#as they srs need more fics because the only ones I have found has been more on the abusive side | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blue-thief · 6 months ago

Note

Ok. Thoughts on the Itoshi Sibs / their parallels with Isagi?

HELLO this took forever for me to answer because summer school and the sadness. as you know.

also i went too crazy with tying blue lock into my fixation with japanese nationalism so it got way too complex and i got scared but now i'm just gonna make that its own post (<- said the same thing about bsd. that analysis about bsd's connection with japanese nationalism has been sitting in my docs for a year now i think)

(smh this is what happens when the japanese imperial army almost wipes out your entire bloodline /gen /srs)

anyway. all that waiting to say that rin is... just some guy to me

usually a fw anime boys named rin. esp if they're the sworn rival of the plain protagonist. not necessarily this one though

i have no clue why he doesn't scratch my brain properly. he just doesn't. i need to spend a good three hours staring at the ceiling at night to figure that out

when you first sent me this i didn't really care for sae much either. now i do

that's how long this has been sitting in my drafts 😃😃

(i've written and scrapped thousands of words for this ask sob sob)

(this answer wasn't even formatted this way originally)

i've probably told you the story of how sae grew on me before but like

i don't plan out my fics right

i do play out random scenes in my head to test out if i like them or not

(shivers because updating my fic is another thing that is taking forever.......)

and i was just fucking around with random jokes kaiser and sae could say to each other

then i imagined sae smiling

and i was like "what the fuck... why is that so endearing........"

that was the turning point but it really was a lot of sitting and contemplating sae's character honestly

to really understand him and why he'd be friends with kaiser

and sae is kinda just like me frfr

that guy can't do anything other than soccer/football. he has nothing going on beyond that

and yeah. yeah... i get that.......

it's the reason why i like a bunch of other bllk characters but it's most pronounced with sae yk

(SORRY MR. SNUFFY)

and like. just his inability to be a normal fucking person 😭😭 too real

anyway those are my general itoshi brothers thoughts

now for the parallels part.

(this is the part that killed me and i wanna go more in-depth. but i'm saving that for another post. because holy shit my original idea was so fucking ambitious)

i had other thoughts and god i wish i wrote that stuff down

but the major thing i want to get into here is dependence

isagi is independent. soo independent it's kinda crazy

this was outlined most during the second selection with bachira where he had to learn to play by himself

meanwhile there's rin who seems independent on the surface

however, rin has always been dependent on sae in one way or another

when they were younger, rin was dependent on sae to take care of and guide him

rin also depended heavily on sae on the field

now that they are older, sae's attempt to shake rin off has just made rin's dependence on sae even more intense, just in a different way

rin's only motivation to play soccer/football had been to "crush" sae

...but now he's met isagi

and his obsession has found a new object

with the recent chapters, now we know he places isagi and sae on a similar level in his personal hierarchy, and his desire to destroy sae has bled into rin's feelings toward isagi

while rin has only one rival, the same can't be said for isagi

isagi gains rivals like pokemon, and while they have all played a significant roll in isagi's development as a person and a character, his obsession doesn't consume him. in the PXG vs BM match, he's doesn't fully comprehend the effect he's had on kaiser and rin

and mannn i wish i could find this analysis, but it's gone now

but someone compared isagi's desire to "devour" to rin and nagi's desire to "kill"

I WISH I COULD REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT THEY SAID

but from what i remember, "devouring" someone is temporarily defeating them, but both parties ultimately improve so there's room for them to meet again and help each other improve even more

however, "killing" someone is defeating them completely so they're never able to play/improve ever again

which outlines the fact that while isagi can be a little bitch on the field, he wants his rivals to improve alongside him, and in the end, he wants the best for people (in terms of soccer/football)

which is why he never became overly-dependent on bachira and why he treats midfielders as actual human beings 😭😭

isagi is independent, but he pushes for the people around him to be just as independent

the itoshi brothers are different though

rin is codependent on sae, and you could say his hatred/obsession with isagi is a different type of codependency

but that thing about treating midfielders as human beings...

uh. that doesn't really apply to rin

sae is somewhat similar with how he "tamed" shidou but it's not THAT imbalanced lmao

there's also how the three of them are on different places of the striker-midfielder spectrum

in-universe and within the fandom, rin is perceived as japan's ultimate striker. his raw shooting power + metavision makes him perfect for this position.

however sae, another metavision user, is the perfect midfielder

then there's isagi who's tried emulating rin's play style at first but is ultimately most similar to sae, leading people to say that isagi is better suited to be a midfielder rather than a striker

while rin represents what the ultimate japanese striker is, something isagi is trying to reach, sae's path is one that isagi could easily fall down instead

many people have theorized that sae became a midfielder to improve rin's chances at becoming a better striker. sae may be considered to have a strong ego, but if this turns out to be true, that might not be the case lmao

errm. idk how to end this off. sorry for the wait sob sob

#asks #blue lock #bllk #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #itoshi sae #sae itoshi

24 notes · View notes

gayphob1a · 1 year ago

Text

The Five Stages of Grief (and love)

Steddie || full fic on ao3

Would you believe it if Steve Harrington told you he wasn’t a huge fan of parties? He played the part well, kegstand king and all, but in reality, All the alcohol and drugs being thrust into his hands just made him feel out of control, like his body and mind were two separate entities fighting for whichever could give him a bigger case of Foot-in-Mouth disease. All through high school, his so-called friends threw parties, and of course he attended; most of them were at his house after all. Once in a blue moon he might even say he enjoyed the company, if he’d had a bad week — back then, a bad week entailed a lost basketball game, Tommy and Carol being grade A dicks, at worst Harrington Sr. getting on his case for his less than perfect grades — but really all they ever achieved was to make him feel like shit in the morning.

Eventually, the stakes of a bad week to “King Steve” seemed inconsequential, laughable even. Now, in the face of the end of the world, temporary distraction is all he could hope for. Weekend after weekend, Steve hosts hordes of high schoolers who barely acknowledge him as a person rather than a symbol. He’s searching for a moment of relief, a second of feeling safe.

It never comes, but the appeal of weed and liquor finally do. Steve thinks if he can just muddle his way through the trauma of fighting monsters in a drunken haze, eventually he’ll forget. Wishful thinking.

Because graduation comes with another apocalypse hot on its trails. Steve may have found a form of peace in Robin, but she isn’t the cure for the void in his chest. That void can now only be filled with a constant stream of substances. Okay, maybe it doesn’t fill the void, but he can pretend it isn’t there under the haze of glorious intoxication.

So, to Steve’s delight, after killing Vecna, he finds an acquaintance in Eddie. Maybe pursuing friendship would be more beneficial, but Steve can’t find the capacity to expend the energy that requires.

No, Steve has been meeting with Eddie, nearly three times a week, to stock up on weed. They share little more than a nod of solidarity for what they went through together, before Steve rushes home to smoke and pour himself a drink. Or two. Or three.

The morning after one of those nights he goes harder than most, Steve walks into his shift at Family Video, looking completely worn down. His hair lacks its signature “Harrington” shape and volume. A pair of thick sunglasses shield his eyes. His clothes are clearly unwashed, and smell strongly of his unconscionable decisions.

“Gooood morning, sunshine!” Robin says, far too loud for Steve’s throbbing headache.

Steve winces and puts a hand up to rub his temples.

“Damn, Rob, it’s too early to be so cheerful.”

While Steve self-destructs on a nightly basis, Robin is on constant alert, ready to be at his side at a moment's notice. She hardly ever lets on to this behavior though, fearing Steve will withdraw if he knows she’s focusing her energy towards him.

Steve, though he’ll never admit it, has a habit of closing himself off the second he needs help. He would drop everything for any one of those damn kids, Robin, Nancy, or even Eddie, but he was never able to let them reciprocate.

“It is 12 o’clock in the afternoon, Steven. The sun is fully up.”

“Okay, so it’s too early in my morning to be this cheerful.”

“You really are a delight, you know that, dingus?”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too, dummy.” Steve lets out a half hearted chuckle, unable to fully match Robin’s energy. Frankly, he can’t match any energy at this point. The nightmares and crippling paranoia had too strong a grip on him last night. His sides, where the demobats had left nothing but shredded skin and muscle, were aching the worst they had since the night he got them. A joint and a nightcap hadn’t helped the way Steve had hoped, so he poured another. And then another. And then another. It was around the time he found himself dancing around the pool, a whiskey bottle in one hand and another joint in the other, that he realized he’d lost count.

The hangover’s cruel, but not enough to make Steve regret his choices. The room may be spinning, but it’s reminiscent of the circles he danced in with his arms out, listening to something that vaguely reminded him of Eddie. He may have a splitting headache, but it hurts less than his injuries had last night. He may have feel a constant dull pressure on the back of his throat, like everything from last night is trying to scratch and crawl its way out, but really, he’s so jumpy these days, that nearly every sudden noise has him on the verge of vomiting.

Robin stares Steve down as she watches him wince at too sharp a movement, or quickly grab at the trash can, just to set it back down with a thumbs up and a “false alarm.” Things had been hard on all of them, sure, but she knows Steve is far deeper than anyone else. Four times saving the world, and not once had he let his emotions be felt.

“You know, Eddie and I have movie night tonight. You should help me pick something out.” Steve is sitting on a stool, with his head in his crossed arms on the counter. It was a slow Tuesday, so Steve is taking advantage of this time to sleep the hangover off in 5 minute intervals. He lifts his head slightly, to give Robin a confused look.

“You want me, Steve Harrington, to pick out a movie for you and Eddie Munson? The man has never once entertained the idea of renting a movie I even express an interest in.”

“Granted, his taste is a bit… niche, but we’ve run out of movies to watch. We need a fresh pair of eyes, Steve!” Robin practically whines at him, and the noise is like a sharp object scraping against his eardrums.

“Oh my god, if you stop talking in that voice I’ll pick out a full movie festival for you.”

There’s a small mutter from Robin as he stands to search for something Eddie acceptable-ish.

“What was that?” He asks, now standing to his full height over Robin.

“Oh um, just that, maybe… Could you also drive me there when our shift is over?”

Steve exaggerates a sigh and roll of his eyes, but they both know the answer to that question.

“And why isn’t Eddie picking you up today?” He calls from the sci-fi shelves. Robin follows him over, but he turns his back to block his potential selections from her view.

“I wouldn’t normally ask. You know I hate making you drive me around everywhere. Just two more months until I get my license and you’ll be free. It’s just, Eddie’s stuck at home. His van isn’t running. I think it’s something to do with the tank? Lines? Shit, I don’t know about cars, dingus. It doesn’t go.”

Steve lets out a real laugh at that. They were few and far between, but the real laughs that could only be produced by Robin were almost as good as Eddie’s top shelf shit.

“You know I don’t mind driving you anywhere, Rob. Of course I’ll take you. Can’t let you miss the incredible film night I have prepared for you.”

“Show me what it is if it’s so incredible.” Robin giggles, trying to snatch the VHS from Steve’s hands. He holds it up above his head with a hand over the cover so she can’t read it. Robin jumps and grabs at it, the two in a fit of laughter. It’s moments like these that make the guilt catch up with Steve.

The rest of the day matches the speed of their slow morning, and the distinct lack of customers proves a strain on Steve’s mental health. His every other thought is an attack on himself, tearing him down for ditching his best friends. Sure he still spends time with them, helping the kids with homework and general chauffeur duties, taking Robin out to practice driving, single handedly keeping Eddie in business; but every attempt the others make to show him how much they care, he withdraws himself more.

Physically, he’s still there, still looks like Steve, but he laughs a little less. Most smiles fail to reach his eyes anymore. He just can’t get his mind to wrap around the concept that he deserves their effort.

Customers trickle in and out one by one until closing. Steve, exhausted and ready for a drink, rents out the movie and ushers Robin out to his car, locking the store behind them. The ride to Eddie’s is filled with Robin’s pleasant chatter and soft laughter. Steve’s state of mind is plastered all over his face and Robin can see he’s drifting into a dark place. Though she can’t outright say anything, she knows her blabbering about nothing is just distracting enough to stop his mind from wandering too far.

Before long, they’re pulling into the Forest Hills driveway, down the couple lots to Eddie’s trailer. Steve notices the spot next to Eddie’s van was empty of Wayne’s car. He pulls in, headlights glinting off the trailer windows.

“hold on a second. Robin, how were you planning on getting home if Eddie’s van isn’t running and Wayne is gone?” Steve looks at Robin, who’s been oddly quiet since turning into the trailer park. He can just barely see the mischievous smile that forms on Robin’s lips as she turns to him with just a bit too much melodrama.

“Oh nooo! I TOTALLY forgot about getting home, Steve! I guess I’ll just walk home later, in the dark, alone.” she exaggerates a sigh to really sell it.

Steve rolls his eyes. Of course he isn’t going to let Robin walk home. He wouldn’t let her in broad daylight, much less around midnight. Still, he’s a tad bit annoyed. He’s exhausted from nursing his hangover all day and ready to fall into the bottom of another bottle. He doesn’t want that to be postponed by the looming responsibility of needing to operate a car to pick Robin up.

“You could always join us, of course. No need to drive back and forth. I can even drive us back after, as long as you ‘observe’,” she says with air-quotes. Driving lessons originally scared the both of them, but they quickly discovered that since she didn’t have to move her actual body, Robin was actually quite adept behind the wheel. Most of the drives they take, Steve just zones out to the music and watches the scenery go by.

He sighs, but it’s a decent enough compromise. “Alright, fine... If I’d known this was your plan all along I would have picked a movie I’d actually enjoy,” he grumbles. They exit the car, Steve with the movie in hand, and rap on the door. It swings open a moment later to reveal a comfortable looking Eddie.

Boy is this different. Steve’s visits with Eddie typically take place away from the trailer, where he’s always keeping up appearances as the metalhead ‘freak’. This Eddie looks so… soft? His crazy hair is half pulled up in a little bun on top of his head, while the rest delicately hangs over his shoulders. He’s wearing a shirt that reads ‘IRON MAIDEN: Live After Death’. It looks like it’s been well loved, and sloppily cut to stop right above Eddie’s navel, revealing the trail of hair that leads into his black sweatpants. He finds himself thinking he understands why girls find that so attractive and quickly shoves that thought into a little box he’ll be locking up tight under about a pound of weed. He doesn’t even realize he’s just standing there, looking dumb as fuck with his mouth hanging open until Eddie finally speaks.

“Good to see you too, Harrington. Buckley.” he gives Robin a little nod as she walks past him. Steve shakes his head, pulling a hearty chuckle out of Eddie.

“Uh, yeah, man. Good to see you. Sorry, I’m kind of crashing your movie night aren’t I?”

“Not a problem, man. So, you gonna come in or what?” Steve slip past Eddie, praying to a god he isn’t sure even exists, that Eddie hasn’t noticed the heat spreading in his cheeks.

Robin is already in the kitchen, making herself at home with snacks and a couple beers for the other two. The boys accept the drinks and get comfortable in the living room. Eddie slings across the armchair sideways, his head leaning over the side, near the spot on the couch where Steve sits. Not long after, Robin sets a big bowl of popcorn on the coffee table for all three of them, and curls up into Steve’s side.

“Alright, will you finally tell me what we’re watching, Steve? Eddie, this man would not tell me what we’re watching for the entirety of our 8 HOUR shift.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know I would be joining you, and I didn’t want you complaining to me all day that my choice was stupid. Now, sit back, relax, and get ready for 87 full minutes of the most dramatic irony you will ever experience in your life.” Eddie and Robin share a confused look. When the movie starts playing, the title screen alone is enough for them to start groaning.

“Really, Steve. Strange Behavior? That couldn’t be more on the nose.” Eddie grabs a throw pillow and hits Steve in the face with it, smiling all the same.

“I know it’s on the nose, that’s why I picked it. Come on, I know you two cope with humor and this movie is ridiculous compared to the real deal!”

“You were right, Steve. I would have– no, should have complained until you picked something else,” Robin teases. They all turn their attention to the screen to watch an evil scientist experiment on teenagers and turn them into murderers.

In no way is the film intended to be funny, but they can’t help themselves as they laugh at how exaggerated and unrealistic it all is.

“Okay, come on. You’re telling me ‘I was drunk, I don't remember what happened’ is a good enough excuse? How is no one questioning how Oliver was just MISSING FROM THE PARTY when Waldo got stabbed?” Eddie hollers criticisms at the movie’s lack of consequences the whole way through. At one point, he’s out of the chair, jumping and screaming about Mildred being useless when “SHE WAS GIVEN A FULL DESCRIPTION OF HER FRIEND’S KILLER AND SHE DOES NOTHING WITH THAT INFORMATION?” Upon settling back down, his head is just slightly closer to where Steve sits, the loose bottom half of his hair falling over the arm of the couch.

With one arm wrapped around Robin, mindlessly drawing patterns in her cardigan sleeve, Steve’s other hand instinctually goes to stim somewhere else. The hand finds itself in the curly mess of hair near him, twirling it around his fingers. They stay that way in silence until the movie ends. The only noise left filling the room is Robin’s soft snoring. Eddie slowly stands, forgetting his hair is in Steve’s hand, the sudden loss of contact taking them both by surprise. A swift nod towards the trailer door is all Steve needs to detangle himself from Robin, wrapping her in a blanket before leaving.

Eddie leads them to the back doors of his van. It opens up to reveal a fort of pillows and blankets. Eddie gets comfortable and pats the spot next to him for Steve to join. Eddie pulls the little black box holding his stash out from under the driver’s seat, as Steve grabs a handful of pillows and a loose blanket to make himself a little cocoon next to Eddie.

“Cold, Harrington?” Eddie asks, not necessarily teasing. Well, maybe a little, but he doesn’t wait for a response before leaning over the center console to stick the keys in the ignition. The van starts up, filling the small space with warmth. Steve relaxes a bit as the warm air reaches him, which only reminds him of why he’s there at all.

“Hold the fuck up, dude. Robin said your car broke down?”

“Oooh, shit. I forgot that was our story. She uh, she’s actually running just fine,” Eddie replies sheepishly. He passes Steve a freshly lit joint with an appeasing smile.

“So, what? You guys made up some kind of secret mission to get me to drive Robin around? I would have said yes if you just asked.”

“Exactly! That’s why we used driving Robin as the ploy to get you here.” Steve passes the joint back with a confused look on his face.

“That hard pressed for customers, Eds?” The nickname makes Eddie chuckle, but only slightly.

“No. No, I really don’t need any more customers actually. You’ve bought up nearly my whole stock.” Steve’s eyes widen. He knows he’s smoking probably more than he needs to, but damn, not that much.

“I- fuck. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to smoke you out of house and home, jesus.”

“Hey no apologies necessary over here. If anything you’re keeping me in house and home. You’re paying my bills, Stevie.” He takes a long drag before passing it back. Steve watches as Eddie’s head tilts back, letting the smoke stream out to hit the roof of the van. His head drops back down, meeting Steve’s eyes. He tries to take a hit to play it off, as Eddie continues.

“That’s actually why we wanted you to come over. Are you doing okay? I mean like, as okay as you could be?”

Steve isn’t surprised. It isn’t the first time his behavior has alerted someone’s concern. After he and Robin experienced the highs (literally) and lows of Russian truth serum, Steve started drinking more and more in an attempt to forget what that horrible drug had felt like. Robin, of course noticed, having also been remembering that overwhelming, dread-induced, giggly feeling.

Steve sighs out his hit, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I’m doing fine, man. Really, I’m… coping.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Steve.” Eddie’s face is suddenly intense, the space between his eyebrows all but gone, his lips steeled in a frown. “You’ve been coming to see me three times a week, and I know you’re not stocking up for a rainy day because you don’t like having a large amount in case the kids find it. Don’t think just because you hide behind those sunglasses we haven’t noticed the bags under your eyes. They get darker every single day, dude. When was the last time you slept through the night?”

“Why do you care?” Steve suddenly spits back. “You just said yourself, I’m paying your bills. Isn’t it beneficial for you not to ask questions and let it happen?”

“Normally, yes, but you’re not just a dickhead rich guy who buys weed off me. I mean you are, but you’re also my friend. As a rule, Eddie Munson does not supply self destruction. And while I firmly believe weed is beneficial as a medication, that doesn’t hold true when you’re soaking up your cotton mouth with a bottle of vodka.”

Steve can’t fully process what Eddie is saying to him. He’s too caught up on the word ‘friend”. Steve likes Eddie. He’s a lot more than what he seems on the surface, even made Steve feel a bit of relief tip-toeing around vines in the Upside Down. And those lips. Fuck. But can Steve safely say they’re friends? Eddie’s incredible, but Steve doesn’t deserve incredible.

“Whiskey, actually,” Steve mutters under his breath. “Look man, I appreciate the concern. If you don’t feel comfortable selling to me anymore, I understand, but I should really get Robin back to my place, that couch is going to kill her neck.”

Eddie has no chance to react. Steve’s already out of the van, waking Robin to drive them home.

The drive is silent. Steve knows Robin set the conversation up, and Robin knows Steve knows. Maybe she thought Eddie would have a rougher approach. The whole ‘scare him straight’ tactic. It might have worked, even, if Steve could believe help was coming to him with no ulterior motive. Maybe it has to do with how he was raised, or maybe it’s his form of repentance for the way he acted in high school. Whatever the reason, he can’t see the unconditional love the others hold for him.

When they finally pull into Steve’s driveway, Robin hesitates to turn off the car. “I know you’re probably mad at me, I know. I just wanted you to see that I’m not the only one.”

“The only one? What do you mean?”

“The only one who loves you, Steve. We just don’t want to see you suffer anymore. Just, please, say something. Even if you need to yell at me. I just want to know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking… I’m thinking, I love you, Robin, and that’s never going to change. I’m not mad, really. I just don't know. I don’t know what I don’t know, I just know I don't know it.

“O– okay,” Robin says hesitantly. “So, you don’t mind if I stay over?”

“No, I don’t mind. I think I might actually need it.” Robin smiles softly at him. He means every word he says. Nothing could ever change the fact that he loves Robin. But, something is eating away at him. It was like pieces of his heart are slowly being flushed out of his body. Everyday he can feel all those positive emotions less and less.

Silence between them again, they swiftly make their way upstairs, working around each other to get ready for bed with ease. They’re a well oiled machine of toothbrushes, face washing, and pajamas.

Robin crawls into Steve’s bed after him, both laying on their sides facing each other. Their hands intertwine in a ball between them. They slept like that almost every night following the mall incident, and it still brought them comfort to talk each other to sleep.

“Hey, Rob,” Steve whispers, not wanting to disturb the comfortable quiet between them. Robin hums in response.

“I don’t know why we had to go through everything we’ve gone through. I still feel like… something is coming. I don’t know, maybe that’s dumb, but I just don’t believe it’s really over. I’m– I’m scared shitless rob.” He finally looks up from the four hands clasping each other on the bed. Robin is staring straight into his soul. She has tears in her eyes, which Steve rushes to wipe away and apologize, but she stops him.

“Thank you, Steve. For telling me. To tell you the truth, I’ve been really scared too. It just feels like every time we get comfortable we get flipped on our heads again. I know you’ve been through more than me, so it’s not the same, but I really appreciate you trusting me enough to tell me.” Steve is smacked in the face by the power of the smile she gives him. His hands detangle themselves from Robin’s and wrap around her back, pulling her in for a hug.

They sleep like that for a couple hours, until Steve wakes up from a nightmare, scars burning. The clock reads 6:30 AM, almost time to get up for their opening shift in two hours. Steve carefully pulls his arms away from Robin’s still sleeping form, and heads toward the bathroom. He checks the scars in the bathroom mirror. They look the same as always. Red. Bumpy. Disgusting.

The shirt drops with a heavy sigh and Steve trudges down the stairs to start breakfast, the only sure way to get Robin out of bed being the smell of sizzling bacon. He rounds the corner at the bottom of the stairs and enters the kitchen. Sitting out on the corner is half a bottle of whiskey. There’s a pot of coffee already brewed, still hot. Steve figures Robin must have gotten up to pee not too long ago and started the pot while she was up. He pours a cup and looks back at the bottle. Two hours was enough time to sober up after an Irish coffee. He grabs the bottle and twists the top off. The scent of the amber liquid tantalizing as it hits the mug full of coffee. He raises the drink to his lips, seconds away from taking the first sip, when it’s rudely yanked from his grip.

“What the hell?!” He shrieks, jumping at the sudden intrusion to the moment he assumed was private.

“This what you eat for breakfast every day?” Eddie stands with Steve’s stolen coffee in hand, directly in his personal space. He’s back in his typical getup, though his hair is still half up as it had been the night before. It’s not unfamiliar, Eddie leaning in too close, throwing himself all over Steve, and he sees him dressed like this more often than not, but the look on Eddie’s face makes him nervous.

“How the hell did you get in my house, Munson!” Steve realizes he’s shouting too late, as he hears shuffling on the stairs.

“Steve? What are you screaming abou–? Oh, hey Eddie.” Robin says, instantly relaxing into a smile and wave.

“Mornin, Buckley. I was just checking in on our boy here,” Eddie says with a strong hand clapping down on Steve’s shoulder. His knees buckle slightly under the weight.

“Wait, Rob, you knew he would be here? You watched me lock all the doors and you never went back downstairs. How did he get in here?”

“Duh, dingus, I gave him my key!”

“Okay, ignoring the fact that you apparently made yourself a key to my house, you then gave that key to Eddie and didn’t tell me? I thought I was about to be eaten alive by Dart.” Robin chuckles at the name. She had heard stories of Dustin’s pet demodog, though thankfully, she hadn’t been present to witness it.

“It was a necessary evil, dingus. Eddie is officially the babysitter’s babysitter!” Steve turns to look at Eddie who returns it with a smirk.

“And I need a babysitter because?”

Eddie speaks up to answer this time. “Because you have a problem, Steve. And maybe you don’t see it that way, but it’s the truth. So if I have to keep setting traps to pour down the drain until you realize you’re killing yourself and let us fucking help you, I will.” He punctuates the sentence with a flourish of the hand holding the mug, dumping the contents into the sink.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. We all cope differently, okay! You guys laugh at shitty movies about teenage murderers. Some people fuck their way through the whole town, and some people need to dull their thoughts so they can relax. What’s so wrong with that?”

“First of all, you just described three behaviors that fit yourself. Second, you are proving my point, pretty boy. You don’t see this as a problem, just like you don’t see that we really, honestly want to help you. You can kick and scream, call me a freak, annoy the shit out of me, I don’t care. I’m your friend, Steve, the same as Robin. We went through hell together, but you’re still stuck there. I’m here to lead the way out.” Steve, though annoyed, can’t help his eyes watering at the sentiment. Eddie the banished, who fought his way out of Mordor within an inch of his life, is still fighting. All for the sake of Steve. He can’t help the tears from flowing down his cheeks.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #tw drugs #tw alcohol

28 notes · View notes

compacflt · 2 years ago

Note

COMPACFLT, ma’am, you’ve absolutely wrecked me with: “My father—my father was kind”. I can’t even tell you exactly why, but that just struck right in the chest with the force of a sledgehammer, gosh. If it’s alright with you, could you please share your headcanons about Ice and Mav’s fathers? I know I’m, like, quoting your own work back to you but I can’t help it: “Well, dead pilot dads, that’s one thing we have in common.” —But do they? Or is one dead pilot dad vastly different from the other?

ice’s dad (Thomas kazansky sr.): asshole army major OH-6 and UH-1 pilot who got shot down over Vietnam in 1967. son of far-eastern-european immigrants. anti-commie. wanted ice to ALSO be a chopper pilot in the army, so ice went navy instead. daredevil dipshit who died & left ice’s mom alone with two young kids & whose death encouraged ice away from breaking the rules or being unsafe (esp. in the air). not necessarily a great person or a great father but died when ice was 8 so also not a huge influence on his life (i know val kilmer has said ice’s father was a big influence… I’ve written elsewhere about why i personally shifted ice’s narrative away from daddy issues and more towards Navy authority in general issues, in light of ice’s character and rank in tgm. GOD i need a master post sorry, but i think you can find it if you search “edts notes” on my blog and scroll for a while). ice’s LACK of a father -> no man to model himself on -> overcompensating & not getting it exactly right (doesn’t know how to talk to other men) -> maverick immediately clocks him as gay -> the plot of my fic.

Maverick’s dad (peter “duke” mitchell sr.): a genuinely awesome person. funny & kind, warm & loving, a truly good father & a great fighter pilot. big american patriot. Comes from a long long line of us navy personnel—maverick has the navy family name & the pedigree ice, as a second generation american, does not. Im still not sure who raised maverick—it’s one of those things I don’t have a strong opinion on, so it could go either way (i posited in the airplane one-shot that he was raised by relatives, aunt & uncle, but I know it’s a popular hc here that he was a foster kid—all equally plausible to me) but I do think he grew up exceedingly bitter, hearing about how great his dad was and how there was just no way! his dad could’ve failed the Navy the way he supposedly did, because he was just such a good person… there’s a real bitterness about original maverick that TGM maverick kind of lost. His bitterness only shows during the “it’s not the plane it’s the pilot” “EXACTLY” exchange (incidentally the scene that gave me the idea that Bradley thinks mav pulled his papers bc he’s openly gay…it’s the pilot not the plane, ouch). but i still think maverick is like deeply deeply bitter about how the navy handled his fathers death, which is what the excerpt i posted on wednesday is actually about—he confesses to ice how disillusioned he has been with the navy as an institution since he found out the truth about his father’s heroism. I know i just just just said that Maverick’s patriotic conservatism is his reason for existence in the meta “why we make mil propaganda movies” sense, and i stand by that, but i think on a human character level there probably has to be a little bit of deep-seated resentment towards the Navy for smearing his father’s good name and his own good name in the process. My maverick grew up a good Christian kid, called himself peter jr. after his good guy father, who never broke ANY rules until he was radicalized by not getting into the academy (“punish the son for the sins of his father”) and basically lost his mind for 30+ years. “If my family name automatically makes me a sinner in the navy’s eyes, then I might as well sin anyway.”

#i really don’t like Maverick’s character in tgm #which has been dulled down and his original motivation forgotten (upset at not getting into the USNA)#for the sake of…. pulling his OWN son’s papers from the USNA???#to serve the mil propaganda movie aim of recruitment as ive written about elsewhere on this blog #i tried to rectify this in my fics but it also meant that my exTREMELY bitter maverick is at odds with #the gentle soft-spoken slightly neutered maverick TGM actually presents us with #🤷🏽‍♀️ imo the bigger narrative evil is making maverick pull Bradley’s papers (punish the son for the sins of his father) so that was my main #fix-it priority.#mav’s bitterness is a side-effect of Bradley’s papers getting pulled anyway #yes to some extent they all have daddy issues #but i think it’s more complicated than that #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #and also yeah i know it’s cool to make ice like representative of navy lineage but #imo theres a reason they gave him a Russian name in the 1980s. like.. he’s the semi antagonist #It’s overt Cold War propaganda. he is Soviet-coded. hes meant to invoke anti-american sentiment.#so personally I shifted ice away from navy lineage… he’s from an immigrant family he has a lot to prove and a lot standing in his way #ive written about icemav & religion but if i haven’t made it clear: the Navy is their religion.

56 notes · View notes

brick-a-doodle-do · 2 years ago

Note

BRICK

BRICK I HAVE ANGST SUPERHERO MAYBE G/T MCYT FIC IDEAS FOR ARR AND SHIT-

Also night we met au info dump because I’ll never not think about them

Basically, in the first part(pretty much the prologue) Phil and Techno are both wanna be famous and rich (sorta not really Phil my mans just wants to provide for his family and keep them safe) they’ve been traveling for a long long time and they finally reach a cave filled woth warning signs. Techno insists he checks it out and he’ll be back, ignoring when Phil tells him that it isn’t safe and that they oughta go home to Kristen who has food made for them since she has Wilbur to take care of.

Phil is/was a treasure hunter but he also does/did monster hunting on the side. Kristen does/did have a bakery and cafe where people could request baked goods and coffees and stuff. Kristen had to put her friend Puffy in charge and Puffy gladly took over so Kristen could raise Wilbur till he was old enough to be alone without her and Phil. Techno doesn’t get along well with the police at all and the chief of police, Sam, rather him in a prison but Phil always covers for him because the town needs people to protect it from outside threats and the best warrior they had was Techno.

Puffy has an adopted child named Niki who she brings with her to the bakery. The governer of the town, Bad, has his grievances with Phil and Techno ‘protecting’ the town from outside threats but he lets them continue because of the point Phil brings up time and time again. That point being ‘no one else is trying to keep anyone safe. I wont stand idly and let things from outside our homes hurt mine and any other family’

Grian is Phil’s estranged brother and rarely travels to the town of Esemtria but he checks in from time to time on his brother and his brothers wife. He also makes sure to tell anyone of any possible problems they may encounter soon or whether the spring is coming early or the winter is coming sooner that expected. He lives in the far smaller but more advanced cove of Hermitville, the name chosen by the locals who call it home to spook off any invaders because no one wants what they think is a hobos town full of hermits

Schlatt is a disgraced politician from Manberg. He hopes to find success in taking the government from what he assumes are a bunch of country hicks in butt fuck no where who need help from him. He plans a take over of the government but it’s not a hostile one.

Skeppy and Sapnap are two hybrid outsiders who are terrified someone will expose their hybrid origins only for Bad, secretly a hybrid himself, to take them in as family.

Jack is a baby demon found by Puffy who decides to take him in a long woth Niki because a parents takes in whomever needs them.

Eret and Dream are both normal babies that belong to normal houses in the village although many would note that Eret hasn’t opened their eyes yet even being a few months old by this point.

Above is an information dump on the people living/who have once lived in the town or around the town named Esemtria. All people are described by the conditions and the times of past Esemtria or when the prologue/part I of ‘Night We Met’ occurs. Some characters may be alive in part II/chapter I while others may be lost to time, missing, or dead.

[Esemtria is the name of the town that the entirety of ‘Night We Met’ takes place in/around. While there are mentions of Hermitville they will have sparse appearances but will have numerous mentions.]

| p.s-Hope you like the information dump. :] |

IS THE MCYT SUPERHERO THINGY THE ONE YOU JUST TOLD ME ABOUT? OR IS IT SMTH DIFFERENT THAT I GET TO HEAR ABOUT? :0

OHOHOHOHOOHOOHOH INFODUMP COOL COOL COOL !!!!

HHHH FAMOUS TECHNO MY BELOVED I LOVE HIM SM- like srs that's one of my favorite tropes, where techno is famous and tommy is like a fangirl- one of the best things istg

ANYWAYS

hmm the use of is/was and has/had, does that entail that something happened along the way,, or like their interests died down or smth?

also fics with kristen >>,,, i never do it bc idk enough about her but love some representation :D

ooo hermitcraft x dsmp :0 i have absolutely no knowledge when it comes to hermitcraft but i like crossovers (usually)

sorry i don't have a lot of immediate questions- i'm just quietly consuming. i love this so far tho! :]]

I LOVE SCHLATT IN GOVERNMENT LIKE HIM AS PRESIDENT OF MANBERG WAS SUCH A VIBE SO THIS MAKES ME HAPPY EFJGFJDS

ooh sapnap & skeppy, what kind of hybrids are there? like their canon hybrids (like fireborn &... diamond(?)) or smth different?

hhhh i like the name esemtria,,,, any backstory or did you just decide this'll be the name now? (messing around with clan/tribe/town/realm/kingdom names are so fun)

i do like this info dump! again i'm so sorry that my thoughts aren't active rn,,,,, but i rlly like this so far and would like to hear more (or read it if you've posted anything!!) if you have any to give! :D

#brickquiries #smog brickling #smog my beloved >:]

7 notes · View notes

fortheloveofwonderland · 4 years ago

Text

Secure Me [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

Find my masterlist here. Requests are Open.

Taglist is open, you can find the form here.

Requested: Yes l No

Request: from Anon - “Hi, can I request something about reader dating spencer and she has like an A cup or very small boobs, and she catches spencer staring at a women with big boobs and gets VERY insecure? I just always feel weird reading fics about reader having a cleavage when I’m a literal wood board :("

A/N: I really hope this is the kind of thing you were after! I want to preface this by saying all bodies are beautiful and hopefully this is just a nice body positive fic for you all to enjoy!

CW: just some good old fun titty sucking! Booby appreciation.

Plot: You catch Spencer gawking over a woman with much larger breasts than you. Spencer is determined to show you how much he loves your body and only your body.

WC: 1K

—————————————————————

It wasn’t as if you were usually an insecure person. Honestly you were more confident than most, and most of the time you were happy with the body you were given.

Most of the time.

That is until you notice your boyfriend Spencer staring at that woman in the coffee shop.

It took a moment to work out what he was looking at but when you did you felt like you’d just been slapped around the face.

He was staring right at the woman’s very pronounced chest, wide eyed and slack jawed.

“Unbelievable.” You muttered under your breath but Spencer didn’t hear you. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle.

You weren’t mad at the fact he was looking at another woman, you still found other people attractive, it wasn’t a big deal. It was the fact he was staring at her large bosom, and it sent a wave of insecurities bubbling under the surface.

Your own breasts paled in comparison, you were barely an A cup but Spencer had always told you how much he loved them and you’d never had a problem with them before.

Until now. Because he was staring at that woman’s chest like she was some kind of chess trophy he wanted to win.

What made it even worse was when you got up from the table, he didn’t even notice.

You scoffed loudly as you stormed from the coffee shop, turning back briefly when you reached the street to see if Spencer was following you or not.

He wasn’t.

With another huff you stormed away.

***

It wasn’t long before there was a knock at your apartment door. You considered ignoring it, but you knew Spencer well enough to know he wouldn’t give up that easily.

You threw the door open and folded your arms across your chest.

“Where did you go?” He looked concerned. “I turned away for a second and when I turned back you’d gone.”

“It was much more than a second.” You huffed. “And I’m surprised you noticed what with that big titted woman you had eyes glued on.”

Spencer’s face fell and he gnawed his bottom lip guiltily.

“Oh.” He pulled a face. “There’s no point in even trying to talk my way out of this is there?”

“Nope.”

“Can I please come in?”

You sighed heavily and with a roll of your eyes you stepped aside to let him in.

“I’m really sorry Y/N. I’m not going to lie to you, I was looking at her chest and I’m so sorry. But you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Don’t I?” You scoffed. “I don’t look like her, Spencer! And if you’d rather have someone like that with massive tits then I’d rather you just say so.” You felt tears welling in your eyes and Spencer clearly noticed because he came closer to you and put his hands on your hips.

“Are you kidding me?” He looked sad. “Why would I want anyone but you?”

A small tear escaped your eye as you chewed your lip.

“Look at me Spencer, mine are barely even a handful. I get it if you want to be with someone like her.”

His own tears formed in his eyes. In that moment he hated himself for making you feel this way.

“Y/N,” he moved his hands to cup your face. “You are perfect in every single way. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

His hands trailed from your face, to your neck and finally moved to cup your breasts over your t-shirt.

“And let me tell you, these are fucking phenomenal.”

“You’re just saying that.” You sniffed.

“I’m saying it because it’s true. I adore every inch of your body. There is no one else in the world I would rather be with.” He still was still cupping your chest, his thumbs running over your nipples and they were hard in no time. “Let me show you how much I love them.”

He led you back towards the couch where he sat down and pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling him. As soon as you sat down he lifted your t-shirt up and pulled it over your head.

He hissed looking hungrily at your bare breasts.

“Fucking perfect.” He breathed, taking his hands to your breasts again.

He tweaked your nipples between his fingers making you moan a little.

He was smiling at you, beaming, he needed to know how perfect he thought you were.

He removed a hand from one of your breasts and bowed his head, taking your hard nipple in between his teeth.

You could feel his dick hardening beneath you from just the simple act.

He toyed with your nipple with his teeth, knowing how much you loved it when he did that. He continued cupping and squeezing your neglected breast with his hand.

He used his tongue to swipe across your nipple a few times before moving his lips over the rest of breast and sucking deep marks on your flesh.

You were moaning and subconsciously grinding your hips into his.

His lips kissed across to your other nipple and he repeated his actions on that one while using his hand on the other.

“You have no idea how perfect these are.” He sat back, giving both your tits a firm squeeze. “Can you not feel how hard I am just from touching them?”

As if to prove his point he bucked his hips a little so you could feel just how hard he was.

“I know, I just got insecure I guess.” You chewed your lip.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way darling.” He squeezed your chest again. “But these are the only tits I want to look at for the rest of my life.” He smiled brightly at you before bowing his head and taking your nipple in his mouth once more.

And as he worked your breasts hungrily, all your insecurities melted away.

—————————————————————

Taglist -

All ships & genres -

@muffin-cup @andiebeaword @mggsprettygirl @measure-in-pain @ptrs-prkrs @sexy-dumpster-fire @takeyourleap-of-faith

SR x reader all genres -

@boxofsparklingmuses @frickin-bats @reidandhisgourd @ukai-hoe @dreatine @adoringanakin @amesandpineapples @goldeng1rl8 @dr-spencerr-reidd @90spumkin @battinsonn @sleepretreat @dr-spence-reid @thetiniestsupersoldier @spenxerslut @tvandfanfic @wheelsupscenehater @sunkissglow @sweetandsunny @spencereidsupremacy @bellaswanismysoulmate @manuosorioh @mcumorningstar @iamwarrenspeace @reichelhache @pinkdiamond1016

SR oneshots -

@willowrose99 @multixfandomwriter @rougewamchop

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

321 notes · View notes

starlightshadowsworld · 3 years ago

Text

Son of none

Based off this post: Aka Percy Weasley was abandoned by his family and I don’t think they realised just how much danger an 18 civilian blood traitor son would be when stuck behind enemy lines. Well never fear, a fic is here as if I don’t have any other drafts...any whoooo

@transparentfreakpursepanda

Warning for blood, torture, self loathing. Mentions of bullying and neglect. Cursing.

(Also while writing this I was listening to Polaris by Natewantstobattle and...yeah if you want more angst while reading this listen to them and think of Percy :) )

Percy deserved this.

Knowing that didn't change things. It didn’t make it easier to make it duck past the office that had once belonged to Barty Crouch Sr without feeling dread and greif. As harsh as the man could be and that he had not bothered to learn Percy's name... Percy still mourned his loss. For all that he was, Barty Crouch Sr had been a good man.

Life at the ministry taught him quickly, that kind of wizard was few and far between.

He wondered if the look Barty Crouch Sr had shared with his son before his death wax the same his father had shared with him the day he left.

Maybe it wasn't wise to compare yourself to a deranged murderer, but if that's the kind of wizard his family thought he was...

"Weasley"

It was stern, drenched in spite that was not unlike his old potions professor. But sadly even Snapes treatment of him in class did not hold a candle to what was happening now.

Percy lifted his head, it felt heavy. Infact all of him felt that he was on fire. The figure infront of him came into focus, not that Perch could quite recall his name. Edward? No that didn't seem right. Not Edward was his wand in hand and looked very annoyed, his dark mark was on full display.

Percy became very well aware in that moment that he couldn't move. He was bound to a chair in a room that looked very much like a cellar. He was still in his ministry robes, though they were dirty and tattered and stained in something.

It took Percy longer than he should've to realise it was his own blood. Not that he knew where he was bleeding from. "You Gryffindors and your bloody stubbornness" sneered Not Edward, he was a broad man, towering over Percy.

"You're wasting my time, and yours of you don't hurry up and tell me where your family is hiding." Percy shook his head, defiantly even if his body protested at the sudden movement. "Like I said before, even if I did know, I would never tell you."

And than Not Edward would shout profanities all the while using his subordinates to use Percy as target practice till he passed out. That had been the cycle for... Well he wasn't sure for how long. Apart from the first time when Percy had weaved a convincing story about the family heading to Romania to hide away with Charlie...a whole false hunt that ended with the brand he now had on his arm.

But this time was different.

Not Edward smirked "thought you'd say that, no matter. We've found out how to get there attention, and they'll hand themselves over." Percy laughed, it was a strangled and it sent another wave of pain through his body.

Not Edward was still smirking, in fact if anything his confidence grew. "And better yet, you're going to the bait that brings them here." And that stopped Percy laughing at once, he was quieter. "What makes you think they'd come" the words were barely above a whisper that echoed throughout the room.

Not Edward (Percy really needed to learn this man's name for his own internal monologue's sake) rolled his eyes "don't pull that on me, you Weasely's are more attached than a bunch of grapes. Rest assured, they'll be coming one way or another."

With that he left. Percy tried not to think about the fact a death eater had more confidence in his families arrival than he did. His mind wandered to the day he left, guilt pooled in his stomach. No amount of head trauma would erase the disgust and rage in Arthur’s eyes, Percy knew at that moment he had lost all right to call the man father.

He could never look him in the eye again, he couldn’t even look himself in the mirror without seeing him staring back. His mothers eyes haunted him, she’d been the only one to try to reach out but he had slammed that back in her face. Not that Percy should have been surprised, he’d always been a parasite.

If anything they must’ve been relived to be rid of him.

They wouldn’t come, he knew that. Than why did his heart race, did tears threaten to fall and his stomach churn at the thought? Percy thought of his siblings, young and old...they wouldn’t have given him a second thought. Fred and George would mourn the loss of their favourite target, but they would move on they all would if they hadn’t already.

For Percy though, this was the end of the line.

_______________________________________________________________

Weasley family dinners were always something else, Bill knew this better than most. He smiled to Fleur who sat at his side, amusement on her face as they both watched Molly do as she does best. It was organised chaos at its finest, and while Shell cottage was a far cry from the Burrow, somehow it all came together. Harry was laughing at a story Ginny and the twins were telling, Charlie and Hermione were actually helping Molly along with Arthur.

But even with how familiar it was, it was missing a certain brother rolling his eyes at the story and telling the true ending to the annoyance of the twins. Who would than direct the others to helping out with dinner to there mothers amusement.

Percy.

Ever since the watch, a muggle watch at that had arrived on his wedding day, with no name for the sender but only Bill’s name signed by an all too familiar handwriting...Bill hadn’t been able to take his mind of his little brother. His absence at his wedding and just seeing him around the house stuck out like a sore thumb to Bill. He wasn’t the only one either, he could see how his Mum would pause her eyes searching before looking down and moving onto something else.

Much like now when she put down the plates and realised that she’d left a little extra to the side. “Mum, I get that you miss him but you can’t keep doing this. Percy’s not coming back” the first to say it was Charlie, his voice soft like he was talking to an irate dragon. “Good riddance” that came from Ginny, in that whisper that wasn’t even trying to be quiet.

Instantly Molly became much like a dragon. “Ginevera Molly Weasley, don’t you dare speak about your brother like that!” She yelled, hot tears burning in her eyes. “Molly...” Interjected Arthur, putting a calming hand on his wife’s shoulder “you can’t blame her for her anger. Come on, let’s dig in.” And that should have been the end of it but Molly turned to him, her own temper boiling.

“Don’t you start, Arthur. Don’t you tell me I should be sat eating dinner while my son is out all alone.” She spat. “Mum, it’s fine Percy’s probably having high tea with the new minister, talking about the importance of cauldron bottoms” snickered Fred, “pfft yeah, just sat around telling the dark lord about his book report” agreed George. Bill frowned, as did Fleur but that was nothing compared to Molly.

Her gaze hardened and the twins shut up instantly, they’d never seen her this mad. “I dont care if you hate him, I don’t care if this isn’t my home...you speak of my son following HIM, get out of my sight now.” She said, slumping into a nearby chair. Bill stood up, putting his own hand in his mums which she took gratefully. “Percy may be the most ambitious lion around, but he wouldn’t join you know who. He left to join the ministry because that's what he believed in, death eaters isn’t even in the equation.”

And Bill meant those words. More than he ever thought he would.

“Though is there any difference between the death eaters and the ministry anymore?” Asked Harry, the place was filled with them after all. “Yeah? Might be but they’ve kept the employees, not that I know what’s going on in there anymore.” Said Arthur, adding his 2 galleon’s into the mix. “And there not going to take kindly to a Weasley” Said Hermione, making everyone look down as if they hadn’t just realised that.

It didn’t matter if Percy had disowned himself, his family was very much publicly fighting the people he was now stuck with.

And that was when fate decided to be extra cruel and the radio burst into life.

“Greetings from the Ministry. Our daily transmission has already been received today but we have an exceptional treat for the wizarding public. We will be instead hosting an interview with one of our newest employees, give a hand folks to Percival Ignatius Weasley.”

Everyone in the room froze, and yet Ron who was the only one of the family minus Fleur not to speak, ran to the radio and put the volume as loud as he could.

“Say hello your family, Percival.” Taunted the voice, it was very gleeful as it spoke. No response was heard. “Oh, silly me I forgot how many hours you young people work, not to worry let’s get him up boys.”

A splash was heard and a shuddering scream. “Morning Percival, sorry do you prefer Percy? Don’t care, lets start the interview. So Percival, how are you finding the ministry?” Everyone sat with baited breathe.

And yet it was there Percy who, through shuddered breaths managed to whisper a “fuck you...fuck you and your ministry”

“Well that is very rude, and here I thought your mother would have taught you manners” “don’t...don’t you talk about her.” Said Percy, Molly broke down into tears and Bill held her close. Unable to tear his gaze from the radio, no one could.

“What do you want to say them? I’m sure they’ve missed you. In fact, just for you we’ll be hosting a party. And there all invited to the ministry, so long as they bring a certain Mr Potter.”

There was a silence before “don’t come...don’t. Whatever you do, don’t... it’s fine. I’m fine, I love it here.” He laughed, everyone cringed at the sound he made, as if he was choking. “It’s fine, don’t come...parties are overrated yeah.” The transmission started cutting off, Ron frantically along with the twins tried to get it working.

They heard “too busy. Don’t come, Harry don’t...stay where you are!” Before the transmission cut off.

No one could speak, horror was etched into all of there faces. The twins were scrabbling over themselves with wand in hand to track where the transmission had come from.

The Ministry.

“We’re going...now” said Molly, standing up. Her tears were gone, grabbing for her wand and coat. “Molly...be rationale, we need to plan this.” Said Arthur, Molly spun on her heel and glared. “I am not going to sit here while those...monsters torture MY son! Planning will take to long, did you hear him Arthur?! Did you hear your son crying out in pain...he doesn’t have long left...” Arthur looked down, unable to respond.

Molly looked at the rest of the family, her gaze saying it all: You can come with me or you can stay. The first to stand was Bill, closely followed by Fleur who met his thankful gaze with a determined smile. Charlie and Ron were next, grabbing there wands with Harry and Hermione following. Ginny and the twins exchanged guilty looks but stood. Arthur couldn’t look at any of them, he simply picked up his wand.

“Harry, I understand if you wish to stay” said Molly, he shook his head. “I might not know him well but Percy’s family 2...I cant sit here while you guys go even with the danger.” He replied, and somehow that was all it was, Percy was family...enough said.

And so the family of lions got up and left, to find the one they left behind.

_______________________________________________________

Percy was terrified.

A part of him argued that he should be grateful they came at all for him. Maybe it was out of pity, out of ensuring that he wasn't able to be used against them.

Yes, that's all it was. He was nothing afterall, he was merely a civilian in a war.

And yet hearing Molly tearfully and frantically whisper his name. Hearing Hermione yell the counterspell to his imprisonment to Ron who did so perfectly. Seeing the light of spells cast by Ginny and the twins to stun Not Edward... (Who was apparently called Edgar... Eh close enough.)

Feeling Charlie carry him in his arms, mumbling curse words. Smelling Arthur's cologne.

It all felt right. It was warmth that he couldn't remember experiencing. It was enough to lull him to a facade that everything was fine.

But when his wounds were healed and he saw them all looking at him... Percy knew he had to shelf that dream. "I told you not to come" was the first thing he said, averting his gaze. (Couldn't look them in the eye)

"And you must've lost a few screws if you thought we wouldn't" said Bill, meeting Percy's gaze. "You shouldn't have" is all he replied. "And what, let you be killed by the ministry?" Gaped Ginny. Percy shrugged "wouldn't have made much difference, you've only gone and put yourselves in more danger."

"Are you... Are you fucking with us right now?" Asked Fred, incredously. "No, im too busy ranting about cauldron bottoms to do that." And if Fred paused, Percy didn't see it.

Seeing as no one was getting anyway, Bill sat beside Percy who immediately felt on edge. "Thanks for the watch" he said simply. Everyone blinked in confusion and than realisation as no one has known where Bill's new watch had come from. Percy smiled faintly "You're welcome, reminded me of you."

"Although, I do wish you could've gave it in person" continued Bill, testing the waters. Percy surprised him by shaking his head "no you wouldn't have. It was your day, I wasn't going to ruin it." Bill frowned "is that what you think?" Percy shrugged again "it's what I've been told."

"You are way to chill after being tortured" said Charlie, Percy looked at his bandaged arms and snorted. "Eh? It's nothing new. That guy was just there for the theatrics, sadist if you ask me." Charlie raised an eyebrow "nothing new?" Percy nodded "yeah, what you think the ministry that's so far up Voldermorts ass would allow me to work there without some 'interviews'."

Everyone paled.

"But than why stay there?" Asked Arthur, Percy froze. Steeling himself, switching from calm to panic to calm in an instant but they all saw. "I've got business there, things I need to get done and ensure are done. Speaking of which, thanks for the rescue but I should be off."

He didn't belong here. Not anymore.

"Percy, you can stay." Said Molly, already standing up to get his room prepared. "No, I can't. I have work, I have a duty... And I'm no longer part of this family." When he said that, Percy felt like the wind was knocked out of him but stood his ground. "Percy... That's not true.."

Percy met Arthur's gaze, his father's eyes. "Really? Than pray tell why did no one tell me you were all in hiding... Or a warning? And don't say it was impossible because I managed to send a parcel to a location I didn't even know about nor knew existed."

No one could answer that.

"I'll be off, and don't worry I won't tell them anything. Just do what you do best, and leave me alone." Arthur managed to grab Percy's wrist though he hissed in pain and pulled his arm back like he'd been burnt. "Don't.. Touch me, Arthur Weasely."

Arthur recoiled, Percy looked away. "I spent my whole life wanting to be someone you could be proud off...I listened to all the critism and yes I was a prat. But the moment I made my own choice you already made me aware I didn't belong in my own house. I’m sorry...that I’m not athletic like Ginny, I’m not smart like Ron or as successful as Bill and Charlie, I’m not a hero like a Ron or fun like Fred and George. That I’m just plain ol prat Percy.”

He began to walk away. Just like he did before.

"That choice was against following Dumbledor, turning against the light." Said Molly, wanting him to understand. Percy laughed, with no humour at all but glaring hard. Rage emanated from him.

"I'm sorry if I choose not to stand behind an old coot who routinely sends an abused boy to his abusers, who nearly got 3 11 yearolds killed because he wanted to weed out a possibility. Who nearly got thousands of children killed and did nothing to save Ginny with the chamber. The man who wouldn't give an innocent man a trial and got him sent to the worst prison for 12 years... Who put teenagers in a death game and let an underage kid join because why not. That man is a monster and I refuse to follow someone like that. But no that means I'm blindly following authority." He sneered, staring at them all.

"And the ministry? Because as corrupt and fucked up as it is I know I can do something. That changes can be made in the systems to benefit everyone, Dumbledor is someone who breeds child solider’s and let's a known abuser teach at his school and somehow I’m the only one who isn't okay with that."

And with that Percy left, no one knew what to say. They simply sat in silence, absorbing everything they just heard. Ginny thought about how Percy had profusely apologised after she was free from the chamber, how he’d made time for her since than. Ron thought of all the times they’d have an adventure and Percy would watch over them like a mother hen.

Bill and Charlie recalled when Percy would still come to them for help before he started Hogwarts. When they found him bruised and broken from bullies except this was because of them. “He really thinks that doesn’t he...?” Said Fred, George nodded. Neither could smile, guilt pooled in their hearts that they didn’t think he felt like that.

Molly sobbed for her son who was once again lost and Arthur wondered where he had gone wrong to lose his son all over again.

________________________________________________

Meanwhile Percy entered a muggle flat in London. Alone again just like he belonged, laying on his bed and looking at the brand on his arm.

'Son of none'

And if that didn't hurt most of all.

Suffice to say they all things to think about for when they’d meet again.

#percy weasley #Percy Weasely deserved better #angst #self loathing #depression #Percy Weasely needs a hug #blood #Torture #swearing #Sorry if it's rushed

59 notes · View notes

theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years ago

Note

Yeah, so I read your HP headcanons/analysis and I found it really well put. I was wondering about your thoughts on Dumbledore and who he really was as a person. (It’s okay if you don’t really want to reply :> )

We’re just getting all up into The Carnivorous Muffin headcanon land, aren’t we?

Well, this one’s probably obvious to anyone who reads my work.

I fall on the manipulative Dumbledore side of things and then some. Dumbledore is not only a bastard man but is a raging misogynist and extremely classist (which is funny because I don’t see too many people calling him out for those last two when to me canon all but shouts it at you).

Basically, what it comes down to, is even taken in very good faith I simply cannot read Dumbledore’s actions as benign in pretty much every single goddamn decision he makes ever.

God, where do I even start here? I guess we can go chronologically.

Well, there was Dumbledore’s Wizard Nazi youth with an oddly Dorian Gray flare to it with Gellert. I think it’s fairly obvious why Dumbledore’s not exactly... good there so I’m going to skip past it. Suffice to say, it took his sister’s death (and maybe murdering his own invalid sister) for Dumbledore to stop planning world domination. Even then it wasn’t so much that world domination was wrong, but because his sister died and he was an asshole.

I’m going to go ahead and include CoG and Fantastic Beasts because I can (CoG, while a terrible movie, actually does entertain me in many ways). Anyways, before the films came out I always considered the younger Dumbledore far more stoic and brooding. He doesn’t get his eccentric persona until after the defeat of Grindelwald and was before then angsty mcangsts and an academic at heart.

Well, per CoG, apparently he was a budding spy master long before defeating Gellert/Voldemort popped up. We see him manipulating Newt, sending him to Paris as his own agent, WHEN NEWT DOESN’T WANT TO GO AND HAS ACKNOWLEDGED THAT DUMBLEDORE USED HIM INTHE LAST FILM. Dumbledore writes off having used Newt for his own agenda with a charming smile but none the less it paints a pretty grim picture that Albus has always been... Albus. There has always been a greater good out there somewhere and the man is always using someone as a pawn.

Cut to canon and his treatment of Tom Riddle. Frankly, Dumbledore’s treatment of the young Tom Riddle, and even Tom Riddle just before he came Voldemort, is insane. The thought experiment I like to run is “replace Tom in those scenes with Harry Potter”.

Harry was a poor orphan, whose guardians would more than match what Mrs. Cole said about Tom Riddle, who had spurts of accidental magic now and then and enjoyed when his bully cousin was discomfitted. Now, imagine Dumbledore giving Harry his letter, and then pretending to light all of Harry’s possessions on fire to “teach him a lesson”. What the fuck?

Now, am I saying Tom Riddle wasn’t creepy here and that killing a rabbit was terrible. No. But I am saying Dumbledore had a horrible reaction to it and is proud of it years later. (Also, the fact that he uses this memory to convince Harry of how evil Tom is, is hilarious to me. Dumbledore, you were the shit that lit people’s wardrobes on fire. If I was Tom, I’d be upset too).

Dumbledore is always like this with Tom Riddle. He thinks the worst of Tom even in points where Tom hasn’t done anything. I’m not talking about later when, yes, Tom did live up to Dumbledore’s fears but when Dumbledore treats him like garbage and actively sabotaged Tom’s career.

Anyways, cut to later when the Marauders are in school. One of the big things is that Dumbledore puts up a guerilla resistance gang OF SCHOOL CHILDREN. While most members are older, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter are all only just out of Hogwarts. “Well,” you say, “It’s their choice and they did graduate. Surely Dumbledore wasn’t actually recruiting school children.” I point you towards canon, where Dumbledore convinces three actual school children that the fate of the nation rests on their shoulders and to go fight the good fight. So yes, Dumbledore canonically uses child soldiers and has no regret for doing so.

The other is letting James and Sirius off the hook for the Lupin incident. While Dumbledore talks the talk this showed that he was not willing to walk the walk. True, while getting them into major trouble would have involved outing Lupin (who was innocent in all of this) at the same time they were nearly responsible for the murder of another student. It’s very convenient that Dumbledore lets off the rich son of a lord, two individuals who later end up in the resistance movement (Potter likely funding part of it), and tells the impoverished half blood to sit down and shut up.

And in canon, yes, I believe that Dumbledore absolutely knew what Harry’s home condition was like. While the blood wards are an excuse they aren’t a particularly good one as for most of Harry’s childhood the Death Eaters were all accounted for. Harry was in no extreme danger from them. To not have had an inkling of Harry’s home life (when Harry even hints at it when wanting to stay over the summer, Harry runs away from home in third year, Fred and George see the bars on the window, and he even visits Harry’s home in sixth year) would be such laughable incompetence and stupidity it’s right out.

With that, I absolutely do believe what Snape showed us in the memory, the Dumbledore behind the scenes as it were. That Dumbledore knew fairly early that Harry Potter was a horcrux and began grooming Harry for suicide. Specifically, that’s what sixth year really is. All those memories of Tom Riddle, the pretext to get some memory from Slughorn, it’s an excuse for a smear campaign designed to convince Harry that Tom Riddle is inherently evil and must die at all costs, even Harry’s own life.

Dumbledore didn’t need that Slughorn memory. Sure, it was useful to know Tom intended to make seven but think about it. How did Dumbledore know there’d be anything remotely useful in there? He doesn’t know that Tom actually drops a number on Slughorn. Even then, he doesn’t know whether Tom actually goes and does it. All of it felt like, “Harry, I have a super secret important mission that only YOU can do. Can you handle it, Harry? Because without this the country is surely doomed” And in that I mean it was an effort to win back Harry’s favor after the previous year meltdown, keep him busy, and start in on the excuse to show Harry some pretty damn innocuous memories of Tom Riddle and go, “See, HE IS EVIL!”

Due to this, I frankly think that the train scene was a hallucination on Harry’s part. Wishful thinking for some gentle explanation of how Dumbledore had not cruelly used him for years and intended his death.

Well, that and it never made much sense that Dumbledore could predict Harry’s a) becoming the master of death b) miraculous second resurrection.

In the first case, Harry becomes master of death because of wand lore bullshit and happenstance where Harry happens to save Draco’s life. Dumbledore had no idea such a thing would happen. Dumbledore’s plan was for there to be no master of death, as the wand would default to having no owner when Snape defeated Dumbledore on Dumbledore’s orders. That Draco got the wand is a sort of Deus ex Machina. Sorry guys, Dumbledore intended Harry to die.

More, even then, while Dumbledore was very into the occult of these things we leave canon without any idea if these things are even responsible for his resurrection. They’re just relatively nifty objects with a legend behind them. There was nothing concrete to suggest that, should Harry happen to get all of them, he would be able to rise from the dead.

Otherwise onto the misogyny and classism parts.

In terms of misogyny this is from every time Dumbledore talks about Lily Evans or Merope Gaunt. In the case of Lily, she’s this weird Madonna figure whose love for Harry was so powerful it saved his life. That she also happened to make these blood wards Dumbledore cannot reproduce and extended her protection to Harry wherever he went is irrelevant. It’s her love that counts. That feminine, maternal, love purer than all others.

Basically, Dumbledore seems to be of the belief that women are flowers. The best of women are these demure, selfless, brave women who sacrifice themselves for their children. Yikes, Dumbledore.

Merope’s the really bad one though. Merope’s tale is how she drugged and raped a defenseless muggle for months and then he escaped. Dumbledore spins it into this Victorian tale of woe where Tom Riddle Sr. THE KIDNAPPED RAPE VICTIM is the asshole here who abandoned Merope to the merciless cold world. How dare he.

It’s very clear that Dumbledore doesn’t see Merope, or women in general, as people. Instead these weird Victorian ideals who can be tragic victims of circumstance.

As for the classism.

While Dumbledore’s very against the pureblood culture we see in the Malfoys a lot of his treatment of Tom Riddle feels very... classist. The big one, which is a little tangential but I say it counts, is Dumbledore’s theory that children of rape are incapable of love. Granted, he’s saying this while convincing Harry to kill himself for the good of the cause and there is a real world parallel in that alcohol/drugs while pregnant is a very bad idea that can lead to extreme mental and physical health disorders. That said, we’re talking love potions at conception, and it always read more as “rape babies” vs. specific drugs. And that is... just yikes on so many levels.

Now, do I agree with manipulative Dumbledore we see in many fics? No, because Dumbledore’s not that stupid.

He doesn’t need to borrow money from Harry’s vault, he doesn’t need to pay off Hermione and Ron to be Harry’s friends, he doesn’t need to choose Harry’s friends for him, he doesn’t need to manipulate Harry’s memories directly. He doesn’t need to do any of this because he got what he wanted just fine in canon.

Dumbledore is one of the smartest characters in canon, far smarter than Harry, and he doesn’t have to stoop to such outrageous schemes to get what he wants. Poorly concealed smear campaigns convincing Harry to commit suicide are more than enough.

#ask #anon #headcanons #albus dumbledore #manipulative dumbledore #dumbledore is pretty damn evil guys #as in there is pretty much not a single action you can point to where i'll say it was reasonable and not in some way underhanded #except maybe his choice in wardrobe #the man has some elton john style

294 notes · View notes

vivvyinvienna · 4 years ago

Text

the night we met (draco malfoy)

A/N: heyo! this is my first fic so pls be nice :) i hope you guys enjoy it! xoxo

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Draco is haunted by the memories of his dead lover. Post-Battle of Hogwarts. Inspired by the Lord Huron song “The Night We Met.”

Warnings: alcohol, cursing, depression, angst, violence, blood, major character death

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

I've been searching for a trail to follow again

Take me back to the night we met

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you

Draco languidly twirled the glass of firewhiskey in his hand. He watched as the amber liquid clung desperately to the sides before unfailingly slipping back. His drunken mind and hazy thoughts found amusement in it. They found amusement in a lot of things now. Like how he sat in front of the fireplace in a grand leather chair downing firewhiskey by the bottle every night; being every bit of the rich, spoiled Malfoy heir he was. Y/N would have told him that he was trying too hard to mourn in an aesthetic. And she would have been right.

The thought of her lifted him from his reverie. The glass of liquor stopped turning in his hand, instead it was brought to his lips, quickly downed in hopes of expelling her from his mind. In hopes of keeping out all the feelings that came alongside memories of her. It was why he drank in the first place, why he sat drunk and unrefined with his hair messed, shirt untucked, and suit rumpled.

But it didn’t work. It never really worked. Not even the strongest liquor from his father’s collection could rid his mind of her. Her lips, her touch, her soft breath on his shoulder from their last embrace was all tattooed on his soul. He didn’t really mind those. But it was the memories of her death, watching her body crumble and blood pour from her wounds, that made him want to obliviate himself. They stained his mind, weakened his body and ate at his soul.

After losing her at the Battle of Hogwarts, he constantly felt like he was a wandering traveler who’s path had run out. He was riddled with these feelings of guilt, sorrow, longing, and depression. There was always this painful feeling in his chest, like someone had a vice grip around his lungs and heart. While he was with Y/N there was always a nagging feeling that he was in debt to her. She had taught him the invaluable, that he could love and be loved. She had saved him in every manner a person could be saved. The feelings, thoughts, and pain he now faced was unrelenting, incessant, and unforgiving. He supposed it was a method of repaying his debt.

Looking towards the fireplace that was softly raging, he put down his glass. Chasing away the memories never worked, he didn’t know why he bothered trying every night. And with that, he resigned to his thoughts of her.

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

Draco was laying on her bed in her Hufflepuff dorm. The windows facing the rolling hills were drawn up, letting in the warm glow of sunset. It bathed the room in this honey tint that made him feel warm and blissful. Laying on his side, he stared at the Y/H/C haired girl at the desk who was intensely focused on her books and notes.

“Angel?”

Your quill paused and you turned to let your Y/E/C eyes meet his. He thought your eyes were the most beautiful thing, they held the beauty and intensity of a thousand stars in his mind. He found everything beautiful about you really. The way your hair framed your face. Your delicate fingers whenever they entangled with his. The way your rosy lips tilted into a smile when you looked up at him.

“Yes, Draco?”

You had a slight smile and an extra twinkle in your eye as you answered him because you knew exactly what he was going to ask next.

As predicted, the blonde boy strewn across your bed softly, adoringly, and a tinge whiningly said, “Come lay with me for a bit.”

Looking back and forth between him and the DADA homework on your desk, you pouted while responding “I still have so much of Umbridge’s work to do though.”

Draco let out a dramatic groan and flipped onto his back before answering, “ You’re killing me, Y/N. What do I need to do to convince you?”

The truth was Draco didn’t need to do anything to persuade you, you were sick of Umbridge’s busy work. And after feeling his gaze caress you all afternoon, you craved his touch. But you decided to have a bit of fun.

“It’s killed meh. It’s killed meh.” You mocked.

You never let him live down that accident from third year. He covered his eyes and laughed in embarrassment before retaliating, “At least I didn’t get sent to the hospital wing because of a plant. You’re supposed to be good at herbology, badger.”

You feigned offense, “That’s not the point. The point is, I didn’t put on an entire theatrical performance like you felt the need to.” And with that, you started to walk towards the Slytherin boy on your bed. He pulled the covers back for you to join him when he noticed your approach.

“Ok, ok, fine. Just get in already, I’m getting cold.”

Once you settled into his arms, he watched as you snuggled deeper into his chest. With your guys legs intertwined and his arms encasing you, his heart felt content and at peace. He had everything he needed and wanted right in his arms.

You tilted your face up, and while looking adoringly at Draco you whispered, “I love you, you know?”

He gave you a soft smile that made the cold ice of his eyes melt. Putting his forehead against yours, he gently nudged your nose with his.

“I know. And I love you...” he paused, refocusing his gaze into your eyes, “more than anything.”

You smiled as he captured your lips in a kiss.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

Back in his leather chair in the cold drawing room of the Manor, he barely noticed the silent tears that escaped from his eyes. Tears seemed to be a constant now. The beautiful memories of her angelic voice and soft kisses and honey tints were once things that bewitched him. Now, they only served as an agonizing reminder of what he had lost. He craved, he so utterly craved for her tender caress. He could feel his own desperation causing aches from his chest all the way to his finger tips. What he would give to feel her presence wrapped around him one more time.

With his head hung forward and his hands tugging at his hair, convulsive yet inaudible sobs wracked his beaten frame. He wanted her back. He wanted to hold her hand as they walked in the garden. He wanted to pepper her face with kisses until she playfully pushed him away. He wanted to hear her gleeful shouts as they rode his broom together. He wanted to meet her again for the first time and relive their time together. Merlin he just wanted her back.

All he could do now was reminisce of his memories of them together. He was faced with a constant inner battle. Reliving their memories eased the hurt for a little while. But when he came back to his senses and his reality, it brought a raging pain of its own.

Some nights he couldn’t help himself. He drank until his vision blurred and then walked around the Manor looking for signs of her, to spark memories that he watched like movies. Tonight would be one of those nights he realized after stumbling onto a very specific patio. It was the patio where they met.

When the night was full of terrors

And your eyes were filled with tears

When you had not touched me yet

Oh, take me back to the night we met

Your family had been invited to the Malfoy Summer Solstice Ball, as were all the other notable pureblood wizarding families. You had your mother’s penchant for fashion, choosing to wear a champagne colored satin gown from one of your favorite designers. You quite enjoyed the dressing up and the excessive extravagance, but it was the company that was pitiful. The lavishly decorated ball room was filled with witches and wizards either trying to produce marriage arrangements or devise business contracts. Despite being freshly 14 and only going into your fourth year at Hogwarts, you were approached with multiple horrendous proposals.

Sometime during the night after Rowle Sr. suggested your hand for his 22 year old son, you slipped out of the ballroom in search of some quiet. What you found however, was Draco Malfoy on a patio. As awful as his reputation, you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he was. It almost felt sacrilegious being so encaptured by the chisel of his cheekbones and the subtle arch of his brows. But he had the type of beauty that got into your bones and the moonlight only made him more enthralling.

Draco’s gaze settled on you a couple seconds after you had walked in. He recognized you, you were in the same herbology class. He’d never admit it but he always found the way your eyes flicked up from your paper to the person you were talking to, to be so subtly alluring.

Skipping over a normal greeting, his first word to you was merely, “Hufflepuff.” He had meant for it to be a question, but it came out a bit rougher than he anticipated. At least he hadn’t sneered.

True to your house’s values, you responded good naturedly, “Yes...and you’re in Slytherin.”

He nodded, pausing for a second as if contemplating whether to continue the conversation before asking, “Why are you out here?”

“Got tired of talking to old British men.” You answered honestly. “What about you? Why’d you come out here?”

He walked closer to where you were standing.

“Trying to get away from the witches,” he said as he leaned against the terrace railing.

You laughed lightly before jokingly asking, “The mothers? Or the girls?”

“Both,” he fiddled with his cufflinks. “Were the old British men trying to get you to marry their sons?”

“They were. None of them were very convincing though.”

“I hope my father didn’t try.”

“Would it be so terrible to be married to me?”

You could see a quick eyebrow raise from him, pleasantly surprised.

“I’m just concerned that our home decorating styles won’t match.” His voice lacked his usual bite and his face was without his habitual sneer.

“You know most people don’t choose their life partners based on interior design styles.”

Your comment elicited an amused huff from the blonde boy. “I wish my mother did, then I wouldn’t have to live in this ghastly manor.”

He was right, filled with antiques and dark artifacts, the manor was downright depressing. “It’s...” you struggled to find a non offensive description. “It has its own charm. You just have to romanticize it a bit.” You were unconvincing.

“This is why the sorting hat put you in Hufflepuff.”

“Better than Slytherin,” you retorted.

He wanted to laugh, even the idea of you in Slytherin was amusing. “You’d get eaten alive by our first-years.”

He was right, but that didn’t mean you let up, “Funny. Have you made anyone cry yet today?”

“No, but luckily it’s only 9 o’clock.”

The two of you talked long into the night. As he listened to your stories, random literary interpretations, and takes on the world he found himself more and more enamored. He was enamored with the little shrug you seemed to always end your rants in. Enamored with your laughs that always came at the right time when he talked. Enamored with the strange feeling in his gut he didn’t quite know how to identify when your hand briefly grazed his thigh.

Draco found your company to be tantalizingly novel. Sitting on adirondack chairs, sharing nothing but stories with you felt weirdly intimate. It felt like friendship, a word woefully foreign on his tongue. Perhaps it was because he met you in a setting outside of Hogwarts, a place where he didn’t have to puff his chest and wear his Slytherin crown. But for the first time in maybe his entire life, it felt like he made a friend. And it wouldn’t be until later when he realized that Y/N was also the love of his life.

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

Draco sat in the same adirondack chair he had the night he met you, looking at the empty chair to his right. A sullen expression was permanently etched on his face as he ran through the same thought over and over and over. I wish she was here. I wish she was here. I wish she was here. Lost in a trance, he didn’t notice his mother enter the patio until her shoes were in his line of sight.

Narcissa’s heart ached to see her son this way. So lost and so resigned. Every ounce of spirit and hope seemed to have vanquished as he processed Y/N’s death. She remembered the struggle of tearing him away from her dead body and bringing him back to the manor.

As the battle was in its final moments, Narcissa knew that her family needed to leave to avoid Azkaban. But Draco hadn’t wanted to leave her yet, he wasn’t ready to let go. Her and Lucius were forced to physically rip them a part. With Lucius holding him down and Narcissa prying her from his grasp. He pleaded and begged and cried and screamed. The raw pain and desperation in his screams as Y/N finally slipped from his grasp was something Narcissa would never forget. Once the three of them were apparated into the manor’s drawing room, Draco had collapsed in her arms choking on sobs and violent words cursing them. He was inconsolable, Narcissa tried. She held him, comforted him, but she knew it wasn’t her arms he needed. There was only one person who could rid his pain, but no amount of money in their Gringotts vault could bring back the dead.

Back on the patio, she quietly approached him.

“Draco?”

He looked up. Behind the sorrow in his eyes there was the slightest bit of resentment. He still hadn’t found it in himself to fully forgive her. It was even worse with his father. He couldn’t look at Lucius without turning breathless with anger.

“Draco,” she placed a hand gently on his shoulder, “it’s late. We should get you to bed.”

He merely blinked away, looking back at the empty chair instead. Narcissa noticed that he did that often, looking at the empty spaces next to him. Spaces that she was supposed to be in. He did it at the dining table on the rare occasions he’d join her for meals. He did it in the library, riveted by the black couch they frequented. And he did it while laying in his bed, always slightly off center, as if leaving room for someone.

It took a bit more coaxing from Narcissa to get Draco to his room. After he was settled in his bed, he closed his eyes succumbing to the nightmares that would undoubtedly come.

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

“Dra...Dray. Dray, ho..hold me. Please.”

He knew the end was nearing, white hot panic flooded him. Blood surrounded you, coating the dirty cement floor and his hands. He lifted you gingerly into his arms, scared to hurt you even more.

“Ok. Ok. Of course, Angel. I’m right here. I’m right here. You’re gonna be okay, it’s gonna be ok.” He was rambling now.

His hand cupped your cheek, keeping your eyes on him. Rocking back and forth, he looked into your eyes and studied your face.

“Angel, don’t do this to me. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You brought your hand up, grabbing onto his wrist. You were too weak to respond at that point, you were too far gone. You both knew. But a small smile ghosted your features as you looked at your love. Your love, your love, your love. You kept looking at him as you felt yourself slip farther and farther away. It was just like sleeping.

Draco’s silver hair fell into his face as looked down at the girl in his arms with an ocean between his lashes. He watched as she gave him that last little smile, with his hand still cupping her cheek. First, her hand’s grip loosened on his wrist. Then, her face went expressionless. And too sudden and far too soon, the light in her eyes were gone.

Y/N Y/L/N was dead.

A guttural, visceral sob erupted from the silver haired boy. He cried out, cursing the gods above and cursing fate for taking her from him so soon. His screams were strained with an indescribable and insurmountable amount of pain. He clawed at his chest, hoping he could somehow rip out the searing feeling that riddled his shattered heart.

He pressed his face in to the crook of her neck, sobbing thickly, muttering desperate pleas of help. But it was pitiful and it was nonsense, for death was unforgiving and death was final. Her arms, which once were used to caress and comfort him, now hung limp at her sides. There was a fiery anguish in his chest that was so colossal he could feel it radiate all through his body. Draco clung onto her dead body with as much strength as he could muster, as if sheer willpower could revive her somehow. The blood from her fatal wound covered Draco’s hands and clothes. It was a gruesomely harrowing scene: a forever broken boy clinging to a dead girl.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, kneeling on his knees while clutching his dead lover. The battle raged on around him as he remained in his penitent posture, praying to every deity, God, and powerful being he could think of to bring her back. When he finally found the strength to lift his head from the crook of her neck, the sight of her clouded eyes and paling skin sent another volley of shards into his chest. With an unsteady hand, he shut her eyes.

Draco gently pulled her into his lap, moving with the same amount of attentiveness as if she was still alive. His hands, still trembling, carefully smoothed her hair. He drank her face in more fervently than ever before, for this would be the last time he saw her. This would be the last time he could hold her. His angel, his beautiful angel was dead and soon he would be forced to let her go. He pressed his lips on hers as he’s done a thousand times before, but when her lips remained unmoving and were cold against his, a new set of sobs wracked his body.

The grieving boy sat in the midst of a battlefield, uncaring that he was defenseless. Draco sat there, silently hoping that someone would take mercy on him. Silently praying that someone would see him wandless and alone, and slay him. He knew this pain was carved into his heart and engraved in his soul. He knew that he would only be relieved of it when death came for him too.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Take me back to the night we met

Dear Y/N,

You’re dead, you won’t ever read this. I’m not entirely sure why I’m writing this. Maybe it’s a plea of help, maybe it’s how I’ll heal. Either way, it makes me feel like I’m talking to you, like I haven’t lost everything. But I’m just deluding myself.

It hurts to live without you. Time keeps ticking forward, the world moving with it, but all I can think about is when I was last with you. Every night I slip into dreams of you. Sometimes, rarely, they’re good ones. But I wake up and you’re not there. Most nights, I’m watching you bleed and die in my arms. That dream never fails in hurting me. But what really breaks me, is after I drag myself awake, I realize I’m already living my worst fear. You’re already dead. It’s not a nightmare, it’s a memory.

Everything died with you, Y/N. I thought that once the war was over, my life could truly start. I’d finally be free from that world. I didn’t realize that the end of the war meant the end of us too. Every single plan we made for the future is gone. All my someday’s and one day’s died with you. I no longer have anyone to marry, to have children with, to grow old with. I feel robbed. I was supposed to have a whole life with you, not just a few measly school years. Even a lifetime wouldn’t have been enough for me. I want every lifetime with you, on this earth or the next.

I’m still holding you tight in my mind, it’s strange you’re not here with me. My heaven was here on earth with you. But ever since you’ve gone, the days have been getting darker and darker. I love you, I miss you.

Yours Forever,

Draco

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco x y/n #harry potter #hogwarts #slytherin #angst #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #harry potter imagine #draco angst #draco fluff

61 notes · View notes

meggannn · 4 years ago

Note

shepard/garrus?

oh boy, sorry for the late response! I always end up posting these things and then going to read/take a nap/play a game or something. anyway writing this up took two hours, i hope it is even slightly interesting to read. cut because this is looooooong

What made you ship it?

I think I was interested in this ship before I even played ME. I was just like “I know Shepard is a character and an alien named Garrus is a character, and people draw porn of them together.” because I think it’s reasonable to say it’s one of, if not the most, popular ship in the fandom, or at least in ME’s tumblr fandom? and the way people talked about it, I knew their tropes were #banter, #battle couple, #partnerships, and... and as we’ve learned from royai, I am a bit weak to those tropes (assuming I like both of the characters). the way people talked about them also from a “best friends” angle—which is sort of forced in-game in a way that seems strange to me now—was also a plus in its favor at the time. (if they get together, I do see their friendship/companionship, in whatever form, in some ways integral to their romance—unless you’re playing full far-right renegade who’s like a xenophobe and hate-fucking Garrus, I guess?—but Bioware also kind of shoehorned Garrus into that best-friend role and that’s a topic for another day.)

What are your favorite things about the ship?

(my friend will hit me if I say “partnerships” again) I’m gonna talk about the way I play my Shepard now, because so much is dependent on the unique Shepard. for Lydia’s journey over the series, I see a large part of her journey as basically a study of her (often self-inflicted) loneliness. and she never entirely breaks her habits of self-isolation, but the events of the series force her to be vulnerable in a way she would prefer not to be in front of a crew, or, y’know, ever. Garrus becomes an integral part of that story to help her break her out of these bad habits (all of the crew does, particularly also Ashley for my Shep), but to my eyes, the story of “Shepard and Garrus’s relationship” is also one of mutual respect, burden-sharing, and sanity and morality checks.

I don’t think of their “mentor” relationship in ME1 very often mostly because I don’t think it was done particularly well, but for all its faults, I do like how naturally the jump from “subordinate” in ME1 to “ally” in ME2 felt; once you meet Garrus on Omega you feel more on the same footing as two friends greeting each other because you’ve both recently been through trauma and the sight of a friendly face in a station full of hostiles is so unexpectedly welcome that it lets them both hope things will be okay for a minute. starting from that moment, Garrus becomes one of the few people who can see “under” her mask, I guess: partly because he’s one of the few combatants from the SR-1 who knows Shepard well and sees who she is both on the field and onboard the SR-2, with the ability to compare both to the times of “before you died”; partly because he has trauma response training and recognizes it in others even if he doesn’t in himself; partly because his loyal personality makes him sensitive to wonder how she’s dealing with being resurrected; and also partly because they’ve both gone through similar things. namely, getting your squad killed and blaming yourself for it, and it possibly being your fault (BioWare is inconsistent on what Shepard’s role was on Akuze, but in ME1 she has the chance to reply that she was responsible for getting them out safely, and failed).

necessity forces Shepard to adapt to things like being effectively forced to work for terrorists; being isolated from her support system; being resurrected and feeling like a stranger in her own body; later, getting decommissioned for making an incredibly difficult call to save the galaxy; watching your homeworld burn; being forced into a political role negotiating high stakes you don’t know how to play; being told you’re the spearhead of a galactic war; doing all of this without a full crew complement; the list goes on. those are all, on their own, incredibly isolating, traumatic experiences, and my Shepard’s not emotionally sane at the best of times. (emotionally stable, perhaps, only in the most literal of terms, at least on the surface. she’s like a rock when shit hits the fan. emotionally sane, no, for that reason and more.)

the tables have turned, and Garrus ends up becoming a large part of helping her regain agency in most if not all of those things: in ME2 he was a former crew member she trusted, and he was eager to work for her and be distracted from his failures on Omega. over in the battery, he is himself recovering from a major injury (like Shepard) and going through the aftermath of a bloodbath he feels responsible for (like Shepard), working on a crew that holds him at arm’s length, that he also... arguably... didn’t have much choice in joining (like Shepard—I’m assuming he wasn’t held hostage and joined voluntarily after waking up, but lbr this is unconfirmed). their reasons are different and varied, but they don’t realize until much later that they have found each other at the most opportune time, providing a sense of stability for each other, and also, frankly, sanity and morality checks.

in ME3, he steps into this role more fully because he’s become more disciplined, is doing work firmly in his wheelhouse, and paired up against Shepard struggling with their positions somewhat reversed from ME1: him more confident and her now completely out of her element, floundering with her place on a galactic scale. without Garrus—and Chakwas, and Joker, and Tali, and later the loyalty of the entire SR-2—the story of ME would be a tragedy, and it would end shortly in ME2; it’d be the story of how my Shepard slowly went insane being forced to fight boogeymen under a terrorist banner. Garrus isn’t, like, the keeper of her sanity, but their ability to check each other, and see themselves in the eyes of each other, provides stability and occasionally a bit of a wake-up call to both of them. when they’re both vulnerable, they both feel most seen, and most understood, by an alien that listens.

one angle of this ship that highly interests me at the moment, along with the above, is that while it’s not illegal for them to be together, it’s still... a really bad fucking idea lmao. (I could make the argument that it’s a bad idea for Shepard to be in any relationship with their crew but I think there are a few ships—Garrus, Tali, any Alliance crew at all—that realistically would be huge political clusterfucks.) so overcoming personal insecurity and fear of the unknown to acknowledge interest in each other, and the desire to become an item, getting roadblocked by a reality wake-up call with the fact that 1) she’s his boss, 2) Garrus comes from a society where station matters, like, sort of a lot and it even determines your job and how much legal power you have, 3) the potential political blowback (which would be ENORMOUS because lbr the hierarchy may not care about what turians do in off-hours but they WOULD care about the superior/subordinate thing, the human thing, the fact that they’re doing this while a war is going on. basically one of their best agents is on the Normandy to negotiate their interests and they’re basically at the whims of their relationship the whole time)... it’s a lot! all of that sort of makes it tragic, but I’m curious to see how they’d overcome it.

anyway, all of that is where I’m coming from when I think or write about this ship, but there’s a lot more I’m not mentioning here. there are a lot of juxtapositions that in my head that I’ve either added or extrapolated from canon that also interest me about this pairing. Garrus is a former cop, as is his father; Lydia is a poor kid who used to be in a gang out of necessity. Garrus is a turian with often traditionalist thinking; Shepard is a human who has much less sociopolitical power than him, even if she is his superior on the Normandy. both of them are roughly as old as the First Contact War, when their people were at each other’s throats not thirty years ago. Garrus idolizes Spectrehood while Lydia hates it, feeling it was forced on her. they can’t eat the same food. and yet despite all of that, and the fact that they need translators to communicate, they manage to understand each other when a lot of the world around them doesn’t.

god this is not even the full list of it. anyway I could go on but I’ll stop there lol.

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

oh jesus, so much. I’m a grouchy and picky shipper, be warned.

pining can always make my ships more interesting, and imo it’s a consistent part of any ship of Shepard’s, considering it’s wildly inappropriate and unprofessional for her to be fucking any subordinate, so I think more consideration could be given to shakarian in the “we shouldn’t be having a thing and oh also you’re an alien and I’m kind of scared of both your government and your body” angle! I hope to explore that a bit with a fic I’m writing (if I ever finish it, god).

I hate the flavor of fandom!shakarian where Shepard romanced Kaidan in ME1 then felt “betrayed” when he’s confused and hurt on Horizon, so she gets with Garrus as like... revenge? idk. and then Garrus usually develops this bias against Kaidan as a sort of author mouthpiece (which is inconsistent with his characterization cause Garrus is nothing but pleased to have Kaidan back on the SR-2 in ME3!) and takes up the anti-Kaidan crusade cause K ~questioned the commander~ (since when does Garrus fall over himself defending a superior from criticism?) like, idk. I think Garrus can be sensitive to the fact that that reuniting must’ve been painful for Shepard, but also be aware that it was also really painful for Kaidan because all of Kaidan’s complicated feelings about Shepard’s resurrection were, realistically, things Garrus should’ve felt too! this trope is very popular but just feels like manufactured drama for drama’s sake, idk, I’m also not big on love triangles so. I would much rather people just rescue Ashley on Virmire and avoid the whole thing rather than have previously-romanced Kaidan around in ME3 for the sole purpose of forcing him to watch Shepard/Garrus being happy together tbh.

I think full goody-goody paragon Shepard is too preachy to make a good partner for Garrus and full shoot-anyone-in-my-way renegade Shepard encourages and emboldens his worst tendencies (and Castis Vakarian is right to disapprove of them). most people end up playing some combination of both, or if they do settle in one camp or the other, usually there is some sense of realism where Shepard doesn’t play nice/naive or play mean all the time, so it’s rare I see either of those kinds of extreme Shepards depicted, but in general if there is a Shepard that is so far in one direction it seems illogical to me that they ever stay together.

I think wanting a mShep romance for Garrus is a pretty welcome idea in fandom, but adding onto that, I think Garrus should’ve been romanceable in ME3 for players who changed their minds on other romances or want to play slow-burn romances! we had it for Kaidan—and should’ve had it for Ash—so (pounds fist on desk) Garrus too imo!

I hate the canon get-together because Shepard walking into the battery and asking “do you want to fuck” feels very tailored to the players who want to romance Garrus, not to who Commander Shepard is, imo. it lacked all of the subtlety and depth of some other romances—until the scene of Garrus coming to her cabin with a wine bottle, at least, cause I do like that scene, but anyway, I dislike the actual get-together.

just in general, I’m a stick in the mud, so my favorite iteration of this ship is where Shepard is resolutely professional, and the challenge of it becomes him getting her to open up, not the other way around. like, I think on some level every iteration of Shepard is a bit of a lunatic/eccentric, because you have to be to do the things they do, but I like to see their flirting with less of her calling him “big guy” (not sure where that came from, is that in canon? I must’ve missed it, but personally I don’t like it) and more of Garrus making wisecracks in the canteen while he’s talking to Joker, but he’s looking at her out of the corner of his eyes and he really said his joke with the aim of making her laugh, and as she’s reading her datapad she hears him, and even when she wants to chuckle she stops himself and just smirks cause she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a laugh, but he sees her lips twitch and feels his heart flutter. that. I want more of that.

oh lastly, I hate “Shepard takes Vakarian clan markings” in any iteration. there is no canon relation to turians being poc—in fact I’d argue they have sociopolitical privilege real-world bipoc do not—but the concept of social face markings, face tattoos, etc., is rooted in non-white cultures and with the fact that 1) turians had a literal civil war over the territories those markings represent, 2) we don’t even know if marriage is how markings are shared or if non-turians are ever invited to wear them in the first place, 3) most of the art of this trend, lbr, is of mostly white Shepards in wedding dresses and blue face paint... all that combined just makes me frown and scroll faster every time I see it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bipoc Shepard with Vakarian face markings in fic/art, and that to me is very telling (not because they should have them, but because bipoc fans who make bipoc Shepards usually recognize when a racially-coded trope is uhhhhh not so great to appropriate for someone not of that group).

#megan does memes #marisjellyfish #shakarian

32 notes · View notes

hournites · 4 years ago

Note

So I have to wonder. Did anyone have the Chapels get divorced on their bingo?

I knew from the synopsis that was posted before the release date that it was a "secret" that was going to be revealed-

But I can't help wondering in a small town where not much must happen for so long, but suddenly 2 kids are dead within weeks/ a month (?) Of each other. 2 really influential members of the community are dead (one the father of one of the kids) and his wife vanishes. The town's best doctor is suddenly dead (and the father of the second dead kid, because coinkidink?) And the resident gym owner and his wife the gym teacher (is she the gym teacher? I thought she might be 🤔) are in jail.... Never mind the conveyor belt of coaches that keep showing up.

I kind of thought Bridget would just be like "you know... Maybe all these accidents aren't a coincidence and we should really move 😬"

And you know what? That's a valid point.

Bridget has been working alongside Henry Sr, maybe she picked up some bad vibes from him that only grew after that double death. She's a smart woman. It's possible that she kept cordial interactions with him as her suspicions grew to keep herself safe. Furthermore, James works at the American Dream. It's safe to assume after Jordan's death that he'd be seeking a promotion. Maybe it's his ambition to become a CEO or a higher-level leadership position in the organization, and it's safe to assume that as a black man in Nebraska and considering the place where he is right now in his career, James would want to hold onto this opportunity that he has to climb that corporate ladder, and I wouldn't blame him. If there's been tension before, I can see where this could cause an explosion of differing wants between the Chapels in the six months after the battle of the Project New America. If Bridget would want out of Blue Valley but James would want in, that’s going to add super stress and it relates back to their intensity of their workaholicism by avoiding each other to instead cling to what they can and do have a relative degree of control over.

A part of me did and had suspected a divorce was on the horizon for these two (I had written a fic a while back where it was reversed and James was the one that left Blue Valley) but I was holding onto hope for a long time that there was some massive misunderstanding that could be resolved. And for all we know...Maybe it still can be! We don't know what the issue is between Bridget and James, and again, I found it really fascinating that we don't seem to get their perspective on life unlike virtually every other parent set of the entire teen character ensemble. They, and especially Beth's father, are due some more depth into their understanding of the current Blue Valley climate/family situation so we can further assess what's really going on. A big part of me is disappointed about the direction that Stargirl is going with Beth's parents, knowing that in the comics Beth's father was a minister and her parents seemed to be mostly happy together. I just...Really feel that black families in the superhero genre get thrown under the bus for massive familial issues a bit unfairly.

Bridget and James still raised Beth! They raised an amazing child with smarts and manners and kindness. We see how her parents assert themselves and we need to be able to see Beth do the same, and open some honest dialogue. She's too bright to be shunned out like this, even if from Bridget and James' view, they may see this as their way of protecting her.

At the end of the day I'd much prefer the Chapels as misunderstood than secretly evil, and I had been steeling myself for that alternative for a few months now. I'll take what I can get, I just really really REALLY want Beth's relationship with her parents to be repairable.

#ask #beth chapel #bridget chapel #the chapels #stargirl spoilers #2x01 #s2 #james chapel #hn talks

12 notes · View notes

iulia-augusti · 4 years ago

Text

So I can’t remember the exact date that The Nobleman’s Guide to Scandal and Shipwrecks was supposed to come out before it got delayed again, but I think it was around now, so here. To mark the occasion, here is what started out as a list of predictions but is now basically a fic by itself:

⚓️ maybe the mother is going to get a name??

⚓️ it sounds as if we’re going to find out a bit more about her as a character, which I’m looking forward to

⚓️ I hope we get to see how she was affected by Monty and Felicity running away

⚓️ Like she was always protective of Adrian, never wanted to let him out of her sight, and he always thought it was because he was ill, or because they waited so long for him (if he thought he was an only child when his parents had already been married for at least 18 years when he was born, they probably told him they thought they couldn’t have children and he was a miracle surprise after they waited so many years or something)

⚓️ but now he wonders, how afraid was she of losing him too?

⚓️ Adrian’s fiancée is going to be an absolute badass. Like it sounds as if she isn’t in the story so much so there’s no need for her to be complex or anything, she can just be straightforwardly the coolest person you’ve ever met

⚓️ I hope we get to end on a wedding lol

⚓️ or seeing as the last 2 books ended on letters, maybe it will be a letter to her?

⚓️ or maybe another “fuck you” letter to Henry Sr

⚓️ the synopsis makes it sound as if Felicity isn’t in it, but...she had better be??? Or Mackenzi Lee can catch these hands 😝

⚓️like I hope we get a scene where Monty and Felicity are having Sibling Bants™️ and Adrian is going to watch and just sort of....Ache

⚓️ cause how much would he have liked to have grown up with siblings?

⚓️ he and Monty are definitely gonna fall out over it at one point. Like they left him alone, knowing how bad their father was, and caused their parents so much pain

⚓️ I think Henry Sr didn’t treat Adrian as badly as he did Monty (he tried it once. His wife made it clear that if he raised his hand to her one remaining child ever again, he would lose it)

⚓️ so Adrian doesn’t know why Monty had to leave, and this is where Monty tells him

⚓️ Monty is going to instinctively call Adrian “Goblin” the first time they meet and Adrian is going to be like ???

⚓️ it’s particularly ironic when Monty has to look almost straight up to face him

⚓️ Monty is going to be EXTREMELY dramatic about that

⚓️ “are you sure you’re my brother?” Adrian: *dimples* Monty: “ah fuck”

⚓️ this is such a weirdly specific prediction, but I think Adrian is going to meet Percy first

⚓️ also if we go all the way to Barbados and DON’T find out about Percy’s mother, I will scream

⚓️she’s going to be epileptic like him and that will make them known to each other??

⚓️ OR maybe she’ll know him by the violin

⚓️ or both, no reason why not

⚓️ but Percy is definitely going to be an eminent musician by now

⚓️ and felicity is a well-established scientist/doctor

⚓️ I really hope we get to see Scipio and crew again???

⚓️ GROWN UP KING GEORGE

⚓️ are we gonna see Sim?? Or Johanna? If so we’re getting one pirate queen and one scientist with a brood of unruly scientist children

⚓️ I’m sorry, but if this is going to be the last book, I kind of want to know what became of Sinjon Westfall. Like I know he’s a non-character, but. I hope he found love. And didn’t get in as much trouble as Monty did for his affair with another boy.

#tggtvav #tlgtpap #tngtsas #yes I’m aware this became a long headcanon about Lady ‘No Name’ Montague #but yk I am bitter about this #also not being horrible but I hope that the delay means...a bit more historical research and a few fewer verbatim tumblr posts lol #and #cause honestly #tlgtpap reads like ml churned it out with not many ideas and just had to pad it out with jarringly 2010s-sounding feminist platitudes #and there were a bunch of inaccuracies I’m sorry #like #little things as far as I know #but the only reason why that is as far as I know is cause I only know about the little things lol #Montague siblings headcanon

70 notes · View notes

expectingtofly · 4 years ago

Text

completely, perfectly, incandescently happy

803 words

also posted on ao3

despite reading the book in high school, I didn’t see Pride and Prejudice (2005) until last week and oh boy what a movie. as soon as Darcy walked into the ball with a scowl on his face, I was done for. ofc, it seems I can’t appreciate any media now without relating it back to destiel so please enjoy this piece of fluffy nonsense I came up with :)

Dean had already sworn Castiel to secrecy. Twice. The bunker was quiet because Sam and Jack were out running errands, which meant they didn’t have to worry about any witnesses. The Dean Cave door was shut and locked.

No one was ever going to know Dean Winchester willingly watched a chick flick romance movie, not if he could help it.

As soon as Sam’s car had left the garage, he and Castiel had retreated into the Dean Cave and put on the movie—but only after Dean put up the appropriate amount of resistance. In truth, he was kind of curious, and Castiel had wanted to see it, so he didn’t take much convincing.

Either way, against all odds, Pride and Prejudice was now playing on his TV.

Dean could lie and complain that the movie was just as sappy as he’d anticipated and that he’d been half-asleep since the opening credits… but he didn’t want to talk over the dialogue.

Okay, yes, he’d admit it, he was paying attention to the plot. And maybe—though he’d deny this to his dying day—just maybe, he was actually really enjoying the movie. He didn’t know how much of that had to do with the fact that both Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen were extremely attractive, but he was going to blame his feelings on their faces and not on the idea that maybe he didn’t hate romances as much as he pretended to.

They were nearing the end of the film now. Lizzie couldn’t sleep so she went for a walk outside, moping about Darcy. But who should be walking over but Darcy himself? Striding across the moors, coat blowing in the wind, music swelling, fog and everything—

“Fuck, he’s hot,” Dean found himself saying aloud. He was laying with his head in Castiel’s lap, and he felt Castiel’s fingers slow their movement through his hair. He looked up to see the slightest frown creasing Castiel’s brow. “Objectively, I mean,” he added.

Castiel smiled a little. “He is very attractive. Objectively.”

“That’s kind of what you did,” Dean said, looking back at the TV. Darcy was still walking towards Lizzie—how long did it fucking take to walk a few feet? Not that it wasn’t incredibly dramatic, hot, and, okay, fine, romantic. “When you first showed up in your vessel and walked into that barn.”

“Except Elizabeth has the decency to not to shoot at Darcy.”

“Okay, touché.”

Darcy had finally reached Lizzie’s side. Time for a sappy love confession. Dean was only half-listening, his mind still stuck on seeing Castiel for the first time. The way Castiel had approached him, looking at him with eyes bluer than anything, his hair tousled—or, Dean would say tousled, if he was in a romance movie. Holy fuck, was his life a chick flick romance? A grimy, violent, bloody one, but still.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul,” Darcy said, drawing Dean back to the present. Dean scoffed, because that line was sappy. Not because he needed to scoff for appearance’s sake and to hide the way his heart might be melting. Gross.

“I doubt my entrance was as “hot” as Darcy’s,” Castiel commented, lifting his hand to make air quotes.

“What?” Dean pulled his eyes from the screen where Lizzie and Darcy were staring at each other. Just kiss already, for fuck’s sake.

He realized Castiel was still talking about their first meeting on Earth. “Wait, are you kidding me?” He sat up to look at Castiel. “You had your trench coat billowing in the wind and everything. And you were staring me down the whole time, all serious and intense. Not to mention you flashed your wings and pulled a knife out of your chest.”

Castiel grinned. “It was very dramatic. But in my defense, I was trying to impress someone.”

“Oh, really?” Shifting, he draped a leg over Castiel’s, pressing their sides together.

Castiel rested his hand on Dean’s thigh. “Yes.”

“Who, Bobby?” he asked because he wanted to hear Castiel say it.

“No, someone else.” Lifting his hand, Castiel traced Dean’s jawline. “Someone a lot more attractive than Darcy.”

Dean rolled his eyes because he was essentially legally required to roll his eyes at anything sappy, even if he was fighting back a smile. “Well, you also scared me shitless, so good work with that.”

“But it was hot, correct?” Castiel pressed.

“Yeah, it was. Extremely.” And maybe this movie had cast a spell on him because he added, “You bewitched me, body and soul.”

“That’s very sappy,” Castiel said with a smile as he took Dean's hand and intertwined their fingers together.

Dean tugged him closer. “Don’t you dare ever tell anyone I said that.”

And they were kissing by the time Darcy and Lizzie had their first kiss.

Tag List:

@becky-srs @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @xojo @marvelnaturalock @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @spooky-things-do-happen-dean @spnwaywardone @spooky-spooks-and-all-the-spooks @letsjustdieeveryone

Let me know (message, ask, comment) if you’d like to be tagged in my other random destiel fics or removed from the list :)

#domestic fluff #dean and cas are saps #when lizzie said we're so similar we're both so stubborn #dean and cas felt that #spncreatorsdaily #shameless use of movie quotes #bisexual dean #expectingtoflywrites #pride and prejudice

83 notes · View notes