#and i used to write on here when i was a CHILD and like.... eugh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fascinationex · 6 months ago

Text

I did a short vampire og fic for ficlet flash exchange recently but, of course, I had to chop it down to ficlet length. This is the longer version.

----

The One With The Vampire Group Chat (Extended Version) (no animals were harmed in the writing of this fic)

Sedgeford was a small, sleepy riverside town. The weather was cold and the humidity was high, and each morning the mist was grey and cool and damp clung to every blade of grass and paving stone. This was the kind of town with a defunct copper mine in the hills, and deep-worn towpaths where horses had once drawn cargo down the ancient canals. There had been a working blacksmith there right up until the 1970s. Now, though, the mines were abandoned and strictly forbidden to wandering children, the towpaths were overgrown with greenery and grasses, and old Mr Smith's son had packed himself off to study agriculture at the university.

The old house had stood in Sedgeford for centuries. It was built into the side of the hill near what had once been the old town centre, but the town centre had shifted a bit, after a terrible fire in the 1890s, and then even further after the closure of the mines. Now, the old house was a lonely pointed silhouette against the sky, soaring above its sagging, long-abandoned brethren.

This old house was occupied.

Meredith liked dark lipstick and geometric jewellery, and she wore her snowy hair short and curled, as had been the style a century ago. She smoked cigarettes from a long, old-fashioned holder, so that a haze of blue-grey smoke followed her around and settled on the sleek fur of her glamourous coats.

More than one child had asked their parents if she was a fairy. "No," they said, "just a very strange old woman."

Meredith, of course, had been an old woman when the oldest grandfather of the town had been a boy. But Sedgeford wasn't the sort of town where you said anything about that. Sedgeford was a misty, quiet place, mostly forgotten by anyone of consequence.

They hadn't really embraced high speed internet, in Sedgeford, but they did well enough to support Meredith's weekly group chat of creatures of the night.

"No! Cassandra is visiting me this weekend. At my age," Meredith was now saying, on her Saturday evening video chat, "one gets so tired of moving all the time. I haven't left Sedgeford in two hundred years, and I'm not about to start."

The two other creatures of the night rolled their eyes right to their cameras.

"Oh yes, at your advanced years," scoffed Etheldred, a short, tawny-haired woman who was herself so old that technically her name was better rendered Æþelðryþe. "You're all of three hundred. Don't blame your laziness on age. I moved last year."

Meredith was nearly four hundred, but saying so would make her seem young indeed. She exhaled a plume of smoke to hang hazy in the air. "And are you still unpacking?"

"Eugh," said Ethel, by which Meredith figured she meant 'yes'.

"Perhaps eventually I'll have to pass away and leave everything I own to my much younger granddaughter who bears a suspicious resemblance to me," sighed Meredith, "but it's all very inconvenient."

"It always is," Nikomachē sympathised. She was combing out her thick dark hair, voice muffled slightly as she turned her head from her microphone. "But better than answering awkward questions about undying women who can't face the sun."

THUMP went the sound of a tiny body colliding with the heavily tinted glass beside Meredith's front door. She looked up from her computer screen and leaned forward so she could just see the door in the welcoming darkness of the house.

Then she clicked her tongue. "Excuse me. She's here, I think."

Meredith got up to wrench open the front door.

Cassandra was there, hunched, wings furled tightly, looking dazed upon the front step. But when the door swung open, she raised her fuzzy little head and used her tiny arms like hiking poles to scuttle right inside.

"You're early," Meredith hissed down, shutting the door with extreme prejudice. "It's a wonder you even got this far without burning to a crisp — it's barely dusk!"

Cassandra didn't turn back into her vampire shape.

She huddled on the carpet instead, shivering sadly in her soft dark fur.

"Huh," said Meredith, smoke leaking from the corner of her lips.

This happened sometimes. Usually only with truly new vampires — ones who were ten, twelve years, or less. Meredith teased Casandra about being basically a foetus sometimes, but the woman was not even a century old.

She poked her with the toe of her shoe.

Cassandra chirped. Maybe the sun had panicked her and she'd lost the knack of transformation?

Meredith scooped her up one-handed, despite her protesting shrieks, and bore her back to the computer, trailing smoke and a swish of furs in her wake. The screen had turned dark. She smacked the space bar three times to wake it up.

"Ladies!" she exclaimed into the stream chat, interrupting their chatter. It didn't include her and therefore it was probably not very important, anyway. "Cass has a problem."

She hoisted the squeaking little bat up in front of the camera. It continued to squeak. It actually tried quite hard to bite her, which Meredith supposed was just the vampire's instinct. They all turned into biters when they panicked, didn't they?

"Oh," said Nikomachē. She put her brush down and peered closer to her own screen. "Well. That," she cleared her throat, clearly trying hard not to laugh, "er, that happens to the best of us."

"It does not," said Meredith. "But it's certainly happening to Cassandra. Do either of you know how to turn her back?"

"Ha," said Ethel. "Yes. I've sired three now. You learn."

"Stop dangling the poor thing," Nikomachē advised. "She must be so embarrassed."

Meredith dropped her to the desk. She smacked into it with a thump and laid there in a daze.

The ritual wasn't that involved — but it was definitely a ritual, and not just a regular little cantrip like they used day to day. The circle had to be drawn in human blood, which was in plentiful supply, so Meredith sacrificed a rug to its necessity. There had to be rosemary to burn, so Meredith had to fetch a parasol and tiptoe outside to cut some. It needed salt and silver and hawthorn berries ("She's bloody lucky it's nearly autumn!") and, most importantly, a vampire to conduct it and show her what shape she should be.

She complained bitterly at every step.

It felt powerful enough: when Meredith did it, she felt that curious sixth sense that had only come upon her after death engage. The air was heavy and damp, and her teeth ached in her skull, singing their siren song to bite, bite, bite.

The bat squeaked at the top of its tiny lungs and flapped its wings wildly, but it did not actually change back into Cassandra.

Meredith turned back to Ethel. "Are you quite certain this was the right ritual?"

Ethel's mouth was slack, her brows knitted together. "Yes...? It's worked the four times I've done it."

"Well, I didn't do it wrong," snapped Meredith.

"Nobody said you did, dear," said Ethel placidly.

Cassandra must have been well and truly stuck, because it wasn't just the first ritual that failed them. The second one, a more elaborate version with six white candles, a bottle of wine and a tiny trickle of sunlight received only a surprised hiss and a squeaky shriek of alarm from their subject.

"Here," said Nikomachē, at last returning to her seat with a large, old book. She took several photos on her phone and sent them to the chat.

Meredith scowled at the ritual. "You want me to use my hair?"

Nikomachē was quiet, fingering her own dark locks and eyeing Cassandra's huddled form like she, too, wasn't sure it was worth it. Then she said: "I don't want you to."

"Nike! Come on, Meredith, it's for a good cause?" Ethel coaxed.

And so it was. Meredith puffed angrily on her cigarette as she took a kitchen knife to her own hair, growling through her pointed teeth.

The hair had to be set alight in the bowl, too, and that stank.

The doorbell rang.

Meredith looked at the ritual circle, where a lock of her own pale hair was still smouldering. The bat shivered in place in its cardboard box.

"Oh, Meredith, that'll be the young reverend doing one of his 'welfare checks' again," crowed Ethel, giggling.

Meredith pulled a face. It very well might be. He was new in town, and persistent about offering his company to the elderly on his hours off. A real old-school man of god, that fellow. He was also her only visitor from the town, most of the time. Meredith had half a mind to just eat him.

"I don't know how you have the patience." Nikomachē's voice was distant because she'd graduated from judgemental stares into the camera to peering into her mirror, tracing the plush shape of her own bow lips.

"Darling, I don't have the patience," sighed Meredith, "I just can't afford to invite a police investigation if I want to avoid moving."

She got up from her crouch on the floor and left Cassandra cowering in her box. Her illusory cantrip fell over her as she came to the door: a frail old woman, wrapped in the glamours of yesteryear to stave off the coming twilight.

She opened the door.

Her cigarette dipped alarmingly when her jaw dropped.

"Cass—Cassandra?" said Meredith. Cassandra was a pretty thing. She was tall like a man, because the women all were these days, and dark eyed with careless hair and make up that gave her wan olive skin the illusion of colour.

She still dressed like Morticia Addams, like someone had given her a floor length wardrobe all in black with her Vampire 101 Starter Pack. But maybe she'd grow out of that.

"You sound surprised to see me," Cassandra noted, leaning in to bump her marble smooth skin against Meredith's jaw. While she was there, she touched a lock of Meredith's brutalized coiffure. "What on earth happened to your hair?"

"... A bad cut. New hairdresser. It'll grow out."

Meredith thought, inevitably, about the bat in its box, in its ritual circle, in her living room, kept under the watchful eyes of her streaming buddies. She met Cassandra's dark eyes.

A wave of mortification washed over Meredith. Her heart gave a single, slightly painful thump, startled to sudden life by pure embarassment.

"Could you give us a moment, darling?" she said in a tone that did not offer an alternative, and then she shut the door right in Cassandra's face.

"Meredith?" Cassandra's muffled voice followed her.

Meredith dashed back to her living room and her computer.

"Cassandra is at my door!" she snarled, dumping the bat out of its box and getting the whole ritual apparatus away by dent of simply rolling the rug into a cylinder and shoving it beneath the couch.

Nikomachē and Ethel went silent.

"Cassandra is... at your door?" Ethel's mouth tugged down in a confused frown. "But darling, who was the bat?"

There was a pause.

Nikomachē coughed. Then she snorted. Then hilarity overcame her and she began to giggle.

Ethel's expression cleared. "Oh, my dear," she said, and joined Nikomachē in her laughter.

"You're useless," Meredith declared. "You're both bloody useless!" and she stabbed her pointer at the red button to end the stream.

She turned on her heel and went back to the door to greet Cassandra properly.

Huddling in its high corner, unobserved and presumably scared out of its tiny mind, the bat gave a feeble squeak.

#my fic #og fic

7 notes · View notes

mcmoth · 4 years ago

Text

BOIS

The aro c!Tommy propoganda is done.

Here:

Friends can be Home, too

Summary:

Love. The thing that supposedly drove the world, that made everyone happy. He thought he knew love. But maybe… maybe not. Maybe there has been something deeply, intangibly wrong about him this whole time, and he hadn't even known. Not to this extent.

'Cause he knew before. Knew it in the unease in his bones, and the panic in his brain, and the annoyed buzz in his chest. But… but he had doubted.

He couldn't doubt anymore.

A journey of introspection, self doubt, and realizing you're not alone.

Or read on ao3!

Warnings: swearing, internalized arophobia, which includes self doubt, a bit of self hate, that sort of stuff. Also, this will have like, mentions of attraction and all that stuff, and Tommy gets pretty confused, so if you'd like to avoid that? This isn't the fic for you, ig. Btw, as a reminder, this is all set in the dsmp universe and is not about the irl people in any way.

Now onto the fic!

Welp.

Tommy sure is ready to stab someone right now.

Well, not really. More accurately he wanted to run, or shrivel up into a fucked up raisin, or snap, or just exist in darkness right now. Because there were his two best friends, cuddling on the couch. And he was sat there, next to them, supposed to be enjoying movie night.

It's not like he wasn't happy for them. They can do what they want, he reminded himself, again and again. They're just expressing their love, they're just close, and Tommy has to stop being such a fucking oddball about it. This wasn't weird. It wasn't weird.

And he could even see Ranboo giving him looks, probably about to ask something stupid. But if he made any comment, expressed discomfort, that would just be him being a dick and a weirdo. He's not going to ruin this for them. He just has to… to ignore it. To ignore it. He can do that. Yes.

“You alright, Tommy?”

Tommy's jaw snapped, he could feel his teeth grinding, and the couch was feeling all too small. So with a fast raise to his feet, he stumbled away, throwing a brash “fine" Ranboo's way, something burning deep in the pit that was his chest.

It was fine. It was fine. Why wasn't it fine? What the fuck was wrong with him??

Maybe he was just…

Jealous.

***

“I think I have a crush on Hannah.”

Tubbo and Ranboo stilled. The silence was… bad.

“oh?”

Tommy gulped, anxiously crinkling the chip bag he got from targay. “Y-yeah.”

Tubbo hummed. “I've never seen you interact with her much. When… did that start?”

Tommy's mind buzzed, and he resisted crushing the food in his hands, reclining heavily against the backrest of the bench. “I-I don't know, uh, recently? I guess? She's just… nice. She uh…. Has pretty hair? And she gave me a flower once! That was just, swe- uh, poggers of her, so. Yeah. I just think… yeah.”

Tubbo nodded, head tilting. “Do you think she likes you back?”

Tommy's eyes widened, and he didn't know why he laughed, but he did, and when he responded, he himself was taken aback by the hiss accompanying the words. “No!! She- why would- no- no, I mean… m-ma- I don't know??”

Ranboo swung his tail. “She better not. I mean, how old is she?”

“What does that matter?”

Ranboo stared. “You’re a child. Technically.”

Tommy bristled. “Fuck you, I am a big man! I'll kill you!”

The conversation moved on after that, and Tommy, somewhere along the way, quickly got lost. Head filled with cotton, electricity running through his veins, feeling horribly, oddly, humiliated and strangely… dissatisfied.

They didn't care. And he just felt more confused than ever.

…Why did he even do that?

***

Tommy was walking, grass up to his knees, a lead in hand. When he reached the village, he tied it to a fence, patting his borrowed horse before placing feet on the path, comforted by the gravel crunching beneath his feet, the feel of the sun on his neck. He looked around, at the wooden houses and half stacked stalls and idle chatter. He looked around and he thought.

He thought back to older days. This was… strangely nostalgic. Walking alone, in an unfamiliar town, the vastness of the world enveloping him in it's many potentials. He still wasn't sure when he felt better. Running around on the streets, just trying to survive, noone by his side, weak but naïve, hopeful. Or now, with some people to care for and trust, a place to return to, enough food in his pack, but shouldered with the weight of a dozen betrayals, life slipping past him three times too many. In a sense, he was still just trying to survive. Everything was so different now, yet the same.

He supposes, one thing that remained, was the sense of loneliness.

He grasped the front of his shirt, taking in the beating of his heart, looking at the strangers mingling amongst themselves. At the pairs, at the couples, at the families, sharing laughs and smiles, a contrast to the furrowed brows or tired amusement of shopkeepers and the idle folk visiting them.

He had always wanted a family.

…there was one way to get a family.

Someone to share laughs with. Someone who would comfort you. Someone who would take your hand, or hold you through the night, and never even leave. Someone who promises to stay.

It was a nice thought.

So why was it so hard to conceptualize? To imagine, to picture someone actually coherent, to look at a person and go – yes. I want to be your partner.

...eugh. just that sentence made his whole nervous system do a double take.

But why? Why? Was it the betrayals? Was it some fucked up self conscious mind shit? Was that it? Was he just fucked up in the head? Maybe.

Maybe.

But as it is, he knew he liked girls. He did. He liked them. They were… they were nice. Like Niki, who smelled of baked goods, and had a soft smile, and who had once given him a hug when she found him crying during the revolution, and who looked very nice in dresses. Or Puffy, who had made him a pickaxe when he asked for one, and who opposed Jack in stealing his hotel, and who offered him therapy, and she had really cool horn rings. Or Hannah, with her red flowers, and pretty builds, and the way the nature seemed just a bit more lively with her around, and her laugh was bright with mischievous intent that he could empathize with. They… they were nice. Yeah. Most girls were so nice.

So why… why hadn't he found one that he could. Actually picture doing… anything. In his head. No kissing, no dates, none of that… shmuck. It was just… he could see many girls his age running around, just now, in front of his eyes, many running through his mind as he searched his memories. None of them… no. And he tried thinking of boys, but that didn't… no. Not that either. …Enbies?

No… no, nothing… nothing felt. Good. None of it felt good, he just felt sick, he just felt weird, he didn't even feel dirty per se, but more like he was charting into foreign grounds, into something alien, and none of the thoughts he forced to visualize behind his eyelids, fleeting from how quickly he shut them out, felt like him. It didn't feel like him.

His fingers trembled, his chest felt tight, throat choked, and his head, on his shoulders, heavy and woozy and oh so muddled. He felt his heart race. Was… was that it? Maybe that was a sign. People said heart racing was a sign of attraction. Was there anyone in particular who did that? Maybe he was wrong – he was not lacking or messed up or broken, he just had buried the feelings so deep below his ribs, underneath fabricated doubts and trauma and the disconnect he had with reality and relationships in general, and once he got over those barriers, and just found someone, he would experience that joy that everyone spoke about. That closeness. He just had to… allow himself to get closer. To know more people, know them better.

That was… that was probably it.

But no matter. He raised his eyes, his senses coming back to him like the wind blowing his hair out of his eyes, blinking at the noise around him.

After all, he still came here for a reason.

***

“Yeah, I like these ones the best,” Tubbo said as he handed Tommy the various colored discs. Tommy nodded, smiling as he sorted through them, writing down the names in his notepad, feeling little stones dig into his elbows. Tubbo joined him fully on the ground, laying down next to him. “What do you need these for, anyways?” he blinked, and there was a smirk growing on his face. “Are they for… someone?”

Tommy furrowed his brows, staring at the other. “What?”

Tubbo chuckled nervously, waving his hand around as he stumbled over his words. “You- you know. Like a gift? Are you going to… to try to, get someone?”

Tommy’s stare just became sharper, becoming even more confused. “What??” What the fuck was he talking about?

“You know, like a- a date?” Tommy blanked. “Cause- you know, you've been talking about girls a lot lately, and I just thought-"

“No.” Tommy interrupted, feeling numb. “No, it's not for a fucking girl.”

“Oh.” Tubbo laid on the grass, clearly uncomfortable. He began to tear up the leaf he had picked up. “Sorry, I just thought- I'm not really good at this whole thing… sorry for assuming. W- …what is the reason, then?”

Tommy sighed, thankful for the topic change. “It's for… you know how I’m going to therapy?”

Tubbo hummed in affirmation.

“Puffy suggested that, since I like music, I should like, indulge in that, use it to calm myself or give myself something to do, that junk. So I’ve just been. Collecting, I guess.” He looked over the list again, then closed the notepad and sat up, discs in hand. “I wanna build a place where I just keep all the records, maybe I’ll even sell the ones I don't like. Good business practice, you know?”

Tubbo brightened. “Oh! That sounds really cool! If you need help with the building part, I can help you, by the way!”

Tommy looked at Tubbo's grin, so sweet and infectious, and his heart thawed, thinking of working with Tubbo again, building towards something together. It was a nice thought. “Alright.”

It would be nice to be with Tubbo again.

***

Tommy felt miserable.

This… this was miserable. He didn't know why. It really shouldn't be – it was just music. He was just sorting through all of his music, picking ones he liked, picking ones to comfort him, he loved music, it was fine, it just…

Why did so many of the songs have to be about love.

It made him feel angry and hurt and alone in a particular way that was so familiar and yet so utterly different. Because when he felt alone before, he fought with himself the same, he sunk into the thoughts of being unlovable or broken or undeserving of company, but at least he could understand it. At least he could look back now and think “Dream was a bitch" and that would be some solace. At least he could have hope that even if he was unlovable, he could still love. Love others. Try to seek others. Even if he never got that back.

But now, hearing all the poetics and sweet confessions that were in such abundance, something that sounded so passionate and revered, so integral, it was like looking into another reality he didn't, couldn't, understand, and suddenly, he felt more alien than ever before.

And most importantly, how fucking stupid that was, that the thing that made him feel that way was love.

Cause he knew before. Knew it in the unease in his bones, and the panic in his brain, and the annoyed buzz in his chest. But… but he had doubted.

He couldn't doubt anymore.

God….

He laid on the ground, head to the cold floor, the record still spinning. The noise bounced off the dark wooden walls and into his skull, grating and aching. He covered his ears, messed up his hair, breathed in and out. In and out. What was wrong. What was wrong.

The record fell to silence. Then it started back again, as it automatically swapped out. Next.

His fingers felt restless, his whole body did. He tapped his skull, feeling the thumps echo. Breathe in, and breathe out. Breathe-

“-ow will I ever know you enough to love you, if you're hiding who you are?

Don't ask me to explain-"

He startled, his breath catching. This disc was scratchier than the others. It felt different. Something in him drew in the lyrics, head loud. He blinked.

…He's not hiding. Is he? Hiding what? He’s- no. Just- Breathe in-

“-Who are you hiding from, across the table with a penny in each eye?

Don't ask me to explain, don’t ask me to explain-"

His breath escaped, arms trembling as his body froze. He didn't understand. He couldn't explain. He wanted to cry. Something was unravelling.

“I'd like to marry all of my close friends, and live in a big house together by an angry sea,”

He sobbed.

He did, he thought, with surprise, as the tears fell.

“Am I the devil's marbles don't move on without me,

Who will be watching my body when I sleep?

Who will I believe in?”

Something… yeah.

Something happened.

Because suddenly, all that stress, all that confusion, all that loathing, was detangling, and the tears ran deep, ran painful, silent, wheezing screams escaping as the sobs continued. He couldn't breathe. His chest was tight. His head swam, and he felt oh so light headed. Light. He felt light. Happy. He felt alive.

He felt understood.

He- he wanted that! He could- he wanted to live with his friends, with Tubbo with Ranboo. He wanted to stay as friends. He wanted them to protect him, to be able to trust them, to be able to protect them in turn, he wanted to reside with them, he wanted to sleep amongst them, to have them watch over him, safe, he wanted to wake up in the morning and see the sun rise with then, he wanted to have casual dinner with them, he wanted to grow old together with them. As friends. As friends.

Friends.

What a lovely thing…

He could… he could live with his friends…

He could build a family with his friends.

And he didn't even care at that moment that he didn't know how Tubbo and Ranboo would feel about that. He didn't care whether they'd want him at their house, whether they'd want him around at all. He didn't even care, at that moment, if he couldn’t join them.

Because he realized that it was a possibility at all. Just the prospect, just the thought, the realization, that spending your life, being intimate, finding a stable ground, with your friends, not romantic partner, was possible, that it was possible to not be able to feel otherwise, that it was shared by other people, who wrote this song, who sung it, who had thought about it…

It meant he couldn't be that alone after all.

“It's so easy to lie to myself,

And pretend that I could love you, but I can't"

And oh so comforting it was, that he couldn't.

***

“Ey, Ranboo! Bitchboy!”

Ranboo suppressed a smile, an exasperated sigh hissing through his teeth. Tail swishing, he glanced to the other boy, who was down below, standing in the snow.

“C'mere!! I gotta give you something.” He yelled.

Ranboo raised a brow, but complied, closing the window he had been looking out of. After making a quick detour to check on Michael, he made his way down the stairs and stepped out of the doorway and into the light. Tommy bounded to him, big grin on his face. He seemed jumpier than usual. Ranboo smiled in turn. “what is it?”

Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it, instead going to rummage through his bag. What he took out was a… box? “Here, fuckboy.”

Ranboo winced, taking the container. “Don't call me that.”

“Why, what does it mean?”

Ranboo stared. “Just…. Don't.”

Tommy blinked, laughing nervously. “o-okay.”

Moving on, Ranboo inspected the item in his hands. It was medium sized, and made of simple, but elegant, smooth black wood. On the top, there was a leather sign embedded in it, with the word Beloved stitched into it. His ears flickered. This seemed… awfully nice. “What’s in it?”

Tommy scoffed. “Just open it, you twat.”

Ranboo, with a glance, could see the anxious way Tommy was holding himself, seeming impatient and uncomfortable. So he wasted no more time, and clicked open the surprisingly sturdy iron latch after a moment of struggling, and what awaited him inside was…

“…Discs…?”

Ranboo held his breath, fingers twitching as he held the gift. …was it a gift?

Tommy was staring at the ground. “Yeah. You know, I’ve just been traveling around, collecting, and I wanted to…” He seemed to shake himself lightly, hands wringing. “I wanted to give you some, I guess. That… yeah. These are yours.”

Ranboo was stiff, still perceiving the actual gift in his hands, that looked hand made, that was hand picked, that Tommy had worked to attain, just to give to him. His tail curled, and he carefully, delicately closed it's lid and hugged it close to his chest. “I… Thank you. Thank- O-oh wow…”

Tommy scowled. “You look like a fish. It's not a big deal. Just… take a listen sometime, won't ya?”

“Y-yeah!” Ranboo reverently nodded, cursing the way his eyes felt misty. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll definitely listen, and cherish it. Thank you, Tommy.”

Tommy curtly nodded. “Alright. Pog.” And then, he was turning around, walking away with a quick “Share it with your family, too, some day. Bye.” Thrown or his shoulder.

And then, he was gone.

***

Tubbo heard music down the hall.

Ears tilting towards the pleasant sound, he skipped with bare feet over to the source, evening light casting warm glow through the windows as he went. When he arrived, to what was Michael's bedroom, he found Ranboo on the couch, curled gently over their son, head resting on his little head as he seemed to just… listen, wistful. Michael was listening too, letting out a little yawn as he turned his head to snuggle even deeper into his parent's warm embrace. Tubbo smiled softly at the scene.

Quietly, he patted over to them both, Ranboo eventually noticing him and watching him as he did. Tubbo buried a hand in Ranboo's hair, and the other leaned in. “What are you listening to?”

Ranboo didn't rush to explain, letting the comforting silence fill the space. When he spoke, it reminded Tubbo of soft flower petals and honey. “I didn't know Tommy's music taste was so…”

Tubbo blinked, turning to the disc lazily turning on the jukebox near them.

“-But in the end, I don't really care what you think,

Cause the bottom line is you make me happier than I’ve ever been...”

“wholesome.” He chuckled, fondly.

Tubbo hummed, unsurprised. “Tommy gave you these?”

Ranboo leaned more heavily in the couch. “Yeah. I don't know why, but…”

Tubbo's smile only deepened as he thought. Slowly, he replied, “I think he just wanted to show you he cared.”

Ranboo seemed to lose his breath a little, looking up at the other. “You think so…?”

Tubbo carded his fingers through Ranboo's hair, looking past Ranboo's twitching ears. “Tommy doesn't do things like these without reason. If he gave you something, it’s safe to say you mean a lot to him. He doesn't like to show it, usually, but… that I know.”

Ranboo stared at the turning of the discs, breathing softly. His tail curled around Michael. “Oh.”

Tubbo sat down at his feet and joined in.

Hearts warm, they laid there and listened until the sun had cast it's last rays and the jukebox no longer had a melody to spin.

***

Tommy sat behind the counter, feet on the counter, just trying to eat his discount chips while some people were being dumb children.

“Stop throwing the fucking food! I'll have to clean this up later!” He whined, to which Tubbo and Ranboo just threw him a glance, Tubbo’s apathetic and Ranboo's at least vaguely guilty, before Tubbo went right back and threw another gummy worm Ranboo's way.

Tommy scowled. “Seriously. At least pick them up and eat them.”

Ranboo made a face of disgust. “I'm not gonna eat candy off the floor, Tommy.”

“Yeah, some of us don't eat mud, Tommy.” Tubbo added.

“There’s no fucking mud here! It's a clean floor! You can totally pick them up and eat them, what the fuck!”

Tubbo raised his brows, staring. “Okay, then go and eat them, trash boy.”

“Okay, that's it.” Tommy raised to his feet, left his chip bag on the table and ran to Tubbo. Tubbo squawked, crawling onto the armchair he was reclining in to curl into a ball around his bag, but Tommy just threw himself onto the armchair with him, trying to reach for the candy. Which, considering the position, it was more like he was half-tickling, half hugging the other more than anything. “Give me that.”

Tubbo just burst out laughing, trying to hide deeper into the couch, attempting to kick the other away. “St-Stoppp!”

“C'mon, you disobeyed my shop's rules, I’m just confiscati-"

Something hit his head. Tommy stilled.

Ranboo peeked from behind his own candy bag, before digging into it again.

Tommy laid off of Tubbo slightly, raising like a puffed up cat. “Ranboo, you fuck!”

Tubbo laughed again, and Tommy was about to go on a murder spree, only for all the commotion to halt when they heard a sudden 4th voice.

Michael.

“Oh shit.”

Ranboo sighed. “He's awake. C'mon.”

Tubbo sighed as well, rolling out of the couch and dragging his feet towards the source of the oinks. “For the record, this is not my fault.”

Both of the other boys gave him the stink eye, but in the name of preserving needed ceasefire they held their tongues.

Michael was sitting up in Tommy's bed that resided in the backrooms, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and hiccuping. Tubbo reached for him, lifting him up. “Aww, did we wake you up? I'm sorry, little bossman.”

Michael clutched Tubbo's shirt, muttering something in piglin.

“He's asking what all that noise was.” Tommy quickly translated, before turning his eyes back to the kid and saying something soft in piglin back. Michael listened, seeming to quiet a little.

Ranboo, gathering that it was an affirmation, smiled and took one of Michael's hooves gently. “Yeah, we were just having fun. Do you want to have fun, too, Michael?”

Michael’s big eyes widened, and he wiggled in Tubbo's grip. “Ye! Ye!”

They chuckled, and Tubbo transferred his hold of Michael to Ranboo, who led the way in making it back to the front of the shop, chatting with his son all the while.

Tommy bumped his shoulder with Tubbo's as they walked, but didn't say anything further. Tubbo bit back a grin.

The next hour was spent feeding Michael and letting him listen to some new discs. Tommy even remembered he had some records that were in piglin, some songs, some stories, and put them on, which seemed to enrapture Michael quite a bit, immersed in the new voices and tales and familiarity. The three boys let him sit in Ranboo's lap and get lost in his own world, residing on a couch together and quietly chatting, around them comfortingly dark walls, bookshelves and the smell of wood and candles.

Eventually, the conversation steered.

“You know, Tommy, why don't you join us?”

…huh?

Tommy blinked, willing his breathing to restart and for the words to come. “W-what?”

Tubbo looked at him with warm eyes and a trepidant smile. “Like, how would you feel about coming to Snowchester? Live with us?”

Ranboo waved his hand. “Of course, you don't have to! But we just thought, you know, if you'd like a bit more, uh, company…”

“We want to be with you, is all.” Tubbo added quietly.

Tommy's heart raced, and he only blinked more, hands clutching the fabric of his pants. “B- be with me… are you…” he gulped down the butterflies clogging down his windpipes, still trying to understand that this is real. “are you sure…?”

Ranboo grinned, patting Michael's head idly. The piglin looked up at them. “Yeah! You're family, Tommy, after all.”

Tubbo tilted his head. As Tommy was still struggling to respond, he assured, “You don't have to if you don't want to, big man. No pressure.”

Tommy laughed, weak and breathless, but bright. “No, I-I’d- I'd really want that, but…” he gestured, trying to put his worries to sudden coherent sentences. “wouldn't that be… awkward? Like… you two, just, l-lovebirds," he chuckled clumsily, “and then there's… me, just, there?”

Tubbo shared a look with Ranboo, then turned back and laughed. “You won't be a third wheel, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, it's not like we’re really romantic partners, even, it'll be fine.” Ranboo said.

Tommy stilled.

Blinked.

“Uhw- what?”

The other two tensed, Tubbo quickly glancing at his husband before grimacing, thinking deep on how to explain it. “You know, we… we're not really… romantic? We just decided to marry? But we're… not platonic either, it's…”

“I-It's something inbetween. Queerplatonic is the word? I think?”

“It's hard to explain-"

“There's- there's a word for that? And you were- Like. Friends? Living together, this whole time??” Tommy reeled, head in hand.

“Well, not exactly friends, or at least, with how we decide to label our relationship, but… yes?”

“Oh my-" Tommy slumped forwards, now both of his hands holding his head upright, just. Breathing. “Shit. What the fuck. I…” he laughed, wrecked.

Tubbo and Ranboo stared at him, uncomfortable. Tubbo frowned. “Look, if you… if you're gonna say something, I’d rather-"

“No- nono, it's…” he raised his eyes, slowly, like coming out of a cave and into the light. His words tripped upon his tongue, but he was so eager to know. “So you two don't want… romantic partners?”

They blinked. “Not… particularly, no.” Ranboo replied. “…are you okay?”

Tommy laughed. It sounded stilted even to his ears, senses muddled as he was wrapped up in his own head, his own elated feelings, his heart nearly bursting at the seams. “I-I’m not alone.”

Tubbo stared, but then his eyes softened. He sighed, and his smile was immensely gentle, while looking at his friend. “Oh, Tommy…” Ranboo, beside him, wilted the same.

Michael, inbetween them, looked at all three of them silently.

“…Do you want a hug?” Tubbo quietly offered.

Tommy quickly nodded, slumping into Tubbo's side and burying his face in Tubbo's soft hair, not even caring for the way one of his horns poked into his cheek slightly. He held the other, and Tubbo held him. He felt the end of Ranboo's tail drape over his leg.

With a delicate tone and worn vocal chords, he quietly, and simply, admitted. “I'd love that. I'd really love that. Living with you three.”

Tubbo tightened his hold.

That night, Tommy fell asleep not alone, but with his two other closest people, his family. Safe, warm, with that insistent nagging at the back of his chest cavity, that told him he was alone, that he was wrong about himself, that he never even knew himself at all, finally silenced.

He had never felt more at home.

168 notes · View notes

lee-scribbles-and-doodles · 3 years ago

Text

S3 ep5

Current emotional status: FEAR

Cthulu Max has been on the rampage for a whole week!?

Ew, the narrator

Oh man, are they sending the airforce after him?

I really like Cthulu Max's design

Momma Bosco 💗

Oh hey, Norrington and Papierwaite are alive.

Superball are you saying you tried to send the Maimtrons up Max's--

Also he's acting president while Max is... deposed of.

Superball is only giving Sam until 6am :(

Featherly!

"Wandering around the moleman tunnels is no fun without Max."

"You got it all wrong, we're trying to help Max." "We will help him... to a generous serving of ass whooping."

"That is one rabbit who will be multiplied... into 2,000 smoldering pieces."

Carol ran off with Blustet

"I only want her to be happy, is all." Aw, Curt

Superball just admitted to having separation anxiety from Max

Ok Momma can't come but Papierwaite and Norringron can.

I like Norrington :)

GASP

Is it?

It is!

SYBIL!!!!

RETURN OF THE QUEEN

Oh, she is very pregnant

She was a wizard at one point?

She's gonna help!

Superball there's no such thing as acceptable losses

Abe has his body back

"Four score and seven tons of raw power"

HE CAN FLY NOW!?

Sybil, I love you, but why did you mod someone else's car???

Grandpa Stinky I love you

Oh, he just handed us the recipe for once.

Asdfff the spore maxes swarming Grandpa

They stole Grandpa's hotdogs

"We must feed the host! Piglets and sphinkters make us stronger!" "We regret nothing!"

Grandpa hasn't slept in three years

Sam just casually taking the last of Grandpa's corndogs

The spores are trying to get it

Lol Sam slapped them

Sal's alive!

He's hiding from Sam :(

Lol we can control Cthulu Max with Corndogs

Ew, the cornstarch got mixed in with the giant puddle 🤢 Looks gross

Love how Sybil completely ignores the Flaming Max head

Also the look of disappointment on the spore's face made me laugh

Fifth trimester???

The way the one Max spore by Grandpa's truck is bobbing in circles with his mouth open is making me laugh.

Sam showing concern for Sybil because she’s preggers 🥺

Her being pregnant with Abe's child implies that statues have working genital in this universe

She put a weiner scented airfreshener in the desoto

At least Sam and a Max spore seem to like that (of course they do)

"Sybil you're the best!" Hell yeah she is!

Sam's mind went to the color bar codes to prevent being traumatized by Sybil's oversharing

We drowned the desoto

Asdfgh Sam just botched slapped one of the spores for trying to say "that's none of your damn buisness."

Ew, Max's spine is pointing out

Oh hey, Satan and Jurgen

Why is Jurgen wearing his old fashioned clothes instead of his emo clothes?

Lol Sam snuck into frame to shout "Go Mets! New York rules!"

"--besides it's just a good and noble thing to do." "You're not familiar with my previous work, are you?"

"Sam, what happened to you to make you so cynical?" Gee, Jurgen, I wonder what could have possibly happened.

Oh so the water tower counts as vegetable oil because Momma did something to it

Pfft we can replace Satan's microphone with a corndog

Omg they jumped off the building to avoid Max

Oh, they're fine, and the oil is in the giant puddle.

I'm thankful to Featherly for giving us an egg but I'd have preferred not to watch him lay it. Granted it was just in a cartoon way but he still made weird noises

Also TRANS FEATHERLY 2021

"I desperately wanted to see that, sir. Ask him if he'll lay another one."

Oh hey, the Flaming Max heads helped heat up the giant desoto corndog

Since I'm playing this in 2021 the Maimtron's song references are super dated, which defeats Superball's efforts

Oooh! A unique opening sequence???

Oh this music is jazzy af

Sam really doesn't like the Max spores

Sam how do you already know what Max's insides look like???

"Even when he's not a collasal monster Max's food comas can last for weeks."

Ok we wake Max up with the coffee beans, right?

Yup!

The gi Max spore is so sad he doesn't get to come 😢

"But I'm a horrible monster!"

"I suppose Max's brain always looks like a living room?" "Well, Max is host to all kinds of weird parasites, and he likes to he a good host!" WHAT

No really, this brings up so many questions about lagomorphs. Are they some kind of Symbiote or something?

And a previous episode confirmed Max is amphibious

Max has tumors!!!

It shocked Sam!

"Eugh! Get away fake Max!" "Do you find my warmth... alarming, Sam?"

"What do nightmares taste like, anyway?" "Pepsi"

Max wants to be author 💗

He also writes fanfiction about Flint 🤣

I'd unironically read his books.

Tina Belcher voice: Friend fiction

Max has an experimental fusion jazz band???

"He just killed a great white shark--"

Max being completely unable to describe a woman is very gay of him. Good for him.

Max's brain teleported everyone to different parts of the body.

Found Sybil in the gym/legs

The brain is broadcasting Sam's thoughts???

Sam couldn't think of a joke for the medicine balls :(

"Wow Max is looking pretty buff. Would it be too weird if I asked him to turn around?"

Sam! Stop thinking bad things about Sybil's pregnancy she can hear you you putz!

She's upset with him now

"Can you believe this guy?" "I find the entire situation to be very contrived and misogynistic." Same spore Max, same.

Sam stop being so mean omg!

"I changed Sybil, I totally get the whole parenthood thing now." "Really now?" "Tax deductions."

In Max's inventory now

Y'know, I never really thought about it as a storage house

Hit The Road reference :3

Baby roach hatched in

"Pa..papa?" "Now I am little champion, now I am!"

Max has a Maximus shrine

Sam turned into a roomba!

Aw, he named it Sam Jr 🥺

We won Sybil back through his love of Sam Jr

Found the conjoined twins

Huh, Max lost as eye. Does that mean he has a glass one, or do lagomorphs have regenerative abilities?

Pfft we have to play twister to control his arma

The brain is messing with things again

Oh, we need a roach to operate the game because of radiation

Well, let's kidnap Sal

Oh, poor Girl Stinky. She's really going through it

Aw, Sal feels bad

Sal?

Honey, are alright?

He's dying???

He's not immune to irradiation!?

Oh no, he's gone

I'm so sad 😞

Gotta pick up Sam Jr. Before I control Max

They mad Max do a magical girl pose

Ugh the narrator is back

Wait, what?

He's Max's brain??? SUPEREGO???

WHAT

"I was always ignored" Yo if my super ego was as pretentious as you I 'd ignore it too 😤

He wants to kill himself and Max???

I know Max had a self loathing complex but holy shit

The super ego is perfectly fine with destroying half the east coast what a jerk

Just noticed Sam's tie is red. Had no idea about this while drawing PI!Sam lol

We have to help Max get his memories back to use the ASTRO projector

Skunkapes has three Sam clones imprisoned

Sam had canon ocd?

Gasp Gordon???

No, it's Sammun Mak

I love him, little child tyrant

Just make him a mobile brain in a jar and let Sam and Max adopt him

Why is Grandpa here?

He isn't talking like Stinky

Too polite

Sam sees it too

He's a space gorilla

They switched brains?

Found the cloning g chamber

Let's go to Momma's first

CONE OF SHAME CONE OF SHAME CONE OF SHAME

Superball is "wracked with guilt"

"Keep it together Superball. Sam will be able to save the day. He always does."

Ok, let's go to the cloning facility

I'm still thinking about poor Sal yo

FLIIIIIINT!

He's punching space apes!

Girl Stinky really playing up the evil Mistress role

The doggleganger has a bomb on him!!!

Wait so Girl really is a mermaid??? I thought that was just her aestetic

God I love Flint

Haha we tricked Skunkape with scooby doo villain tactics

Got the robot

Her water broke... and it was pennies

Max wants to save Sybil! 😭🥺💕

Super Ego is here

Oh now he wants to save Max

The only thing here are those records

Super Ego waved goodbye

Cthulu Max is cute when he cries

Wait What?

His head is on fire!

The maimtron hit him!

He waved goodbye... and teleported away.

He exploaded!!!!

He promised he'd take Sam with him and he didn't!!!!

AAAAAAH

I thought the dead Max thing was popular angst fanon fic thingy!

We're cloning Max?

It didn't work 😭😭😭😭😭

Superball ran off crying

Oh God the credits are just Sam walking sadly what the hell

He's not even stopping to fight any crime 😢

💔💔💔

God the way he's clinging to himself

What?

The elevator???

MAAAAX

he's back???

Past Max???

He blew his Sam up???

Wait hold on I'm glad they're together again but this doesn't fix anything

There's so much trauma from this season

All the horrible things that happened during 301-304 happened in like 3 days tops, then Sam had to deal with Max being a monster for a week before watching him die!

And the new (?) Max had BLOW HIS SAM UP!!!

And they left the franchise like that for a decade????

What the hell?

I want to be happy but this shit is going to consume my brain for the next week at least what the hell

Aaaaaaah!

Like maybe they really do just brush it off but it feels unlikely

I know Max has a connection with his other selves so it'll be easier for him to adjust but certainly Sam is going to notice the discrepancies since he doesn't get the same deal

Someone told me there were multiple endings hold on

Aw, they walked off into the sunrise together

But still

AAAAAAAAH

#sam and max #freelance husbands #sam and max freelance police #sam & max #sam & max freelance police #freelance police #lee plays sam and max #305 #what the hell #flint paper #agent superball #momma bosco #sybil pandemik #sal s&m #general skun ka'pe #girl stinky #sammun mak #don't @ me I'm crying

88 notes · View notes

16bpp · 2 years ago

Text

The Problem People Have Where They Generalize Whole Genres Of Games Under One Central Idea or: How I Learned To Stop Whining And Open My Mind To Actually Interesting and Good Games

For the record, I couldn't think of a good short title.

// Alternate caption: Oh boy, another iwbtgg 200 word essay?

Hi. I try to avoid writing long blog posts about stupid menial shit, but you're reading this so that means I'm taking the time of my day to write one!

I was mindlessly scrolling through Discord as an average person just does nowadays when I saw something that sort of irked me. To paraphrase, it was in regards to the game OMORI and how the concept has been done before. Although this criticism is sort of valid and I'll elaborate why soon, the only real problem is that they called out specifically RPG Maker fans for defending it mainly.

Now I only considered that a problem because it showcases one of the things I never really liked about how people viewed RPG Maker games. In fact, it was something I fell for too!

It was the idea that RM games are just the same garbage. Depression and anxiety, blah blah blah.

Of course now this has become more prevalent with OMORI becoming a big shot name in regards to RM games with the whole depression anxiety meme spreading around like hot pancakes. Though I'm here to tell you that like, that line of thinking is pretty stupid.

All humans are of course prone to generalizing things, that's just part of human nature. But this one only irks me because there ARE good RM games out there. People only really focus on either

Aye that depression and anxiety game

I believe these two, especially the latter, are the most prevalent is because of how RPG Maker, no matter what version, is easy enough to pick up and use. Of course, it takes some getting used to (especially older versions like 2003 and XP), but at it's core that's what the software is meant to be: "POWERFUL enough for a developer, SIMPLE enough for a child, VERSATILE enough for any platform!"

Ayo save the princess with the default RTP gfx

Although this belief has helped make thousands of games, it manages to be one of the biggest pitfalls of RPG Maker. It lowers the bar enough for low effort, garbage games to be made. Due to this, you can argue RPG Maker games get the same treatment as Unity games. People see that "made in Unity free version!" watermark and go "eugh Unity". In the case of RPG Maker games, it already has a fairly recognisable UI and for games that haven't switched from the default graphics, art style. Hell, it even applies to music! Once people open up a low effort, and for lack of a better word, shitty RM game, their mind will immediately make the connection: "Man this game fucking blows!". After said person may run into several games of the same calibur, the mind will usually make the connection "RPG Maker and it's games fucking blows"

The criticism that I mentioned was sort of valid in an earlier paragraph, because in my honest opinion, it does not matter if a concept is done already. It matters the way the developer or writer presents the concept. There are definitely games that do this, such as Future Cat's 2016 game OneShot. It blends in fourth-wall breaking, making connections with the main character and the player, and the idea of only having one chance to do things beautifully. All of these concepts have definitely been showcased in other games, but OneShot has to be the only one that has done it almost perfectly. Review soon.

But in conclusion,

The signal to noise ratio for good RPG Maker games ends up being way too much noise and some signal.

But hey, what do I know. I'm just some schmuck on the internet.

#not a shitpost #oneshot (game)#rpg maker #I can't wait for like 0 people to read this #200 word essay #real talk

5 notes · View notes

because-i-am-barely-even-human · 3 years ago

Text

So, Eddie starts dating Ana, for some goddamn reason.

Christopher is not liking it one bit. Buck is not a fan of her too ever since the Skateboard incident™. Chris noticed it immediately. And it’s good, because finally some adult who’s not buying her sweet and nice bullshit attitude. Children are very perceptive and Chris is really smart for his age (his dad and Buck say so, not to mention Abuela, and they wouldn’t lie to him). He knew even when Ms Flores was just his English teacher that she only was nice to him because she set her eyes on his dad (eugh! Gross!).

Christopher was polite to her as his mom taught him and for some reason people automatically thought that Ana was his favorite teacher, but it was complete opposite actually. He once overheard her conversation with other teacher, back when she still worked there and when mom was alive, they talked (more like gossiped) about his mom. Something about her being irresponsible and not really a good mother (they are wrong!). Back then Chris told Buck about it because he didn’t want his parents to be upset, but he needed to vent to someone. Buck was furious. They never told Eddie about this though.

So when Eddie (excuse me, Edmundo) came up with the great idea to introduce Ana to Chris after just two pathetic dates, Buck knew it would end in disaster. But not like a loud one, oh no. Christopher is smart and beautiful child, and it happens that he’s extremely cunning. He’s pretty certain that he picked it up from Buck, god, Evan hopes Eddie will never figure it out, or he’ll be in trouble 😥

Christopher ropes Buck into his plans, because they are a team, and they need to get rid of her hypocritical ass and fast.

Buck: Chris, buddy, are you sure it’s a good idea? Why won’t you just talk with your dad? If you don’t like her, he will listen, he cares about your opinion. You know that, right?

Chris: Of course I know, but Buck! Dad needs to see for himself what kind of person she is, and if I tell him I don’t like her, he’ll just assume that I need some time to get to know her or that I don’t want him to date at all and won’t really understand. He’s stubborn like that. And a little oblivious 🙄

Buck: Where it’s coming from, buddy? 😂

Chris: That’s what Abuela and Carla say. They are wise.

Buck: Oh, they’re sure are 🤭

Chris: I want him to be happy, Buck, just not with her. She’s awful.

Buck: Yeah, I get it, sweetheart. I want him to be happy too.

Buck wasn’t sure about this, he’s adult here after all, so he let himself think about it for a few days. Then he bumps into Ana in a coffee shop on his way to work. She knew Buck, how could she not? He comes to parent-teacher meetings pretty frequently, as well as bake sales. She met him. She knew exactly who he is. Aaaaaaand she’s being rude. Extremely rude. Not only to him but to a poor barista (Wow, lady, you need to chill. Pouring your drink down the trash can right in front of everyone? Because it’s too hot? And she didn’t even pay for that!). Buck have known the kid ever since he just started at 118, he sometimes gives free muffins to the team.

Yeah, screw you, Ana. Chris is right. This is war.

So, Buck agrees, partly to supervise his chaotic child and partly because this lady is a real piece of work, alright, she deserves all the wrath of his Superman.

Thus, after the introduction at home begins the quiet nightmare for Ana. She never saw it coming.

Bonus:

Dad went on a date? I’m gonna ring three times before dinner even starts.

Chris: Dad, it’s emergency, where’s my 1000 piece lego set? No, it’s not under the bed, I totally checked there, yeah.

Wanna quietly watch the movie? Not gonna happen. Move your teacher ass, I’ll sit in the middle.

So this is your phone number?

Chris: Buck, give me your laptop! Let’s spread it to some telemarkets.

You want to feed us? With your stinky cooking? Yeah, not a chance.

Chris: Bucky, please, can you come over? I want your famous roast chicken.

Bonus (2):

During the whole shenanigans Eddie suspects somethings and rants about this to Hen (Ana who? 😒). He tried to talk with Buck at first but he was pretty sketchy about all this, and practically ran away to Bobby in the kitchen (yeah, Eddie is not allowed there and Buck knows it). Suspicious.

Besides he doesn’t seem to be particularly fond of Ana. He needs to find out why. Hen’s having an inkling at what is going on, and, Lord give me strength, Eddie is so oblivious, it’s hilarious. Yeah, this Ana thing is not gonna last, let him figure it out. She’s pretty sure Buck got his shit together a long time ago (particularly, maybe, probably on their first Christmas with Eddie), he just waits for Eddie to catch up.

If someone's interested in writing this, please tag me when you're done.

#buddie #buddie prompt #eddie x buck #9-1-1 #Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #Christopher Diaz #anti ana flores #Christopher the chaotic child #Buck the exasperated dad #cameo of Hen Wilson #Ana who?#How to get rid of your Dad's annoying girlfriend in 30 days by Christopher Diaz #How to get your dads together in 30 days by Christopher Diaz

92 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Note

So, I had an idea but I'm not good at writing...

Then I remembered you're the best at that so, y'know. Obvious thing was to come here.

My idea was:

Kim Namjoon says he loves the reader but she strikes out saying "You don't love me. You just love the idea of being seen with me."

Yeah very brief idea but its not that descriptive which means you could write it -gets on knees and does puppy eyes-

I know you'd do an amazing job...okay soft time over, eugh. Anyway totally you're choice, thank u for ur time. Cya later! x

He furrowed his brow and planted a hand on the book you were holding, forcing you to close it.

“Explain.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What is there to explain?”

“’You don’t love me. You just love the idea of being seen with me’? How can these things be true?”

Silence. Underneath it, rage shimmered.

“There two truths in this world,” you said lowly, sliding the book down to the table and losing your place, but it didn’t matter, for you had memorized the page number. “One, people tend to choose partners more attractive than them. And two, if they’re not more attractive than them, they’re more brilliant than them. I just so happen to be both those things to you, Kim Namjoon.”

“I love you as a person.”

You laughed acidly. “No one likes me as a person. You know why? Because I don’t let them.” You tilted your head, scrutinizing the man before you, tall, dark-haired and neatly parted, glowing tanned skin, wearing a tailored black suit and a frown. “I’m a national chess champion and leading a research group in cutting-edge gene augmentation therapy. The press love to call me a class-A bitch. Why would an award-winning music producer have any interest in me at all?”

“You were a child once.”

“That was a long, long time ago, Namjoon, and I’m not that kid chasing after you asking you to read me the Odyssey anymore.”

“That doesn’t matter. You still have the same determination in life.”

You ticked your head. “And so?”

“To me, you are the one I have always admired and wanted.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Popular kids simply don’t understand that nerds like us don’t need you.”

“I’m not saying you need me. I am saying I need you.”

“You are only saying that because your parents want you to get married,” you snapped, snatching your book from the table, but Namjoon slammed his hand down on it, startling you.

“Listen to me,” he demanded, deep voice deepening, fanning his fingers out over the cover. “I asked your parents to meet you. I asked for this date. My parents weren’t involved. I haven’t seen you in forever. You’ve been off conquering the world with your brilliance and your beauty and you never gave me a damn chance to say anything and, the second I do, you shut me down?”

“Look, you are stuck in the past–”

“No, you are stuck in the past. You are not giving me a chance because you think we’re back in high school and me becoming the valedictorian was some personal attack or vendetta against you, when the reality was the teachers just picked whoever the fuck they wanted. I didn’t have a say–”

“Then maybe you should have turned it down,” you interjected, but Namjoon cut you off, his large hand grabbing yours as you tried to rise, yanking you back down forcefully. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the waiter attempt to walk into the private room but immediately back up as he sensed the tension.

“No one cares–”

“I care, obviously!”

His eyes widened at your tone and you flung his hand aside, your navy dress flourishing with the movement.

“Do you know how many years I spent afterward with my parents rattling off in my ears? That should have been you, maybe you aren’t that smart, holy shit, day in, day out, shit, I still get that damn speech! Imagine my fucking glee when I heard you wanted to go on a date so I could turn your ass down, spending all this time proving myself to live up to you, the ideal.”

“You’re pissed at me because of your parents?” Namjoon sputtered in disbelief. “You won’t give me a chance because of your parents?”

“No, I won’t, because if by some freak accident I actually like you, I will be doing nothing but satisfying their wish to have you as their son.”

“You are being immature, ridiculous, and childish.”

“Good, do you hate me yet?”

“No, I don’t.”

You scowled.

Namjoon pointed to your book. “I recommended this book to Yoongi-hyung recently.”

You glanced at The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka. “It’s a book. They are meant to be read.”

“You’ve been using him to keep tabs on me.”

“I don’t use people,” you hissed. “And he does what he wants.”

“Such as being your spy and giving you information about my life when you could ask me directly.”

You scoffed. “Why would he do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, because he thinks it’s hilarious that I ask him the same things about you, so he’s been playing cat-and-mouse with us all these years out of sheer amusement.”

A muscle in your eye twitched. “Why are you keeping tabs on me?”

Namjoon responded automatically. “Because I love you. Why are you keeping tabs on me?”

“Because you irritate me.”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes. “Insufficient logic.”

You were a chess player. You saw the checkmate coming and you couldn’t stop it.

“You asked Yoongi-hyung to sleep with the girl I liked before I could ask her on a date.”

God-fucking-damnnit, Min Yoongi, I told you not to tell anyone!

He cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to be your parents’ son, but your problem could be easily solved if I married another woman. You choose to meddle in it.”

You would have some very choice words with a certain smirking, cat-eyed man later.

“Well, maybe your life should be miserable.”

“Over being high-school valedictorian? I think you’re taking your parents’ projections of success onto you a little too far.”

“It is incredibly annoying how often they remind me I need to seduce you and bear your babies,” you grumbled, feeling your resolve crumble a little.

“You never had to seduce me and there are many alternatives to childbearing, including surrogates and adoption, that I am happy to explore.”

“I want children. I just don’t want my parents to be right about you.”

Namjoon smirked. “What would they be right about?”

You huffed, looking away, somewhat disturbed how that dimpled smirk made your heart flutter a little. “I don’t want to my husband to be a goody-two-shoes. There’s no way I’m spending the rest of my life sampling vanilla ice cream.”

“Oh?”

He purred your name and you frowned at his tone, suddenly low, dangerous, and on the brink of causing heart arrhythmia.

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

Your eye twitched, heat rising to your neck and cheeks. “Does Min Yoongi not know the meaning of in confidence–”

“I’m very persuasive,” Namjoon drawled, knowing glint in his eye. “And an avid researcher in my own way.”

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

#namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon drabble #bts drabble #namjoon x you #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you

110 notes · View notes

klanceficatalogue · 4 years ago

Text

Klance Fic Starter Pack

So back in June of 2018 I made a Klance Fic Starter Pack post but since it’s been a long while since then I decided it’s finally time for an update. So here we have it! - Karri

so why don’t we fall by aknightley (1/1 | 8,218 | Explicit)

Five times Lance used a pet name for Keith, and one time Keith used one for Lance.

Keith has no basis for having a relationship with someone, so he's trying to follow Lance's lead.

//nsfw

The Marks We Make by wittyy_name (12/12 | 255,302 | Mature)

Lance McClain constantly dreams of the day he'll finally meet his mysterious soulmate. They don't say much, if anything at all, but they leave him with gorgeous paintings temporarily tattooing his skin. It's not exactly the situation he hoped for, but when he feels the connection between them, he can't bring himself to resent them. As much as he wishes his soulmate would just talk to him, he's resigned himself to being patient. In the meantime, he has a loving family and good friends to help him get by.

Keith Kogane dreads the day he'll finally meet his obnoxious soulmate. He's just an art student who's struggling to find his place in the world. There's so much he hasn't been able to control in his life, and the thought of having a soulmate, just another thing in his life which he also has no control over yet can't do anything about, is a little terrifying. So he ignores the words that occasionally appear on his skin. He has other things to focus on: like being a new student at a big university where his childhood friend and step-brother go.

//nsfw

(shallura, hunk/shay)

Nightmares by Trashness (1/1 | 14,864 | Teen And Up)

Lance's nightmares are getting out of control. It's effecting his and the team's performance, but he's at a loss for how to fix this.

Apparently sleeping next to a warm body helps.

call me, beep me (10/10 | 85,591 | General)

(00:31) Do you think she gave me the wrong number on purpose? (00:31) Or was it a genuine mistake? (00:32) Like maybe she writes funny and I misread it? (00:32) Some of the numbers do look a little dodgy... (00:33) Cause, you know, her threes could very easily be poorly formed eights? And maybe she writes her sevens like her ones? (00:45) What (00:46) The (00:46) Fuck??? (00:47) Oh good, you are awake!

where lance messages the wrong number and things kind of snowball from there

(shallura)

Shut Up and Dance With Me by wittyy_name (15/15 | 249,827 | Mature)

Lance and his friends have been regulars at the Altea Dance Studio for years. Not just for classes, but to hang out, practice, and spend time with good people who love dancing. Every year, they audition to be one of the few representing Altea at the regional dance competition. Lance always auditions solo, but this year he misses out on auditions and blows his chance to participate. And so does his self-proclaimed rival, Keith.

Luckily, Shiro comes up with a brilliant plan: convince Lance and Keith to audition as a duo.

With a little convincing, and a lot of effort, these two might just be able to pull it off and go to regionals... or they might crash and burn.

//nsfw

(shallura)

Hearts Don’t Break Around Here by klancekorner (13/13 | 135,555 | Mature)

Lance and Keith have been best friends since first grade. Lance’s brain is always on overdrive and Keith’s blunt, realistic ass can never keep up. They both come to realize that sometimes you can learn a lot about loving yourself by loving someone else.

//anxiety //insecurities //nsfw

i bet you look good on the dancefloor by xShieru (7/7 | 43,295 | Teen And Up)

"So like in 'Step Up'?" Allura shrugs. "Now that you put it like that - yes. I guess it's just like in 'Step Up'." The smile that she sends Shiro's way - followed by a shy wave, eugh - is sickening to say the least, and Lance still doesn't believe in dance camps.

Lance McClain's dancing career begins and ends with Keith.

Keith just wants to find out what Lance's deal is.

(shallura)

you never stood a chance by kagshina (1/1 | 12,221 | Teen And Up)

lance to hunk ♡ >i’m gonna fukin die hunk oh mygod i sent >keith a work out selfie that i wan supposed to fcukin send to you and you know what it said >”BET YOU WANNA LICK THESE NIPS” >HUNK I WILL NEVE BE ABLE TO FCE HIM AGAIN I WANT TO DI E

(Or, Keith is beautiful, Lance has a crush, and there's lots of shirtless selfies)

nothing’s quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts (1/1 | 50,369 | Teen And Up)

Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street.

Sweet Quiznak by CheckeredCloth (4/4 | 6,819 | Teen And Up)

"You're really into him," Hunk mutters, and wow, Lance's face is on fire. Hunk is killing him.

"Look, read into how you like, Freud, just make sure that if I die Keith knows I totally would've mowed his ass like grass. That way, I can laugh hysterically at his emotionally-constipated expression from the afterlife."

Or: Lance is badly injured and has a few skeletons in his closet. Or maybe just the one.

//blood //injury

What a Healing Pod Can’t Repair by Remember_Me (12/12 | 55,777 | Teen And Up)

The compromised wormhole was ripping apart at the seams, sending everyone spiraling away in completely different directions. Lance could feel himself being pulled and bent in ways he was definitely not supposed to be. -- Stitching the team back together after everyone is separated is difficult, and for one Paladin rescue wouldn't be coming for a very long time.

//violence //blood

Bonding Time by magisterpavus (1/1 | 16,416 | Explicit)

“Shiro, I fucked up,” Keith blurted, wringing his hands.

Shiro paused mid-punch, shooting him a quizzical look. “What? What happened?”

“I think,” Keith whispered, “I think I accidentally roofied Lance. With my dick.”

//nsfw

Homesick at Space Camp by K0bot (15/15 | 74,280 | Teen And Up)

Lance realizes he's been an asshole to Keith, and on a diplomatic mission to a key planet for the Voltron alliance he... overcompensates.

//blood //injuries //panic attacks

we’ll make it, you and me by ghostcribs (1/1 | 6,421 | Teen And Up)

"Keith, if we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you."

//injury

time out of mind by aknightley (2/2 | 27,849 | Teen And Up)

Keith and Lance wake up married. In the future.

He lays there a moment, processing the faint throbbing in his head, a strange bitter taste like lemons in his mouth. When he opens his eyes, the room spins wildly into a kaleidoscope of colors, so he closes them again, breathing in and out until he feels less like he might throw up. He suddenly registers a warm weight over his waist, and lifts his head to see a brown arm thrown over him. It looks startlingly familiar, but different, bigger than he remembers, more toned.

Keith turns all the way around and comes face to face with Lance sleepily blinking his own eyes open.

A Fish And A Bird by Methoxyethane (1/1 | 13,141 | Teen And Up)

Lance has a boyfriend. Lance does not realize he has a boyfriend. Keith, understandably, does not react well.

On Thin Ice by anonimina (11/11 | 205,795 | Mature)

This multi-chapter fic chronicles the lives of a hockey player named Keith who gets enlisted into figure skating lessons by his brother, Shiro, to "work on his footwork". There he meets a pompous - yet talented - figure skater named Lance and gets swept away by both the sport and the skater.

Or: the not-so-simple story of two people trying to navigate the complexities of living in an ever changing world and face the traumas they've buried far away from the sunlight.

//anxiety

(shallura, hunk/shay)

bench press me by eggboi (1/1 | 1,683 | Teen And Up)

“The hell are you doing?” Keith grumbles out, body mid-push up. There’s a snicker behind him, too close to his ears, though Keith can’t really understand what would be so amusing about this. Then again, he’s not really sure why Lance is lying on him while he’s doing push ups either. Other than to be, of course, annoying.

“Nothing.” Lance finally says. Keith hears the grin in his voice, which only proves to irritate him a little more. ‘Nothing’ his ass. “Continue with what you’re doing, Mr. ‘I’m-Too-Good-For-Socialization’.”

(Lance, as always, tries to annoy Keith by making his exercise harder. It doesn’t work. At all.)

My Youth Is Yours by MilkTeaMiku (10/10 | 29,980 | General)

An unforseen blast in the middle of a battle de-ages Lance into a child for a week.

Keith does not understand babies.

#klance #voltron #vld #klance fic #klance fics #voltron fic #voltron fics #vld fic #vld fics #klance starter pack #klance fic starter pack

501 notes · View notes

gryphonablaze · 3 years ago

Text

heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey who wants a one shot fic that I wrote for daughter of the lilies by the awesome meg syv, aka bludragongal who I’m not gonna actually tag here bc I’ve tagged her in half a billion posts already ,,

the fic is titled ‘saving face’ because I love me some puns

‘Eugh, snow… I hate it, I hate it I hate it I hate being cold…’ Lyra was sitting as close to the fire Thistle had started as she could without being burned.

‘Hey, are snowstorms a thing? Like magic storms, but snow?’ Thistle asked. Everyone was quiet for a while.

‘Don’t know. Probably, but hope not. Anyway, cave is goot place to trap heat. Glad ve found. Also glad Thistle can make voodless fire. But vhy only now bring up?’

‘Beceause most places we camp chalk won’t stay on the ground, so it wouldn’t work anyway. It’s complicated, too. I don’t remember half the runes. And you can’t write ‘em down without setting the paper on fire.’

‘Then… how did you get it to work?’ Brent asked.

‘Muscle memory. I couldn’t teach someone how to do it, but I could draw it out with my eyes closed if I needed to. When I was a kid, every fireplace in the house used these. The kitchen, too.’

‘You vere raised by mage? Is that vhy you not go to magic school?’

… Oops.

‘Er… yeah.’

‘Hrm. Explains vhy you so goot.’

‘Ooooooh, backstory!!!!’ Lyra teased. ‘You’ve said your dad didn’t like animals, and apparently he’s a mage. What else do we know? I need to start taking notes.’

‘Hey, cut it out.’ Brent ‘gently’ punched her in the shoulder. Didn’t seem like he meant it, though.

There was a noise like the clattering of a rock.

The fire went out.

Something whistled in the air. Thistle leaped to her feet at the same time that everyone else dropped like flies.

‘What the--’

Behind her were five cave elves.

Her teammates were unconscious, and there was some sort of antimagic that put out the fire… and rendered her defenseless.

Claws cut through the air. The cave elves expressed confusion when she dodged the blow. Thistle went for Brent’s discarded sword.

They clearly hadn’t been expecting for her to be able to see in the dark.

They seemed to get over that surprise quickly.

One of them said something, and the others backed away. Did he want a one-on-one fight?

Apparently.

Despite not knowing how to use it, Thistle was at an advantage with a weapon. Even so, she was still on the defensive. She dodged more than a few attempts at disarming her.

Did cave elves have some sort of honor-duel system? Was that a thing? Would they be left alone if she won this fight? Was it to the death? Not like she could ask, between the language barrier and being preoccupied with combat.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the other four standing over Lyra, a fist raised, ready to concuss her.

Oh, so this was a distraction.

She flipped like a switch.

‘rrrrRRRRAAAAAAAGGHH!!!!!’ Thistle took a powerful, haphazard swing at the dueling elf. His surprise earned him a shallow slash on his leg.

You don’t get killed by being careful, she heard Gwen scold her. You get killed by being reckless.

Yeah, well, she had no magic and was outnumbered five to one. No amount of careful could save someone from that. Might as well do something.

With another roar she rushed at the other one, who immediately jumped back so as to avoid being skewered.

A phwt! through the air and something stung her in the neck. She picked it out. It was a dart. Paralytic poison, by the feel of it. Would put someone out of commission just long enough to knock them unconscious. Good thing it wouldn’t affect her.

Thistle chased another elf away from Brent and turned toward two that had just now stopped arguing over how to handle Orrig. She stepped forward. Something swept her feet out from under her.

‘GAH!’

In an effort not to land on the blade, she tossed it aside with both hands. Which meant she could not catch her fall. Thistle hit the ground face-first. She tasted blood.

It was hard to get any air without inhaling blood. But Thistle was saved from the effort of trying. She choked as one of the cave elves pulled her up from the ground by her hood.

And then dropped her. She landed hard on her knees, and fell into a coughing fit trying to catch her breath. She barely heard the cave elves panicking amongst themselves and running away.

~~POV switch~~

The fire went out.

He couldn’t move.

‘What the--’

Foreign chatter, the swing of steel, the sounds of struggle. Something was here, and Thistle was fighting it, alone, not using magic. If he had to guess, the talking sounded almost like the two cave elves that took a bite out of his arm a few months ago.

He heard Thistle let out a scream of pure fury. Damn. He’d seen her angry before, but he was very glad that this wasn’t directed at him.

He was starting to regain movement when he heard a yelp, followed immediately by a sickening crunch. Brent managed to remove the poison dart from his shoulder. Gods, this was like the cave elf job. Thistle was hurt, and he couldn’t do shit to help her. He could barely reach out an arm in futile desperation.

A gasp. Distressed conversation. Something had started wailing like a child. He heard footsteps running away. Just like the cave elf job…

As the assailants grew more distant, the fire relit itself and began to grow from a flame barely the size of a candle. Thistle noticed the light and pulled her hood up. There was just enough for Brent to see the outline of long, pointed ears and short fluffy hair. Ears like Lyra’s. So she was an elf? Huh.

No, right now was not the time for wondering what she was hiding. He could see blood on the ground and all down the front of her vest.

‘Are you guys alright?’

‘You’re asking us if we’re alright?’ Lyra’s words were slightly slurred. ‘You look like… I can’t even think of something witty. You’re covered in blood, and you’re asking if we’re alright?’

‘Yeah, well, poison is usually more dangerous than a nosebleed. If it isn’t wearing off by now, then it’s a different type than I thought, and that could make for some serious problems. But you’re talking, so that’s a good sign. Brent? Orrig?’

‘Vill be fine.’

‘Yeah, I’m okay.’

‘Good.’ Stiffly, Thistle got up and went over to her bag and dug out some gauze to hold against her face. ‘Now that the antimagic is gone,’ Her voice was nasally, ‘I’m gonna set some wards. I should’ve done that first thing.’ she started grumbling. ‘It even crossed my mind, but I chose not to, I almost got us all kidnapped or killed…’

‘Did you know there vere things in cave?’ Orrig asked sternly.

‘Well… no, but I still--’

‘Then is not your fault.’

#daughter of the lilies #fanfic #one shot #poor thistle being badass and having to save everybody #remember that meme I reblogged a while ago #the button dillemma template torn between 'want to see fave char badass and competent' vs 'want to see fave char broken down needing care'#well hehehe #you best believe I'm smashing both buttons so much rn #dotl

17 notes · View notes

miraculouscontent · 4 years ago

Text

“Didn’t Need Burrow” Masterpost (February)

Anonymous said:

Don't need Burrow: Finally, it will be revealed that Adrien is the main character and that Marinette was merely the narrator of his story (or history of their love).

The thing that we already know and won’t be a surprise.

Adrien didn’t have enough attention already but they were tired of using Marinette as their camera to his story.

Anonymous said:

Didn’t need burrow: Kagami wil decide to stay in Japan at the end of the Tokyo special. Prompting Chat Noir to start pursuing Ladybug again.

I doubt they’d make the specials official canon but I also don’t doubt Kagami getting sidelined so easily.

Anonymous said:

Alternative didn’t need burrow: Kagami won’t even be in the Japan special and all cultural knowledge will be explained by Adrien

Oh my gooooood.

*flashes back to Adrien and Gabriel greeting Kagami and Tomoe in Japanese*

Anonymous said:

Don't need Burrow: It will be revealed that Chloe is actually an innocent and naive little girl who acted like a malicious bully because she was manipulated and intimidated by Sabrina all the time. And it was Sabrina who made her bully the rest of the class and act as if everything had to revolve around her. And it will be retcon that Chloe did not abuse everyone to impress Audrey, but because Sabrina made her do it. (Note: I'm Anon that joked about Sabrina being more dangerous than Chloe)

fdjkhgjdfgfd welcome back, for sure.

I wasn’t ready for the Sabrina part since I was taking it 100% seriously up until then.

In before they say that Sabrina is just indulging Chloe and Chloe is how she is because Sabrina won’t do anything about it.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow to know that if there is finally a white little kid gets introduced to the show, he or she(though let's be honest, most often a he) will be a sweet little angel of sunshine who's always on their best behavior and never does anything wrong, unlike all those rowdy black children(barf). Bonus if the kid has blonde hair and blue/green/grey eyes. Double bonus if someone(say, Marinette or Nadja) says to one of the other kids "See, why can't you behave like they do?" Rolling my eyes.

OMG SOMEONE ELSE SAID IT. BLESS YOU.

I always feel so awkward hating on all the kid characters for that reason but it really does come down to they’re kids and I don’t like kids. Most of them are just written as “kid” and nothing else.

Friendly piece of advice to people writing children and are afraid of doing what this show does where the personality is just “stereotypical child”...

Write characters as if they’re teenagers first, and then “age them down.” It’s the difference between writing Mylene (for example) with the personality of “child,” and writing Mylene as a younger version of herself.

It also will make it less jarring if the character happens to grow up and become a teen at some point in the story, where their personality is better established; they’ll come off as a developed person rather than someone with a completely different personality from when they were little.

(If you’re having trouble imagining said child character as a teenager/adult, there’s definitely a step missing.)

Anonymous said:

Don't Need Burrow to know that when all the kids in Marinette and Adrien's class inevitably get Miraculouses of their own, only the girls will get theirs taken from them for one reason or another, either because someone else figured out their identity or they do something stupid and risk people knowing(or people actually do know), while the boys get to keep theirs permanently and Ladybug becomes the token Smurfette on her superhero team. Rena Rouge might be the exception to this.

G I R L P O W E R

+ I mean, for Rena, Marinette’s already regretted giving her the miraculous at least once, so yeah.

Anonymous said:

Don't Need Burrow to know that when Marinette and Adrien inevitably discover each others' identities, defeat Hawk Moth and Mayura(the only good thing about this whole scenario), and gEt ToGeThEr, it(the latter, at least) will only be in the last episode of the last season, and we will get no time to see their development from "who dis?" to friends, to lovers. Love=ma^2 shippers will punch the nearest wall, while me and everyone else will sip our salty tea and ask what the fuck they expected.

If Season 4 decides the split between Lukanette and Adrimi, that means Season 5 is just going to be a love square shipping fuel fest of absolute and complete obnoxiousness with angst that’ll lead to reverse love square at best and then nothing more.

The tea will, however, be delicious.

Anonymous said:

Don't Need Burrow to know that Adrien will continue to steadfastly insist that Marinette is "just a friend"(such as saying so when Alya or Nino confronts him on it, or saying romantic sounding things to Marinette herself that are just intended as shipper-fanservice-bait, before adding something anticlimatic like "you're a really good FRIEND")...up until the moment when the plot decides to push them together and he'll magically change his tune and say that she was always more than just a friend.

How convenient~

Yeah, the plot has this habit of just changing things so immediately that it gives you whiplash, because they’ve never built anything up. I remember that it did that for me with the Miracle Box opening in “Sapotis” to reveal all the zodiacs.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow to know that Alya(and possibly the rest of the girl squad, but lets face it, most likely Alya so that she can be the Black Best Friend) will be used solely as a plot device to get Adrien and Marinette together(against Marinette's protests, if I may add), and Marinette will get almost no chances to make a move on Adrien on her own. I know you salt on Alya a lot but you gotta admit it kinda feels bad to potentially have her pushed aside to only support the love square.

No no, I totally agree! I don’t like Alya but I obviously feel bad that her and Nino have just become love square/plot pushers. Add in Rena Rouge and eugh, no thanks.

Anonymous said:

Didn’t Need Burrow to know when Marinette finally tells Adrien she’s in love with him, he’ll reject her, and when Marinette gets over him and gets together with Luka, then he’ll probably get akumatised because of it, and it’s all Marinettes fault for getting over him(EVEN THO HE MADE IT CLEAR HE WASNT INTERESTED!!!) and entering a healthy relationship.

This one sent me through a whirlwind of emotions.

Also, inevitable "only notice the girl who’s wanted you forever because now she has a boyfriend,” because yay.

Anonymous said:

Didn't need Burrow: Ms Bustiers pregnancy is going to be handled one of two ways, but they'll both lead to the same outcome: either

1) her pregnancy will be ignored and she'll look the same as she always has until the one episode where it's plot relevant, and she'll suddenly look nine months pregnant, or

2) she'll go from looking the way she does in the New York Special to looking nine months pregnant in the first episode of S4, possibly with the addition of cringy pregnancy jokes peppered in throughout the season until the episode where her being pregnant is plot relevant.

The inevitable outcome of this whole 'pregnant teacher' subplot will be an episode where Ms Bustier goes into labor during an Akuma attack that she (and possibly the entire class) are caught in the middle of for whatever reason, she'll give birth either during or right after said Akuma attack. LB will have to juggle both fighting the Akuma and delivering the baby, Chat will be useless during the pregnancy subplot (50/50 that he won't be much help during the Akuma attack), and there will be a moment where the two heroes are both cooing over the baby, and someone will make a remark about how they'll be such good parents one day.

I know this is probably too specific to actually pan out, but I'm confident that at least part of this will line up with what happens in the show

dfkhgjdfkgdfg oh my god, Ladybug helping deliver a baby, please kill me.

The “good parents” line absolutely made me cringe because they’d totally do that.

The thing about how Bustier will look is also 150% accurate and it pains me to say so. Her looking pregnant is the most “fleshing out” that we’ll ever get from her.

I could also see her getting a substitute instead (I originally was going to shorten it to “sub” but then I just imagined Miss Bustier eating a sub sandwich) and then coming back at some point like “oh I already had the baby, here he/she is,” and that’s how they avoid making a model for her being pregnant.

Anonymous said:

Don't Need Burrow: A character will have a bad day and get increasingly mad whenever things continue to go bad for them/when other people annoy them, but he or she will still manage to keep it cool. Only when MARINETTE does something wrong will that person finally SNAP and get akumatized, and of course, Marinette will be blamed for it despite everything already going bad for the character to begin with. It's like the writers try so hard to make things her fault when she's barely a part of it.

oh my god

This is also totally Santa Claws/Bother Christmas but with Marinette instead of Ladybug. Gotta get both sides in there, you know?

#Didn't Need Burrow

36 notes · View notes

firefly464 · 4 years ago

Text

The Real World - Chapter 13

"Oh Im gonna take a small break and go easy on this chapter :D" - me the other day. i then proceeded to write the longest chapter so far for no god damn reason.

ALSO YAY COOL SYMBOLISM IN THIS ONE

Thank you @i-have-this-now for helping me with transitions because im a complete mess Thank you to @rivys for beta reading and editing!

Master Post

First - Previous - Next

~~~

“They WHAT?!” Wilbur yelled, wheeling around to stare at the teenager behind him.

“They uh, they’re going to try and bring our Tommy and Dream back?” Tubbo repeated, taking a step back. “Is that bad…?” Hadn’t this been what Wilbur wanted? For their own Tommy to come home? Why was he acting so aggressive about it?

“Yes that's bad! Thats really fucking bad! Not Tommy obviously, but Dream?! Tubbo, Dream could come and break the peace treaty. He might start a whole new war, just out of spite. I cant… We can’t do that again. We just don’t have the resources.”

Tubbo paled as he realized what Wilbur was saying. Yes, they might have a chance to bring Tommy home, but at what cost? They would have to go back to living in fear, terrified that at any moment, Dream would come up behind them and try to kill one of them. He took another step back, shaking his head. He couldn’t go back to living like that. He just couldn’t.

Wilbur walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, crouching slightly so that he was at eye level. “Tubbo, I need you to tell me something, and I need you to tell me the truth. Where are they going?” Tubbo shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. On one hand, he had promised Tommy that he was going to help him get home. He had given his word. But on the other, he couldn’t go back to living in constant fear. He just couldn’t. “The eastern dark woods…” he muttered, trying to push away the guilt that gnawed at him. He had to do this. For his friends. He had no choice.

“Got it.” Wilbur stood to full height, his eyes set and determined. “Go get your things together. We’ve got quite the trip ahead of us.”

~~~

“You can’t be serious. This is all you have? Why are there- why the hell do you have so many buckets? How on earth are you going to carry them?” George shook his head as he looked over the meager pile of supplies that Dream had gathered.

Dream just shrugged as he rolled up the bedroll he had found in one of the chests. “You never know what might happen. I’m just trying to be prepared.”

“Right. So you decided the best way to be prepared was to pack 3 buckets, but not pack any food or actual fresh water. You don’t even have a flint and steel!”

A snort of laughter sounded from behind them. Dream turned to see Tommy, snickering to himself quietly. When the teenager noticed that they were looking at him, he wiped the grin off his face and stood up straight, trying to look serious. It didn’t work.

“You know, you could be actually helping instead of just standing there and laughing,” Dream remarked.

“Aw, but where's the fun in that? It’s much more entertaining to sit back and watch you struggle.”

“Oh really? I would love to see you do a better job.” He clipped the bedroll to the base of his pack.

Tommy stepped forward with a smug grin. “Ok, I will, since I’m just so cool and awesome. First off, you need coal for torches and shit. Second, toss the buckets out. You’re not going to be pulling any epic mlg moves here. That's just not how physics work.” Dream grumbled to himself as he took the buckets out of the pile.

“Shut up, both of you!” George cried out, bringing the bickering to a halt. “Clearly neither of you have any idea what's going on or what to do. So instead of arguing, why don’t you just listen to me and do what I tell you to do. We’re on a timer, aren’t we?”

Dream and Tommy looked down guilty. They had forgotten about the 48 hour limit, and had ended up falling back into their carefree habits. “Right, sorry.” Tommy said.

“Alright, Dream, I want you to go and gather some water. Once you’ve got a bucket full, I want you to boil it and bottle it. We can’t have you getting sick from dirty water. Tommy, go and gather some wheat. We don’t need too much, just enough to make enough bread for if we can’t find any animals. I’m going to go and get the horses saddled.” George’s voice was calm as he explained what each of them was going to do. The other two nodded and quickly rushed out of the room.

~~~

“Alright I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve never rode a horse before. I’ve got no fucking idea what I’m doing,” Tommy admited as he tried to find his balance atop the large animal. The three of them had gathered up all of their materials rather quickly, and were now on their way towards the forest. “Seriously, how the fuck do people do this?”

“By shutting up and not complaining.” Dream seemed to have figured out how to ride his horse pretty quickly, and was now spending his time taunting the younger teenager.

“Yeah, well maybe if you weren’t so damn annoying, I would have less to complain about.”

"C'mon, Tommy, hurry up. The sun's setting." George said, while Tommy almost fell off his horse.

The three of them rode across the rough wilderness, as the moon rose slowly along the horizon. This was going to be a long night.

~~~

“We can stop here to make camp for the night,” George said as they came across a small clearing. The three of them had been traveling for hours now, and found themselves in the middle of a birch forest.

"Eugh, birch. This is literally the worst kind of wood." Dream said jokingly.

"Agreed." Tommy nodded.

"What? Oh come on, birch isn't that bad." George relatiated as he set up a fire.

"What?" Dream laughed. "George, have you seen these trees?"

"Dream, they're just trees. Plus, we aren't gonna be here for long. We'll keep travelling as soon as the sun rises." George rolled his eyes.

“Ughhhh, really?! But that’s so early!”

“Tommy, shut up. Stop acting like a child. You’re just lucky that we found a place to stop at all.” George handed both Dream and Tommy a couple of torches. “Here, set these up along the perimeter. The last thing we need is a bunch of mobs trying to kill us while we sleep.”

Both Dream and Tommy stared at him in shock.

“What? Do you guys not have mobs in your world?”

“Wha- No of course we don’t! I didn’t think that they were actually real here, holy shit…” Dream exclaimed.

“Damn… A world where you don’t have to worry about getting eaten alive in the middle of the night. That honestly sounds really nice.” he shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “Never mind that right now. I need you guys to set up the torches.”

~~~

The sound of a netherite blade slicing through the air echoed across the quiet forest. It had been several hours since they had set up camp, and Dream had long since given up on sleep. The events of the day had played over and over in his mind, making it impossible to close his eyes. And so, he had quietly gotten up and snuck away to a small open area where he could practice.

Over the past week, he had found that practicing sword fighting helped him to calm down. The simple, repetitive motions helped to quiet the intrusive thoughts that continued to plague him. He had started to grow quite reliant on it to stay sane. Maybe, when he finally got home, he would join a fencing class.

If he got home. No. No he couldn’t think like that. Pessimism wouldn’t get him anyone. He needed to trust Tubbo and Wilbur. They were going to get him and Tommy home. They had to.

“You know, you’ve really gotten a lot better,” said a voice from behind him. A squeal of surprise was torn from Dream’s throat as he spun around, his sword at the ready. “Pffft, what on earth was that?” George stepped out from the shadows of the trees into the light of the torches that Dream had set up.

Dream placed a hand on his chest, trying to calm his racing heart. “Jesus man, you scared me. What the hell was that about?”

The shorter man chuckled as he stepped further into the light. “Gotta keep you on your toes. What's the point of learning how to fight if you’re not constantly aware?” He drew his own sword and held it out in the form of a challenge.

“You are actually the worst,” he said, raising his own sword in response.

With a grin, George rushed forward in attack. Dream raised his sword to block the incoming strike, allowing his instincts to take over. He had learned that if he simply didn’t think about what he was doing, he often did quite well. And so he let his mind go blank, instead focusing on surroundings. The stars, the leaves, the trees, even the man before him was all taken in as they sparred.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” George asked, most likely hoping to distract his opponent.

Dream only shrugged as he feigned an attack at his friend's leg, only to come up and create a small cut on his cheek. “Couldn’t sleep. I was hoping that doing some practice would help calm me down.”

“And? How's your success rate?”

“Well it was pretty good, until you arrived and scared me half to death.”

“Aww, I didn’t realize compliments scared you so much.”

“Yes, I’m quite shy.” Dream couldn’t help but grin.

As the two of them joked back and forth, they continued their little duel. It had been going for a couple minutes now, and they seemed to be at a bit of a stand still. A rush of pride surged through him. In roughly a week, he had gone from completely and totally useless to actually able to defend himself. Now, he just needed to set himself apart.

His mind began working overtime, analysing every small detail. Quickly, he reached back with his free hand and pulled out a loaded crossbow. George’s face transformed into surprise when he saw the weapon. The bolt flew past his face, only just barely grazing the side of his head.

Dream quickly threw the weapon aside and pressed his advantage. Suddenly, the favor was tipped towards Dream. George was unbalanced, startled by the use of the crossbow. Still, he managed to raise his sword just in time to block another strike.

With his free hand, Dream reached into one of the pouches around his waist and pulled out a small sphere, roughly the size of a marble. With a slight squeeze, the sphere expanded to the size of a baseball. While George was distracted with blocking the strike towards his face, Dream tossed the sphere behind him. With a crash, the sphere shattered against the ground.

Suddenly, Dream appeared behind George in a shower of purple. With a sweep of his foot, his friend came falling to the ground. With a final motion, he held the sword above his throat, his green eyes bright with exhilaration and delight.

“Alright alright, you win. I surrender,” George said with a laugh.

“Did you see that?! That was so cool! Oh my god that was so awesome!” Dream exclaimed as he helped George to his feet. “That was so damn cool!!” he started jumping around the small clearing in excitement.

“How did you even do that? I’ve never seen someone use a crossbow in the middle of a sword fight before”

“I’ll be honest, I’ve got no idea. I have no idea what the hell I just did. I just know that it was cool as fuck!”

He shook his head, chuckling as he watched his friend dance around the area. George had never seen Dream show any sort of emotion before, much this level of excitement. Even though he knew the reasons why, he couldn’t help but feel a bit weirded out by it. Watching the pure joy flash across Dream’s face was strange. Still, it was nice. “You are such a dork”

He only responded with a wide grin.

A thought flashed through George’s mind, causing him to frown slightly. Dream stopped his playful jumping and walked over, his eyes now filled with concern. “Hey, you alright?” He asked. “Oh shit, you’re bleeding! Hold on I’ve got a few bandages on me I think…”

As Dream pulled out a couple white bandages from his bag, George let out a slight chuckle. “Do you even know how to use those?”

“Uhhh, not really? I’m sure I can figure it out. How hard can it be?”

He wasn’t impressed. With a roll of his eyes, George held out his hand for the bandages “Here, just let me do it. It doesn’t really hurt, I think it's just a small cut. Probably just needs to be cleaned.” Taking a bottle of water from his bag, he quickly wet the bandage and started to clean the blood from his face.

Dream pouted. “Well what if I wanted to help?”

“Then you can go and wash the blood out of these,” George said, tossing him the now stained bandages. “No point in wasting perfectly good bandages because of a small cut.”

He caught them easily, but otherwise didn’t move. “Nope. Not until you tell me whats wrong.

The brunette cursed under his breath. Since when had he been so easy to read? “I uh, I was just thinking about… Stuff,” he waived his hand vaguely.

“You wanna talk about it?” Dream plopped down onto the grass and patted the ground next to him. “Here, take a seat.”

He sat.

“Spill.”

“I’m just… Worried, I guess? I mean, in a few days, you’re going to be gone and… the other Dream will be back. I guess I’m just scared about what he's gonna do.”

The smile faded from Dream’s face as he considered what to say. “What was he like?” he asked after a few seconds. “The other me, I mean.”

“He was… Scary. All he cared about was the thrill of the hunt. The mask made it impossible to tell what he was ever thinking, which made it ten times worse. Of course, it only covered his eyes and nose, so that you could still see his grin.” He shuddered. “I watched as he blew up the gates of L’manberg with a massive smile on his face.”

“So then… why did you follow him in the first place?”

“I had no choice. When Sapnap and I showed up, he was the only other person here. It was either join him or be left out to die to the mobs. After a while I guess I just didn’t realize how cruel he was. He was a good leader, and super charismatic. Not to mention a really good actor. By the time the war started… I guess I just trusted him, if that makes sense. He had kept me alive ‘till then, so why would anything change?”

Dream nodded. He wasn’t going to pretend like he understood what his friend had gone through, but he could still try and help in his own way. “He taught you sword fighting, how to survive. You felt like you were indebted to him, right?”

“Yeah… Pretty much. God, its so stupid! I should have been able to realize how messed up he was. Why the hell did I not realize?!” He took off his round sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tight. “I was so fucking stupid.”

Hesitantly, Dream reached over and placed a hand on his friends back, trying to comfort him. “Hey, that’s not stupid. You’d be surprised at how easily our minds can trick us into thinking we’re doing the right thing. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's not your fault.” A stab of guilt shot through him. He had been the one to add George onto the server. If he had waited a bit, would things have been different? Maybe if he had acted differently on stream, or not sent the declaration of war, maybe things would have turned out different. The other Dream might have turned out to be a decent guy, not someone that people trembled before and feared.

“I should have been smarter… I should have joined Sapnap when he went off on his own.”

The weight of George’s words finally sunk in. The other Dream was a monster, a killer. He was the living, breathing version of the mask Dream sometimes wore in his videos. The act of someone who enjoyed the hunt, and nothing more. These past two weeks had been peaceful and calm compared to what everyone had normally lived through, and it was all because the monster was finally gone. But now… now they were about to bring him back. They were about to bring everyone’s worst nightmare back to life.

What choice did they have? It was either that, or let the entire world get destroyed. Either way, the other Dream was about to ruin people’s lives. He sighed. “It's going to be alright, ok? We’ll figure something out, I promise. You’re not going to go back to living like that. I promise.”

Now, it was just a matter of keeping that promise.

~~~

Master Post

First - Previous - Next

#alright can i just say #im so proud of that sparring scene #it turned out really cool in my opinion and i really like it #Tubbo_#tubbolive #wilbursoot #wilbur soot #dreamwastaken #dream team #dreamsmp #sapnap #georgenotfound #The Real World #The Real World AU #my writing #fanfiction #l'manberg #tommyinnit

116 notes · View notes

dranza · 4 years ago

Text

16th December

Draco x Reader

Slow burn babyyyy!

Word count: 2703

Warnings: talk about shitty parents.

Please let me know if you notice any.

I shake snow out of my hair as I enter the Great Hall, weaving through the kids to locate my usual seat on the slytherin table. Sat comfortably, already tucking into his toast, Draco looks up at me with a cocked eyebrow, “Punctual as ever.”

“Morning.” I groan at him, nudging his arm.

“Morning Y/N” he returns with a side smile. “What took you so long?”

“Ginny and Ron were having a snowball fight in the courtyard, I got roped into it.” I shrug.

I’d grown quite close to the Weasley siblings since I moved here and I quickly learned that, as much as they love each other, they are almost always ready to jump at each other's throats. I normally like to stay out of the way but when Ginny used me as a human shield, it meant war. If it wasn’t for Hagrid splitting us up, we would probably still be out there.

“My hands feel like they're going to drop off, feel this.” I place the back of my icy hand against the pale-haired boy’s neck.

“What... are you crazy?” He flings his hand up to my wrist and pulls it away. “You’re freezing!” Once he is over the initial shock, he balls his fingers around my hands, gently whispering a charm over them. A rush of goosebumps flow up my arms. The temperature from his hands transfers into mine and in a few seconds my entire body is filled with a pleasant warmth. He finishes the last charm and looks up. His gentle grip lingers around my hands for a few seconds before he suddenly drops them and averts his eyes. An awkward cough escapes him “better?”

I let out a single breathy giggle and lean my head on his shoulder, “Thanks Dray.”

“Not a problem.” Draco hands me a bowl for my cereal and then reaches over the table for an apple, careful not to move the arm I’m resting on.

“Y/N” a distinct voice calls out to me from a few feet away.

“Uncle Filius?” I look over, confused, at the short man walking towards me (He rarely leaves the teachers table at meal times). Then I notice the cupcake in his hand, a small flame over the icing. The confusion escapes me instantly. Is he seriously doing this?

“Happy Birthday Kiddo.” He reaches me with an ear to ear grin.

I try my best to hide my shock and not get too excited, blowing out the candle gently. “Thanks Uncle Filly.” I can’t quite believe he even knew. It's just that I’ve never actually had a good birthday since my father passed. My mother was always “too busy at work” or had “just received a new lead” so she never had time to find me a gift, most years I didn't even receive a card. My friends at school never realised they missed it. I’ve learned to never have any expectations now. To be completely honest, I’d been so caught up in the christmas festivities, I’d forgotten myself.

“I must rush back but do have a lovely day Y/N!” Professor Flitwick gives me an awkward side hug and continues back towards the teachers table.

I turn my eyes back to my breakfast to notice Hermione sitting opposite me. “I can’t believe you never told us it's your birthday?” Ginny and Harry stand behind her, matching shocked expressions on their faces.

“We have to celebrate!” Ginny states gleefully.

“I’m sure we could go out for butterbeer?” Harry suggests with enthusiasm.

“I don't know… would you guys really be up for it?” I ask sheepishly.

“Are you kidding me? We’re always up for a celebration!” Ron pops up on the other side of Hermione, chocolate muffin in hand. “The Three Broomsticks has this brilliant crumble pudding this time of the year, it's the perfect birthday treat.”

I let out a soft laugh and agree to their plans, touched by their friendship.

“You're not going to Hogsmeade today, are you?” A soft voice calls out from the table next to us and we all turn to the pretty girl perching next to Neville. “I read there would be a snow storm, quite inconvenient.”

Harry runs his fingers through his dark hair “Please! The sun is blazing and it's a clear sky. Any snow that set last night will even melt by midday.”

“We’ll leave at midday then.” Ron bounces his hand off the table. “That's if we don’t get snowed in, right Luna?” he leaves the table laughing to himself.

“I’ll send out an owl to Madame Rosmerta to save us a table for eight.” Hermione pulls out some parchment from her robe and begins writing the note.

“Eight?” I ask, unsure how she can so confidently say so many people would want to come out to celebrate my birthday.

“The six of us…” she signals to herself and the small group around her, “And you two.”

To this Draco’s head shoots up, “Me?” his grey eyes flick left to right to make sure he heard correctly. “I…” he stares at the bitten apple in his hands, “I’m not exactly welcome there anymore.”

Hermione lets out a sharp breath, trying her best to not let the memory of Draco’s darker days show on her face. “Okay, well I’ll sort out someplace else. Let’s just meet in the courtyard in 2 and a half hours.” Her eyes cheekily dart towards Harry and Ginny “Don’t be late.”

“We promise.” Harry dramatically places a hand on his chest.

“We’ll be there.” Ginny nudges him playfully. “In exactly 3 hours, right?” she winks at Hermione and pulls Harry away, the both of them chuckling at Hermione’s exasperated sigh.

I wait for Draco in the Slytherin common room, ready for our day out. I have been to Hogsmeade a few times in the last three and a half months but I can’t hold in my excitement for today. This is going to be so much fun. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m really thrilled that it's my birthday. I feel so lucky to finally have people that care to make my day special. It's so foreign to me. I’m basically pacing around the chamber (chewing on mint leaf, after mint leaf) and suddenly I hear a voice coming from the fireplace.

“Y/N? Are you there?” Hermione pokes her head through the fire. “I can’t believe this is happening, but Luna was right. A snow-storm has literally blocked everything.”

“I’m suggesting we just apparate but apparently it’s too dangerous.” A fiery red head pokes next to Hermione’s.

“Eugh,” she shoves him to the side and continues “It is too dangerous in this weather! And anyway, no one can apparate in or out of Hogwarts. I’m sorry.” She gives me such a genuinely sad smile, I can’t help but feel the need to comfort her.

“It's ok, we can’t control the weather.” I tilt my head like I’m convincing a child. “Don’t worry about it.”

Harry’s voice shouts from behind her “Ginny is bringing the flu powder from her room and we’ll all be there…”

“Unfortunately that will not be permissible. All students will have to remain in their own respected dormitories until the storm has passed.” Professor Snape interrupts in a low voice from behind me.

“But…”

“No ‘buts’! You must remain in your own dormitory until further notice.” and with that, the head of Slytherin house leaves to inform the rest of the students of the new restrictions.

“This is such a bother.” Hermione frowns deeply, a calculating look on her face, trying to figure out some way she can get around it.

“Don't worry about it . Seriously, it's no bother at all.” I attempt to sound as convincing as I can.

“We’ll make this up to you. I promise.” and with a sweet smile she leaves and human/fire returns to being just a fire.

I sigh, annoyed that I let myself get so carried away. Obviously it wasn’t going to be a good day. It never is for goodness sake. I know this. I decide I’m going to spend a lazy day in bed and get away from the rush that is now forming in the dungeon common room. I mindlessly walk through the corridors and turn a corner only to crash into someone’s chest. I take in a sharp, startled breath and a woody scent accompanies the oxygen through my nose. With a lean arm clasped around my waist and a hand gripping my forearm the man stops me from falling. I look up to meet a familiar cheeky smirk.

“Careful Y/L/N!” Draco lazily unravels himself from me. “Where are you rushing off to?”

“My birthday is cancelled. The Universe can’t give me one good day. The weather hates me. So I’m going to lay in my bed and stare into nothing for the rest of the day.” I dramatically hold my arms up into the air and try to continue on my way but Draco takes a side step and obstructs me.

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Ok, The weather doesn't have emotions (You know that!)...” He raises his eyebrows and brings his head down to my eye level. “I will be personally having a word with ‘The Universe’ to get its act in check for you later tonight, and as for your Birthday. It is not cancelled. That… is actually kind of impossible. Only your plans have changed.” He fixes his back and shrugs nonchalantly. “You and I could still do something?”

“What could we possibly do, stuck in this bloody dungeon?”

“Just follow me.” and with that he carries on down the corridor and turns a few corners into places I have never even thought about going down. “Alohomora.” Draco turns back at me with a side smile as he unlocks the door and walks through it. I follow him into a small chamber, confused as it is nothing special until I notice the window. The top half of the glass reveals a beautiful view of the snow and the bottom half is submerged under the lake. Although not many creatures are coming up to the surface because of the storm, I spot a little horn-backed squid and a group of silvery fish. I look over to Draco, my face beaming in delight. “This is amazing! I can’t believe you’re only just showing me this.”

He scratches at the back of his head and points towards the top of the window. “It’s obviously a much better view in spring and summer, you can see all the way to the moorlands and there are so many different creatures in the water. It’s alright, isn't it?” He does his classic impressed, upside down smile.

“It's perfect.” I whisper as I climb onto the window sill. I notice Draco open a cupboard on the other side of the room and pull out a small bag, from it he pulls out a chocolate frog and holds it up as an offer. I cock a brow at him. “Are you serious? Who knows how long that's been there.”

“About 2 weeks.” He states flippantly as he comes up to sit next to me. “My father told me about this place, I usually come here to study when I want to be on my own.” He hands me the chocolate frog and pulls out a liquorice wand for himself. Chewing it, he leans his head back against the cold window and turns to me. “So, why is it you never actually told us it’s your Birthday today?”

“Err, honestly I didn’t really remember myself.” I continue to look out into the lake and quieter I add. “Also, I guess when for the last however many years, the 16th of December is just a day that emphasises how much people don’t actually care about me, it can be easy not to talk about.” I try to give a convincing smile (like it doesn’t bother me) but it doesn't work.

“I recognize that. Although people around me always give me gifts and letters on my birthday, it's clear it's never for ‘me’. They do it to prove a point to my parents or to make themselves look impressive. It's more a statement about themselves.” He looks down and wipes some dust off the bag.

“We’re a sad pair, aren’t we?” I let out a deflated laugh and slip a mint leaf out of my pocket into my mouth.

“We should change that. You can carry on from today, a new, happy, 17 year old woman.” he lifts his liquorice as if he is holding a drink and making a toast.

“Might be a little difficult as I’m only 16.”

“What? That doesn't make sense at all!” He leans his head away from me, trying to get the whole of my body in his view, as if I had some clear visual way of telling my exact age.

I giggle at his confusion. “McGonagall put me forward a year at Hogwarts because I had already done the 6th year spectrum at Durmstrang. I’m sorry, I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t.” An impressed smirk takes over his face. “Graduating a year early? You're not just a pretty face then, are you?”

I playfully slap his arm, distracting from the blood I felt rushing into my face. “Oh shut up Dray!”

We continue in comfortable conversation for the next few hours. Only sometimes stopping to point out something in the window or picking out another snack from the bag. At one point we fall to the ground laughing because Draco is demonstrating a new quidditch move he’s learning and ended up looking like he was doing some strange animal mating ritual. We don't realise how much time has passed until Professor Snape walks into the room.

“Dinner is being served in the common room if you wish to eat. I also inform you, should you wish to sneak off into one of the unauthorised rooms again please let someone know, it would save me having to search every room in the Slytherin House.” with a flick of his robes he left the room as quietly as he entered it.

Draco and I stand in silence for a few seconds and then burst into laughter. “We should go.” I say when we calm down and start exiting the room.

“Wait…” Draco’s voice pulls me back. “I kind of have a present for you. It’s not anything special because… well… I didn’t have much notice. But, I remembered I had this from years ago.” He goes back to the window sill where he had removed his outer robes and from the pocket he reveals a small pot.

Taking it from his hand I read the label.

‘Sensuale Pingunt Nigrum’

I look up at Draco in disbelief, “What? How?” Shaking my head I push it back into his hands. “I can’t take this.”

“You don't like it.” He mutters the statement, barely audible.

“No… I… It’s beautiful but it’s so rare and expensive, I can't take this from you.”

“Please, it's getting wasted just sitting in my old stuff. I know it's cheeky re-gifting (my Aunt got it for me when I turned 12) but it just reminded me of you.” He holds my hand tight around the pot of paint.

“Draco…” I’m speechless. This paint is so rare, it changes consistency and shade based on how the painter feels.

“I don’t know. If you don’t like it you can j…”

I cut him off by leaning in and planting a delicate kiss on his cheek, his skin warm against mine. A few strands of his blond hair brush against my eyebrow. “I love it. Thank you Draco.” I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around him, I feel the tension release from his body and his long arms fold around my waist. We stand like this for a few seconds and break away in an awkward giggle.

“Dinner?” I suggest, pointing my eyes to the door.

“Yes! Err, after you.” He nods.

I smile as I walk towards the common room holding the paint tight against my chest. This is definitely a day I will remember.

Thankyou so much for the support recently, it has been really suprising! Hope you liked this little snippet.

Here is a link to my masterlist if you want to read anything else I’ve written.

#draco #malfoy #imagine #hogwarts #winter #tom felton #hermione #harry potter #ron weasley #ginny weasley #luna lovegood #neville longbottom #draco x reader #birthday #date #snape #cheek kiss #mine

109 notes · View notes

toutallyahoe · 3 years ago

Note

Uhh, dont you just hate it when mother Miranda is being a weirdo when youre asleep? Like ma'am please, im sleeping here smh (btw love the fic!!! I saw you mention that it may be a series, please do if you can! I wanna see the lords reactions to (y/n) being introduced and stuff)

dont you just hate it when a crazy crow lady just happens to monologue about her disappointment on you for not being perfect enough to be a vessel of her dead daughter and her evil plans on using you as a temporary child when you are sleeping after being kidnapped and experimented on?

eugh, ma'am have a heart and let the poor man rest without you cooing on him being your child or something smh

but lmao yeah, mother miranda needs to chile 🖐️🙄🙄

and really? im honestly still contemplating if i do this as a series or not

if i do it as a series, it would still be a while for ethan to fuck shit up in the village since i want to write the lords and mother miranda breaking [name]'s spirits apart so he could be a perfect a perfect brother/child to them and just maybe some obsessive behavior on everyone there

is it like the characters are yanderes? kinda? i did mention if i do make this series, itll be like os/obsession series with jim moriarty

eh, lets just see if i do it or not

#i still am thinking about it #but im really tempted since this is a good thing to write about more fucked up shit than my usual fluffy ones #i can write a lot of angst on this series like os afahskfhjwhdjwjdjwhd #tou responds #ask #anons

11 notes · View notes

quentineliot · 4 years ago

Text

Country music. Everybody's favorite. Right? ;P

I grew up in the Southern US. "The South" people from the area would more affectionately call it. I've moved, and done a lot to separate myself from not only the so called culture there, but also it's music.

And I LOVE music. Sang in the car to every song that came on the radio from the age I could make sound, to 21. My mom always tells this story about how I would cry as a baby unless Vince Gill was playing on cassette.

It's been around 7 years since I've turned on a country radio station. But because I grew up on the music (and classic rock like zztop) occasionally a country ear worm will stop by. And being a fully realized transman, it makes sense looking back at the lyrics of many of these songs, why I didn't notice sooner. And why telling my parents was incredibly terrifying.

Not EVERY song uses the "sweet girl with an overprotective dad that just a good ol boy wants to marry and raise a family with" formula. But it's a Lot of them. And if it's not a song about a guy just wanted to settle down with a pretty girl who can cook a good meal, it's about jealousy. And how (typically) women act in these songs is sung at the top of your lungs, about how she'll fuck up his car, steal his dog, or murder him and his mistress.

Miranda Lambert has a song about burning everything down and lighting it on fire. Which, is honestly a mood. But having been In The South, people don't think it's hyperbolic. There are a LOT of people that, if they were willing to bring Dixie Chicks back into their hearts, would be doing some Goodbye Earl's of their own. (Though, this song is a better example of justice taken, and of all the references so far, I think I'm most comfortable with this one.)

Take a look at these lyrics from Shania Twain's "Any Man of Mine"

"Any man of mine better be proud of me

Even when I'm ugly, he still better love me

And I can be late for a date that's fine

But he better be on time"

Okay so I'm with you on the first two lines. Great start. But you're saying you don't want your man to be late but You* can be late. Double standard and not okay. This was music I absorbed as like, idk, a 6 years old? I'd need math and Google and I don't feel like it. Moving on.

"Any man of mine'll say it fits just right

When last year's dress is just a little too tight

And anything I do or say better be okay

When I have a bad hair day"

First two lines, personal preference I suppose. I'd rather be told if I don't look good and change my clothes. Not everyone is me, a lot of people would much rather get "yes baby you look amazing!" always. Top two lines, good.

But ANYTHING YOU DO OR SAY BETTER BE OKAY WHEN YOU HAVE A BAD HAIR DAY?!!! Excuse me???!!! Absolutely not.

-------

I mentioned Carrie Underwood's Before He Cheats earlier. All you really need is the chorus. I don't need Google for this one.

And I dug my key in to the side of his pretty little suped up four wheel drive

Carved my name into his leather seats

I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights

Slashed a hole in all four tires

Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats

TLDR: he cheated on me so I destroyed his car. And while this song was a fucking Anthem when it came out, any woman who exhibited even slightly agressive behavior was Shut the fuck Down. Make it make sense. The song is about criminal activity so, clearly, anyone who does this should be charged. So why wouldn't people let women and girls show anger in a productive way?

Trisha Yearwoods "She's in Love with the Boy"

Is literally just romanticizing getting married at 16 or 18 or to your first love.

Faith Hill's "This Kiss" gets a pass but only because of "Cinderella said to Snow White, how does love get so off course?" And I thought they were in love with each other 😂

I can't even begin to unpack Fancy by Reba McEntire. And Reba is legendary, she's been making music since before I was born and I love her. It's just, that song.. Eugh. Yikes.

I've been trying to find other songs that absolutely put "go find a nice boy and have babies" into my brain at an early age, and I stumbled on George Strait and I know a few of his songs by heart. Oceanfront Property. All my exes live in Texas. Check yes or no. Amarillo by morning. I can't find anything wrong with any of his music. So it CAN be done.

I'm just salty about the amount of redneck inspiration porn I was made to sing as a child. (my mother made me sing at parties. I preferred singing alone) No other genre of music does this. Rock music isn't over here all "look pretty, shut up, and find a good husband" 🤨

I feel I should mention that there have been recent songs that defy this formula. ",This ain't my momma's broken heart" by Miranda Lambert. Taylor Swift has a unique writing style so I'm sure she's written SOMEthing that's not just trucks beer women muddin or whatever else today country is about? There's a couple about whiskey I think. It's always whiskey or beer..

Country music is like all about family, or something sad and mourning that loss. Heaven, angels, wings, gods watching over you, memaw is watching over you, you're not alone I'm there with you even tho I'm on a truck 100 miles away, think of me when you hear the wind blow kiddo🙃

Finally, to be clear, I don't hate any of the songs Ive referenced or pulled lyrics from. They were my entire childhood. Lonestar was my shit, I choreographed a dance to Shania Twain's "Man I feel like a woman" and did it in front of an auditorium of people, I still know every word of Suds in the bucket by Sara Evans and anything Martina McBride I've sung hundreds of times. It's beautiful music. But dang does country music and the south know how to brainwash people. It's scary.

#idk what im actually typing #there's a point jn here somewhere #country music #thoughts

11 notes · View notes

sleekervae · 4 years ago

Text

The Neighbour [0.3]

Something was irrevocably different with Remington; Emerson picked it off right away. On an early Tuesday afternoon, with the air thick and humid and the sun beating down like a plague (no pun intended), Remington was fussing over himself more than usual. He had changed out of four or five different outfits, playing with his hair, and was it appropriate for him to wear makeup? Eva hadn't seen him with it on, yet. No, it was probably best to keep it casual for now. Then again, he had a fantastic highlight that worked absolute magic under the sun...

It was around eleven thirty when Remington finally came down, dressed down but still presentable in a simple pair of ripped skinny jeans and a t-shirt. Emerson and Shy were sat on the couch as they watched Netflix, Pepper situated between them. Remington stopped short when he saw the pair cuddled up on the couch, he smiled deviously.

"Eugh! You guys are so flippin' cute it's gross!" he gushed, putting on his diva voice.

Shy chuckled softly, "Hi Rem,"

Emerson's attention diverted to his older brother, intrigued to see him all ready to go out somewhere.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Coffee with Eva," Remington replied simply.

"The neighbour with the cat?" Shy said.

"Yeah," Remington nodded, "Emerson tell you she gave us a loaf of bread last week?"

"He did," she smiled, "Poor thing, I felt for her. She looked so flustered at the pool,"

"Well, moving is a bitch already. Throw in Covid 19 and you got a real thorn in the ass," Emerson said, then turning back to his brother, "You gonna' be social distancing?"

"We're going to drink our coffee and walk around in the park," Remington replied, "She works from home anyway,"

"So, who asked who for the coffee?" Emerson asked.

Remington shrugged, stopping at the hallway mirror to fix his hair again, "She brought up how she hasn't had a chance to get around the neighbourhood, so I offered, she accepted. She has our vinyl too,"

"Which one?" Emerson asked.

"Boom Boom Room,"

"Side A or B?"

"A,"

"I'd approve either way,"

Shy couldn't help but subconsciouly squeeze Emerson's arm, a glimmer of excitement bursting behind her eyes, "So, she's a fan, too?"

"Took her a minute to figure it out. Didn't even bring up Em or Seb, so clearly she pays more attention to me," the blonde smirked.

Emerson glowered at his brother, "Yeah, yeah, go for your cup of fuck-off-ee," he grumbled.

Across the street, with her room strewn in discarded clothes that just didn't make the cut, Eva finally felt confident standing in her denim skirt and black tee. On any other day she'd have paired the ensemble with her pleather jacket, but it was too damn hot out. Even with the window letting in a cool breeze, the air was uncomfortably humid. What did she expect when moving from the Emerald City to Los Angeles?

Eva made sure to close and latch the window shut before she left, not eager for Pluto to go off on another reign of terror. Stopping to grab a fresh face mask, her phone suddenly began to vibrate in her purse. She figured it might have been Remington sending her a text, but the screen flashed to the Blocked Caller ID. Eva rolled her eyes and denied the call.

Stepping out into the humidity, Eva waved her hand over her face as she stepped out of the complex courtyard, just at the same time Remington was locking the door to his house. As soon as she caught his eye, he was all smiles.

She was glad to see him; a little relieved, even. He looked cool, cool enough to appear on some grungy magazine cover. All he needed to complete the look was a cigarette and maybe a skateboard, too. The messy blonde hair, the glimmer in his eyes brought back the warmth she associated with his presence and as she came to meet him at his car, his spicy cologne danced up her nose and imprinted itself in her olfactory memory.

Remington had never been more wary of how his hands shook, his left hand he stuffed into his jean pocket and the right he gripped his car keys with a vice-esque grip. He found himself mesmerized briefly by the fit of her skirt, her black t-shirt tucked in smoothly but not too tight to over expose her figure, but just enough to give Remington an idea. Her short brown hair fell delicately over her face, one side pushed back behind her ears and exposing her stormy blue eyes to the sunshine. She was the embodiment of innocence and grunge wrapped into a perfect five-foot-six package.

"Glad you didn't stand me up," he grinned.

"Well, I kind of happen to live right over there," she drawled, pointing to her balcony, "It'd be kind of awkward and hard to hide if I tried,"

"You look really nice," he nodded after a brief moment.

"So do you," she agreed with confidence, "Where we off to?"

There was a forested park not far from where they lived. Despite the pandemic, the fields were filled with older kids playing games of soccer and basketball, there were vendors out trying to sell their ice cream, a couple girls were scattered across the grass and sunbathing. It almost all seemed so normal, if not for the fact that the kid's jungle gym had been fenced off so no child could climb upon it.

The pair walked side-by-side, him with his iced black coffee and her with a green tea frapp -- no whipping cream. The gravel path they walked was shaded by a canopy of lush green trees, providing some relief from the hammering heat. Remington kept his gaze locked on her, worried to miss a moment where she'd crack a smile or briefly run her tongue over her lips. Her fingers appeared so dainty yet he could spot the small calluses at the middle joint of her thumb, and some paper cuts on her middle and index fingers.

"So, how does a ghostwriter get hired?" Remington asked, "Do you just openly advertise 'hey! If you're a lazy author, come hire me'?"

"No," Eva shook her head with a giggle, "I used to write articles for the newsletter at my college, and then a friend of mine forwarded me an email about a client who was looking for a ghostwriter. I didn't know much about it but the money was pretty good. It was a grant application for requesting financial aid for survivors of residential schools,"

"Sounds depressing," Remington said.

"It was pretty heavy shit," Eva admitted, "But, I did get fifteen-hundred for a six page application. Well worth it, I'd say,"

Remington blew an impressed whistle, "So you make pretty good money off of this?"

"Let's just say my student debt has decreased significantly since I took up the profession," and she took a brief sip of her drink.

"You ever publish anything under your own name?" he asked, "Eva Kuznetsov is a cute pen name. Evelina sounds more mature, though..."

Eva shrugged, "I think about it sometimes... but it's just easier to write under someone else's name and let them have all the glory. Say, if they happen to do something stupid to forever tarnish their career, that won't come back to bite me in the ass,"

Remington smirked, "Like a particular fantasy author who's made some pretty heavy comments concerning the trans community?"

"Let's not even talk about that, my heart still breaks when I think about it," Eva sighed, "To answer your question, however, if I got confident enough I may try to publish something in the future,"

"What else do you like to write?"

Eva opened her mouth but closed it quickly, pressing together her petunia pink lips as she visibly swallowed whatever words were about to pass through them. When she looked up at Remington again, his brown eyes dark like soaked coffee grinds that sent her into a caffeinated headrush. What would he think if she actually told him...

"I write poems, some short stories," she somewhat lied.

Remington's smile grew wider, mischief glimmering over his face like light beams reflecting over windchimes in a saturated dusk, "You hesitated just now," he spoke curiously, "What else do you write?"

Eva glanced down at the ground, a nervous giggle bubbling out and knocking the air out of her lungs, "Okay listen, don't judge me, it's just a hobby of mine,"

"Oh God!" Remington gasped, "Do you write porn?"

Eva laughed again, her pale cheeks flushing in red, "Well... I do happen write some naughty shit... in my fanfictions,"

Remington stopped dead in his tracks, taken aback by her answer. He totally thought she would say something along the lines of erotic fiction on a platform like Literotica. For understandable reasons, he had some mixed emotions about fanfictions.

"What kind of fanfiction?" he asked, somewhat bordering on the third degree.

"... Um..." she glanced at him again, the smirk on his lips compelling more giggles to burst from hers. She pressed her hands together over her nose and mouth, and Remington laughed as well.

"Okay listen, I promise," he put his right hand over his chest, "I promise I will not judge you for whatever smut you write for whoever," he assured her.

"It's not... yeah, I guess it kind of is," Eva chuckled nervously, "I usually write for stuff like Criminal Minds, but more lately I've gotten into writing for Euphoria..." she trailed off, timid as she waited for his response.

"Alright, that's actually not bad," he nodded, "I'll be honest, you didn't strike me as somebody who write fanfics,"

Eva glanced timidly at her scuffed sneakers, kicking up pebbles and dust, "Are fanfic writers supposed to look a certain way?"

"I don't know, actually," he simpered.

"I don't tell a lot of people that I do it, mainly because their first impression is either 'what the fuck' or 'OMG we should collaborate' and I'm just like," she hung her head back, "Nooo!"

"You're more of a soloist then a team player, then?" he teased.

"Let's just say I tend to work better alone," she replied, shrugging her shoulders as though the comment should mean nothing. But Remington found it odd that Eva was out here all on her own, never brought up her friends or family. He didn't see many personal effects in her apartment, neither.

"Is that why you're out here by yourself?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"Well... don't take this the wrong way, but I haven't really seen you with anybody. You don't talk about your friends or your family,"

Eva shrugged again, "They're all back in Seattle. Besides, opportunity was drying up over there and I just wanted a fresh start," she said, "Besides, Pluto's my friend,"

"Well, that's a given," he replied, "Are your parents up in Seattle?"

"My dad is," she nodded, "I don't know what my mom's doing," Remington's silent was her cue to go on, "I um... we haven't really spoken, her and I,"

"You have a falling out?" he asked suddenly.

Eva glared down at the gravel again, "You can call it that. She's a pilot and she's always flying, and so you know, I never really got to see much of her growing up. And then, she suddenly shows up for my college graduation and expects us to be one big happy family, like she has it in her head that she can make up for all the birthdays and shit she's missed. And I just didn't know what to say to her. I don't know who she is, but she's my mom," she glanced up at Remington again, "And I don't know why I'm telling you all of this,"

Remington wasn't bothered by her unloading, it seemed as though Eva needed to get things off her chest more than she realized. Her smile was sardonic and her voice petty like a comedian on stage, putting on the brave 'I don't give a fuck anymore' face.

"I find sometimes it's easier to unload to new people then it is to your friends," he said, "What does your dad do?"

"Chem professor. Which is ironic because I seriously sucked at chemistry," she replied.

"Show me a kid who didn't struggle in chem, honestly," he said, "But do you get along with your dad?"

"For the most part," she chuckled, "He's still confused as to why I choose to write anonymously, but that's his problem. What do your parents do?"

Remington chewed on the inside of his cheek, "My mom's kind of like our manager. Does a lot of production and behind the scenes stuff. And I haven't seen my dad for nearly twenty years,"

Eva was silent for a moment, studying him. He spoke with a firm grin, yet still trying to shadow that flicker of sadness within his face.

"So we both have parental issues... that's nice to know," she put on a teasing grin, "Maybe that's why we make such good friends?"

Remington swallowed thickly, "So, you are indeed confirming we are friends?"

"I am," she smiled, "It'd be nice to have whatever few I can scrape up,"

"That fact that you also live across the street means that you're now stuck with me," Remington grinned with pride.

"True," Eva hummed appreciatively, taking another sip of her drink, "Somehow, I don't think I'll mind, though,"

When Remington drove her home she gave him a sweet and polite goodbye, a hug which made his confident exterior falter for a second long enough for her to witness it through the flush in his cheeks and his lack of response. His words tripped over the length of his tongue when he tried to flush out a proper goodbye and he felt his hands began to quiver again.

And when he went to open his door, he took one last glance. The small brunette turned at the same time and met his gaze, but he was too far away to hear her sharp inhale. And when he finally went inside he fall back against the door, staring into space with the biggest grin he'd had on since... well, he couldn't remember when he last felt so excited.

#remington leith #Remington Leith imagine #palaye royale #Palaye Royale imagine #Palaye Royale fic #sebastian danzig #emerson barrett #boy bands #band imagines #band imagine blog #original story #original female character

34 notes · View notes