the confirmation that everyone else can apparently see it too sparks a stinging sensation at the back of his throat.

“On that we’re agreed.” Bruce slips further into his regular public persona as he speaks, and Jason flinches slightly at his words.

Bruce looks over the remains of the audience they’d acquired, making pointed eye contact, silently subduing any conflict before it can arise. By the time he turns back to where the woman had been standing, she’s hurried away. The sparse handful of people still shooting them scandalized glares are at least a little easier to ignore.

Bruce approaches Jason, who forces himself to keep his eyes open and his gaze up.

He's getting ready to apologize. He hadn't wanted to embarrass Bruce, or to get him in trouble with whoever the hell those people had been- with his luck probably someone important. He doesn't want to be in trouble either, but he recognizes that that ship has probably sailed already. He just wishes he knew what kind of punishment to expect; he hasn't been here that long, and adult behavior is hard to predict.

“Are you okay?”

Jason blinks, and apparently it takes him longer than he thinks to process and respond to the question, because Bruce asks it again.

This time he nods, figuring it’d be pretty stupid for him not to be okay.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Bruce asks.

Jason knows that it's not really a question; he's already done enough damage for the night after all. He nods his head. He’s not totally sure how to get back to the manor from here- he still doesn’t know this part of town very well- but he’s sure he’ll be able to figure it out before Bruce wraps up here.

“Let’s get our coats.”

Jason looks up in surprise, but Bruce is already walking away.

Right. He guesses it makes more sense that they’d be leaving together. He's noticed that rich families like to keep any shows of conflict private. One of the consequences of which being that he still doesn’t know how the hell these people discipline their children.

He nods again, cheeks still burning with embarrassment.

They leave the party without further incident, catching a cab back to the manor.

Bruce observes Jason’s defensive body language as they slide into the backseat.

“Are you sure you’re okay, lad?” He asks slowly.

He receives a tight nod in reply, and sighs.

“Do you want to help me get a better picture of what happened in there?”

Because what he’s looking at isn’t okay. He’s seen his witty, outgoing child shut down like this before, and it usually means he’s scared. Bruce needs to know if he was spooked by something innocuous, or if he’s going to need to hurt someone.

Jason turns from being seemingly caught off guard by the question, to apparently desperate to answer it in the span of a second.

“I swear I didn’t hit her! It was just that she-“ He shakes his head, apparently deciding against whatever he’d been about to say. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? You’re not in trouble, Jason, not unless I’m really missing something here.”

That earns him a long suspicious look.

“I don’t like to be touched,” Jason grumbles after a minute.

“And people shouldn’t feel entitled to touch you.”

He learned pretty quickly when he first became a parent not to assume that adults would always respect children’s boundaries. And he knows that Jason has been hurt. He’s not sure exactly how, or by who, but the signs are all there. And he shouldn’t have to deal with being forcibly reminded of that by the carelessness of others; he’s a kid for god’s sake!

“Is that all-“ He stops himself from finishing the question. “People shouldn’t feel entitled to touch you,” he reiterates. “Can you tell me if anything else happened? If anyone hurt you, or threatened you?”

Jason starts to shake his head, but stops with his neck angled slightly toward Bruce.

“I thought she was gonna hit me,” he admits.

Bruce’s body tenses up. He had noticed that himself when he’d first entered the scene, and what he had read in her body language had made him see red.

“And then there were so many other people,” Jason continues. “And they were talking, and staring at me. It had me feeling kind of boxed in.”

“I’m so sorry, son.”

Jason looks a little startled up at him.

“Just to be clear,” he says slowly. “I’m not in trouble?”

“You’re not in trouble,” Bruce confirms. “I promise I will always do whatever I can to protect you from people like that.”

#batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #jason todd #batdad #batman and robin #dc #my writing #dcu #batman #*John Mulaney voice* ''that's the same story twice''#i know #shh

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Hi welcome back! Hope you’re doing well. Random question b4 my request, bc I want to give back as thanks for the great writing: are you a coffee, tea, or hot chocolate/cocoa drinker? I prefer hot chocolate and sweet tea.

How would the m9 respond to an SO/friend with a kid? Where the reader is a single parent with a child of at most 10 years old. Thanks :)

- 🐋

This took a while to write so sorry for that 😅. I'm so glad you like my writing! I love writing for you lot. I'm definitely a hot cocoa person. I hope this one turned out to your liking 😘.

----------

Caleb:

You never hid the fact you had a child from Caleb, if anything you’re proud of them. Though, you do know in certain company it’s better to keep that fact a secret for safety reasons. Caleb understands that fully he respects and admires you always put your child’s best interests first.

This is why when you began getting more involved with Caleb you kept your child out of it and took a good amount of time before introducing them to the wizard. You didn’t want to set expectations for both sides and wanted to protect and preserve them both should what you and Caleb had going not work out after all.

It’s no surprise Caleb is good with children. He takes a gentle approach when it comes to all things good in this world to the point of almost being afraid to ‘ruin it’. You assured him many times he was in the clear and how could his heart not warm at the curiosity and search for knowledge your child was already displaying.

With your permission Caleb began teaching your child some things here and there. The theoretics of magic and eventually simple spells. The smile it brought to their faces while they worked couldn’t make you happier. Caleb definitely earned your child’s approval to stick around.

Beau:

At first Beau is surprised. She knows children come from somewhere of course. She’s not stupid but actually tying a child to their parent let alone being very close to that parent is a whole new story. Especially learning you raised your child on your own and seeing you want to provide what’s best for them definitely earns you her respect, not having a parent with the same motivation herself and all.

The day of introductions came along and as expected Beau is the most awkward, trying not to be a terrible influence and be on her best behaviour, makes her very much on edge. An perceptive child picking up on this awkward behaviour calling her out leaving her cursing like a sailor, then apologising for said curses, even less of a surprise. You had to assure her many times it was fine.

Beau makes a promise that no matter what, she’ll make sure you’ll be returning to your child and make sure they get the love and support they deserve. Growing up without loving parents is one thing. Growing up an orphan another. She’d do everything in her power to keep you safe.

It may have began with joking comments such as ‘finish your homework’ to ‘do the dishes’ and ‘be nice to your parent while I’m gone’ but it didn’t take long before Beau was helping them with their homework or cleaning dishes after you cooked.

Absolutely treats your child as someone capable of making decisions of their own and speaking for themselves. No baby voices or cooing like too many adults tend to do even to a child regardless of their age. Your child has thoughts and opinions of their own and for the love of all that is sacred, can speak for themselves. You’re glad Beau treats them with a sense of maturity.

Fjord:

Fjord may have done what can only be referred to as a spit take the moment you said you had a child. Clearly didn’t expect it but giving him time to recover and process he’d ask all sorts of questions. What are they like? What do they like? And of course the dreaded question about your partner.

Supportive Fjord for the win. After finding out you’re on your own he’d always have your back, checking in with you and making sure you’re doing alright amidst the stress of the world and raising a child in the mix of it all. He’d open up to you about his past and being raised without any kind of proper parental figure. What he wouldn’t have done to have someone like you around when it counted for him.

Introducing them went rather smoothly. Fjord is surprisingly good with children. While some might find him intimidating, he nearly melted when your child embraced him as a thank you for looking out for you. Fjord was happy to answer any and all questions your child asked.

Whenever you’d be swept away for a while having to leave your child in the care of your trusted ones, Fjord would tell your child to ‘have the wheel, sailor’ which they would return with a salute before biding you both goodbye. Fjord slowly transcended into a bit of a father role and none of you minded in the least. You were happy.

Veth:

When she spoke of her boy she left behind you pitied her. A child shouldn’t be without their family. They deserved to be loved and sheltered from the darkness of the world until they are ready. When you told her you had one of your own Veth really felt safe to confide in you with her worries and troubles. You bonded over it really, drowning out all the sad stories and struggles with fond memories of both your families. Sadly for you, that would only extend to you and your child, the memories of their other parent perhaps somewhat painful to share.

You wondered what it would be like if your children ever got to meet in person. Then the day came. Nicodranas really had a way of bringing families together didn’t it? First time may have been a bit strange, your child being fully aware of Veth’s need for a disguise with her son, played their part well. Both you and Veth may have wiped away some tears when Luc claimed your child their big sibling from now on, and you his third parent.

Work and life are a difficult combination for Veth. She wants nothing more than to be with Yeza and take care of her boy but as long as the world’s in peril and her other family needs her just as much if not more, she’ll have to leave them behind. Knowing that you and your child are with her husband and son when she can’t be eases her mind a lot and she’s forever grateful.

It goes unsaid that Veth’s time away from children and in the presence of adults, specifically the Mighty Nein may have left her a bit out of the routines of raising a child as shown by giving Luc and your child fireworks, promising them to teach them how to shoot a crossbow and more. You did have to hold her back a little with the help of Yeza and keep things a bit more contained for their safety, but mostly yours.

Jester:

Of course upon learning you’re raising your child all by yourself Jester goes onto a rant about how her and her mom were always alone and how Marion used to read stories to her and do you read stories to your child and do you sing to them and draw with them and give them hugs and cuddles after nightmares and… You have no idea how that girl doesn’t run out of breath.

Jester couldn’t be anyone but herself when meeting your child asking about their interests, do they like to draw and sing and dance and… You ran out of breath just listening to her talk and your child replying in similar fashion. Everything went quite well and the two of them got along. Jester would be singing them songs and teaching them how to draw resulting in many dick drawings randomly appearing in your books, notes and other places, followed by mischievous giggles.

Having bought your child a lovely green cloak and letting them pretend they’re the Traveler here to spread mischief and fun and leave behind many phallic shaped objects drawn and carved wherever possible sent you all in laughing fits but you swore you heard a more masculine chuckle and saw a green cloak fade into the shadows. Odd.

What only can be summed up as the combination between big sibling, fun wine cupcake aunt and mom, remained a constant in your life and you couldn’t be more thankful to have that ray of sunshine be there for all of you.

Caduceus:

Caduceus is very calm and collected about learning you have a child. Less of a response than perhaps anyone else perviously unknowing. “That’s nice.” He’d nod. You’d almost start thinking he may have been able to read it off you for some reason. He confirmed he was, the tired eyes, and the recovery of exasperation at times but sense of accomplishment and reward was a look he had seen from his own mother many times.

“You’re weird.” A stare down ensued. “You’re weird too.” Eyes sharpened. “I like you.” The ice broke and smiles followed. For a moment you were afraid that maybe your child wouldn’t like the odd firbolg and thinking about how you would keep friends and family separate but a wave of relief went over you knowing that all was well between the two most valuable people in your life.

You’d be handed a fresh cup of tea by your child, a plate of snacks by Caduceus, all too innocent smiles on their faces but all it took was a raised eyebrow from you to have them come clean about the kitchen being covered in soil from the two of them potting new plants, turning your home and garden in what can only be described as a greenhouse and rather ask for forgiveness than permission. You weren’t mad of course, but did make them clean the mess they made.

You’re still unsure whether or not it was a good or bad idea introducing your child to the extended Clay family as you got some insight in the chaotic prank wars between the siblings and all together sibling rivalry among some of them. It’s all fun and games of course but some moments you were glad you weren’t the one pelted with mud pies by Calliope or pushed into the spring by Calliope herself. Instead you could just enjoy Clarabelle’s bug collection with your child while laughing at the other’s being covered in mud and soaked to the bone.

Yasha:

Poor Yasha doesn’t recall much of a family. In reality she never really felt like she had one until the circus, and after them the Nein. When she saw you and your child together, the unconditional love you had for each other, she felt like she finally realised what she had been missing, and something she perhaps would never have. She learned the value of such a relationship.

Yasha has no idea how to interact with children at any level and by default tends to treat them as either adults, or cute animals. No in between. It took her some time to get the hang of it but you couldn’t deny both you and your child rather enjoyed the unconventional relationship.

The wastes and hardships of Xhorhas may force a child to grow up quickly in the tribes but that doesn’t mean children outside of those regions have to learn how to wield a sword and what bugs you can and cannot eat or how to best skin an animal before eating it… It took some convincing why that was not a necessary skill to learn at the tender age of ten.

You compromised with Yasha on the fighting in the end, persuaded by the woman and your child to allow her to teach them some fighting basics because someone’ has to have your back when Yasha’s not there. You did manage to hold them off on purchasing a sword perhaps too large for your child despite the ‘they’ll grow into it’ reasoning and instead settled on training equipment instead.

Mollymauk:

Oh Mollymauk, nothing surprises this one. He felt rather sorry for you going through the struggles of raising a child alone. He may not remember his own family but he’s traveled far and wide enough to know the hardships. He knows poor Toya and he admires you for being able to do what so many can’t or won’t.

It goes unsaid that Molly is perhaps the worst of influences when it comes to people but you’ve seen him interact with Toya before and know well enough he’s a kind and caring soul who wants only the best for those who can’t just yet fend for themselves. It’s a good foundation that leads to a better person. He jokingly claims himself proof of that through the carnival and him ‘being an absolute asshole’.

Molly’s soft side really does come out whenever he’s around your child. He doesn’t deliberately censor himself but tries to contain certain words and avoid certain subjects that should never be discussed around your child knowing you’d appreciate it and if he does let something slip and your child ask questions he’d gently explain it as certain things should definitely not be described in gory detail to someone of their age.

This circus man is not afraid to put on a show in any circumstance and will happily do so to cheer you or your child up whenever you’re feeling a bit down or overworked. Whether he’s making a fool of himself, giving you bogus card readings, juggle his swords or tell the most ridiculous stories ever he’d do it without a second thought because it brings you and your child joy. You’re part of his family and he’d go to hell and back again for you.

#critical role #critical role x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader #beauregard x reader #fjord x reader #veth x reader #nott x reader #jester x reader #caduceus x reader #yasha x reader #mollymauk x reader #critrole x reader

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sapphicmsmarvel · 3 years

Text

Being His Top Girl

masterlist

HP masterlist

-You were a prefect.

-Had top grades.

-You were the Slytherin everyone loved. You were constantly receiving questions as to why you were in Slytherin.

-To which you responded with, “it’s because I wait for someone to piss me off before that side shows.”

-You were also the first female captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.

-After being the Captain of a bunch of dumbass boys, you started mainly looking at female players.

-If they happened to be better than the boys, then so be it.

-They tended to be better anyway.

-To say Fred was proud of you was an understatement.

-When you two would verse each other, you were both hella competitive. But it was out of love.

-You two were the reason the Slytherin and Gryffindor team got along so well. Oliver won’t admit it, but he adores you and admires your leadership style.

-Fred also wasn’t stupid enough to “let you win”, you two established early on in your relationship that you would play true to your skills and not downplay them.

-There was a photo somewhere of you and Fred wearing the other's jersey and cape. You two were posing funny. Molly took that photo at a quidditch match.

-Sometimes, Molly did root for you. So did Ginny. But Fred didn’t mind.

-You were his Slytherin and he knew you could kick his ass.

-Draco pretended to hate, he had a respect for you but he didn’t show it. He wasn’t outright cruel. Because you were part of his house, he honored that and if someone messed with you, he dealt with it.

-Didn’t stop him from being a little shit though.

-It made things worse when you were Muggleborn.

-Your mom was a Gryffindor, your dad a Muggle.

-Because of the Muggleborn status, it made things harder. Especially being in Slytherin, there were quite a few assholes. And sometimes, they did knock you down.

-You came to Fred crying (you had access to his common room, the Gryffindors liked you), you were lucky that the common room just had Ron, Hermione and Harry. They saw your tear stained cheeks, Ron panicked and ran to his brother's room.

-Hermione got you to sit down, Harry grabbed a handkerchief. “It’s alright.” Hermione said, “just breathe.” She said as she stroked your back.

You heard the rumbling as Fred came down the stairs, you heard their voices talking, “can I have a minute alone with my girlfriend, Hermione?”

“Of course, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you were helping her.” Harry and Hermione left the room.

“Hello, love.” He said kissing your hair, “what’s wrong?”

“Those fucking pureblood enthusiast pieces of shit.” You said throwing the handkerchief on the table.

“What’d they say?”

“They were like ‘oh you’re not a true Slytherin’ and how I only got my status because I cheated, or slept with a teacher, or I’m a girl and that’s why I get away with shit. I didn't even do anything!” You sobbed. “I’m so fucking sick of everybody doubting me.”

His heart ached for you, his blood was boiling, and he was itching to hurt someone.

But you were his top priority always.

You looked at him, “am I weak for letting these things get to me?”

“Absolutely not.” He said immediately, “you are the smartest, most talented, woman and if anybody has earned these things, it’s you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He kissed your forehead.

-The next day, without you knowing, he sought out Draco and told him about what had happened, then said, “I don’t know if you know about what’s been going on and how they’re bullying her, but I can’t be there. Make sure they stop.” Fred hissed.

“I had no idea. I’ll make sure.” Draco said.

-Fred truly was your biggest fan.

-He admired your strength, the fact that so many people have attempted to knock you down. You do a brave thing, you cry it out then face the day as if it didn’t happen.

-When asked who the strongest women he knew were once, he responded with “my mum and girlfriend.”

#fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x you #slytherin #harry potter

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fktonofwhatnow · 4 years

Note

The Rhys/Tamlin 180 in ACOMAF makes me mad! Like there’s wasted potential there, even if Rhys is endgame. The concept of after the happily ever after is actually pretty cool. There’s real potential in looking at how Tamlin and Feyre deal with the trauma of Amarantha. Having two people realized they’re not right together while still respecting each other is a more adult take than “surprise, Tamlin sux now”, and allows for Feyre to actually make real choices and grow. What's your ACOMAF rewrite?

Damn YALL ARE SPOILING ME WITH THE TAMLIN ASKS ☺️☺️ thank youuu for the ask @havenfable

THIS IS AGREAT POINT TOO WAIT WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT ALLOWING FEYRE TO ACTUALLY MAKE REAL DECISIONS !! YOUR BRAIN !! you guys are spectacular eat a cookie you have earned it

Ok my thoughts are not quite coherent rn so I’ll try to make sense. I’ve tried writing this like 4 times and every time it just doesn’t work so bear with me here thank you I love you ok here we go.

Ok I’m gonna start by saying that there is something to be said about Feyre as the narrator and her being an “unreliable” narrator of sorts. The story is about her, told from her perspective. I don’t expect her to have objective views of what happens around her. one thing I found interesting was that she said in conversations with people that she knew Tamlin was struggling, but when we would be listening to her internal monologue, when she thought of him it was mostly to blame him for not knowing she was struggling. (or if he did know, he didn't do anything about it) So like, same thing with the whole thing with Rhysand's mom and sister, we don't know what Tamlin thinks or feels about the situation because he doesn't talk about it and Feyre never asks. (But oh DAMN Sarah should not have given me room to speculate.) Like, UTM broke Feyre right, she tells us that much. Why are we not allowed to believe that it destroyed Tamlin too.

Here we are again, just like with Rhysand's family. I don't blame Feyre for literally needing help, and I do blame Tamlin for not helping her, but to a degree. I hated how the whole situation was handled like Tamlin was shit for not trying to help Feyre (even tho he was, just not in the way she needed), but then Feyre literally not lifting a single finger to try to help Tamlin is ok because he's a man and he can just suck it up and take it. ???? No ? That's not how we handle trauma? Like, my homeboy is fighting a losing battle against this shit and he's the one who's gotta fix everything for Feyre?

But like you said, just a tiny little bit of helpful communication would have done wonders. How about a lil, "hey you ok?" ???? LETS TALK ABOUT IT! Let's talk about how we're falling out of love, let's talk about what Tamlin experienced under the mountain, let's talk about what Feyre experienced under the mountain, let's talk about how maybe we were never good for each other and how we move on with our lives from that! POTENTIAL !! LETS HAVE THEM GROW "Surprise! Tamlin sucks now!" bitch how. Literally how. How did this happen. How did we get here. Tell me. I want to know SJm. Stop being a coward and tell me. You know what, I'll do it for you.

Damn this is about to be super duper long I'm so sorry.

Alrighty guys once again, I love Tamlin with my whole chest, but I do put a hefty chunk of this on him. From what SJm tells us about Tamlin, he is a fearful individual. His responses to fear are either to freeze or to explode. Both extremes hurt people around him. His actions hurt people, and his lack of action hurts people. Also, for as often as he says the word sorry, he doesn't really show any signs of change or improvement. While I understand that yes , changing your behavior is hard, especially if you're not getting help and don't know how, Tamlin still could have tried a little more, pushed just a little harder, and yes, he could have been better.

But Tamlin is scared. He's scared of things outside of his control, he's scared of change, he's scared of people he loves leaving him or getting hurt. I'm willing to bet he's scared of himself, and rightfully so. He lashes out and it only ever hurts people. I can't believe he's blind to it. When he destroys the study, he's clearly afraid he hurt Feyre.

(i think I’m gonna do my acomaf rewrite headcanons in a different post, every time I try to write them here it doesn’t flow oooof lemme know if thats something you want ahahah I could talk about this shit forever)

And like, being subject to someone else's fear is stifling. I don't blame Feyre for getting the hell out of there.

BUT AT THE SAME TIME, I know I've said this before: in my opinion, Tamlin has the best depiction of trauma in the whole fucking series. PTSD is a bitch and Tamlin is losing to it. The thing I loathed about acomaf/the beginning of Acowar is how Tamlin isn't given help and then treated like an absolute asshole for it. SJm could have done so much if she had Tamlin learn to ask for help. We can't all just have a Rhysand who knows every thought we have. Sometimes we have to ask for help, as much as we don't want to. That would have done wonders for Tamlin's character arc. And I think that he should have leaned heavily on Lucien for that.

Now look, Lucien deserves a lifetime of free chiropractor visits to relieve the soreness from carrying the entire series solely by himself on his own back. If I'm the one to pay for that for him, so be it. I would do anything for this man.

Lucien deserved so much better than to be bulldozed by the narrative. I refuse to believe that he would let Tamlin use him as a doormat. Lucien deserved to tell Tamlin off on his behavior ok. Lucien deserved a fucking backbone that he had all of acotar and then SJm decided that he was the character who got to suffer for the decisions of every other characters so they didn't have to. Stupid. (At this point I wouldn't be surprised if Rhysand's cum from having sky sex with Feyre fell directly on Luciens face. That's how much SJm likes pummelling him)

Lucien deserves to be strong and tough and emotionally available, especially for Tamlin. I don't think he deserves to be abused by his best friend. I've read fics that make Tamlin like this jackass who's not sad at all that Amarantha forced him to whip his best friend. Are you fucking kidding me. I feel like if Tamlin was going to cling like hell to someone through all of the shit before, during and after UTM, it should be lucien. But no SJm needs us to know Tamlin is a bad guy now. He hurts everyone with no remorse!!! What a villain!!! That was a sin.

Acomaf deserved to be two people talking about how maybe this relationship wasn't going to work out. This book deserved to be Tamlin getting up the courage to as Lucien for help. This book deserved to be Lucien always telling Tamlin that he would be there for him and us getting to watch the two of them overcoming their hardships together. This book deserved to be Feyre choosing her own path, choosing her own family, choosing to live her life as she wanted.

But nah. Rhysand's got a fat cock and uhhh y'all need to like it more than y'all like Tamlin's dick. Also Rhysand is a feminsisist. So suck it.

(If this book was really about giving Feyre a choice, SJm would let her make actual decisions that actually impacted herself and the story instead of just having Rhysand give her two extremes with one of them being obviously the right choice and then tell her whatever she wanted to do was her choice. Feminism.)

Did any of that make any sense. Any at all. No? Yeah I didn't think so anyways I've spent like a week on this I'm tired and I wanted to get it out there. Acomaf was a mess but at least it wasn't Acowar hahahahaha

#anti acotar #anti sjm #anti feyre #anti rhysand #anti inner circle #lucien vanserra #tamlin #lucien deserved better #tamlin deserved better #anti tamlins trash character arc

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9worldstales · 3 years

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MCU “Thor”: Who’s to blame for Thor’s banishment?

So I’ve seen around people blaming Loki for Thor’s banishment and…

… I can’t help but wonder if they realize that, by saying so they aren’t just pinning the blame on the wrong person but they’re doing a HUGE, GIANT SIZE disservice to Thor.

But let's list sources used for this first.

SOURCES MENTIONED:

Movies: “Thor” (2011), “Thor – The Dark World” (2013)

Comics: None mentioned

Direct-to-video animated film: None mentioned

Motion comics: None mentioned

Books: None mentioned

Novels: “Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor” by Alex Irvine (2015)

Webs: None mentioned

Others: “Thor” old movie script, Interview “Director Kenneth Branagh and Kevin Feige Interview THOR”, interview “EXCLUSIVE: Screenwriter Don Payne Talks Thor!”, Interview “SDCC 2010: Chris Hemsworth Interview THOR”, Video “Thor (2011) Chris Hemsworth Kill Count”

Although “Thor” is meant to be an origin story for both Thor and Loki…

Kevin Feige: The movie, very much, is an origin of Loki, almost as much as it is an origin of Thor. We had to ride that balance. There were drafts where Thor took over too much, and there were certainly drafts where Loki became too prominent, and I think we found a nice balance that is clearly the origin of both of those characters. [Director Kenneth Branagh and Kevin Feige Interview THOR]

…the focus was mostly on Thor and his journey to learn humility.

I mean, this is not MY interpretation of the story, it’s basically what everyone involved in the production says the story is about. Thor is unworthy, the banishment is just, from it he learns humility and becomes worthy again.

Don Payne: Whereas we’ve got an extra-dimensional being once worshipped as a god by the ancient Norse who’s banished to earth and stripped of his powers to learn humility, all set amidst the Shakespearean intrigue of a dysfunctional royal family. You just have to find the things that make Thor timeless and relatable as a character. It certainly helps that he’s charismatic and likeable, albeit flawed. He’s banished for good reason, but I think people will want to go on the journey with him and root for him to find redemption — particularly with Chris Hemsworth’s performance. [EXCLUSIVE: Screenwriter Don Payne Talks Thor!]

Kenneth Branagh: That story arc of the flawed hero who must earn the right to be king is in our piece, but what’s key is the stakes. There, it’s Europe and England, and here, it’s the universe. When that family has problems, everybody else is affected. If Thor throws a fit and is yelling at his father and is banished, suddenly the worlds are unstable. [Director Kenneth Branagh and Kevin Feige Interview THOR]

Chris Hemsworth: At the beginning of this film, he’s certainly a brash, cocky warrior who’s about to inherit the keys to the kingdom, and his father thinks that he’s not ready. It’s the journey of him learning some humility through the film. I think he’s one of those people who has his heart in the right place. He’s doing what he’s doing for his family and to protect the kingdom, and he thinks it’s the right way to do it. It just happens to be a very aggressive way of doing it, which probably isn’t the right way. It’s about tempering that raw emotion that he drives off most of the time, into the right direction. [SDCC 2010: Chris Hemsworth Interview THOR]

And in fact Thor makes a 180° turn from how he started.

The boy then man who insisted he wanted first to kill all the Jotun then give them a lesson is the one who sacrifices his chance to meet Jane again to save them.

Young Thor: When I’m king, I’ll hunt the monsters down and slay them all! Just as you did, Father.

and...

Thor: March into Jotunheim as you once did. Teach them a lesson. Break their spirits so they’ll never dare try to cross our borders again.

versus

Thor: You can’t kill an entire race!

The man who said his father was an old man and a fool, becomes the one who says there will never be a wiser king than Odin.

Thor: And you are an old man and a fool!

versus

Thor: There will never be a wiser king than you. Or a better father. I have much to learn. I know that now. Someday, perhaps, I shall make you proud.

The man who returning from Jotunheim was too busy to care for how Fandral got hurt so that it was Odin who had to say to get him to the healing room, is the one who, once back to Midgard, first worry about having his friends getting Heimdall on the healing room and then about what he’ll do with his brother.

Odin: You cannot even protect your friends! How can you hope to protect a kingdom? Get him to the healing room! Now!

versus

Thor: Get him to the healing room! Leave my brother to me.

The man who thought his father’s lessons were wrong, then admits his father was right.

Thor: While you wait and be patient, the Nine Realms laugh at us. The old ways are done. You’d stand giving speeches while Asgard falls.

versus

Thor: Neither did I. My father was trying to teach me something, but I was too stupid to see it.

The man who first was told by Loki going to Jotunheim was madness and did it anyway then tells Loki how destroying Jotunheim is madness.

Loki: Thor, it’s madness.

versus

Thor: Loki, this is madness.

The man who would start a fight just because he was called ‘princess’ versus the man who kept on refusing to start a fight with Loki even after the other hit him four times and only does so when Loki threatens Jane.

And then there are the comparisons that got lost because some scenes got cut. For start an even better comparison, in which another man calls Thor "Princess" and Thor this time refuses to fight.

Jotun: Run back home, little princess. [Thor stops in his tracks. Loki goes white. He knows what's coming.] Loki: Damn. [In one quick move, Thor pulls Mjolnir, swings it, and KNOCKS the Jotun clear across the plaza. The Asgardians reluctantly draw their weapons, gather into a circle around Thor. Volstagg looks around at the angry Jotuns approaching them.]

versus

Drunk townie: You were in the diner with that hot girl. [Thor doesn't like where this is going.] Drunk townie: I wouldn't mind her doing a little research on me. [He laughs. Thor is annoyed.] Thor: I have no quarrel with you. But she's a lady. You should be more respectful. Drunk townie: And you should shut the hell up, princess. [Selvig looks to Thor, concerned that he's going to lose it. But, to his surprise, Thor remains unaffected by the Townie's baiting.] Thor: I will not fight him. Drunk townie: Then it'll be easy to kick your ass.

Or like the deleted one in which Frigga said that Thor believed to be ready… when in the end Thor will realize he’s not.

Odin: Do you think he’s ready? Frigga: He thinks he is. He has his father’s confidence.

versus

Thor: There will never be a wiser king than you. Or a better father. I have much to learn. I know that now. Someday, perhaps, I shall make you proud.

You might remember Thor smashing a cup because he wanted another drink… well there’s a deleted scene in which, just before the Warriors Three and Sif reach Midgard, he brings a cup to Izzy in payback for the one he broke.

Thor: This drink, I like it. Darcy: I know. It’s great, right? [Thor hurls the empty mug at the ground, SHATTERING it.] Thor: (CALLS OUT) Another! [ISABELA ALVAREZ (60), the diner’s proprietor, glares at Thor from behind the counter.] Jane: Sorry, Izzy. Little accident. What was that? [He doesn’t understand. The other patrons stare at him.] Thor: It was delicious. I want another. Jane: Well, you could have just said so. Thor: I just did. Jane: No, I mean, ask nicely. Thor: I meant no disrespect. Jane: All right. Well, no more smashing. Deal? Thor: You have my word. Jane: Good.

Versus

As the group finishes breakfast, Thor looks at the mug in his hand, gets an idea. Thor: [About a cup] May I have this? Darcy: Sure. Thor: Thank you. Please, excuse me. [Thor leaves. In front of her diner, Isabela prepares to open for the day. Isabela sweeps the front porch. She looks up to see Thor approaching. She eyes him suspiciously. He offers her a MUG.] Excuse me, Isabela. Isabela: Oh my gosh. Thor: To replace the one I broke. Please, forgive me for my behavior. Isabela: Okay, thank you. Thor: if I may, I’d like to come back here for more of yours splendid "coffee". Isabela: Any time.

And then you might remember how Fandral was hurt in Jotunheim and it was Loki and Volstagg who helped him, while in a deleted scene we’ve Selvig being hurt and Thor helping him.

And so on and on and on.

Thor started one way, this caused his banishment and the banishment changed him.

If we go and say Thor didn’t deserve to be banished, that it was all Loki’s ploy, we ignore how Thor before was an unworthy person and after he became a worthy person. We turn Thor into a person who’s ALWAYS worthy, regardless of him acting one way or its exact opposite but for some reason was misjudged and punished unfairly and never really had to change because he was perfect as he was.

We turn Odin into a fool who punished a worthy son for crimes he didn’t do and then took the punishment back not because Thor changed, but because he realized he made a mess.

The idea Thor’s banishment is Loki’s fault is against the authors’ intentions, damages Thor by stripping him of his growth and, ultimately, it’s totally false, so trying to pin the blame on Loki so as to make him look bad is simply wrong.

Although Loki did some things that triggered Thor’s reactions, Thor wasn’t completely and utterly brainwashed. It was Thor’s decisions who ended up bringing those consequences and Loki had no idea Odin would go as far as banishing Thor.

In a deleted bit Loki says Odin normally ALWAYS forgive Thor.

Fandral: Well, if he doesn’t show up soon, he shouldn’t bother. Odin looks like he’s ready to feed him to his ravens. Loki: I wouldn’t worry. Father will forgive him. He always does.

From Thor’s reaction to his banishment it’s clear it’s the first time he got such a punishment and that he assumed all he had to do to be forgiven is to retrieve Mjolnir.

The novelization is not shy to say that:

Odin had always favoured Thor because Thor was a warrior, just like him… [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

The Warriors Three and Lady Sif clearly follow Thor because they don’t think it’ll end up in Thor being banished for disobeying Odin’s orders even though they know he shouldn’t have done it.

This proves it was the first time Odin reacted as such to Thor’s disobedience.

But let’s dig more into the story.

Loki yes, caused the coronation to be delayed by having three Frost Giants sneak into the vault and attempt to steal the Casket.

His purpose was:

Loki: That was just a bit of fun, really. To ruin my brother’s big day. And to protect the realm from his idiotic rule for a while longer.

Loki has no reasons to lie to Laufey about this. The ‘a while longer’ clearly imply he didn’t expect it was permanent. If he had said ‘to have him banished forever’, it would have affected Laufey just the same, he wouldn’t have judged him worse.

Thor’s reaction to the invasion is entirely Thor’s.

Thor: The Jotuns must pay for what they’ve done! Odin: They have paid, with their lives. The Destroyer did its work, the Casket is safe, and all is well. Thor: All is Well? They broke into the weapons vault! If the Frost Giants had stolen even one of these relics... Odin: They didn’t. Thor: Well, I want to know why! Odin: I have a truce with Laufey, King of the Jotuns. Thor: He just broke your truce! They know you are vulnerable! Odin: What action would you take? Thor: March into Jotunheim as you once did. Teach them a lesson. Break their spirits so they’ll never dare try to cross our borders again. Odin: You’re thinking only as a warrior. Thor: This was an act of war! Odin: It was the act of but a few, doomed to fail. Thor: Look how far they got! Odin: We will find the breach in our defenses and it will be sealed. Thor: As King of Asgard.... Odin: But you’re not king! Not yet.

Loki doesn’t even talk here. Thor, despite Odin thinking the opposite, insists they should just attack Jotunheim until Odin reminds him he’s no king.

This is relevant because if the coronation has concluded and the Jotuns had found on their own the way to get into the Vault, Thor would have waged war against them. This is what he wants to do and discussing things with Odin doesn’t change his mind, Odin merely forces him to shut up with his ‘I’m the king’ card.

Originally he would leave slamming the door behind himself, a sign he was still upset. We don’t see this, but we see him he’s still upset enough he turns a table upside down.

Then he has a discussion with Loki.

Thor: It’s unwise to be in my company right now, Brother. This was to be my day of triumph. Loki: It’ll come. In time. Thor: What’s this? Loki: If it’s any consolation, I think you’re right. About the Frost Giants, about Laufey, about everything. If they found a way to penetrate Asgard’s defenses once, who’s to say they won’t try again? Next time with an army. Thor: Exactly. Loki: There’s nothing you can do without defying Father. No, no, no. I know that look. Thor: That’s the only way to ensure the safety of our borders. Loki: Thor, it’s madness.

It’s true, if Loki had revealed he had been who orchestrated the break of the Frost Giants instead than telling him he also thought they were a threat, Thor might have calmed down. But this is not excuse enough for how Thor disobeyed Odin’s order, and only proves Thor wasn’t fit to be king right there because he insisted on going to Jotunheim even though Loki also reminded him this means defying Odin.

This is a serious matter but the key of it is that Thor wanted doing it before and still wants to do it now. He just can’t control his own wish to fight the Jotuns even if his father told him no. He’s not thinking. He’s not a common warrior, he’s the man who’s meant to be king.

If it takes him so little to wage war, then he’s unworthy of being king.

And does Loki really want for him to go to Jotunheim?

Not in the slightest, he knows it’s madness, in fact, believing Thor can’t be stopped, he tries to have him tattled out to his father.

Fandral: Well, at least he’s only banished, not dead. Which is what we’d all be if that guard hadn’t told Odin where we’d gone. Volstagg: How did the guard even know? Loki: I told him. Fandral: What? Loki: I told him to go to Odin after we’d left. He should be flogged for taking so long. We should never have reached Jotunheim. Volstagg: You told the guard? Loki: I saved our lives. And Thor’s. I had no idea Father would banish him for what he did.

In a deleted scene we see that as the group is about to ride toward the Bifrost Loki leaves them for a moment to talk with a guard. He’s not lying when he says he warned the guard.

The novelization digs a lot in how Loki didn’t want them to reach Jotunheim and in how Odin KNEW Thor would just do something, so it’s entirely possible Thor would have acted even if Loki had disagreed with him or had told him nothing.

“Why did he always seem to get into trouble because of his older brother? Wasn’t he supposed to be the wiser one? Odin has expressly forbidden that they enter Jotunheim. Yet it wasn’t the first time Thor had done something reckless. And it wouldn’t be the first time Loki was powerless to stop him.” [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

Loki had made a decision. True, he could not dictate his brother’s actions, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t continue to make plans of his own. As the others checked and double-checked that they had everything they would need for the journey to Jotunheim, Loki slipped away. When Loki rejoined the others, they were on their way to the Observatory. Hogun gave him a curious glance, but he ignored it. What he had done was none of their business. [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

They were on their way to Jotunheim. And what would happen once they got there was not in the hands of fate, but in the hands of his impulsive brother and his warrior friends. Loki would not be able to manipulate events there. He had to trust that the arrangements he had made would be enough for them all to survive. [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

Odin spent an uneasy night and felt no better in the morning. He had not seen Thor since their argument in the Vault. There had been shouting in the banquet hall as Thor told his friends what had happened, but Odin had heard nothing since. Frigga had tried to reassure him that Thor’s temper would ease and this would blow over, but Odin knew better. His son felt himself to be king already, whether the ceremony had been completed or not. He would take action. It was his nature. Odin hoped only that the action would not cause more problems than it solved. Just then, a guard rushed to him, and Odin’s misgivings were proved correct. Thor had taken his friends and journeyed into Jotunheim. Odin felt a deep well of fury rise up within him. Thor has deliberately disobeyed his orders. So, too, had Heimdall, who should not have let anyone pass on the Bisfrost – especially not a war party going to Jotunheim. “Tell the barn master to have Sleipnir and my battle gear to be readied immediately,” he ordered the guard. [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

Once in Jotunheim Laufey notices Thor wants to be there to wage war. He even warns him that if he keeps this up he would unleash something terrible… and it’s not Thor but Loki who accepts Laufey’s offer for them to leave, Thor doesn’t accept it even if they’re outnumbered and risk being all killed because, as Laufey said, he craved for battle.

Laufey: Your father is a murderer and a thief! And why have you come here? To make peace? You long for battle. You crave it. You’re nothing but a boy trying to prove himself a man. Thor: Well, this "boy" has grown tired of your mockery. Loki: Thor, stop and think. Look around you, we’re outnumbered. Thor: Know your place, Brother. Laufey: You know not what your actions would unleash. I do. Go now, while I still allow it. Loki: We will accept your most gracious offer. Come on, Brother.

Ultimately, even if Laufey and Loki had almost persuaded Thor to leave, all it takes is a small provocation and Thor starts attacking Frost Giants.

Jotun: Run back home, little princess. [Thor stops in his tracks. Loki goes white. He knows what’s coming.] Loki: Damn. [In one quick move, Thor pulls Mjolnir, swings it, and KNOCKS the Jotun clear across the plaza. The Asgardians reluctantly draw their weapons, gather into a circle around Thor.]

Loki is clearly not happy with his brother’s actions, he didn’t want this. It’s Thor who decided to do this anyway and, during the battle, we see that Thor is in a great spirit as he destroys a Frost Giant after another for a total of 145 Frost Giants (you can see the dead count in the Youtube video “Thor (2011) Chris Hemsworth Kill Count”).

Through the battle first Sif and then Loki TWICE will urge Thor to leave, they’re outnumbered they’ll end up getting killed if they remain there and it gets no better when Fandral gets wounded.

When Odin shows up Thor is all for continuing the battle.

Thor: Father! We’ll finish them together!

This is not Loki dictating his moves. This is all Thor and ultimately it’s Thor who argues with his father once they’re back, which is the last straw for Odin.

If Thor had kept quiet or had acted sorry Odin might have still forgiven him. He does not.

Thor: Why did you bring us back? Odin: Do you realize what you’ve done? What you’ve started? Thor: I was protecting my home. Odin: You cannot even protect your friends! How can you hope to protect a kingdom? Get him to the healing room! Now! Thor: There won’t be a kingdom to protect if you’re afraid to act. The Jotuns must learn to fear me, just as they once feared you. Odin: That’s pride and vanity talking, not leadership. You’ve forgotten everything I taught you about a warrior’s patience. Thor: While you wait and be patient, the Nine Realms laugh at us. The old ways are done. You’d stand giving speeches while Asgard falls. Odin: You are a vain, greedy, cruel boy! Thor: And you are an old man and a fool! Odin: Yes. I was a fool to think you were ready.

This is no Loki needling Thor, this is all Thor, this discussing matching the one he had in the Vault with Odin previously.

And, credits when it’s due, at this point Loki tried to interject.

Loki: FATHER-- [Odin turns with a growl and gives Loki a look which stops him in his tracks.]

Only at this point Thor will be banished and while yes, the way Loki chose to interrupt the coronation clearly had upset Thor and his words didn’t manage to calm him down, it’s also clear that not only Loki didn’t want for them to go to Jotunheim and almost get killed but that it’s Thor’s reaction to the situation that causes his banishment and that situation could have happened regardless of Loki having a hand in it or not.

Invasions happens.

The difference between “Thor” and “Thor: The Dark World” in which another invasion takes place, is that although Thor is always trying to disobey to his father in both movies, in the first he did it because he wanted to go at war with the Jotuns, in the second he did it because he hoped to spare Asgard from a war.

In the deleted scene for “Thor: The Dark World” even Odin acknowledges Thor was right.

Odin: I thought you’d been blinded by passion but in truth you were the only one who could see and you... did what needed to be done

His motive for disobeying his father in “Thor: The Dark World” is the exact opposite than it was in “Thor”, but if he’d been the old Thor he would have had no qualms to drag all Asgard into a war.

So yes, Loki set up the situation, but if Thor ended up being banished it was solely for his own reaction to the situation, a situation that could have happened in other circumstances.

Would Loki coming clear with Odin lift Thor’s banishment?

No, of course not, because none of Loki’s actions are what moves Odin to decide for Thor’s banishment. What pushes him to decide for such a punishment are Thor’s reactions to the situation. If Loki had confessed the most this could cause was for him too to also be banished.

And, to Thor’s credits, he grew in his banishment and became a better person. This is important, it doesn’t deserve to be underscored.

Also, as said before, Loki couldn’t predict the punishment would have been banishment and he didn’t control Odin either.

Not only Loki actually tried to stop Odin, but even Frigga in a deleted scene begged Odin to reconsider and he refused.

So yes, Thor’s banishment ultimately turned out to be convenient for Loki, but he didn’t deliberately orchestrated it, he didn’t plan that far.

So really, let’s just Thor have his moment of personal growth in which he becomes a better person in his own movie, let Odin have his own agency in deciding if to punish his sons or not and just accept the whole trip to Jotunheim wasn’t something Loki wanted nor Thor’s banishment something he could predict.

In short simply accept the story as its authors wanted it to be.

I get not everyone might be aware of interviews and deleted scenes but really, I would say the movie made the whole thing obvious enough to be understood just by watching it.

#thor #loki #thor odinson #loki odinson #odin borson #kevin feige #kenneth branagh #don payne #mcu thor #mcu thor the dark world #laufey #jane foster #jotunheim #asgard #midgard #fandral #volstagg #frigga #9 worlds study

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hyuckssunchip · 3 years

Text

Redemption Pt. 2

Pairings: Jungwoo x reader, ft. Johnny, Jaehyun, Mark

Words: 2.3K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), some angst

Summary:

Y/N finds Jungwoo in a compromising position weeks after their breakup. A list of misunderstandings leads to outcomes neither of them can bear to handle. Will the two of them be able to move past this and sort things out again? Or is there no room for redemption?

Part 1 | Part 2 |

The tickets from the movie of our first date

"Hey I'm sorry I'm late." There was a breathless voice that came from across the room. A boy in a grey shirt stood before his date and she blushed shaking her head.

You reached for another piece of popcorn, slowly chewing on the piece before sighing and reaching for another.

As the last call for your movie showed on the big screen you glanced at your watch again.

"Is this your movie?" He was tall, wearing a baby blue shirt and wore a thin pair of spectacles. Definitely not your blind date.

You sighed.

"Yeah, it's supposed to be."

"Supposed to be? You don't want to watch it anymore?" He asked, taking the seat in front of you.

"My date stood me up." You said bluntly, "I'm not really in the mood for a romance movie right now."

"How about murder mystery?" He flashed two tickets in the air, and sent you a sweet smile.

"Murder mystery? You don't really seem the type." You laughed, looking at the screen one last time. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise.

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know that this is research and I kill people on my down time.”

You cringed at him.

“Okay, that was bad, I know. But don’t you pity me now? Now you have to join this loser for a movie date.” He smiled, his dimples on display.

You laughed standing up from your chair, “If you promise never to say stuff like that again, I’ll join you.”

“So it worked!” he fist pumped the air before skipping the way to the right theater with you in tow.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

“I can’t believe that it was the police officer the whole time!” You spoke animatedly, genuinely shocked that you spent the majority of the movie liking the man.

“I know right! People are so crooked.” He said, shaking his head on disappointment. “But what a great plot twist right?”

“Yeah I thought for sure that it was the store owner. I mean who carries around a metal wedge like that?” You nodded enthusiastically, way too into the conversation.

Jungwoo laughed beside you. “So you don’t regret joining me?”

“Nope, I think I rather enjoyed myself.” You sent him a cheesy smile when you noticed that the two of you had already made it to the exit.

You didn’t want this to end quite yet.

Almost as if he sense your hesitation he spoke up. “How about dessert? There’s this fantastic ice cream shop just down the street and I’d love to treat you, y’know cause I just stole two hours of your time.” He grinned softly.

“I’d love that.” You couldn’t help the smile that was bursting to break free.

“Then shall we?” He asked in a fake posh manner, sticking out his elbow for you to grab onto.

“We shall.” You linked your arm and his and the two of you left for the shop.

The evening had started out sour, but like always Jungwoo managed to bring a little extra spark into your life. Imagine if he had never come up to you that evening, imagine if he had never stepped foot in that movie theater. You might’ve lost out on the most important thing in your life and never started your journey with Jungwoo. Where would you be now?

JUNGWOO’S POV

PRESENT DAY

The movie ticket of our first date.

The three boys looked down at the list and contemplated what they should do next.

“Okay, how am I supposed to find movie tickets with the same movie and date?” Jungwoo groaned. “This isn’t going to work it’s just stupid.”

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. All we need to do is get comfortable with photoshop. Right? It’s not like it’s that hard to make a pretend movie ticket.” Jaehyun rested his hand on Jungwoo’s shoulder, “It’ll be fine.”

“Sure it will.”

“Do you atleast remember the movie? And date?” Mark asked, notebook already in his hands again.

“Of course I do. How could I forget?” The last bit he muttered under his breath, but still loud enough that the boys could hear him.

They gave each other pitying looks.

“Right. Write it down then.”

Jungwoo’s hands moved on its own.

“Dude! No way! That’s what you watched on your first date?” Mark couldn’t help but giggle at the title, earning a glare from Jungwoo and a shove from Johnny.

“Dude. Not helping.” Johnny shook his head at the youngest before turning back to Jungwoo.

“Sorry. It’s just that they’re making a sequel to that. It came out last week.”

Jungwoo cringed at the thought, vowing not to watch it.

“Was it good?” Jaehyun asked, more interested in the movie than the current situation.

“Yeah! God you would not believe the plot twist there. It was awesome, I would totally watch it again-”

Johnny shoved the two of them. “Guys, not important right now.”

Jungwoo had retreated back, heads in his arms again and sighed, hearing the others talk.

“Sorry.”

You didn’t know how you got yourself dragged to the movie theater in the middle of the week. It was Wednesday and it seemed like all of a sudden your friends decided that movie night could be moved up a few days.

“Popcorn?”

You nodded haphazardly in response to your best friend Jennie’s question.

“Cool, I’ll wait in line, go ahead and go to the bathroom, I can see you squirming from here. I’ll meet you in the theatre.”

You sent her a look of relief, and rushed towards the bathroom.

Staring at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, you couldn’t help but notice the large black circles under your eyes. You rubbed them once more before heading to the theatre.

Jennie had picked out the movie, dragging you along and you pulled out the ticket that she shoved into your hands the moment you walked in the building.

Theatre 2 B14.

That should be easy enough to find. Although your direction skills could always use improving.

You froze as you stood before your theatre, noticing the large poster next to it.

No.

You recognized the familiar poster, same cast, give or take a few, but it was almost identical to the one you remembered as your first encounter with Jungwoo.

You scrambled for your phone and typed in the title of the movie, your heart dropping at the description. It was the sequel.

Your feet refused to move, stuck in the same spot and you heard a loud bang coming from the theatre. The commercials had already started.

A group of teenagers bumped into your shoulder trying to enter the theatre, you stumbled forward, hearing the faint giggles and muttered apologies.

It was the push that you needed to make your way into the theatre.

As you walked up the aisles to find your seat you felt a wave of anxiety as you noted the group of rowdy boys in the seats next to yours.

You sighed, knowing that you were in for a uncomfortable movie.

Taking your seat, the boy next to you turned to give you a hesitant smile, almost as an offering of an apology in advance.

Your blood ran cold.

“Jungwoo?” It came out as a whisper, catching in your throat, but it was undeniable that he heard you.

He gulped, eyes fluttering across your face.

The noise next to you seemed to hush, a familiar voice called out to you, tearing you from Jungwoo’s face.

“Y/N?” Mark couldn’t control the amount of shock as well as the other boys, letting you know that you were the last person they were expecting. You lifted your hand into a shy wave, to which they returned, leaning back into their respective seats.

“So...”

You turned awkwardly to your ex, waiting for him to continue.

“Are you excited for the movie?”

You raised your eyebrows, the idea of small talk still uncomfortable to you.

“Yeah, I guess... I hope it lives up to the first one.” You blushed in memory of your first date brought up subtly.

Although it was dark, the red tint on Jungwoo’s was noticeable by you.

“Yeah... I heard it was good though, Mark’s already watched it and he dragged the rest of us here again.” His voice dropped a few octaves, lowering as the commercials got quiet as well.

You nodded, facing the screen, refusing to take your eyes off of it.

“Y/N.” There was a hiss coming from your right, you found Jennie desperately trying to find your form before initiating a crouch run to your side. She sank into the seat and leaned towards you, not noticing the boy next to you.

“I’m so so so sorry. But Lucas just asked me to pick him up from school. My mom stranded him again and he won’t stop calling.” She grimaced and looked at you apologetically.

Your eyes widened, realizing that she was planning on leaving you here.

“He’s been waiting for three hours and I actually think he’ll try to kill me in my sleep if I don’t go to pick him up.”

You nodded, knowing that Lucas may be younger than his sister, but he was ten times bigger and had enough passion in him to do so.

“Okay.” You moved to get up, you didn’t really want to stay here alone. “I’ll come with you.”

“No. You should stay for the movie, we already paid and movie tickets are not cheap. Plus I think you’ll like this one, it looks right up your alley. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She shoved the bucket of popcorn into your lap and left before you could respond.

You sighed, slumping in your seat and picking at the pieces of popcorn that sat on top.

Jungwoo looked over at your side profile nervously from his seat.

You were tempted to move into Jennie’s unoccupied seat, eager to distance yourself from Jungwoo. But your body didn’t move.

His eyes followed the movement of your fingers, aching to reach out and grasp them in his own.

Less focused on the beginning of the movie and more concentrated on the bucket in front of you, you could feel yourself eating your way through your anxiety of the situation.

You choked slightly, turning red from embarrassment and tried to suppress the urge to cough.

You felt a nudge in your side, Jungwoo slid his drink towards you, and invitation to relieve your throat of pain.

You hesitated, as childish as it seemed you really didn’t want to drink from the same cup as him, but you were suffering.

You gave him a thankful smile and sipped for moment until you felt alright again.

In return you stuck the bucket of popcorn out towards him, after all there was no way that you could finish the whole thing on your own.

Halfway through the movie you felt the warmth of his hand graze yours as you simultaneously reached for a handful. As cliche as it seemed you felt sparks fly up your arm and you flinched pulling away, watching him do the same.

You hated that you still felt your heart rush at the close proximity. You hated that he still made you nervous. You hated that you still had these feelings.

Before you knew it the closing credits had rolled across the screen and the lights of the theatre began to fade on.

From the corner of your eye you could see as the other boys stretched and stood up, making their way out of the theatre. It was only you and Jungwoo now.

You avoided eye contact, moving to make your exit. He followed.

The bright lights of the lobby had you blinking in distress. Johnny grinned at your fazed state and walked the group over to where you were standing, Jungwoo steps behind.

“Hey Y/N.” Jaehyun waved shyly at you before shoving his hands back into his pocket.

You smiled in response before turning to face Johnny, who looked like he was dying to say something.

“Y/N fancy seeing you here.” There was a grin that crossed his face, he looked too happy to be seeing you here.

You furrowed your eyebrows and nodded at him, not saying anything.

Standing awkwardly in the group you glanced at your phone checking the time. It was getting late and you groaned suddenly realizing that Jennie had left earlier. You no longer had a ride.

You grimaced, pulling your phone out to text her, then realized that it was best not to bother her, as she was dealing with a very upset Lucas.

“What’s up?” Johnny asked, peering over at your screen.

“Nothing.” You sighed, “I just remembered that my ride left earlier. I should go now to see if I could catch the bus.”

He shook his head, “No way, why don’t you let us give you a ride?”

“Oh. You wouldn’t mind?” As much as you hated the thought of being confined in a car with the four of the them, it was much better than getting on the sketchy bus that comes by every hour.

“Of course not, the bus is gross.” You nodded thankfully.

“Oh, that makes things easy then, could we pick up my box of things on the way then?” You asked, remembering that Johnny said they were at his place.

There was a pause, and you didn’t miss the look the three of them gave each other.

“I-uh... I forgot I actually have this thing I have to go to, with Mark and Jaehyun. Jungwoo, why don’t you drop her off?”

Your eyes widened at him.

Jungwoo nodded more enthusiastically than you expected him to.

You glanced at him, reluctantly following his lead.

How bad could one car ride be?

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