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lordofhunger47 · 2 years ago

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Wendi-Goes

To say Dipper was anxious would be the apt word for what he is feeling, it has been some time since he and Wendy become a thing with both being in their 20s, yet he felt as if he rather fight on some monster cryptid instead of what he was doing, which is packing his things for survival and mountaineering since he was going to go on a winter apocalypse survival training with his soon-to-be fiance and her family. His girlfriend's father is the well-known Manly Dan who if rumors are believed was trained by Manotaurs since he was a teen and is strong enough to snap a person like a twig, that's a person he didn't want to be on his bad side, it was Wendy's idea to spend the Christmas with her and her family in the armageddon training instead of the couple go to some Christmas attendance or party to get his blessing so Mason agreed to it.

"Relax dude, my dad likes you, he just isn't very good at showing it." Wen comforted his boyfriend as she and him all packed up and walked to the Corduroy Cabine.

"Wendy, that man once tried to roadkill me and my sister in the agent's car when she told him that 'Sev'ral Timez' sucks." He blandly informed her.

"Yeah…he has a bit of a temper." she admitted.

"A bit is putting it lightly." he responded sarcastically.

“But, he knows about you so he is willing to give you the chance.”

“ * sight* fiiine.”

“Trust me, you won’t regret it.” she assured him.

Outside of the cabin, the rest of the Corduroys were busy being ready for the journey with their packs ready, and behold it was the man Manly Dan checking his supplies and preparing for the trip which he is going to have this time not just with his kids but also with the boyfriend of his only daughter. Honestly, he didn't know how to feel about her only daughter dating Stan's Great-Nephew, on one hand, he is certainly a far cry from Wendy's previous flings and boys he hangs around which is a plus on itself and is the town's hero, while on the other hand, he isn't exactly a 'Manly' man, the first time he met him he thought he was girl, heck even his sister had more muscular than him! sure it was years ago and since then he gained some muscles and his arms were no longer noodly, even then he wasn't exactly the ideal future Son-In-Law he had imagined; however, since he had many times proven himself as a brave individual, Wendy seems to be more active when she is around him(not even working in the Mystery Shack could get her out of her laziness before the Pines kids showed up), and as mentioned before is very different compared to the boys her daughter used to spend time around who were rude, cowardly and insecure(which he internally sighed in relief) he is willing to give him a chance and that says a lot because he hated all of Wendy's exes even from the first glance out of fatherly instinct and their mere look and cocky attitude, the fact that his fatherly instincts proven right all those times so as the superficial observations certainly didn't help either. His sons had a variety of views on Wendy's current boyfriend, Kevin was simply indifferent, and Gus liked him in contrast to Marcus who looked at him with suspicion.

“Hi, guys! Sorry if I'm late!” She greeted her family.

“What’s your nerd boyfriend doing here?” Marcus inquired, before Dipper could answer her girlfriend did.

“He is coming with us, I thought to show my boyfriend the Corduroy ropes.”

Dan let out an accepting grunt “Fine then, everyone check your belongings, we move the next 10 minutes.” He walked inside the house to make sure nothing was at the miss.

“Ya, sure he can handle it? Looks a bit squeamish.” he mocked Kevin snickering, before Dipper could bite back Wendy came to his defense.

“Then perhaps I should bring Mabel instea-”

“NOOOO!” All her brothers responded simultaneously in alarm, hence Wendy and Dipper smirking, they met Mabel for the first time when she was in her Boyz Crazy phase, and let’s just say she was too much for them to handle even after she grew out of her phase.

“I mean…sure your boyfriend can!” Kevin spoke for the boys as he and they shuddered at the recall of the glitter incident.

Years ago….

There it was Mabel in a monstrous glitter-matched sweater which written 'I'm the trouble' in the Corduroy Cabin looking at the shaking Corduroy boys like a piece of meat "Who wants to read my sparky vampire fanfics?" She grinned maliciously with eyes sparking with madness.

Or at least that was the interpretation of that fateful event. Since then, Mabel had a restraining order to never be near Corduroy's cabin to her dismay, not the only time she got a restraining order thanks to her completely disastrous pursuit of a romantic life mind you, and not for the lack of trying.

“Glad we reached an agreement!” She accompanied Dipper and strolled with him.

After the 10 minutes were over they began their journey to the woods which were covered in snow. During the travel Dipper faced difficulties thanks to the eldest brother of Wendy, he gave him a hard time like one time when he intentionally stole his pillow during a night's sleep which forced him to use a rock instead or the constant ridicule he and cold shoulder he gave, to Dipper’s credit he didn’t snap as he wanted to be liked by his girlfriend’s family, though this feud hasn’t been unnoticed by Wendy who during twilight when the group was moving pass a river she chose to finally settle this as she left the formation and came near Marcus.

“Is it necessary to give him a hard time?” Wendy said sternly, deciding to finally confront him.

“I don’t trust that boyfriend of yours, he and his family are like magnets for trouble, everyone knows that, I just don’t want you to end up with a broken heart again.” he reasoned.

"Oh, that's so sweet and considerate of you…if only you showed the same concern you had about my dating life before!" Wendy snapped at the startled Marcus.

“Hold on a moment-” he was cut short before he could come up with a retort.

"The tattoo guy, that jock from 10th grade, Robbie THE Edgelord ! I literally was a magnet for dregs of Gravity Falls, where was your concern when I dated them!" she pointed at him accusingly, he opened his mouth to say something but got cut off again.

"Oh, that's right! You didn't care! You all have been too busy trying to impress father the 'Manliest Man in Gravity Falls', And now, I finally have a boyfriend who isn't some edgy manchild or has a stick in his butt then suddenly you care?? Dipper is more honorable and manly than half the lot of you! While you were busy trying to catch a fish with your fist he faced literal monsters that would reduce you into a gibberish mess! And FYI this is mine to deal with, your problem is you don't know when to shut up spewing crap! You see this face?" She points at her angry face "THIS will always be the face that means shut your bullcrap!"

"I-" put more emphasis on her own face with both of her hands.

"Er-" her frown got even deeper.

He grunts in defeat, knowing it is a losing battle, and after that, his sister moves away furiously.

Just then Kevin moved near him "Wow, she shut your trap real good.” he commented, prompting Marcus to push him away in annoyance which caused him to snicker.

As night came, a blizzard of snow, even with their equipment they couldn't continue in this weather unless they wanted to die of hypothermia so they tried finding a place to settle.

“KIDS! OVER THERE! WE SETTLE THERE!” Daniel shouted at the group and pointed at the entrance to a cave, so they ventured inside.

“Wohoh, even in gloves my hands were feeling numb.” Kevin looked at his shaky hands.

“Spread out! There could be an animal here so we better search the place before settling in.`` The boys minus the Pines whined, yet they followed his command and brought their flashlights to check the place. After minutes of searching this place, they found nothing but bones.

“ALL CLEAR DAD! Let’s camp!” Wendy shouted, so she left her backpack and started making a campfire with the rest looking for wood or anything to use as fuel for the fire.

*Clicking sounds of stones*

“What’s that?” Gus heard the sound as if something was walking, he looked over the source of the sound; nevertheless, found nothing but darkness.

*clicking*

He heard that sound again so he ready his knife from his left hand with the other hand holding his source of light, he slowly walked and narrowed his eyes to make anything. He thought it was just some rat and how he wished that was the case when he lost a year of his life in shock at what it revealed to him.

" Aeeeeha !" A pale-skinned humanoid with milky eyes, dirty and half-destroyed clothes so decomposed that it is unrecognizable what style it used to be, and sharpened mole rat-like teeth appeared without warning in a low screech in front of Kevin from the dark, being startled and terrorized he dropped his flashlight and prior he had the chance to scream his right hand with long fingers and nails covered his mouth from screaming with while the other hand holds him on shoulders in place “ ehheeheee!” Gud was petrified in fear, Dan looked around instinctive and saw one of his sons in the mercy of a thin-pale skin humanoid whose limbs were longer than its body, with no time to waste he jumped and brought his ax down on the thing’s hand which grabbed Gus from the neck, the hand got cut and fell with black blood oozing from the screaming creature as it backed away, quickly Dan grabbed his kid from the back of his collar and moved him away, the whole thing was enough to grab everyone’s attention, soon they sprinted and joined with the father of the Corduroys, unluckily the screams of the pale thing was heard by his kin as well as more and more member of its kind came some crawling from the roof others from the ground like lizards.

As the group made a protective circle and lit the place using flashlights more humanoid monstrosities came and surrounded them, Wendy with an ax, Marcus with a hunting rifle, Gus with a small needle knife, Mason bringing his hunting knife from his backpack, and Daniel with a waterfowl shotgun.

“What the hell are they!?” Marcus exclaimed with his hunting rifle pointed.

"Wendigos…" Mason informed him with his hunting knife ready, he wished he had brought high-tech weaponry if it weren’t for the insistence on using low-tech tools for the winter apocalypse training, as he noticed one of them seemed to be the alpha of the pack which noticeably had red archaic lines across its body with the skull of deer with huge antlers which it wears like a helmet, all it was visible of his face under the skull was glowing white eyes which reminded him of predators with night visions he once saw in a nature documentary.

“You are a monster expert! How do we kill these things?” Gus questioned in urgency.

“Fire is their weakness, grab anything flammable and use it!” Before anyone could act the alpha screeched which commanded the pack to swarm on them so they used their weapons, Wendy managed to take one by axing on the attacker’s skull which rained black blood out of it till he took the ax off to fight off the others, Dan shot two of them bullseye and used his gun like a sledgehammer when one of the abominations came near him with Gus behind him, Dipper sprinted over and grabbed a large bone from the ground and then covered it’s head with dirty remained patches around it, next one of the attacking wendigos jumped at him and tried to take a bite at him with Dipper struggling to keep the monster away from his head.

“HEY! Off my boyfriend! Get your own!” Wendy aided Mason by slashing the wendigo’s head into a flying head.

“Thanks Wen.” Dipper thanked and finally took his lighter to light it up, using his torch he shooed the screeching man-eaters and even set one on fire as it vocalized an unholy shriek before it died.

Another of those pale cannibals caught Gus off-guard and nearly got its sharpened claws approximately on the shocked kid until his father came and shield himself between his son and the thing, a slashed crimson mark near his left shoulder across his arm, and then punch the abomination on the face with its teeth flying over.

“Are you okay boy?

“Yes, Are you!?” he asked incredulously.

“No!” He shouted as he tried to stop the bleeding from his wound near the shoulder.

Seeing that, Marcus tried to get his hands on his lighter till one of the hordes took him by surprise, tossed his lighter away, and before he could use his rifle to smack on it the cannibal threw him like a ragdoll. “WOOOAH!” he crashed into the cave’s wall and moaned in pain. “ Ow! These things are becoming a pain in my aAAAA!” he yelped due to the beast which threw him away now racing toward him and jumped with his fangs and teeth tearing him a new, he would have been slashed into a grizzly end if it weren’t for a flamer aimed at the attacker from a flame gun belonged to Dipper, the entity fell near Marcus as it burst to flame with it screaming until it was nothing but a chartered corpse, Marcus looked in amazement to the boyfriend of his sister who simply nodded and used his torch to send more of the assaulting horde on fire while also being careful to not get sliced by them.

By then, the Corduroys followed Dipper's advice and used whatever flammable things they could get their hands on and touched them to shoo and send the wendigos on fire some did some ingenuity to their credit like Kevin using his secretly-stashed sprayer which he smuggled, and a lighter together to have his flamethrower, more and more of them got burned or died by other means until no more of them came, all that remained were their corpses either by fire, bullets or axes and knives.

Marcus panted heavily “I think that’s all of them.” he kicked one of the dead bodies.

“No it’s not, look, the one with a deer skull is not anywhere.” Wen reminded them, so they stand alert trying to find where the pack leader went with Dipper this time arming himself with brass knuckles, a gift from Stanley on one of his and his sister’s birthdays(though, they had to keep that a secret until now that they were in legal age and only used it for emergency). Unfortunately for the Corduroy’s patriarch, the last wendigo was up on the roof using the darkness as camouflage coming toward him slowly and slowly with its hungry maw opened dripping with saliva for its prey.

“BEHIND YOU!” the Pines boy cried out to Dan who in turn back, before he could react the anthropophagus with one of its hands slammed him on his face, for a skinny creature it was surprisingly strong, the rest of the group hurried to aid him; however, it was too late as the thing took a bite from Dan’s right arm between his shoulder and wrist.

"NOOOOO!" They screamed as they ran with Wendy who was the nearest giving a kick to the anthropologist's head which resulted in it jumping back to the roof at much distance and hissing.

“DAD! You okay?” Kevin questioned in urgency.

“I'm fine! I dealt with worse, although I felt a bit dizzy…”

“That’s because that thing took a chunk out of your flesh you testosterone-drunk bear!” Wendy snapped at his denial, indeed the abominable humanoid ripped a part of its flesh and now it was bleeding, whilst others didn’t take their eyes off the cannibalistic monster which they could swear looked a bit smug as it chews and swallowed with his tongue licking its lips clearly enjoying the taste, Wendy used her emergency kit to disinfect her father’s wound and stop the bleeding.

"You like my taste skinny?” Manly Dan roared at the gazing creature “Then it's a good thing that I'm…ABSOLUTELY DRUNK WITH CORDUROY'S SPECIAL MOONSHINE! HAHAHAHAHA!" Manly Dan cackles madly as the wendigo which took a bite of his flesh starts to look disoriented with its eyes dilating.

It took the other in surprise before Dipper blinked and registered "That's…that’s ingenious! You have poisoned yourself with a high dosage of arsenic as a safety precaution!" impressed, ignorant of the obvious.

"THAT IS DEFINITELY WHY I DID THAT!" Daniel with his still gritted teeth said in a mix of pain, embarrassment, and a sense of schadenfreude for giving the wendigo 'screw you' in the most ironic way, Wendy almost rolled her eyes if it weren't for the urgency of the situation, in one desperate move the pack leader tried to move away and then in as an act of intimidation it sharpens its claws and hanged his long skinny arms around like wings in an act of intimidation until it dropped to the earth so as it’s bony helmet away from him.

"It's vulnerable now! Now it's the time!" Dipper called everyone.

"You heard him! Let’s kill the bastard!” Marcus concurred.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-!” the boys and the girl roared with every breath of their lungs and raced toward the now intimidated Wendigo which didn’t know what it should do or react other than making a weak Howell, it didn’t get the chance to decide once the Pines and the Corduroys attacked with their weapons and beat the crap out of it, brass knuckles, axes, knives, punches, kicks all falling on him non-stop till it was nothing but a bloody pulp and died.

“You mess with a Corduroy, you mess with all of us!” Gus spits on the beaten dead body in spite.

“Not that I’m not proud of y'all are a show of brutality, but can you please bandage me up before I die from blood loss?” the patriarch gestured with his eyes to his cut.

“Right! Right!” Wendy returned to him to bandage his injury, whereas the rest collected themselves with Marcus walking toward Mason.

“Hey Pines!” He called him which got his attention. “I’m not good at apologies and thank you so I will make it quick.” he scratched the back of his head in nervousness “Sorry about giving you crap and thanks for saving my ass.”

“No problem, Water off the bridge, I have a sister too so I get it.” He shrugged, accepting his apology.

Gus moved toward the fallen deer skull, after which he took it and checked it around “Wow, a cool trophy!

we now ha-” Dipper snatched the skull before he could wear it on his head and threw it hard on earth, resulting in it shattering into a million pieces.

“HEY! That was-”

Without alarm a surge of black magic in black came up and turned into smoke which grabbed their attention, there was an awkward moment before someone finally said something.

“You’re welcome.” he nonchalantly said and moved past his girlfriend’s youngest brother who was still looking at the pieces dumbstruck Wendy’s oldest brother considering his soon-to-be brother-in-law just saved a member of the Corduroy family again .

Minutes later the fire was made in the middle of the cave a bandaged Manly Dan with the rest of the group circled around using the heat to warm themselves and cook their meals on sticks, the corpses of the massacred wendigos were being used as fuel for a separate campfire so that they won’t have to deal with their stinky rotten stink.

“Man, if this is what it is like being in one of your adventures, no wonder why our sister is always eager to spend time with you.” Kevin with his almost cooked marshmallows commented.

“To be fair, this one just came out of nowhere, it's not like any of us had a way of knowing it,” he remarked.

“Bah! Who needs Christmas when you can commit a massacre on man-eating abominations with your family guilt-free!" She nodded to the burning pile of wendigos, Gus looked at her weirdly as Kevin until they made eye contact with each other and shrugged.

After a few moments of silence just looking at the fire and processing the ordeal they fasted before Mason finally dared to slap his hands together to ask Wendy’s dad the question “So…Me and Wendy were thinking since we have been a thing for some time if we can have your blessing in me becoming her fiance-”

“No.” he gave a fast nonchalant answer that surprised everyone including the dumbstruck Pines.

“bu-but …” Dan’s soon to be son-in-law stammed.

“Not until you drink one coup from my family’s special moonshine.” he grabs his flask and pour the liquid into a metallic mug and then gave it to him, Dipper hesitantly looked at the poured mug, it smelled like death and gasoline having a baby, his nose pinched in recoil. He looked back at Manly Dan whose look told him to drink it, he let out a breath and drink it which felt like bile in his throat, after drinking it his face expressed in pain, trying very hard to not throw up with the rest of Corduroys looking at him grinning.

“ * BLAH!* it-ts…the absolute foulest thing I ever put in my mouth…” Now he felt a burning sensation in his stomach while he spoke weakly with his mouth tasting like octane, the Corduroys laughed at his misfortune.

“Welcome to the family, son!” Daniel gave his blessing and gave a hard affectionate smack on his back in mirth which nearly caused him to fall.

“I-i-feeeel…trippy..~” Mason fell unconscious when the effects of the drink came, alarmed his girlfriend came to check him with the Corduroy boys now laughing like hyenas.

“DAD!” she roared back at her father.

“I DIDN’T MEAN FOR THAT TO HAPPEN!” He defended himself.

“I TOLD YOU HE WAS A LIGHT DRINKER!” Wendy's fiance was still sleeping like a sleeping beauty as the only daughter of Manly Dan chewed her father up with the boys still laughing hoarsely, he was now rather dealing with the wendigos than his enraged daughter.

#gravity falls #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #wendip #fanfic #fanfiction #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fanfic #my fanfiction #manly dan #gus corduroy #kevin corduroy #marcus corduroy #comedy #drama #adventure #action #romance

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sweetestlamb · 4 years ago

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Leave the Door Open

Summary: He doesn’t hate having someone in his house. Having her in his house but he knows he should.

Author Notes: Vincenzo was a roller coaster this weekend and I LOVED it every adrenaline filled, angst inducing moment of it all. They are pining in 4K and I had to write this. I am salivating waiting for their first kiss. I hope it’s crazy and impulsive and filled with ineedyouithoughtilostyou energy, it might be cliché but I am a simple woman. Until then I present more domestic(sometimes horny) Chayenzo moments this was very freeform I went in with nothing and just let my brain go crazy. There’s some angst again LOL oops

It’s unnervingly easy to get used to, having another person in his space despite his years of solitude and purposely pushing others away. Women had tried to sleep over before, sweat clinging to their naked skin as they coyly brushed a finger under the sheet trying to entice him to let them stay. It never worked. Not once. Sex was one thing- he loved being in control and hearing his name breathless on their lips as they writhed and screamed on his silk sheets- but sleeping over was a completely different animal and he was never stupid enough to give them that much leeway. It was dangerous for them to think this was something more than it was, he had an itch and they could scratch it. There were no feelings involved, at least from his end.

So when she showed up on his doorsteps and the urge to drag her into his arms overwhelmed him that should have been his first warning, danger danger do not proceed.

But she pushed past him before he could close the door in her face and unfortunately at the same moment he had a spasm in his hand and hesitated for just one second allowing her enough time to bulldoze her way into his apartment. He had contemplated kicking her still out but the look on her face stopped him in his tracks, she looked scared- ridiculously so. Even as she stuttered out nonsense about the suspicious hoteliers who wanted to harm her and made a show of swinging her bag as she told the story of the man breaking the lock on her hotel room, he could see the slight tremble in her fingers.

She was always a lightning rod of energy but that night it had been different. Her movements had been panicked and the urge to protect her overrode his self preservation.

It was a clear erroneous mistake on his part.

She’s comfortable around him, that much becomes clear all too fast when he wakes up to her swaying in the kitchen over a boiling pot on the stove- some kind of soup, he can smell the aroma of miso wafting across the room- but what catches his attention is her clothes, or lack of.

There is miles and miles of bare skin from his angle on the ground, her loose sleep shorts barely covering her legs and he raises an eyebrow as he takes in the top half of her body. Her wet hair drips onto the flowing pristine white shirt that is peeking out from beneath a cardigan. She’s taken a shower. Just moments ago, she had been naked in his shower, water cascading down her slim body curving over her breasts and sliding down her flat stomach in long slow streams until it reached her wet....

“Oh you’re awake! I made soup, let’s eat before work.” She brightly calls out to him, using his ragged oven mittens to transfer the steaming pot over to the low rising table in the center of his tiny living room.

His eyes savor her every move as she flounces over to him in that annoying way that he is starting to find cute. She carefully folds her legs beneath her bottom as she joins him on the ground, her smooth makeup free face coming into his line of vision. He’d always assumed that it was her lip tint making her mouth so red and plush and so goddamn alluring, but even bare the twin petals are too much for his sleep laden brain to handle. He sits up curling his blanket in his lap, balling up the material to better hide his little morning problem. He almost hopes this is a dream, it wouldn’t be the first time she visited him in one. They usually ended in sinuous screams and naked limbs twisting but sometimes they were like this, just simple moments that made him wake up with an ache in his chest. Those dreams terrified him the most.

“Yah! Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” Her voice cuts through the arousal thick fog in his brain, light pats on his cheek rousing him from his untoward thoughts. “What are you thinking about anyway? Why are you so distracted?” Her eyes narrow as she glances at him, slowly descending down his body almost reaching his groin and he flushes red coughing loudly before quickly moving closer to the table, hiding his lap entirely from her wandering eyes.

Their eyes meet in a tense lock and she looks curious and something darker that he has been seeing in her eyes the more they work together. He watches swallowing a groan as she leisurely licks her lips chasing the drops of soup that have escaped.

They don’t have time for this. There is so much to do and a part of him fears that she is using him as a distraction because she’s scared about her break-in, despite his constant warnings it had been her first real experience with how far Babel was willing to go to silence them, the first time she was in the line of fire. He had been her “hero” and that was evidently confusing her, making her think he was something better than he was. Contrary to the lie he had cowardly told her, he was nothing but a murderer. Once she saw him for what he truly was, she would want nothing to do with him- she was still a good person after all underneath her armor and brazen attitude.

He wants her and that is exactly why he can’t have her.

Those thoughts knock any desire promptly out of his body, he couldn’t forget that he wasn’t worthy of love.

Problem finally resolved he stands up, “Sorry I’m not a morning person. I need to use the bathroom, thank you for the breakfast. I’ll be back.” He can feel her eyes on him the entire way to the bathroom, those huge doe-like eyes that make him want to be a better man, but surely it’s too late for someone like him.

Right?

They had separated after work, him meeting up with Mr. Cho secretly to discuss the fate of the gold, it was another long conversation that left them with more complications rather than solutions and he can see the frustration on the other man’s face. He will have to keep an eye on that in case it becomes something problematic.

Something he has to handle, regrettably.

He yanks at the stiff ball of his necktie loosening it as he pushes his key into the lock and presses the door open, he hears her laughter before he sees her almost tripping on her black high heels carelessly discarded at the door. He pauses with a rumble, “First she breaks into my house and now she almost kills me at my own front door,” with a sigh he straightens the shoes, slipping off his own and stepping into his house slippers.

His heart lurches at the first sight of her, she’s wrapped up in the blanket he had placed around her quivering shoulders the night of the break in, only her head visible from the swaddle. She’s watching some variety show he has never watched but knows is popular here, a can of beer thankfully on a coaster on the table and too many empty bottles of soju. She turns to look at him when she senses his presence, that also disarms him because he is a man who can go undetected if he pleases and he had not made a sound upon his entry, yet she still knew he was here.

Then she makes him weak in the knees when she shoots a soft smile his way, her rosy lips slightly upturned but its the glow in her eyes that captivates him, those dark orbs come to life when they land on him as if they were waiting for him to flush with life and vibrancy.

“You’re home!” She calls out, still beaming at him and he stands frozen in the line of fire. She casually pats the cushion next to her, motioning him over as high pitched loud voices patter out from his TV.

Home. He has hardly ever used that word himself, long given up on the idea of having a place to call home. But seeing her like this, a fire that had been snuffed out a long time ago starts to rekindle, a desire he had long suppressed starts to bubble back to the surface.

I should leave.

He thinks foolishly, but he finds himself walking over to her, skin pebbling when a warm small hand reaches out and drags him the rest of the way from his suspended form.

“What took you so long? Why didn’t you answer my calls? I wanted you to get us some soju.” She snuggles into his arm as if this is normal for them, and with an urgent awakening he realizes that it is. Constant and casual touches flash in his memory, his hand on her shoulder as he escorts her way, her hands on his back as she carries his intoxicated body, arms wrapped around each other as they walk away from the scum that is Babel. His hands always find her body as if it’s a heat seeking missile and not once has she pushed him away, on contrary she moves into his touches and returns them just as frequently. As if they belong to each other, as if they are each other’s to touch.

What game exactly are they playing?

He has never lost before but suddenly it feels like his defeat is imminent.

“You already drank all the soju in the fridge? Are you an alcoholic? Should I have you admitted?” He grumbles trying to diffuse the situation but she chuckles at his words, resting her head on his shoulder now as she peers up at him with glossy eyes. His control wavers, fluttering like a flag in the wind.

“After everything I’ve done that’s the thing you want to get me admitted for?” She teases giggling into his collarbone and her breath ignites a flame on his skin that spreads like wildfire. “Oh. Why are you so red?”

He jolts up, only feeling marginally guilty when she falls head first onto the couch with his sudden disappearance. When she glares up at him he has to smother a smile at the cute affronted look on her face, he is a mafia member he shouldn’t use words like “cute” but he’s constantly breaking his rules because of her.

He escapes to his bedroom, surprisingly pigeon feather free the window securely closed for once and he looks back towards the living room with a smile, she was full of surprises. With a groan he pops his shoulder, letting the day’s tension melt away as he takes off his suit piece by piece, breathing easier when he unknots the tie and tosses it to his bed. When he is down to his boxers, he ambles over to his dresser taking out his silk pajamas- she loved to tease him about them but after running a sneaky hand over his arm, she has admitted that they felt nice on your skin- he had desperately wanted her to keep going. Dragging the bottoms on first he slides on the top, fingers on the top button when his bedroom door bursts open making him still his movement.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that I ordered fried chicken that’s why I needed soj...nnngghh” her words trail off into nonsense as she sputters at him, eyes immediately locked on the lower half of his body and he almost laughs at her wide eyed stare before she walks closer, a hand outreached as she penetrates his skin with her unblinking stare. He can see the red blush spread across her bridge of her nose and he wonders if it’s from the alcohol she has consumed or if it’s something else?

She answers his questions with another step toward him, unflinching beneath his hard stare and he instinctively recoils, stepping back out of her reach but she double steps until they are inches apart, her fingertips hovering above his abs and then she closes the distance, stroking the ridges on his stomach making him groan, unable to contain the deep sound and he grabs her hand.

He can’t let his go any further.

“What are you doing? Haven’t you heard of knocking? What if I was naked?”

The blush covers her face completely at his words and he watches fascinated as her pupils dilate and a hungry look flashes across her pretty face.

She doesn’t look scandalized at the idea. He has seen that look many times. From her, more times than he wants to confront.

“Cha-young.” He states her name firmly, making her eyes snap away from his body at least this time she looks ashamed of herself for ogling him, but not tremendously so. It’s not lost on him that she hasn’t tried to leave the room once. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

It’s a warning. For both of them really.

It can tell by the twitch in her eyebrow she sees it as a challenge, without a word she grabs him by his shoulder tugging him closer until they are flush, her soft breasts pressing into his firm stomach and he groans when he realizes he can feel the flesh too vividly, she’s not wearing bra. Fuck.

“Who said I couldn’t finish it?” She retorts peering up at him with those gleaming eyes, too many emotions swirling around for him to pinpoint what is the driving force behind her actions.

His arms wrap around her waist, bringing her closer despite there being no room felt to do so. She moans prettily at his tight grip swaying unevenly into him.

She’s drunk.

He suddenly recalls all the empty bottles of soju on the table and he loosens his hold, he refuses to take advantage of her no matter how willing she seems right now, it’s the alcohol distorting her thoughts. He releases her waist and puts his hands between them.

“You aren’t in your right mind right now, we should stop.”

She shakes her head disagreeing, “I got drunk because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. The alcohol didn’t make me want you, it made me do something about it.”

He blinks at the comment feeling like her words are intoxicating him. His thoughts are incoherent.

“I know you want me too. Don’t push me away.” She pleads and he feels his resolve crumbling as he watches her bite at her lower lip, wringing her hands between them. She seems...nervous. Scared of his rejection.

It’s not fitting on the Cha-young he has grown to know and l...like.

With a sigh he steps forward much to her apparent shock, wrapping his arms around her in an awkward hug, complete with too rough pats on her back and he wonders if he did the right thing when she stands frozen in his arms but then she laughs brokenly before sniffling and burrowing her head into his chest. He can feel the wetness pooling on his skin, he hugs her tighter ignoring the voice in his head warning him that he’s letting her get too close.

it’s already much too late anyway.

He lets her cry on him until he hears admittedly gross sniffles and he starts to fear for his skin, tears are one thing but mucus is another. He might like her but there is still a line, snot is his line.

Thankfully, when he drags her away from him her nose isn’t running, just large tears streaming down her face. Looking at that face, he would probably allow her to drip snot on him; she looks so pitiful- it’s probably the first time she has allowed herself to feel her emotions and not put on a brave front for him.

He longs to tell her that it isn’t necessary, ever. He doesn’t need her to put on a show, he will accept her no matter what there is no version of her that isn’t perfectly imperfect in his eyes.

But he can never say those words to her.

“Let me put my shirt on and I’ll meet you in the living room.” He pushes her lightly, playfully glaring and shooing her away when she doesn’t immediately leave taking one final moment to ogle his body. He tries not to preen and fails horribly, it’s hard not to when the woman he wants so badly clearly wants him too- at least physically.

She whispers something that sounds like, “You don't have to,” and he raises an eyebrow watching her leave finally, with a long suffering sigh he stares down at his overly interested friend willing it away before dragging on his shirt.

it’s going to be a long night.

He can smell the delicious aroma of fried chicken when he finally exits the bedroom, she offers a leg to him as soon as he’s close enough and he easily accepts the food with a bite, letting her feed him until all that remains is the bone.

“You eat so well.” She praises and he flushes in embarrassment at her words, or more accurately at the feeling that swells up in his stomach at her deceptively maternal words. Unaware of his thoughts she continues feeding him until the food is all gone and she is looking at him with a satisfied grin.

He tries not to become too excited when she licks the grease from her fingers, before putting the bones on a plate.

“Here, have some wine. The storekeeper said it was popular in Italy.”

She places the rounded curve of the wine glass at his lip and he inhales the intoxicating scent, Barolo, he can already smell the sweetness of the Nebbiolo grapes that have been long fermenting, it’s not a cheap bottle of wine or easy to acquire, not even for him while living in their country of origin. She must have looked all over to find that particular brand here in Korea.

He stares at her with a softness he has never felt for another, not even her late father. This is bigger and more consuming, the respect he felt for the man seems to pale in comparison to the bundle of emotions he feels for his daughter.

“Thank you.”

She simply stares, before returning his gaze and he accepts the wine glass by the stem tipping the deep colored liquid into his mouth, flavors dancing on his taste buds and he moans freely at the delicious taste.

They are already sitting closely, too much so for just coworkers but she moves nearer at his subconscious response, their knees knock into each other.

“Is it that good?” She whispers breathless, staring at his mouth. Again.

He nods dumbly, freezing when he feels her hand on his thigh.

“Let me see.”

He watches in a daze as she leans closer to him, his eyes following her face as she draws nearer and then he closes his eyes, tired of fighting this magnetic connection between them, he’s only a man and a bad one at that, he’s not good enough to keep pushing her away. He waits impatiently to feel the swell of her lips on his and blinks his eyes open when he feels a sudden weight on the wine glass instead, her lips curl around the ridge where his lips had just been. Taking his hand in hers, she lifts the glass and tilts it back into her mouth swallowing the liquid in a deep gulp before she pushes it back towards him, with a loud smack of her lips before moving back to her spot on the cushion.

“Mmmmm, you’re right that’s really good.”

His tongue is heavy in his mouth and his brain isn’t functioning well enough to give a response beyond staring at her with his mouth gaped.

“What’s wrong were you expecting something else? Did I get your hopes up? It’s not nice is it? ” She teases obnoxiously tsking at him body loose on the arm rest opposite of him and he knows exactly what she’s alluding to, recalls her face as he had leaned across the small space of the car. She hadn’t looked scandalized in that moment either.

No, she looked ready to risk it all. He was the coward who couldn’t risk anything.

He leans back with a huff, folding his arms.

“I guess it’s true, revenge is a dish best served cold. Do you feel good about yourself?” He pushes his lips out, not pouting whatsoever.

Mafia men don’t pout.

She snickers from the left of him, poking at this cheek gleefully.

“Oh my god, are you pouting? You big baby! You did it to me first!”

He has no argument to that so he doesn’t refute the claim, he just silently glares at the tv not hearing anything despite the volume being quite loud.

“Next time let’s both be brave enough to finish what we started.”

He turns to look at her, blinded by the hopeful smile on her face.

Maybe he’s wrong and it’s more than physical for her too.

If that’s true, then he needs to sever this bond sooner rather than later.

He doesn’t reply to her, drinking more wine to occupy his mouth and she doesn’t push him, humming before turning her attention back to the tv.

He collects all her different laughs while they watch the mindless show, the soft giggles and the full body guffaws that make her slap his knee and spill over into his space, her long hair thrown across his lap. He gives up on stopping her and finds himself smiling at her joy, offering her water when she starts to choke from laughing too hard. He pats her back and rubs her until she can speak easily again, she’s seriously a hazard to herself and he tells her as much.

She cheekily replies, “That’s why I need you then, you’re my Italian hero.”

He refutes that claim but he knows that she’s right, he would destroy anyone who tried to harm one hair on her head.

Moments later when he hears her light snores, he turns the tv off and makes to stand up and put some much needed distance between them but she halts him with a gentle plea, “Don’t leave me alone please.”

He stills at her words, staring at her closed eyes praying that she’s dreaming about someone else. That those words aren’t for him, he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to ignore her appeal.

When her head falls heavily on his shoulder again, her body distractingly warm pressed against his own he knows he should push her away it’s the only way they can both get out of this unscathed.

But his decision making is all but obliterated, so he stupidly leans his head onto hers, deeply inhaling the sweet vanilla of her shampoo instead, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her closer, dragging the blanket over both their bodies, silencing his heart when it jumps at her easily molding into him and softly murmuring his name from deep slumber, “Vincenzo.”

Just for tonight, he will let himself have this.

One night only.

It’s all he can afford.

#vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #hong cha young #Vincenzo #chaotic couple #killer couple #I love their pining it's everything

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arigatouiris · 5 years ago

Text

an inconvenient crush // kenma kozume x reader (1/2)

Author’s Note: A new story?? SO SOON?? Thank you for all the love for my previous Kuroo story, it meant the world to me. I write for myself primarily, yes, but it brings me SO MUCH JOY to know that my words reach you. It helps with the motivation to put them out more often. Thank you. This story is very close to my heart because I’m a gamer, although I don’t stream. I’m more like Kenma though, personality wise. Haha.

Word count: 5k+

Pairing: YouTuber! Kenma Kozume x Streamer! Reader

Summary: YouTuber Kozume Kenma has had the biggest crush on Twitch Streamer, (s/n) (y/n), who in actuality simps heavily after Kenma's secret YouTube persona, puddinghead0.

What happens when their paths cross?

Kuroo is honestly tired of Kenma's second-guessing, and (y/n) is a bit of a crackhead.

Warnings: unrequited love, one-sided crush, slight angst, pining, crackhead reader, internet bullying, slang, gaming references, haikyuu manga spoilers, fluff

C h a p t e r O n e : puddinghead0

Kozume Kenma suddenly turned existential when his eyes shifted to his phone screen for the 12th time in ten minutes.

Was he always doing this? Was he always obsessed with his phone to a point where he'd constantly check for notifications? Did this mean he was deeply lonely on the inside and wanted approval from people on a virtual platform, which meant that the approval was also virtual and none of it was real? Did it mean that he craved to nullify the growing void in his chest by distracting himself with a black mirror that showcased light that could permanently impair his sight?

He let out a breath and forced himself not to look at his phone. He didn't care. It didn't matter. That's what he always said.

"Hey!" His classmate/room-mate screamed from the entrance to his flat, "Are you watching her stream? Posted two minutes ago!"

His phone was definitely slow. He had been checking his phone but there was no notification. Letting out a breath, and giving himself a mental reason to actually check his phone, Kenma opened the notifications tab to see the one notification he had kept his eye out for had been buried under ridiculous facebook notifs.

An inconvenient crush, that's what he told himself whenever he looked at you. You were a streamer, a bit different from what he did on YouTube because you were primarily on Twitch. There were reaction videos of you on YouTube, which was where he found you, but damn—how could one be pretty while rage-quitting a game? It was abnormal. Nothing about you was normal; college student/Twitch streamer, an apparent baker in your mother's bakery, game reviewer for Sony, and you were insanely cute.

"She's getting to that part," his roommate commented from behind Kenma's back, while Kenma really just wanted to watch the video in peace, "Shit, she's gonna cry."

You did cry, quite a few times, and too easily if he could add. You cried at the ending of God of War, you cried to The Last of Us (which made sense, but you were perhaps just bawling throughout the entire game), you cried in a game called Detroit: Become Human, you cried far too easily, but you never really quit. He loved how passionate you were about games, and it was the sort of passion he could completely understand.

"Oh shit," You said in the video, your eyes scanning all over the game screen, "What's happening? What's happening?"

Kenma chuckled at how cute you were, god, you were killing him. You looked worried, and he could visibly see a sweat drop on your forehead, but you were so focused that it didn't matter. Suddenly, there was a screaming sound from the game you were playing, and your eyes popped open as wide as they possibly could and you just sat there, unmoving. He loved how you never squealed or made any loud reactions, except when you were in a fight with a difficult boss, but whenever something traumatic happened, you just froze and sunk it all in. You were currently playing the second part of The Last of Us, and a traumatic scene was definitely happening. Kenma had just finished playing it the night before, so every scene you were playing was familiar.

"I officially hate this game," You said, your voice breaking and he desperately wanted to hold you, "Fucking hell."

"God, she's amazing." Kenma's roommate said, eyes turning into literal hearts.

"Hm." Yeah, she is, Kenma thought, but could never really say.

As a YouTuber himself who streams games, he was aware that you were not as popular, and it was a fact that he really didn't like. Sure, you were on a less popular platform, but Twitch was incredibly popular by itself as well. He also understood the bias that came with being a female gamer, and while it sounded ridiculous to him, Kenma was one of those people who believed gaming required no gender.

He adored your content, and he secretly adored the hell out of you, so seeing you soar would only make him happy.

"I... I can practically feel what pain she's feeling right now," You spoke about the game, a lone tear threatening to leak out of your eye, "But! We shall persevere. I've been waiting 7 years for this game, so I won't let... won't let something like this halt my interest. Let's see if this has a point to it all."

God, he adored you. But, Kenma considered it an inconvenient crush because of course, the world was small. The first big crush he has on someone and he hoped it would remain over the internet, but it just had to become something more tangible, something that could make him weak in the knees.

You, a college student/Twitch streamer, an apparent baker in your mother's bakery, a game reviewer for Sony, insanely cute, and also happened to be one of his YouTube channel's biggest fans.

He had only recently discovered your personal twitter handle, and dear lord, you were simping after him with no remorse. It wasn't as if he was all you talked about, but he had also noticed the trajectory of the games you were playing were on par with his own timeline. Kenma had finished his final stream for The Last of Us II just the night before and you had now started playing it. Right before that, it was Bloodborne, and before that, it was Final Fantasy VII Remake. However, your public handle was a lot more professional and despite knowing that it was there, he hadn't sent you a follow request because well, Kenma called himself an introvert in every matter but Kuroo just said he was shy.

While he knew that he could easily approach you and have you know he knew of your existence, Kenma preferred not to get into such detail. It was comfortable admiring you from afar, and it was comfortable being where he was—he had his company to work hard over, he was also a computer student and a YouTuber. Sure, he had his hands full especially after calling you abnormal for something that he himself was doing, but he never really fit into a bracket anyway. Kenma's latent obsession with you was something he wasn't particularly proud of and this wasn't because it had anything to do with you, but simply because he didn't want to make a big deal out of it. Change, in many ways, scared him. And by changing the structure or dynamics of him admiring you in secret, while you admired him not so secretly, Kenma was certain that it might not lead where he may have wanted it to go.

Surely, Kuroo was against this sort of caution, calling it cowardly and saying it lacked passion; but Kenma knew it was just a crush. There was no way he could deduce the kind of person you were based on how you gamed or reacted to games, based on the little tid-bits of information you gave out while playing those games, or even how you openly spoke about how much you admired 'puddinghead0's videos. Kenma hated Kuroo for giving him that name, but he was too lazy to come up with a new one.

"Also," You sprung up in the final two minutes of your latest video, "I'm on Patreon, now! I honestly have no idea how it works, but if you really like the content I make and want to support me, you can become a patron and wish me luck!"

Kenma waited for his stupid roommate to go out of his room before he could open Patreon and find your link, which was thankfully in the description. Without a second thought, he donated to your profile but cussed instantly when he realized what he had done.

He had sent you a donation as himself, as 'puddinghead0's Patreon.

Without a second thought, Kenma called Kuroo and explained what had happened.

"That is why, Kenma, you need to check a thousand times and not let blind love navigate your actions—"

"If I knew you were going to spout such nonsense I wouldn't have called you."

He could hear Kuroo snicker while he ran a hand through his hair. Kenma groaned before Kuroo said, "How bad is this, Kenma? She'll be happy. Of course, this means she'll know you watch her content, but how bad can this be?"

"I didn't want her to know."

"And leave her devoid of the happiness of having her idol appreciate her content? You're cold, Kenma."

"You don't understand. What if... What if she tries to contact me?"

"You, my friend, have not even shared your personal account anywhere. The only way she can contact you is by commenting on your videos, which I am sure you check constantly to see if she did comment, or Tweeting, which she does every three days."

Kenma blushed at the accusation because it was true.

"She won't know who you are. Besides, there's no harm if she even does contact you! Just tell her casually that yeah, you like her contact. I don't see what the big deal is."

"Of course you don't—"

"Oh, she's tweeted something."

Kenma's entire body froze. Leaving Kuroo on the call, Kenma opened Twitter on his laptop and there it was, your latest tweet.

I am trying NOT to freak out over puddinghead sending me a donation on Patreon, pls save my soul, I am dead.

Kenma groaned before hearing Kuroo laugh once more, "She's adorable!"

I know that, Kenma thought before feeling his entire face flash up. Ending Kuroo's call, Kenma looked at your public profile before then moving to your personal one. He wasn't following that one either, but he wanted to see your tweets, he wanted to know more about you—he wouldn't deny any of these facts, but Kenma believed it was far too idiotic to dream of getting to know you through a virtual media. He wasn't even the sort of person to become close to people he met in real life, how could he allow himself a virtual friendship?

The thought staggered him, and the idea behind it was what kept him at bay. Kenma wanted to know about you, talk to you, learn about who you were and what you were doing, but he felt the media that connected you was what separated you.

It wasn't cowardice at all if he was just sticking to the facts and being real.

The next day, Kenma walked to his class by himself, listening to the latest podcast by Joe Rogan. While the external sound wasn't entirely muted, Kenma could discern sounds of people talking, cars moving around, and other noises even though he was playing the podcast on full sound. However, there was one sound in particular that stood out. Kenma paused before turning to his right, noticing a crowd of people had gathered there, with some sort of event going on. He didn't pay attention to half the events that his college conducted, his mind was obviously quite busy elsewhere, but when the announcer moved around in a weird Joker cosplaying outfit, Kenma was a tad bit intrigued.

Was it gaming related?

He slowly moved toward the crowd before finally being able to hear what the anchor was saying.

"We've got prizes for the top three best performers, and one of the participants is the one and only (s/n) (y/n), streamer from Twitch!"

Kenma froze, half-minded to run the hell away from there. But, it seemed as if his feet were stuck to the ground. How had he not known this? Didn't you always announce the events you go to? Why were you suddenly here? A second later, he spotted you, hair put up in an updo, a plain black tee, and regular jeans. You were smiling, but some part of that smile seemed a bit hesitant.

"We will be playing a bit differently today! Instead of the usual Fortnite battles or Apex Legends, we'll be going went and battling out on Red Dead Online! And of course, if you beat (y/n) here you earn bragging rights!"

He noticed you shift in your position a little bit, clearly uncomfortable with the attention you were getting; it didn't even look like you wanted to be there. Kenma could feel his chest hurt, and his palms were sweating now. That's all it is, he told himself. An inconvenient crush, an inconvenient crush, that's all.

Kenma sighed before noticing how he barely knew anyone there and was almost thankful for that fact; but before he could thank his stars, a hand threw itself around his neck and sprung him forward, earning the attention of not just everyone there, but especially you.

"We have our first participant," It was his goddamn roommate, "Kenma's a brilliant gamer!"

Kenma's eyes immediately found yours, and you were looking at him with wide, confused eyes. Although this was set in the open and the atmosphere was quite cold, Kenma felt nothing but warmth radiating all over his body at the mere sight of you; you were just a few feet away, and you were giving him a rather sympathetic expression, and god, you looked so fucking pretty—

"That's great! Sign up, ya'll! Winner will be winning a brand new DualShock 4!"

Oh fuck, Kenma thought before he felt his heart beginning to pound. He was now seated beside you, and he could practically shrink into non-existence. You were unmoving, and you weren't looking at him, but would you have looked at him if you knew he was puddinghead? Insecurity swarmed his being and he could practically feel steam escaping his ears but a moment later, he thought he'd die.

"This was so last minute," you said, rubbing the back of your neck, "The anchor's my cousin and she's so demanding."

"Oh," Kenma said, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket, "I see."

"Yeah! I mean," You giggled now, "I'm not even good at Red Dead Online!"

Kenma smirked, knowing the fact already. You struggled with Red Dead Redemption not because you were bad, but because you couldn't progress with a plot so divisive. You wanted to explore more, and since the game was so vast, you barely bothered with the Online version. You turned to him now and tilted your head.

"You're a gamer, I heard? Kozume-kun, right?"

Fuck, she knows my name, "Y-Yeah. I game when I'm free."

"Do you have a Twitch or YouTube?"

There's no fucking way I'll answer that, "No—"

"Ah, you must really be having a great time then."

Kenma blinked before turning to you with confusion. What did you mean?

"Don't you enjoy streaming?"

"Ah, no, no," You flailed your hands shyly, and Kenma believed he could combust, "It's not like that. I just think, after a point, streaming becomes more for the fans than for yourself. I used to do it for me, but now... I'm needed in places like this for promotion, and I need to have a Patreon if I'm popular or it'll look weird, I don't know... Too many restrictions. I just love gaming, you know?"

Kenma found himself smiling, "Yeah, I know. I've seen your videos."

"Oh?"

Kenma's eyes widened. He wanted to slap himself on his forehead.

"I—I mean, y-you're popular."

"Thanks! You're really sweet, Kozume-kun!"

Fucking hell, Kenma placed a hand on his forehead, She's too cute.

"Say," you said, a sly tone to your voice, "Do you want to get out of here?"

"I'd do anything." Kenma honestly agreed.

But, you couldn't just up and leave. You were called here as Twitch streamer (s/n) (y/n), and that meant your behavior was restricted. As much as you seemed to hate said restriction, Kenma was certain that you wouldn't go against it. It could take a big blow against your viewership, and you wouldn't take that chance.

A second later, your hand gripped his wrist before you shot him a wink. Kenma's heart jumped to the skies before you pulled him away from the crowd, with participants lining the entrance to enter their names. Sure, you were doing something bad—your cousin wanted you there, but not once had she even asked if you wanted to be a part of this event. Just as Kenma was pulled in without his consent. You weren't a competitive gamer, and you were not going to be, even if it was for someone else. After running away a fair distance, Kenma felt the part of his wrist burn right where you were touching him.

"I think I need to run more in real life and not just as Ellie." You said, and Kenma chuckled.

"Running's good."

"I used to run track," You said, turning to him. "Now I run in games and that's it."

You have no right being that cute, he thought before clearing his throat. He slowly pulled away from you, which made your eyes widen before shooting him an apologetic smile. He was a bit confused as to what you had done, did this mean you didn't care about losing followers?

"You might think that I've committed career suicide," You scoffed, "Honestly, this is the bravest I've been in so long."

"What do you mean?"

You shrugged, "Ever since I became a bit popular by streaming, I've just... I could feel myself change with the way my viewers wanted me to be? I don't blame them or anything, I just think that the love I get from them makes me yearn for more. And that yearning leaves me... inept to be myself. It's the downside of wanting to remain popular, I guess."

"It's not like you can't be yourself and still be popular." Kenma added.

"Yeah I know," You said, "I mean, just look at puddinghead0, we don't even know what he looks like, and wow. I adore his content."

Kenma froze once more. Was this being recorded? Did Kuroo finally tip you off and was this being filmed for his reaction? Whatever it was, he wasn't going to reveal to you now.

"Y-Yeah, I think he just doesn't care."

"I wish I was more like that because I end up caring. I like the comments and the views and the love. Agh, it's such a weird complex moral question. Don't even get me started."

Kenma laughed at your reaction before you turned to him and stuck a tongue out. Kenma rolled his eyes before waving a hand at you.

"If anything," Kenma said, looking at the ground, "You didn't lose this follower today."

Your eyes widened at his statement. You smiled before nodding, and let out a chuckle.

"Thank you, Kozume-kun."

Locking the door to his room, Kenma began to edit for his latest video. He was making a review for The Last of Us 2, but his mind was elsewhere. He still hadn't told Kuroo that he had met you, which would only cause the black-haired man to tease him relentlessly. Letting out a sigh, he felt sleep douse his eyelids as he continued the edit, right before a notification popped up on his phone.

It was you.

He narrowed his eyes before checking the date and time; it was unusual for you to stream live on random days. He'd learned your pattern by now. You'd been doing this for a couple of months, and it was quite easy for him to know just when and what time you'd begin. However, the screen for The Last of Us 2 was open and you looked like you had just stopped crying. His heart broke at the sight, and he instantly closed the tabs to his own edit, before opening your video on his monitor. You were taking deep breaths before chuckling.

"Hello to everyone that's still with me," You sounded so broken, Kenma felt helpless as he continued staring at you, "You might be wondering why I'm... yeah. So, I did something and I guess I got punished for it? I was forced into a game contest and I think walking out of it made some of my followers mad. I even spoke to this other person about walking out and honestly, it didn't hit me then that what puddinghead's doing takes a lot of courage."

"Ah, fuck, (y/n)," Kenma groaned.

"I guess even when I expected to lose followers, I didn't expect the hate? Some of the comments were just... nasty. I..." You sniffed, "...I didn't expect that you would hate on someone for making a personal choice? And I didn't do it to offend anyone, I seriously don't know how the internet works. Oh, oh wow—" You looked troubled and Kenma could see why. "—losing out on viewers now, great. 'Don't be a whiny bitch', 'This is why girls shouldn't game'..."

You took a deep breath before calming down and saying the few words Kenma feared you might eventually come around to say.

"This is (y/n), signing off to a world where gaming is appreciated and is not filled with a community of hate. Hope to see you there."

And the stream ended.

Kenma sighed before leaning back, no thought in his head. He knew for a fact that his room-mate must have seen the stream as well, and Kuroo would be calling him about the entire ordeal just to ensure he had something to say about it. Kenma, on the other hand, felt like he had practically pushed you to make this decision and partly felt like taking the blame, despite the common sense telling him that he had nothing to do with it. You weren't the sort of person who would jump at something without a second thought, and even if he didn't know you personally, he had been following you and your streams for months now. It felt like he knew that part of you quite well.

Kuroo was the first to call. Kenma stared at the phone for a bit before letting out a breath and getting back to editing his video. He only had to add commentary, and his mind was already circling on what to say.

Uploading the video took him exactly two more hours, after having missed three calls from Kuroo and twelve messages. At one point, Kuroo had even stopped contacting Kenma, thinking he was busy with something, and he was spot on. Kuroo's eyes wandered on the new notification about his friend's YouTube channel, which was weird considering it was not yet time for him to post something. He knew quite well that Kenma might have definitely seen (y/n)'s stream, and wanted to desperately talk to him about it, but without a clue of what the boy was thinking, Kuroo simply clicked on the notification and let the video play out.

It was the review for the game, The Last of Us 2, and Kuroo knew while giving the review, which was around 8-9 minutes, Kenma would speak his thoughts that were a tad bit uncensored toward the end. He'd talk about the drama surrounding the game, he would even bring up the entire hate that this game was receiving, but instead—Kenma had a rather strange dialogue instead.

"One thing I don't understand is how toxic the gaming community can be, at times," Kuroo paused, narrowing his eyes at his friend's words, "While we welcome new gamers to the entire journey of learning and discovering the joy of gaming, we also tend to put them down if they didn't adhere to a certain trend. I came across one such incident happening to (s/n) (y/n)'s Twitch channel."

"Holy shit!" Kuroo sat up straight, eyes wide as saucers at the bold move his friend made.

"I'm part of this community and I think I have the right to call out how toxic we are in general,"

Kenma's voice didn't even waver, but after knowing him his entire life, Kuroo could deduce that the boy was a bit angry,

"(y/n) didn't particularly do anything wrong, and she's received some nasty comments about being a female gamer, and I think that's...just disgusting. She has all the right to either attend or ditch a gaming event, and no one has to be forced to do something they don't want to do. We all have games we don't like despite being gamers, we don't have to do it all. I support (y/n), and I'll admit, I'm saddened by how her fans have treated her. Her content is great and I have immense respect for her. I hope she decides to come back and stream more. That being said, I think The Last of Us 2 is..."

As he got around to talk more about the game, Kuroo knew that this was a huge step for Kenma, and he had no idea what suddenly made the boy rethink his entire decision on never bringing her up. Now that he had, he's indirectly initiated a conversation with her, she'd definitely try and reach out now—in any way she possibly could, just to thank him at least.

Kuroo noticed his phone ringing a second later and a grin made its way to his lips.

"What just happened?"

"I met her, Kuroo," Kuroo almost had the wind knocked out of him, "She was at my college campus. I was walking back to my room since classes were canceled. There was some sort of gaming event. She didn't want to be a part of it, and neither did I, and we ditched. It was—"

"You like her more now, don't you?"

When Kuroo received nothing more than silence from Kenma's end, he was certain. His precious, introverted, best boy had fallen for someone. It was a proud moment, almost.

"You have to tell her—"

"Kuroo, this... this is all I want to do."

"That's bullshit, and even you know that."

"What? You want me to open up to her and tell her I'm the YouTuber she's been gushing about for so long and I was the one who kind of pushed her into doing what she did, and so that she can hate me afterward for hiding the truth because I wouldn't be losing out on anything and she—"

"Whoa there, Kenma. I'm just saying go talk to her as her favorite YouTuber. You're overthinking this."

"No, you're underthinking this. I did what I had to do. It was... hard to see her like that."

Kuroo let out a sigh but before he could say anything, Kenma had already ended the call. That boy needs to grow a pair, he thought, a bit annoyed at Kenma's nature of avoiding his feelings. While Kenma believed it was for the best, he knew he was simply running away from it. Kuroo knew his friend adored (y/n), but the boy couldn't categorize that as real feelings because he's met her just once. Finding something real virtually scared him more than finding something real in real life, and while Kuroo wanted to understand that, it only annoyed him because Kenma wasn't even trying.

When you watched puddinghead0's recent video, you were jaw-dropped in awe and absolute admiration. Tears filled your eyes, but what was more was how his voice now seemed a tad bit familiar, though you didn't pay any heed to it since you've been following this channel for an entire year now. It moved you to know someone you've been admiring has been watching your content, but at the same time, he was speaking up for you? You wanted to thank him, you wanted to send him a message and say you were incredibly grateful for what he's done and the only way you knew you could say something was on Twitter.

So you mentioned him on a tweet and poured your heart out within character limit. You wondered if he would notice your tweet since you've mentioned him countless times before, but even if he didn't, even if he paid you no heed after all of this, you were still grateful. However, a second later, you received a new follower. You blinked upon noticing that it was Kozume-kun from the other day. A soft smile fell on your lips at the soft recollection of running away from a gaming event, after which everything spiraled, but you didn't in any way blame him. Your mind again drifted back to puddinghead0 and you sighed.

I'd kill to see him, man, you thought, eyeing your tweet of him dreamily.

A second later, there was a notification. You almost spat out your heart at the mere words: puddinghead0 likes your tweet.

puddinghead0 likes your tweet.

"Oh my god—" You choked on air. However, a second later, you found it difficult to remain sitting on your bed.

Don't thank me, I hope you're feeling better. You didn't deserve any of that.

Is that a—

...deserve any of that. <3

Fuck me.

Kenma almost dozed off in class right before it ended. It wasn't like it was school where the teacher would wake him up after noticing him asleep, no one really bothered. Kenma was pushed awake by the momentum of the class once it was over and he leaned back before gathering his things. Tightening his hair tie, he casually walked out of class and got to the campus. He spotted the event area, where the gaming event had occurred and instantly spotted his room-mate and a bunch of people gathered there. Rolling his eyes, he walked away from there, not wanting to gather any attention.

"Kenma!"

He had failed. Kenma froze to his spot before turning to spot his room-mate dashing over to him, a wide grin plastered on his features. Wrapping a hand over Kenma's shoulders, his roommate brought him to the others he was talking to, before releasing him.

"You're that guy (y/n) ran away with during that event, right?" One of them asked, and Kenma didn't bother to respond.

"Why did she run though? I mean, it doesn't make sense for her to just up and leave."

"I've been telling you," The same guy said, "She's not the one playing those games. She's just the face."

Kenma frowned. What is this dick talking about?

"Man, I think that's harsh," His roommate said, "I just think she's too chicken to play in front of people—"

"She's literally a streamer." Kenma said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, but why did she—"

"If you can't understand that she doesn't owe you shit, then there's no helping it. She didn't want to play at that event, and she didn't. I don't see why you aren't calling me a fake gamer for running too." Kenma snapped.

The others shrugged, "That's because we've seen you play—"

"It's bullshit." Kenma said before walking away. You all are bullshit, he thought before the frown on his face settled into an uncharacteristic glare, directed at what who knows what.

A moment later, he felt his phone buzz with a notification. Kenma opened his phone and saw that he had a message from you, but what confused him was—

The message was directed to Kenma and not puddinghead. His heart jumped as his fingers roamed over the notification, wanting to open it only when he was in the comfortable confines of his room. Swallowing the bubbling anxiety, Kenma fought the urge to smile as he continued walking back, unaware of what the Twitter message could be. It would normally take him around 12 minutes to get to his apartment from campus, but that day, Kenma merely took 7.

On reaching his room, he finally allowed himself to open your message.

(y/n): Hey! I've taken a break from streaming for now, just wanted to let you know. I don't know why I'm sending you this message, but talking to you that day made me realize that I don't really need to seek approval constantly. Also, puddinghead liked my tweet and I'm a bit too happy so I needed to gush, don't @ me

Kenma chuckled, feeling his heart jump at every word you'd said. He knew you didn't realize that you were gushing about him to him, but that didn't matter. He wanted to gush about you too. He felt a stone stuck at his throat at how real all of this felt, despite having only seen you once.

Kenma Kozume: I think he's the sort of guy who isn't too loud about the things he likes. And I think a break is a good idea, (s/n).

(y/n): Call me (y/n), came the immediate response. Kenma's eyes widened at the fact that you were online, and that the two of you were currently exchanging messages live.

(y/n): Yeah, I got the feeling from his videos that he's perhaps a private person. I'm still really glad that he supported me, I can't thank him enough. I'm feeling much better already!

Kenma smiled, I'm glad that you are.

(y/n): Also

He blinked.

(y/n): Do you want to co-op at Bloodborne? I'm trying to get a platinum, haha.

"Fuck," He let out a breath before chuckling uncharacteristically. "You can't be serious."

(y/n): I'll send you my PSN, and you can add me as a party member. Only if you're up to it, I mean.

Kenma Kozume: Sure, sounds like fun. Also

Kenma gulped. He felt like this was showing off, but he didn't care. He was going to say it.

Kenma Kozume: I already have platinum in Bloodborne. :)

(y/n): Ah, screw you.

Kenma chuckled. He wouldn't admit it, but his heart was hammering against his chest and his palms were sweating. Soon, he'd be connected to you via the DualShock and the two of you would be co-oping in a game that was designed to make players fail. He wasn't too sure how much more his heart was going to take, and while he knew he had to tell someone, for some reason, Kenma wanted to keep this a secret. It wasn't because he was ashamed or he didn't want anyone to find out.

It was simply because it was too good to be true, and he didn't want to lose out on a chance to get to know you more. Because, if this kept up...

If this kept up, Kenma was surely going to fall in love with you.

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runnfromtheak · 5 years ago

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fanfic author’s tagging game (yay!)

Thank ya darling for tagging me!!!! @boyblunder-thedarkheir!!!!!

AO3 Name(s): LostandLonelyBirds aka RUNNFROMTHEAK

Fandom(s): Primarily Batfamily (so, Dick Grayson) and Young Justice (along with DCU obviously, but I also dabble into Miralculous Ladybug, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter, and MCU (none of which I will ever seriously write for? Idk man).

Number of fics: 22 I will admit to (how do you have so many, my dear @boyblunder-thedarkheir? What is your secret?)

1. Fic you spent the most time on: Are we talking writing or thinking about writing, cause those are two very different answers. I spent the most time writing this bitch of a fic I’m working on right now, and the most time thinking about the two latest installments of my main series, Death is But An Illusion (aka How Could He and How Could It Be). I agonize over every goddamn detail with Dick’s anger, Jason’s Jason-ness, and every person’s every move and word. I am a mess, and I’m going to be murdered if I don’t update them soon. I am not sorry about that XD

2. Fic you spent the least time on: You Came Behind Me Secretly and Shattered Every Piece of Me (There's Blood On My Hands) aka my pick-your-own-canon clusterfuck of Dark!Dick Grayson and Dick Grayson being traumatized and tortured with no comfort (Some of them are so fucked up I question my own mind). I take less than an hour to write 80% of them, cause they’re short, and they very rarely take any time to plan. Fun and easy!

3. Longest Fic: At present, he had a chest full of heart and a body full of scars (pain became the only way that he could ever learn) is my longest, but the fic I’ve been hinting at on my other tumblr, @lostandlonelybirds is easily double the length (why do I do this to myself? Why am I like this?) the long boi (named one, not the one I won’t shut up about) is easily my best fic at the moment, and I’m so excited to write a sequel whenever I get the chance.

4. Shortest Fic: With Bated Breath and Pain You See (We're Nothing More Than Memories) technically, I have one shorter than that, but it’s a collab that wasn’t my original idea so I’m not counting it :)

5. Most Hits: You Came Behind Me Secretly and Shattered Every Piece of Me (There's Blood On My Hands) why do you people like this trash-fire so much? I don’t understand

6. Most Kudos: How Could He which does not surprise me.

7. Most Comment Threads: Technically, How Could He followed by the trash-fire AU title thing I’m too lazy to type again, but I’m gonna love on this one: Just Close Your Eyes (No One Can Hurt You Now) because it’s my baby, and it deserves it okay?

8. Fave Fic You Wrote: Ooo we are doing a top five.

5. How Could It Be (Jason is precious and sad and Dick is oblivious, and I love one-sided pining wayyyy too much)

4. How Could He (I put my life force into this stupid fic, so ofc it’s here)

3. I'm Scared to Live But I'm Scared to Die (I'm Numb Inside) (the suicidal boy, major trigger warning)

2. I See Things That Nobody Else Sees (And It's Slowly Killing Me) (the only fic I’ve ever written from Cass’s perspective, and definitely one of the creepiest and most fucked up. Bruce does not look good here)

1. he had a chest full of heart and a body full of scars (pain became the only way that he could ever learn) (so ummm Bruce doesn’t look good here either? RHATO #25 if DC wasn’t cowardly and let Dick react how he actually would, aka fuck Batman is the new motto)

9. Rewrites?: Fuck. All my older ones? Everything? Who knows.

10. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning:

Let’s do two. I’m nice.

First comes from How Could It Be:

“You loved him,” Donna says, ignoring his barb. “You loved him, and no one’s seen you or heard from you and I’m concerned, damnit.”

She punches his shoulder roughly, and he’s reminded of her strength, no matter how small she seems in her dead best friend’s sweater.

“I’m fine. Peachy-keen. Couldn’t be fuckin’ better. Honestly, you should be more concerned with Replacement, don’t think he’s slept in—”

“Jason.” Her voice is firm, even as her eyes swim with tears and she holds her arms tight to herself, breathing in the well-loved item’s scent. Jason wonders when Dick wore it last, if Donna had taken it from his abandoned Gotham Penthouse or his Chicago Apartment. He wonders if he’d left it draped over the couch, like the natural disaster he was, or if it had been folded neatly in a drawer.

For someone who prides himself on not being sentimental, Jason suddenly wishes he had something of Dick’s too.

“I’m here because I care, and because if Dick was here, he’d be doing the same thing I am.”

“But he ain’t here,” Jason snaps, “Is he?”

Donna’s head falls, and he feels like a giant jerk. He just… reacts poorly to that name, hasn’t heard it spoken since the transmission and subsequent funeral, since the guy he’d had the hots for since wearing the scaly panties had his mask ripped away and his life taken in front of Bruce’s eyes (who, to absolutely no one’s surprise, failed to save his son).

In the aftermath, no one said Dick Grayson’s name, always Nightwing, or some inane nickname the superhero community had for him. Last time he said it was to Damian, a failed attempt at comfort. But even Jason’s form of mutual grieving had been better than any of Bruce’s shit ideas. Bastard immortalized the ripped costume from his own son’s corpse (not that it had been the first time) and hadn’t even had the decency to give it a plaque (No ‘Good Soldier’ or ‘Good Son’, just a bare glass case with a bloody suit). Which… was weird. Jason was far from B’s best friend, but even he noticed something seemed strange, off, just not quite right. Like the funeral he didn’t speak at, like the breakdown none of them had witnessed beyond a one-off rage fit

“B, what the fuck happened down here?”

The Batcave was a disaster, dents glaringly obvious in several vehicles and a large spiderweb crack across the Batcomputer. Bruce closes the screen down, but Jason manages to catch a spiraling eye.

“Nothing, just…”

Bruce looks at the spare Nightwing costume none of them had taken down yet, still clean and ready for use (too bad its owner died and would never wear it again).

“Dick?” Jason questions, and the way Bruce’s eyes snap to his face is almost suspicious, almost enough to arouse concern.

“Yes. I—”

Jason sits next to Bruce on the desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I miss him too, Old Man. Don’t mean you need to be an ass about it.”

A memorial next to Jason’s own, but Dickhead’s is empty and broken from Damian’s fists and grief, and Jason’s is just gone. No one told him why, it was just gone.

Kind of like Dick.

He wonders if Bruce would have told him if the video hadn’t been broadcast, if he would’ve told anyone. B did love his fuckin’ secrets.

“No,” she whispers, and he can hear the tears in her voice, can feel her grief as keenly as his own. It’s palpable, tangible, “He’s dead, and I’m alive, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

And then, to Jason’s mounting horror, she starts crying openly.

…..

Second comes from my one I’m working on rn with Stray!Dick called I See Sunset In Your Eyes (I Hate This Part Right Here)

“Come on,” Wally says with a pout, dragging an overly amused Jason and Dick with him through the karaoke bar doors. “Donna and Roy are waiting for us, and Dick had to take forever to primp.”

Dick shrugs with a grin.

“Beauty takes time, time I can tell you did not take.”

Jason snorts, and Wally glares at him.

“At least I don’t take five hours to finish getting ready.”

“At least I can last longer than five minutes.”

“Ouch!” Roy butts in, throwing an arm around Jason and Dick’s shoulders. “Claws are out tonight!”

“Speaking from experience?” Jason asks, eyebrow raised.

Dick smirks without comment, sauntering past the group towards the table Donna’s lounging at.

“Hey gorgeous twin of mine,” He greets with a kiss to her eyes. She smirks, rolling her eyes at him.

“You’re just stroking your own ego with the twin tacked on, Wonder Boy.”

Dick bumps his shoulder against hers.

“Can’t I stroke both our egos?”

“You can stroke mine,” Wally mutters, turning red when Stray winks at his phrasing. Jason and Roy both facepalm, groaning. “Not what I meant guys!”

“Why Kid Idiot,” Dick replies, hand on his heart, “I had no idea you could be so forward~!”

Wally glares, waving over the waitress.

“Round of shots, on this dick,” he jerks his thumb at Stray, offering up his fake ID. She doesn’t bother checking it, probably because this is Gotham, and they were all in uniform. “Whisky, please.”

“Trying to get me drunk?” Jason jokes. It is, after all, his first big outing with the Titans for non-mission reasons. Stray had practically dragged him out of the Manor with a wink at Alfred and a middle finger for Bruce, saying that Jason needed to have fun outside of books.

Jason knows better than arguing with Dick Grayson-Kyle when he wants something, Stray trained him well.

“Of course, Batboy,” Roy replies, “It’s not a Titans outing if Stray is fully dressed and everyone’s sober.”

Dick shrugs.

“You’ll have to get some real liquor in me if you want me to do anything like last time.”

“Last time?” Jason asks, looking to Donna for an answer. Dick snorts. You get near naked one time…

“Boy Blunder ended up in just his boxers in a dancing cage drunk of his ass. Everyone thought he was one of the strippers, and he made, what, three-hundred dollars in bills?”

“Five-hundred,” Dick replies proudly, offering the waitress a twenty as she came back with their drinks. “Keep the change, darlin’!” He adds with a wink.

She flushes, making Jason frown.

Stray, of course, notices this and elbows Jason.

“Don’t get jealous, Blue Jay, it’s not becoming.”

Jason does not blush. He doesn’t, and that’s the hill he will die on.

“I’m not. On an unrelated note, pass me a shot.”

Jason is the master of changing the subject, Stray thinks sarcastically, passing him a shot and downing one of his own.

“Five bucks says alley cat blacks out,” Roy says smugly as Dick makes a face, the way he always did with heavier liquors. He glares at the redhead, who shrugs unapologetically.

Donna eyes them both speculatively, taking a sip of her own drink.

“Twenty says he gives a lap dance before he blacks out.”

Roy snorts.

“I’ll take it,” and to Dick, “Don’t do it, for me.”

Dick bats his eyes innocently.

“Lil’ old me? I would never do something so…” He trails a finger down Roy’s chest, making him swallow roughly. “Scandalous.”

Donna grins victoriously as Roy groans, trying and failing to hide his excitement.

“I hate you. I hate you both.”

Tagging whoever sees this, I suppose?

#dcu #dick grayson #my writing #stray!dick

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mysteli · 6 years ago

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fear of the unknown nsf*w (parker x mc)

A/N: an idea that popped into my head today and I had to write it up. Parker x mc and I’m really proud of it. hope you like it too.

Warning: smut

Words: 4458

PERMA TAG LIST: @brightpinkpeppercorn@cocomaxley@hopefulmoonobject@alesana45 @jellybean-marshmellow@mymandrake@regrettingnathan@dobie2112@princessstellaris@mechaspirit@skyila @mind-reader1 @xo-endlessmayhem-xo@sakaily@justboredtrash@regina-and-happiness@annekebbphotography. @endlessly-searching-for-you@reginasayeed@abbiebishops@zigortega4life@eileendannie@diamondoasis@speedyoperarascalparty@emomoustache@lostlightningbug@endlesstaylormckenzie @alekai-sayeed@akrenich@vickypoo91@nitta-jaeguet@femmeshep @hayden-park@mkatschoicesblog

This fic: @vickypoochoices

Let me know if you wanna be tagged! 💗and let me know if the tags work because Tumblr is acting up.

Summary: After Parker ran from the fight, his worries take over and he finds himself coming to the conclusion that he could have helped Blake when she needed it the most.

Masterlist

IT LIVES BENEATH FAN FICTION FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN

Parker’s mind boggles with a million possibilities, as he continuously plays the outcome of the situation he abandoned and how it could end. Would it have ended successfully with the group finally ridding Pine Springs of whatever the fuck is in that lake. But then of course... it could end horribly, with no one coming back with their lives aside from Parker but that’s only because he bailed at the last moment.

Ugh... why the fuck would he do that? Why would he act like such a coward and look Blake dead in the eyes and reveal he’s neglecting her? What kind of frightened idiot would do such a thing? Him, of course. Because he carries zero courage inside him and he’s as cowardly as the days that come.

Parker might have just ruined everything he’s built in the last few months. This job was supposed to teach him to be more like his idols. The heroes that have inspired him for so long and his goal was be as brave as them one day. But no. He’s not brave. He’s a goddamn screw up and he’s not worthy of the badge he carries, displaying him as some kind of hero when he’s clearly an idiot in his own right.

He abandoned Blake, moments after he revealed that he loved her. A mixed signal no one wants to receive but Blake did and the pure, undisguised look of disappointment in her chestnut eyes is one of the worst things he’s ever laid eyes on and Parker wishes to never have to relive such a moment again because it tore him up inside and ripped at his heart strings. He knows he’ll never be the same again after this. Nothing will ever hurt him like look did. Blake deserves so much better than him and frankly, he may have just put her life in deep jeopardy.

Truth is, it’s been a few hours since Parker took off and sprinted back home, his fear dominating him completely until he arrived back at his place. That’s when guilt and worry stabbed and rattled his heart. All he’s done is pace back and forth recklessly for the last few hours, worry circling his mind and all he hopes is that Blake came out of that situation alive because if she didn’t... then he’ll never forgive himself.

Parker should probably just skip town now. He doesn’t have the strength to face Blake after this. He can only picture the anger and frustration flooding through her dark gaze the second she catches sight of him. She would resent him so much and call him out on the coward he has become. All this time he’s been putting on a brave face and taking each fifth head on but by then, he just couldn’t take it anymore.

Everything has just become too much for him to handle. His fear has crossed a line it can’t come back from and he’s suffered so much that his mind forced him to look for the exit and it’s unfortunate that he found it. Better things would have happened if he had stayed by Blake’s side but instead... he practically betrayed her.

Throughout the time he’s known her, Parker has found himself falling for Blake more than he ever thought he would. Hell, he managed to summon the courage to say he loved her but he couldn’t even dare to look at whatever the fuck is in that lake. Blake is a woman with many sides and personalities but each one always leads back to this courageous badass who knows what she wants as well as knowing what’s right. She’s beautiful, funny, smart and impossible to hate, unlike Parker who could be easily hated for the actions of his character tonight.

He won’t be able to sleep, eat or do anything because his mind will always lead back to the moment he cowered and his walls finally crumbled before him. Parker won’t ever recover from this.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Parker finally forces himself to stop pacing and drowning in his thoughts. To distract himself, he retrieves his phone, a small part of him hoping he has received some sort of text from Blake or anything letting him know she’s ok. At least, alive and well. However, a puzzled look crosses his features when he finds a voicemail notification from around three hours ago.

Curiously, Parker checks his voicemails, lifting the phone towards his ear and listening as carefully as he can, trying to not let himself get distracted by the mystery of Blake’s safety. His eyes widen when he recognises the voice that messily speaks into the phone, a constant buffering sound playing in the background and a clear sound of chaos.

“...Parker? I know you’re probably scared to death right now... and I understand that.” Blake’s voice speaks into the other side of the phone and the shakiness of the call causes her voice to break at times. Parker remains stunned as he listens intently to what she has to say. How did he miss this? “But... we need you. We need you... so much.” The more words Blake gets out, the more it appears like she’s been crying her goddamn eyes out. Turns out there are others on the verge of breaking. “I... I’m mad at you for leaving but... that doesn’t matter now because... if you come back... I’m sure we’ll win this. Besides... I can’t deal with the thought of losing you... and I never really got the chance to tell you properly but... I love you too. More than I’ve ever really loved anyone. And I... I want you to know I forgive you. You got scared and... I can understand that. Just please... don’t give up on us.” Just when it seems like the call is about to end, Parker hears a heavy scream echoing through the phone and it causes him to jump up out of his seat as his anxiety starts to kick in again. “Aaahh! Oh shit. No! Please don’t—“

And the call just cuts off.

Silence. Complete and utter silence. Erupting like a hidden tension in the room. Parker pants out of fear, running his hands through his dusty brown hair and starting to pace back and forth once again. Oh shit. No. No. No. What if she’s dead? After all this time, what if she was finally caught? Fear finally caught up to her and she called Parker and the next moment she’s dead! What if he answered? He could have gotten there and saved her. Helped her or at least been there to watch her take her last breath.

“Oh my god. This can’t be happening. Fuck!” Parker curses aloud, swinging his fist at the wall and a crack is left engraved as a reminder of the action. Agony overtakes him and he starts to fear the worst for a moment. “I need to see her. I need to make sure she’s not...”

That’s all the convincing Parker needs to wanna check if Blake is ok, the two sides of his mind finally agreeing on something. In one swift motion, he grabs his jacket and sprints out the door, slamming it shut on his way out — not even taking a moment to lock it securely. It’s not like Parker cares anymore. He could get robbed a thousand times or held at gunpoint and still all he would care about is the well being of the girl he fell for a little too hard.

It’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

Parker now has a mission. To get to Blake’s house as fast as possible. All this only to make sure that she’s ok and safe. Hell, all his hope and might is going into the idea that she could be alive. He’s praying and pleading that that is the case. He can’t afford to lose her. Not now. Not after everything they’ve been through. It would be too damn much to deal with. He wills himself to run as rapidly as he can and a sigh of relief escapes him when he finally makes it to Blake’s house.

Parker eyes the house for a moment, noticing how dark the house in. Not a single light is on and that only causes his worry and fear to rise even more. You’d expect them all to be extremely safety conscious after everything has happened. But no. Everything is just still, silent and dim.

Keeping the hope at a steady level, Parker rushes his way towards the front door, knocking as loud as his hands will let him. It’s practically the middle of the night and he is probably the last person any of them want to see so he isn’t expecting much of warm welcome. Just to see Blake’s stunning face again will be enough for him, even if he’s turned away. All he wants is for his mind to put at ease and he’ll be grateful to know that she is alive and safe.

After what seems like a countless amount of knocking, Parker receives no answer and his patience forces him to look for another way in. He dashes around the side of the house because that’s where his knowledge takes him. All the windows are still dark as hell and the house could easily be deserted on the inside. But Parker chooses to have hope.

His hazel eyes brighten up slightly when they land on the familiar sight of the window to Blake’s room. He glances around for a way in, completely aware how creepy he’s coming off right now but he has no other choice. He’s too damn desperate now. Parker spots a tree that leads up to the window and that leaves him with no other option but to climb it.

“Goddamnit.” Parker releases a reluctant sigh and throws all caution to the wind as he steadily makes his way up to the tree, careful and persistent with each step he takes. He couldn’t care less about his own health right now so there’s a noticeable hastiness with the way he moves.

Once he makes it to the top, Parker remains perched on the edge of the tree and his lands clutch the outline of the window, as his eyes try to find any sign of Blake in the dimly lit room, the moonlight being the only supply of light. All of a sudden, Parker’s entire expression widens in shock when he finally spots the woman that’s been on his mind for god knows how long. Blake Vance, seated at her desk with her head in her hands. She looks distraught with a sense of relief and Parker has never been so glad to see another human in his life. Without hesitance, he knocks on the window, alerting Blake immediately and her features appear confused when she finds Parker propped by her window. She rises from her seat and approaches the window with caution, playing out the debate on whether she should let Parker in after everything. Then again, she did leave him that message of forgiveness.

Blake can see the obvious relief in Parker’s eyes and every cell in his body struggles to remain calm as he finds Blake Vance standing before, alive and well. His anxiety remains at its peak however due to the thought that Blake may not wanna let him in.

“...Parker?” Blake reacts, her expression slowly transitioning into something unreadable. It’s like the idea has finally sunk in that he is actually there.

“Blake...” is all Parker managed to say, blurting out the only thing that’s on his mind right now.

Wordlessly, Blake opens the window and Parker warily leans back so she can swing it fully open. Their dark eyes meet and lock for an endless amount of time. They’re so skeptical of each other right now but also so damn happy just to be able to lay their eyes on such a face again. For a minute, they both believed that they’d never see each other again and a tension slowly gets caught between them.

Soon, Parker’s desperation kicks in and he steps through the window and swiftly wraps Blake in a well overdue hug, all his longing and power being poured out in this one action. Tears threaten to escape the corner of his eyes and he wouldn’t mind revealing the weakest side of him right now. This is his worst vulnerability. Her. She’s caused him to be this way and it’s not a bad thing. He needed to venture through his side of him and learn to cope with a near loss because he finds himself regretting being the coward that he was before. He wasn’t brought up to be such a failure and Blake taught him that he can be so much more than what he pretends to be.

Parker is surprised when Blake returns the hug, winding her arms around his neck and tugging him as close to her as possible. He shortens the gap even more by tightening his grasp on her and burying his face in her shoulder, revealing how helpless he truly feels right now. He pants into her shoulder, expressing his exhaustion from how quickly he ran before but he doesn’t regret it because it means he got to see her faster.

After what seems like forever, they finally part and reluctantly pull away but Parker takes a moment to skim over her face and familiarise himself with her stunning features. Blake opens her mouth to speak but Parker protests by scattering her face with desperate kisses and joining their foreheads as he finds himself enraptured by the hazel shade of her eyes. Her gaze is plastered with a meaningful bewilderment but a lost happiness at the same time.

“Parker... what... are you doing here?” Blake can barely get words out as Parker cups her face and his eyes search her body worriedly for any scars or wounds from the battle that would have went down while he was gone.

“I... I got your message.” Parker says in a breathy tone that highlights a shakiness Blake has never seen before. “...you scared the living shit out of me, Blake.”

Blake is slightly taken aback by his words and she struggles to stay calm and Parker plants featherlight kisses from her wrist all the way up to her neck, barely missing her lips. “I’m sorry... but I’m alive. We all are. We... we finished it.”

Parker swallows hard at the way she speaks of the concept of we. Clearly not talking about him when she says it. Parker distracts his doubts by brushing a strand of Blake’s hair out of her face, noticing how tousled it is and there is a minor bruise underneath her eye. One that wasn’t there when he was still at her side.

“That doesn’t mean you weren’t hurt.” Parker whispers, gesturing to the bruise underneath his eye and he plants a small kiss on her cheek, rubbing circles over the small sore.

“It’s fine... it’s nothing, Parker.” Blake assures, stroking the skin at the back of his neck with comforting intentions.

Parker releases a heavy exhale and arches his head back in slight frustration. “You’re right... I have no reason to be worrying about you. Not after what I did—“

“No, Parker. I don’t wanna talk anymore. Especially about that.” Blake interrupts him before anguish can take over the moment. She tilts his head down so he’s staring into her eyes and her eyes darken at the sight of him. That only tells him one thing. “I wanna make the most of this. It doesn’t matter what you did. It only matters you do now.”

“And what do you want me to do?” Parker dares to ask, seeming to know the answer already.

A knowing look washes over Blake’s expression and she lets her hand a drift up to roam through Parker’s dusty brown hair, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “It’s not what I want. It’s what I need. And that’s for you to show me how much you were worried about me. I can see that desperation in your goddamn eyes and I want you to use that to take me the best you can.” Blake seems so sure of this and Parker has no reason to protest or argue with her. “...I wanna feel normal again, Parker... and I can’t wait anymore.”

Parker only has to say one more thing before everything he’s ever wanted with Blake can finally become a reality. “You don’t have to wait anymore, Blake. I’m here for you.”

With that, a magnetic force causes their lips to meet at a drastic pace, every emotion they felt in that moment going into this one powerful, mind blowing kiss. All the worry, anxiety, doubt, anger, frustration, hunger, desire, passion, power, relief, happiness and above all desperation falling into the rhythm that’s easily built up the minute their lips meet. The familiar salty taste of Parker’s lips causes Blake to smile against his mouth, as she continues to drag her hands through his hair, abruptly tugging on a strand with a little force and that causes Parker’s lips to part and a groan escapes him.

Taking advantage of the situation, Blake slips her tongue into his mouth and he returns the favour quite quickly, pressing her closer to his body and deepening the kiss as best he can. This is probably the first time the intensity of a moment between them has been at such a dramatic peak. Parker can’t remember a time he’s wanted someone as much as he wants Blake right now in this moment. This is everything he’s ever wanted with her and he knows this is a memory he’s gonna wanna relive for the rest of his life. The same could be said for Blake, as this moment means as much to her as it does to Parker.

Starting to feel the desire building in her core, Blake moves her hands from Parker’s hair and instead lets them rest at his shoulders before tugging his jacket off his body as quickly as possible. The piece of clothing aimlessly falls to the floor and is left discarded and meaningless as the only thing that matters right now is the two of them and they truly feel like they only people in the world right now. Parker responds by biting down on Blake’s lower lip, stifling a moan out of her and that’s when his lips start to mindlessly venture away from her lips and down her jawline. He continues this pattern until he reaches the base of her neck which prompts him to suck at the skin of her collarbone, marking her as his with a love bite like no other. While this is happening, Blake takes her lower lip between her teeth to stop herself from screaming Parker’s name.

She’s lucky that Elliot is staying at Robbie’s tonight or this would be a much bigger problem.

Parker sucks harder at Blake’s skin and this time she can’t hold back the moan that hovers in her throat. “Parker...” She mutters his name and it’s like music to his ears, only motivating him to pleasure her even more.

In response, Blake drags her hands up Parker’s shirt, his muscles twitching and tensing up as she caresses his stomach and plays with the hem of shirt. Parker reluctantly loses contact with her neck in order to pull his shirt over his head, leaving him bare chested before. Sure, Blake has seen him shirtless before but this is a hell of a lot more intimate because this sight is only for her.

A smirk crosses Parker’s lips as he noticed Blake’s obvious reaction to the sight of him. “Huh. You like what you see.” It doesn’t really seem like a question when he says that.

Blake just rolls her hazel eyes and doesn’t dare to answer him, simply yanking him in for another kiss by the back of his neck. She starts leading him over to the bed and she knows they’ve made when her back knocks into the end. Realising, Parker lifts her up by her thighs and guides her onto the sheets. She sighs in contentment when Parker starts working his hands at her body, caressing her hips as he lowers his head onto her neck once more, leaving another hickey but this time on the other side. Blake moans satisfyingly in response and grips Parker’s hair firmly, causing him to lift his head and sit up momentarily.

Blake reacts by shooting up as well and bringing their lips together once more, in desperate need for some sort of physical contact between them. Parker responds by latching himself onto her arms and deepening the kiss. He takes this as an opportunity to remove her shirt, breaking the kiss only for a second to complete the action and Blake feels an instant sense of relief when he removes her bra as well.

His gaze wanders hungrily over the sight of her bare chest, as this is the first time he’s seen such a view before. Blake suddenly starts to feel self-conscious as Parker’s gaze drifts further down her body but at the same time, she can’t help but enjoy his affection.

Wordlessly, Parker gently pushes her back down on the bed and lowers his head into her chest, prepared to supply her with her as much satisfaction as possible. His hands caress her stomach as he kisses in between her breasts before slowly showering her chest with kisses. His attaches his lips to one of her nipples and flicks it with his tongue a few times. That’s when he sucks onto her nipple affectionately, stifling a few moans out of her and she pants at the affect his touch is having on her. She’s enjoying every second of it. Every twitch, every caress, every time his hand grazes a curve. Blake almost can’t handle it.

Parker finally lifts his head after what seems like forever and then he finds himself moving further down her body, leaving a pathway of firm kisses on her stomach before he reaches the top of her jeans. He slides the zipper down and tugs her jeans off as quickly as possible. His eagerness is starting to kick in because of how close he is to getting to taste her. It’s what he’s wanted for a long time and he’s prepared to make her feel as amazing as possible.

Once her jeans are discarded, Parker performs the same action to her panties before settling his head in between her legs. Only now does he realise how wet she is and he sucks in a sharp breath at such a sight. Maintaining eye contact, Parker teases her folds with his fingers and tongue, finding himself too eager to miss a taste of her when he gets the chance. Eventually, his mouth hovers over her clit and he takes her in his mouth at the exact right moment, when her anticipation is at its peak. She slams her eyes shut and savours the moment, enjoying the feeling as her body tenses up pleasure. Parker never slows his movements, not wanting to let her enjoyment falter as he cherishes the taste of her. His fingers continue to work at her folds and he plans to pleasure her this way until her release is mere inches away.

“Mmmm... Parker...” Blake moans out of satisfaction, her mind in disbelief that this moment is finally here. She eventually feels herself moving on edge and her release could arrive at any moment. “Baby... I think I’m gonna...”

Hearing that, Parker lifts his head with a smirk and lets go of her. She meets his eyes with irritation, raising her eyebrows at him questioningly. Parker stays silent and wordlessly removes the rest of his clothes and positions himself so he’s hovering over her. That’s when Blake realises what he’s planning instead and she can’t help but bite down on her lower lip as she imagines what that could be like. Parker notices how much her eyes have darkened and it drives him as his cock twitches in reaction. His teases her sex for a moment before finally sinking into her.

Immediately, Blake releases a pleasured sigh and her body is flooded with a feeling of relief at Parker’s movements as he explores inside of her. Blake has never experienced this kind of love before and she can easily say it’s the best she’s ever had in her damn life. Parker could say the same as well, as he’s enjoying this just as much as Blake. They both melt into each other, being sure to make the most of this moment because who really knows what tomorrow could bring? Maybe that’s why Blake was so eager to do this now and Parker can’t say he’s complaining.

Parker eagerly palms her breast as they continue to rock rhythmically against each other. Cries of pleasure echo throughout the dimly lit house and Parker steadies Blake by resting his hands at her thighs. They continue moving against each other until finally... they both reach release.

Later, they both lay sprawled out on the bed, entwined in each other’s arms. They’re both slick with sweat but extremely and undeniably satisfied. They’ve both never experienced sex as good as that before and they’re still in disbelief that a night like this ended up leading to that.

Blake tilts her head towards Parker and her hazel eyes light up with energy. “Well, that was... fucking amazing.” She mutters, her head dropping back down on Parker’s chest as he smooths out her slightly greased hair.

Parker lets out a breathy laugh, kissing the top of Blake’s head. “Sure was.” He agrees, burying his face in her hair. He meets her eyes for a moment and something immediately comes rushing back to him and frowns a little.

“What’s wrong?” Blake asks in a concerned tone, noticing his sudden change of mood.

“Nothing I just... thought you were gone for moment. It really scared me, Blake.” Parker admits, his tone breaking with a shakiness and Blake cups his cheek reassuringly.

“But I’m still here, Parker. You don’t need to worry about me going anywhere. It’s over now.” Blake assures, bringing their lips together briefly and he can’t help but form a weak smile, despite still being a little shaken up.

“Are you sure it’s over? Because I don’t wanna lose you.” Parker whispers, joining their foreheads together and Blake nods at his words.

“I don’t wanna lose you either. If another battle comes around, I’m sure you’ll fight this time and I’ll be right there by your side. Alive.”

#first fic ive been proud of in a while #hope ya’ll like it #playchoices #choices #pixelberry #chocies stories you play #fan fiction #it lives beneath #ilb #choices ilb #parker shaw #parker x mc #mc x parker #parker x mc fanfic #playchoices fanfic #mysteli #writing

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rabidfangirlteehee · 6 years ago

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Thoughts on The Crimes of Grinderwald ( Spoilers ahead)

The Good

The one thing I did appreciate in this movie ( apart from Jude Law as Dumbledore he was great actually the cast minus Depp i did like. Depp in my opinion just does not make a good Grinderwald) was their effort to show how Grinderwald and Supremacists like him might entice others. Voldemort wasn't shown recruiting anyone who didn't already share his views in the books. But Grinderwald is at a stage where he wants to be able to sway the common Witch/Wizard to his side and incorporate his ideology. So he does things like incite a crowd causing a auror to kill after a perceived attack ( in self defense) and then citing it as a example that the other side are the clear villains here.

Or saying things like he doesn't consider muggles to be inferior just different and offers others a chance to change the future between magic folk and muggles in public. But then in private refers to them as beasts of burden before ordering the murder of a muggle baby.

Or using fear of a dangerous and uncertain future to push the general public to pick a extreme option to prevent a more terrible outcome.

Its not done perfectly and there are alot of flaws. But the attempt to illustrate how Grinderwald and supremacists like him minipulate is something I appreciate.

The bad

Tying up plot threads from the last movie: Namely Credence's death and Jacob having his memory back. I would have liked a better explanation. I think its possible that I might get one in the next movie for at least Credence but even if that is true it still made a sloppy transition from the end of the last movie because Credence's unfair life and death was a pretty big deal in the last movie.

The blood pact: Its never explicitly said that Dumbledore is gay or likes Grinderwald. But I could have accepted it due to the mirror scene, the closer than brothers line and Dumbledore constantly claiming he couldn't fight Grinderwald but offering no explanation as to why. It seemed to me that it was strongly implying he had still had feelings and therefore couldn't face Grinderwald. Despite them not explicitly saying this. But then they went and ruined it by putting in the blood pact. I mean you still have a couple scenes implying things but it kinda makes things feel less compelling. It would have been a much stronger arc if you saw Dumbledore muster the conviction to face Grinderwald despite having feelings. More than some plot convenience blood pact which prevented the confrontation. That being said they could have easily had a moment where there past relationship was brought up despite the dumbass blood pact. Like there is 0 reason to dance around the subject. Still there are sequels so maybe it will be brought up in those so I wont be too harsh now.

Nagini: With all the scandal involving the whole thing about Nagini being secretly a woman I felt that Rowling had pushed it for a purpose. It didn't really improve the original hp story in any way but I wondered if it maybe added to this one. If it had anything to add to this series it wasn't added in this installment. Nagini had a bit part and her cursed to a snake form was something that was not really important at all. Maybe it will for the next movie but from what was revealed in this one I don't really see how.

The only one strong enough to stop Grinderwald/Dumbledore: The ministry pushes Dumbledore to kill Grinderwald insisting he is the only one strong enough to. And admittedly Dumbledore is strong the Ministry should want him on board. But they act as tho Dumbledore is their only chance. This push to make this a one on one fight makes no sense. As far as I know unlike Voldemort Grinderwald was powerful but had nothing that made him effectively immortal. And the same could be said for Dumbledore. Dumbledore was a strong force against Voldemort not because of his magical strength but because his tactics made Voldemort Falter and Dumbledore could outwit him. And Harry was a strong Force because he made this unkillable thing disappear as a baby. Grinderwald might see Dumbledore as a powerful foe but if he has him under a blood pact then why is he so keen on killing him? Shouldn't he be more interested in world domination? Shouldn't that be what this story is focused on? But no what ties all the different sides together is their interest in Credence. And Grinderwald is interested in him because he can defeat Dumbledore. Even more importantly Dumbledore got the Order of Merlin for defeating Grinderwald so ya he was strong but would he really have that much of a reputation before he did? In terms of fighting skill I mean. His work in alchemy is another story. Also tied to this is the ministry pushing Newt to go after Credence and join the Ministry. Like Dumbledore is one thing but why are you so interested in recruiting a magical biologist to be a auror. Its like if you were asked to pick the ideal person for a manhunt in New York and your choice was Jane Goodall.

Queenie: This really stood out to me because I really liked her character in the first movie. So in this movie she enchants Jacob to marry her. This isn't a unappealing idea to him infact it is a kinda ideal end goal for him but there are good reasons why he's afraid to pursue this and they are all legitimate reasons to say no. He has every right no say no even if he has feelings for her and likes the idea of being married to her. Its his choice and she was going to steal that from him. She probably would have if Newt hadn't intervented. And if that was shown to develop her character and make her undergo an arc and be held responsible for her actions I would have accepted that. But its not. Jacob doesn't really get mad at her or point out how fucked up it was she did that. Newt never tells Jacob that it was when he is pining for her after. Its never mentioned that this is a thing that might need to be discussed when he sees her again. In fact the only issue to arise from this is Queenie wants to take a risk and get married and Jacob thinks its too risky and Queenie sees it as cowardly. This could be a interesting arguement in its own right but this argument completely glosses over the you just mind controlled me plot point.

And then to make things worse she then joins Grinderwald because....? Like ya he offers her the chance to marry Jacob by changing the rules about this kinda thing. But even if you discount the whole thing about her reading minds and possibly seeing the baby incident, she really believed him that fast? She is a little eccentric but she's not stupid. But lets say she was desperate and believed him. She could clearly see and tell that this idea of joining Grinderwald was turning him off and pushing him away from her. So she chooses to join Grinderwald to be closer to Jacob when by joining Grinderwald will only push them apart based on his reactions to him. Or maybe she will just enchant him again cuz clearly no one sees it as a huge deal.

Im sorry I harp on this a bit but when it comes to men being minipulated into sex or romance or relationships via magical means( love potions or enchantments) Rowling treats the thing as casual. Not seriously fucked up. Even for Merlope from what I remember the problem was more that the dad left she became distraught and died and her actions led to Voldemort being a thing. How fucked up her actions were are kinda glossed over. Same with Romilda Vane trying to drug Harry. Or Mrs Weasely casually mentioning she used love potions in school as if it was this perfectly acceptable thing.

Aurelius Dumbledore: Why just why? And then they added that shit about Dumbledore's family being tied to Pheonixes. Not every interesting thing about a character needs a special unique power or birthright. It would have been fine if Dumbledore just befriended Fawkes and Fawkes followed him because they got along well. Like no special prophecy needed. It felt like Rowling just needed a good twist as to who Credence was because he was actively searching for his family to find out more about himself. So he had to be related to someone very important. But why go with that at all? The most unique thing about Credence was that he was a obscurus. That's not a genetic thing. Finding out who your family is wouldn't help with that. Wouldn't it make more sense if he sought out someone who did know about Obsuruses ? Like say Newt? In fact that would also get Newt involved without the whole Ministry pushing a magical biologist to become an auror subplot. He could be trying to keep Credence safe while the ministry wants to lock him up because of Grinderwald's interest in him. Grinderwald is interested in the power he posesses and not just because its a good way to kill Dumbledore but in general, and Yusuf wants him dead because he thinks Credence is Corvus. And Newt just wants to help him because he thinks Credence should be able to be free. And eventually the problem is solved because Love and familiarity was apparently the way to handle the Obscurus and Credence has finally met someone who gives two shits about him. Newt.

Instead you get Dumbledores Secret brother and Credence being obsessed about his heritage because he's a orphan of course he is. Not that orphans would by default have interest in who their birth parents were, but it just feels like the stereotypical plot for a orphan when you could have done something else that could be ( in my opinion) more interesting.

#crimes of grinderwald #spoilers #mine #fantastic beasts the crimes of grinderwald spoilers #fantastic beasts spoilers

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arrancxr · 6 years ago

Note

27, 24, 25 and 13 regarding judgement and any other girl of virtue chars u may like ^^ ? Also pls get some rest when you can wah :' D !! Hope you dont feel too unpleasantly tired from the requests hjj

Thank you so much for the question!!!! :D Also, I just kind of realized that I picked the “massive crush on Beginning” group to answer this >.>

Judgement

13. What kind of situations does your OC avoid the most?

Answered here!!

24. How would your OC react if they got humiliated by someone in a group of people?

Murder. Judgement doesn’t take anything less than total respect– preferably with a good dash of fear. If anyone so much as tried to make her look less than perfect, she’d get vicious, fast. Chances are, it wouldn’t even get to the point where anyone humiliated her, and if it did, she’d probably do something like tear them into literal pieces just to make them suffer. Oh yeah, and if anyone saw her in any state she didn’t like, they’d probably die too.

25. How would your OC process the grief caused by the death of a loved one?

What grief? How could a god become so attached to someone that they’d grieve? Judgement doesn’t exactly have loved ones in the first place, much less any that she’d legitimately grieve for. However, she does have something of a fear of being abandoned, and would likely react strongly to someone she did care about passing away. However, that reaction would likely be anger directed outwards at the people around her, rather than grief as most people show it. Judgement isn’t good at feelings, honestly.

27. Does your OC practice any kind of escapism? If yes, what kind?

Well, her god complex kinda counts… Deep, deep down, Judgement is something of a weak person. However, she hides it by becoming someone dangerous and feared, covering up any less-than-perfect parts of herself by calling herself a god and controlling the world around her. She hates the idea of being anything less than all-powerful, and can’t stand losing even a second of her control. As long as she can judge the world around her, as long as she’s the one who decides who lives and dies, nothing can touch her.

Obsession

13. What kind of situations does your OC avoid the most?

Obsession can’t stand any kind of situation where someone she loves leaves her. Once she’s attached to someone, the idea of letting them go is downright painful. She’ll do anything to please the targets of her affection, no matter how painful or uncomfortable it is for her. However, just as quickly as she decides that she loves someone, the second they do anything that doesn’t line up with her idealized version of them, she switches to hating them with an equal amount of passion. She’ll also avoid being anywhere near the people that she hates… unless she’s doing something to hurt them.

24. How would your OC react if they got humiliated by someone in a group of people?

That depends on whose fault it was. If she thought, for any reason, that it was for the person she loved, Obsession would happily take it. She doesn’t really care what happens to her, as long as her love is happy. However, if it wasn’t for that specific situation, she’d turn violent. Obsession has a nasty, nasty temper underneath all the pining and sweet words, and her claws are definitely not just for show. She doesn’t show it often, but her telekinesis ability is among the strongest of the Girls.

25. How would your OC process the grief caused by the death of a loved one?

Absolute misery. She’d cry for days and avoid the world, clinging to whatever remains she had of the person she loved. I wouldn’t put it past her to cuddle their corpse, just so she wouldn’t have to leave them. Once the grief wore off though, she’d consider their death to be “leaving” her, and quickly switch to hating them for being a bad person who would try to hurt her. They weren’t someone she could love, so her grief won’t last long.

27. Does your OC practice any kind of escapism? If yes, what kind?

Obsession is fairly in touch with the world. She’s delusional when it comes to the objects of her affection, but decently sensible otherwise. She’s not really one to try to escape the real world, except by burying herself in her love for her targets, only thinking of how much they mean to her. On another note of her weird behavior, though, she does have a tendency to try to shove objects into the hole in her chest to try to fill it, particularly objects that belong to someone she loves.

Cowardly

13. What kind of situations does your OC avoid the most?

Pretty much everything. Cowardly is a ball of anxiety and nerves, and anything that scares her, she’ll avoid like the plague. More often than not, she’ll scurry away from anything that makes her uncomfortable, finding somewhere small and dark to hide instead of dealing with the problem. More than anything, she hates being confronted for anything she’s done wrong. Feeling like anyone’s negative attention is on her makes her want to either hide or hurt them.

24. How would your OC react if they got humiliated by someone in a group of people?

Honestly, she wouldn’t have stuck around long enough to get to that point. Cowardly is the type to run off at the first sign of trouble, and if someone was going to get nasty, she’d be gone before anything could happen. If she was forced to stay in the situation though, she’s just curl up and take it, not daring to fight back and risk making anything worse. She’s a vermin, a punching bag, and she’ll take whatever people want to do to her if it means staying safe. However, she has a hidden nasty side, and, to put it simply, if the people who hurt her were on fire, and she had a glass of water... she’d drink it and let them burn.

25. How would your OC process the grief caused by the death of a loved one?

By trying to convince herself that she never cared in the first place. Cowardly doesn’t take any kind of vulnerability well, and she’d sooner talk herself into hating someone she cared about than deal with the grief of losing them. As long as she hates them, she can’t get hurt, so she’ll talk herself into thinking that she never cared. She’d force herself to move on fairly quickly, convincing herself that she’s better off on her own, and people only betray her in the end.

27. Does your OC practice any kind of escapism? If yes, what kind?

Cowardly’s escapism is in how she tries to hide from the world. She can’t face anything even the slightest bit painful, and can’t handle anything that scares her. She’s a fragile sort of person who cracks easily, and she protects herself by convincing herself that she only cares about her own safety. Deep down, she wants to have connections and be loved and wanted, but she’s too selfish and weak-willed to do anything but look out for herself.

#Girls of Virtue

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sincognito · 7 years ago

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Royal Seduction 5 | Papgore

Pairing: Papyrus x Asgore

Universe: Underfell

Warnings: Past mentions of rape, implied future rape, anxiety, depression

Overview: Flowey is a dick. Papyrus continues to internally scream. Asgore is also a dick.

A/N: So sorry this took so long to update, I’ve been suffering from Glandular Fever and have been very sick this past month. Some personal stuff also prevented me from working on writing.

First | Previous | Next

Read is on AO3: HERE

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The forests of Snowdin were no welcoming place. The snow lay thick across the ground, making walking a most troublesome task, with all attempts at traversing it slow and exhausting to the unprepared monster. Fortunately, Sans needn’t travel far from the town.

Despite the bitter winds that howled through the ancient pines, and the fresh snowflakes that peppered the air, the short skeleton knew exactly where he was going, and with any luck, he would arrive just in time. Annoying as it might have been to repeat the same process many times over, he knew without doubt that he needed to continue onwards, lest he be caught unaware again.

Papyrus had been outraged at Sans’ allegedly playful joke. After being beaten thoroughly with a pillow, the tall skeleton practically shrieked in indignation. He had, of course, predicted such a reaction and didn’t bother offering any form of resistance when he was shoved from the room. He was, however, mildly disappointed.

Eventually, long after the frigid gales had ceased their fierce attack, he came across a small clearing. On a normal day, there would be no discerning features about the area, save for the lack of tightly packed trees. On that evening, however, in the very centre of the snowy grass stood a small, golden flower.

“Howdy bone bag!” The plant leered, “what brings you out on this lovely evening? Not spending it with dear Papyrus?”

Sans couldn’t resist sneering at the sickly sweet tone of the buttercup’s voice, shoving his hands firmly into the fur-lined pockets of his jacket, “You know exactly why I’m here, weed.”

Flowey began to bounce up and down on his stem, giggling childishly, his grin wide and more than a little unsettling. “Awe, is Papyrus not enjoying this fun little game of mine?” he asked, cocking his head, smile only growing, “Isn’t it funny how the tiniest little thing can completely change the outcome of everything?” By then he was almost wheezing with laughter.

“I’m glad you’re enjoyin’ yourself, ya’ little shit, but it’s really startin’ to lose its humor now.” The flower began to compose himself, all the while his smirk never faltering, “How’s about you just go back and clear up this mess?”

Four times. Sans had been forced to watch his brother suffer the King’s mistreatment four times over. He wasn’t certain he would be able to handle a fifth.

The first time it had happened, he had been horrified, breaking down in panic at his younger brother’s words. The guards were forced to drag him away, kicking and screaming, and had been fully prepared to have a less than polite talk with their malevolent leader. In hindsight, perhaps it had been fortunate the flower had reset before he’d had the chance. The second time followed much the same, but by the third, he had begun to get a grip on himself and his unruly emotions. It had been in that run he decided to try something new.

He had told Papyrus the most ill-timed, inconsiderate joke he could think of. It had made him feel lower than a Moldsmal to joke about Papyrus’ terrible situation, but he needed to know if his theory was correct. Surely, he wasn’t the only monster to remember reliving the same few days again and again. He had thought that if he said something extremely memorable that it too would have been unforgettable.

Unfortunately, the only reward he had reaped from the words he had so carefully sewn was an angry brother. He couldn’t wait for the tiny plant to finally grow bored of messing around with Papyrus and setting everything back to its rightful place. Then he could simply go on normally and no longer be burdened by the guilt of trying to deliberately hurt his little brother’s feelings when he was already so vulnerable.

“Nah.”

Sans started, taking a long moment to blink and process what Flowey had said, “The hell do you mean?” he snapped, his eyes narrowing on the flower.

“I said ‘Nah’, as in ‘no’, ‘nope’, ‘no way’.” When he smiled his face almost seemed to have been torn in half with how broad the grin was, “Wouldn’t it be more fun to see what happens next, eh Smiley Trash Bag?” The condescension in his tone was thicker than the ice they stood on, “We could see how ol’ Papyrus fares with his new… ‘job’. You certainly did well if your plan was to drive him away from you, I wonder if he’ll fall down now that he doesn’t have a brother to look out for him?”

Without further hesitation Sans reached out with his magic, attempting to turn the other monster’s soul blue. He froze. Flowey, of course, had no soul - he wasn’t sure how he had so easily forgotten such an important detail - his blue magic had no effect on the cursed weed.

Regardless, Flowey backed off, his body slithering across the ground as though he were an emerald snake, his voice providing a matching hiss, “See ya’ around Sans, I look forward to our next chat about this little game of ours~” And before Sans could lunge for him, he ducked down and into the soil below.

The serene silence of the woods was broken by an angered scream.

To say Papyrus was upset would have been an understatement. His jaw had begun to ache due to the harsh pressure of both rows of teeth scraping against one another. But it was a welcome distraction from the storm of thoughts and sharp emotions colliding within his mind.

Did Sans care so little about him that he would treat his situation as little more than a joke? He had known that his brother could be rude and inconsiderate, but even he should have known he was taking it too far. It was impossible for it to have been an accident, and even if it was, Papyrus would still have been less than impressed.

Yet something still felt wrong. He could not place exactly what was odd about his older brother’s words, yet they continued to plague his thoughts. It was possible that it was not the first time Sans had used the pun - it was far from an uncommon phrase - but it had a certain deja vu feeling surrounding it that he could not quite place.

Never the less, Papyrus had been hurt. His already wounded soul beat uneasy within his chest, sending jolts of restlessness that did little to soothe his nervous tension. He had turned to his brother for help; to provide him guidance in his darkest hour, but perhaps he had been naïve to assume Sans would always be able to save him every time he was in peril.

Perhaps he simply didn’t want to.

The thought was enough to make the tall skeleton feel nauseous, his arms curling around himself as he silently pondered the idea. He felt entirely useless and it quickly became apparent how pathetic he must have seemed if even a weak 1 HP monster could laugh at how helpless his whole situation was. His arms had begun to quiver, the pain of his jaw coming back anew as he clenched his teeth together to keep them from chattering as he sought to hide his internal agony.

He had let it happen to him, he was too cowardly to fight back, it was all his fault. No wonder he was in such an unenviable predicament, and it was no wonder his brother obviously thought so little of him. Papyrus felt no ire toward him, he was the one to blame after all.

He hadn’t realised he’d stopped breathing until he suddenly had to gasp for air, finally noticing the trance he had somehow gone into. He had been stool stock still, save for his skull that had been bobbing up and down as his mind began to race through all of his mistakes, all of the reasons he had put himself in that horrific place, all of the reasons he and he alone was to be held accountable for being claimed and forced to stay locked away.

No. Papyrus sucked in a deep breath, holding it for several painful seconds before releasing it slowly. He allowed his eyes to slip closed, clearing his thoughts and focusing on nothing but the act of steadying his breathing. Every time his mind attempted to wander to anything else he would force it back to focusing on the calming act.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long until his shoulders were slumped forward in a sensation of contentment, rather than in a panicked attempt at curling in on himself. He wasn’t certain how he had dissolved into such a mindless state of self-hatred, but it had not been pleasant in the least.

Once he had thought that he had only the strictest measure of control over his emotions, but his most recent behaviour had seen to shattering that illusion. While Papyrus might have been able to force his feelings to remain buried deep within himself, he had never been made to truly confront them. Anger was nothing new to him, but vulnerability, that was something he had known only long ago and had hoped to never encounter to such a degree again.

The Underground was a fierce and dangerous place as all knew, and not even the innocence of a child could be spared, no matter how hard one tried to protect it. For a child living a life on the streets, there was little chance of such an idealistic outlook having ever existed. Every homeless child was the same, desperately searching for even the smallest flicker of kindness just to survive another day, only to have that idea of mercy smothered as they slowly grew to understand the truth of their bitter existence. The strong survived. The strong were not kind.

Yet, even at that age, Papyrus had never been alone. Sans had looked after them both, going above and beyond others of his age to provide some food or find a place for them to sleep away from the monsters bustling through the city, or out of the heavy rains of Waterfall. It was them against the rest of the Underground – two children with only each other and a load of determination to rely on.

But Papyrus was alone. His brother had left, unlikely to bother returning for him, and his determination had withered away. He was uncertain if there could ever be hope for a monster with so little left to hold on to.

Papyrus pointedly ignored the knocking on his door, glaring out the window as he stroked his chin in silent thought. He had been alone for hours; the only disturbance having been the maid delivering his assigned lunch. He had, of course, ignored the offering out of childish spite, preferring to grumble to himself quietly.

Despite the fact he refused to acknowledge the person seeking entrance, the door to his room was pushed open, the hinges creaking with the weight of the heavy oak they held. The sound of steel boots clattering against the smooth stone floor served well to shatter the previous silence. Papyrus didn’t need to turn to know the guard who had been stationed outside his room had entered.

“What do you want?” he snarled, his voice far from kind.

There was a moment of quiet, the guard seeming to take his time with his response, either unsure of himself or allowing the skeleton monster a moment to calm his rage, “The King requests your presence this evening, sir.”

“I will be out in a minute” he breathed, shoulders sinking down in mild defeat. Although he had spent hours on his lonesome, it felt as though he had not a moment truly to himself.

As the guard exited the room, Papyrus took to cradling his skull in the palm of his hand, sighing before scraping his fingers down the remainder of his face as if tearing from it his look of despair, allowing his arm to drop back onto his lap afterwards. He spent a moment taking in the now dimly lit city below, watching as a few monsters scuttled from street light to street light, daring not to spend a moment longer than necessary in the darkness.

He stood, straightening out his only clean pair of clothes, praying to any and all gods that it would be sufficient. He dreaded to think that he might not be wearing his clothes for much longer. Papyrus reluctantly left the room, pausing a moment to wait for the guard to lead the way.

Asgore’s accommodation was at the very far end of the castle, somewhat detached from the main building. From the outside, it appeared a modest cottage, surrounded by patches of golden flowers, and on the inside, it was painted with homely shades of yellow and brown. As if the house wasn’t warm enough a blazing fire sat alight in the hearth.

It all seemed to be completely juxtaposed by the large goat monster that stood by the fireplace, missing his usual plated armour, yet still appearing cruel and powerful as ever. The sight of him alone was enough to tear the previous warmth of the welcoming home from Papyrus’ body, leaving his bones feeling cold and stiff.

He hadn’t noticed the guard had left until the King gestured for him to approach, finally turning his gaze from the flames to focus on the smaller monster. Although his poster was slightly hunched from leaning over to inspect the burning logs, Asgore was still far taller than Papyrus, leering down at him slyly as he watched his cautious approach.

Despite the unwelcome jittering of his legs, Papyrus managed to drag himself to his captor’s side, standing silent, his posture painfully erect. The King looked back towards the fire, watching it flicker and flare, the sound of crackling wood quickly consuming the quiet surrounds.

“You haven’t been eating,” Asgore continued to stare into the fireplace, the reflection of the flames upon his dark eyes strengthening his heated tone. “You understand that that simply won’t do, yes?” he growled, eyes narrowing on the fire as Papyrus meekly nodded, “Good. I expect that when you are given food, you eat it without complaint.”

For a moment longer, he fell quiet, before finally turning to regard the skeleton. He raised a paw, cupping the side of Papyrus’ skull and tilting it upward, forcing him to meet the larger monster’s gaze, refusing to hide how he enjoyed the way Papyrus’ breath quickened at the contact. He gently stroked his thumb down the young monster’s face, drinking in all of his features as he did so, “Such a pretty thing, it would truly be a crime to let you waste away.”

Papyrus attempted to pull away from Asgore’s grasp when he leant down but was unable to break from the vice-like grip forcing him to remain still while a soft kiss was planted on the side of his head. The King chuckled softly, “Still trying to resist, hm? Such a naughty thing~” he purred, smirking playfully, “I do so enjoy your defiance.”

Before he had a chance to react, Asgore moved forward again, pressing his mouth onto Papyrus’ sharp teeth. A small startled gasp was all he needed to slip his tongue into the gap between his teeth, attacking his mouth with a vigour he had been unprepared for. His arms raised, trying to push the invading monster’s body away in panic with a muffled yelp.

As soon as the assault had begun it finished, the goat monster releasing Papyrus and taking a step back, allowing him a moment to try and comprehend what had happened. “Do you know what else I enjoy Papyrus?” He had begun to shake again, his breathing far from calm as he battled with the fight or flight response pounding in his skull, “I enjoy knowing that no matter how hard you do try to defy me, I will always win in the end. You are mine, and I am quite happy to continue reminding you of that until it sinks into that pretty little head of yours.”

“Now, why don’t we sit down and enjoy some nice dinner, my sweet pet?” his tone had completely changed, from cruel and commanding to soft. And yet, although his words were laced with a fine layer of sugar they were still capable of causing the skeleton a great deal of discomfort, uneasy shivers racing down his spine.

At the far end of the living room the table had already been set, two plates of steaming food already laid out, one at either end of the table. Naturally, Papyrus chose the seat closest to the door, accustomed to being in close proximity to an exit at all times. Although it wasn’t as though he could exactly escape the King, he still took comfort in having the option to at least try should he get into a troublesome situation.

He had been served what some might have called a simple roast, but to Papyrus’ starved body it looked like a meal fit for the Gods. The aroma of the cooked bird in front of him alone was enough to trigger his non-existent salivary glands, forcing him to begin swallowing small gulps of red magic. Regardless of his body’s eagerness to simply delve into the substantial offering, he still hesitated, lifting a fork only to begin pushing a slice of carrot around his plate, trying his best to ignore his ‘host’s’ gaze.

It took a moment, but Papyrus finally managed to find his voice, “S-Sire, I- I’m really not very hungry-” his weak attempt at refusing the meal was quickly denied by a rather badly hidden growl and a harsh glare, the large monster pausing his dinner. Papyrus realised that the King was not going to continue until he was certain that the smaller monster had at least begun.

Eventually, he began to slowly eat, doing his best to push past the ill feeling deep in his gut as he began a staring contest with some golden flowers that sat on the table. Fortunately, it wasn’t long until he began to speed up, seeming to only just realise how desperate he’d been for food after his impromptu fast. He was most disappointed when there was nothing left on his plate. He was then left in silence, awkwardly glancing about the room while he waited for the King to finish his own meal.

Papyrus noticed that leading from the main living area was a humble kitchen, presumably for Asgore’s private use. He wondered if the King kept any cooking supplies on hand, or if it sat empty gathering dust in its years of disuse.

In front of the fireplace sat a large chair, made from a bright crimson fabric with a tall back and thick wooden armrests on either side. In the middle of the chair sat a small book, presumably taken from the small bookshelf across the room. Its cover bore the scars of a long life, the words that had been printed along the spine far too faded to offer a clue as to the book’s contents.

When Asgore had finally finished his meal, he pushed aside his plate, swilling down the final remaining drops of the red wine that had sat perched upon a rather ornate bar cloth. His movements were slow, feigning an almost disinterested air.

“You enjoyed your dinner?” he asked, intertwining his fingers, and placing his hands daintily on the table.

Papyrus hesitated a moment before nodding, swallowing to try and clear the dry lump in his throat, “Yes, it was… very nice,” he replied slowly. He had entirely removed his gaze from the other monster, yet somehow, he could still feel the intense way he was being watched.

“Very good,” Asgore breathed, parting his hands and reaching for a stack of paperwork, “At the end of the hallway is the bathroom. Go clean yourself up and meet me in my bedroom once you are finished. It is the next room over from the bathroom.” He began sifting through the papers, already beginning to frown at whatever was written on them.

Realising that was all the goat monster was going to say to him, Papyrus silently slid from his chair, walking backwards from the room, his instincts refusing to allow him to turn his back to his adversary. It was only once he had left the room that he began to look where he was going.

Just as the King had said, the room at the far end of the house contained the bathroom, behind a sign warning of current construction. Oddly enough there seemed nothing wrong with the room, everything seeming in perfect working order. There was also a fresh towel hung over the side of the bath, and a long purple evening gown hanging from a metal railing.

Papyrus quickly stripped of his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on the side of the sink. He opened the shower door and quickly moved inside, closing the door firmly behind him before turning the knob for hot water. He ran his fingers through the falling droplets of warm water, testing the temperature was suitable before moving his whole body underneath the heavy stream.

The feeling of the water running down his body helped to relieve a great deal of the tension that had built up in his bones, allowing him to close his sockets and simply enjoy the warmth and privacy. With a sigh he moved out of the water, searching momentarily for the body wash before beginning to cleanse himself of several days’ worth of dirt and grime.

He turned up the heat of the water, starting by rubbing the soap over his skull, sparing a moment to massage his temples.

Hotter.

He moved on to his chest, creating a fine lather as he rubbed between each of his ribs and between each of the vertebrae of his spine.

Hotter.

His pelvis was sensitive, far more so than usual, but Papyrus was persistent, scrubbing the inside of his hips despite the discomfort it caused.

Hotter.

Finally, he began to wash his legs and feet, ignoring the way they ached as he cleaned them of sweat and the remnants of other foul liquids.

The air was thick with steam, making it heavy on Papyrus’ non-existent lungs. The water was scalding, burning his bones in a way that would redden the skin of another monster. However, he took comfort in the feeling, the pain reassuring him that he was still alive, that his soul still beat strong within his chest.

He cut the water, allowing himself a moment for the remaining drops to slide lethargically from his tired body. Only once he had shaken off all the water he could did Papyrus leave the large shower and reach for his towel, patting down the remaining wet patches of his body.

He dumped the used towel into the empty washing basket and retrieved the robe from its hanger, bundling himself up within its cotton confines. Then, he snatched up his clothes, frowning in renewed discomfort as he left the relative secrecy of the bathroom.

While he had been reluctant to leave, he found that he rather enjoyed the pleasantly refreshing scent of citrus that clung to his bones. A hearty meal and a long shower had done him good, soothing his restless spirit, if only for a few moments. He might have even been able to fool himself into thinking everything was okay for a split second.

Unfortunately, as he moved towards the next room the nauseous feeling that had plagued him earlier returned full force. He breathed deeply, his breath shaking ever so slightly as he reached out with trembling phalanges and entered the room.

#literature #papgore #Royal Seduction #a dragon writes #mine #past rape #mentions of rape #anxiety #depression #please tell me if I forgot anything #it's late #I'm tired and sick #peace my dudes

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daebakinc · 7 years ago

Text

Mercy - Pt. 3

Please have mercy on me. Take it easy on my heart. Even though you don’t mean to hurt me, you keep tearing me apart.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC Genre: College AU, angst, romance, Summary: After a homework mix-up, you agree to tutor Jungkook in math in exchange for him tutoring you in dance. In more ways than one, you get much more than you bargained for. Previous Parts: 1, 2

Jungkook is too good a friend to drop you faster than a hot potato just because there’s a girl in his life. He still meets you in the studio every night, still devotes an hour to helping you improve the latest floor routine. He still settles close beside you to go over the day’s lecture and practice problems.

However, Jungkook is human and a male college student. Spending most of his time with his new girlfriend can’t be resisted.

The minute the hour is up or the last equation is solved, he’s packing up and running out the door with a wave. He doesn’t come keep you company at work when he’s free. He doesn’t show up at your door on late weekend mornings to drag you to brunch. He doesn’t barge into your room to claim your bed for an afternoon nap.

The sudden return of quiet to your life finds itself astonishingly unwelcome. It gives you too much time to regret not revealing your feelings sooner, to wonder what it’d be like now if you had. In your lowest moments, you find yourself bitterly thinking the only reason Jungkook hasn’t dropped you entirely is because he can’t afford to with finals coming up in less than three weeks.

The instant you have that thought, you’re crushed with guilt. You know Jungkook isn’t that type of person to use you like that. You know you should be happy for him. You want to be happy for him because he’s happy. Knowing and being are different things though.

You want Jungkook all to yourself again. Greedy and unreasonable, you know, but that’s the truth. You miss him. You miss what you had together.

You have no problem with the girl herself. Jungkook brought her to your work on a casual date a few days after she asked him out. Isa, as she insisted being called, is pleasant and polite, not to mention classic ballerina beautiful. You said as much when Jungkook came back to ask you your opinion about her under the guise of getting napkins, eyes eagerly anticipating your approval.

Between customers, you caught yourself looking over at their table. They did make a striking couple, both gracefully tall, his breadth balancing her slenderness. She made him laugh and smile the entire time. The stunned, adoring infatuation in his gaze spoke more clearly of his feelings than he would ever say. Even though the most affection they showed was holding hands, you were incredibly relieved when they left. Particularly when you overheard them making plans for the winter dance.

Long before Jungkook, you resolved not to go. Getting dolled up, though work, is appealing, but you can do that any day you chose. You have other reasons. You spent too many high school dances shyly decorating the gym walls while your friends with dates swayed back and forth with their dates. At the end of each, the custodians swept up your abandoned wish that someone would ask you to dance with the confetti and popped balloons. If you want to dance, you’ll do it in your pajamas in the privacy of your own room without disappointment, thank you very much. No one is going to convince you otherwise.

The night of the dance, you hide. You lock your door, turn off your lights, and put your phone on silent. Maybe it’s a cowardly thing to do, but you don’t really care. Most of your friends respect your choice not to go to the dance, but you know there will be some well-meaning souls who will try to drag you there. You’d rather not fend off their machinations. You’re just not in the mood to do it nicely.

As predicted, some friends knock on your door and call your name. You stop typing and hold your breath until they walk away, saying something about you probably being holed up in the library. To foster that misconception, you ignore all attempts to call or text you. You’re feeling quite pleased with your own cleverness in avoidance when someone you aren’t expecting knocks on the door.

Jungkook’s voice calling your name carries through the thin wood. “Are you still in here? You’re not answering your phone. I need help-”

A suit never looked so good when you open the door. The glossy black fabric clings to his shoulders, his arms, his thighs. Power cloaked in class. His throat gleams healthy gold against the starchy white shirt revealed by his unbuttoned jacket. Three buttons on the shirt are undone, exposing the firm chest you’ve laid against so often.

That reminder stabs your bleeding heart cruelly, but you keep your smile and flick on the lights.

Jungkook gives you a grateful smile as he hustles past you. “Thank goodness you’re here. I can’t get this dumb tie to sit right and none of guys know how to do it.”

When he turns to you, holding out the offending strip of fabric, his adorable confused frown takes over his face as he takes in your ragged shorts, messy bun slapped on top of your head like Pebbles, and worn to fuzziness hoodie you stole from him at some point. Yes, you are that much of a masochist.

“Why aren’t you dressed? The dance is in thirty minutes. Don’t girls take ages to get ready? Even you should take longer than that.”

“Jungkook, that is a sexist generalization.” You close the door and cross your arms. “I’ve seen some men take longer on their hair in the morning than I do in a week. And I’m not going to the dance.”

“But everyone is.”

In a tone of voice you’re sure your mother would approve of, you retort, “And if everyone jumped off a cliff, would you?”

Nevertheless, you grab the bowtie from him and stand on tip-toe to toss it around his neck. Jungkook spreads his legs to make it easier for you. With his eyes level with yours, you can see the wheels turning.

“Is it because you don’t have a date?” he asks. “I think I have a few friends going stag who wouldn’t mind taking you.”

You cut off whatever else he’s about to utter by pulling the bowtie tight. Shame rises bitterly in your throat. You can handle a lot of things, but not him feeling sorry for you, as if you’re some poor penniless spinster to throw breadcrumbs to. Glaring, you say, “I do not need a pity date, Jungkook. If I wanted to, I could get one myself. I’m not going because I don’t want to, alright? Just leave it alone.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

His gaze falls to your shoulder as you finish off the knot. The expression on his face has you kicking yourself for kicking a puppy who just wanted to help.

As you adjust the bow, you tap your finger under his chin. “Hey.”

Jungkook’s eyes flick up to yours, obviously still cautious of being bitten again.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, smiling apologetically. “I’m just stressed with classes and all these end of semester projects. I didn’t mean to get snippy with you.”

The return smile he flashes you shows all is forgiven. “Dancing is supposed to be good stress reliever, you know. Releases endorphins or something.”

“Maybe for dance machines like you or people who like to dance.”

“You like to dance,” he points out hopefully.

“Only sometimes. Right now, I like the idea of getting on the Dean’s List.” Patting his cheek, you step back. You jerk your thumb towards the door. “Go. Have fun and don’t do anything stupid.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to come?”

“I’ll be fine. Promise. Go before your girlfriend thinks you got lost.”

The sparkle that jumps to life in his eyes hurts more than you would ever admit even to silence. “Right. Thanks for the help. Study hard, teach.”

Jungkook steps closer, sliding an arm around your waist to pull you in. You can smell the heavy spiciness of his cologne. Closing his eyes, he leans in and for a split second you freeze, your heart screeching to a halt. It drops to your feet like a deadweight when Jungkook’s lips press briefly against your forehead.

You breathe out and then he’s gone. The door clicks behind him with a dull sound. It echoes in your hollow chest, ringing and ringing as you fight back the tears and dreams of what it would be like to go to the dance with Jungkook. They flirt mockingly in front of your eyes like a fairytale. But only princesses waltz into happily ever-afters and you’re no princess.

Another realization harshly smacks you in the face: if you’re not a princess, you can never have the prince. You’ll be locked outside the castle gates, condemned to pine away to nothing like the nymph, Echo.

That is not the ending you want. You realize there’s only one way to save yourself: you have to get over Jungkook. You have to remove him from the depths of your heart and replace him back to the position of a dear friend. Romantic love must return to platonic.

You instinctively know the process will be unlike any pain you’ve felt before. Jungkook is nestled so close, it will be like carving out a part of yourself. But it must done. If you don’t want to lose him entirely, you need to get over him. By any means necessary.

12/15: [Jungkook] Sorry I didn’t get to say good-bye. Thought you were leaving later. Have a good break!

12/25: [Jungkook] Merry Christmas! Did you get that book you really wanted? Kinda hope not because otherwise the present I got you is useless lol.

12/29: [Jungkook] I got an A in Precalc! It’s all thanks to you, teach. Did you check your grades yet? You had to get an B in Intro too with such a great tutor. 😉

¼: [Jungkook] Hey. Did I do something wrong? You haven’t answered me at all this break… Hope you’re okay. I miss you…

Today: [Jungkook] You back on campus? Stopped by earlier but you weren’t in.

“I’ll make it up to you, Kookie,” you sigh, scrolling through the long page of texts from Jungkook, none of which you had replied to.

It was just part of your effort to get over Jungkook during winter vacation. You didn’t cut him out from your life; you simply took a break from him. That meant you ignored his texts and calls. You hid him from your social media feeds. You uploaded your pictures with him to your Cloud so you could delete them from your phone.

People say distance makes the heart grow fonder, but you hoped your case worked more like addiction. Remove the temptation and recovery is possible. One test of recuperation’s success is replacing the addictive substance back into the patient’s environment.

However, this method is risky. Sometimes, it leads to relapse. It can make a compulsion worse, and that’s exactly what you’re afraid of. You almost have yourself convinced he’s just a friend again. Almost. There’s still that tiny kernel of doubt in your head that he’s still not, that you’re still in love with him.

Nonetheless, you aren’t a coward. It’s not like you can avoid him forever either. You have to apologize for snubbing him all break. You’ve already practiced the excuse that you forgot your phone here because you were running late to catch your train. Hopefully he’ll buy it.

No one says you can’t put it off for a bit longer though.

Grumbling, you toss your phone onto your desk. It bounces on your coat and hits the small pile of presents there.

Your gaze rests on the flat, rectangular box wrapped in Sunday comics. Amongst the presents for your other friend, Jungkook’s isn’t the biggest, nor the flashiest. Yet it’s the one you felt the happiest buying.

It was one of the few times you’d been in Jungkook’s room that you’d gotten the idea for it. You were bored waiting for him to find the book he needed to return to the library and his open closet begged to be peeked into. When you did, you had to laugh out loud. Dozens of white and black shirts crowded the single rod like a monochromatic aesthetic enthusiast’s dream photo. Thinking back, you couldn’t remember him wearing a spot of color unless it was a jacket, a hat, or shoes.

“Do you think you live in a 1930s noir movie or something?” you teased, flipping through the shirts. You wear more black than is healthy yourself, but at least it’s less than a third of your closet’s contents.

“It keeps things simple and clean and I don’t have to worry about matching” he grumbled in sudden embarrassment, trying to close the closet door. “I do wear colors.”

“Shades of gray don’t count. Blue jeans don’t either.” “Why not?” Jungkook asked, noticeably perplexed. “They’re blue.”

You laugh at his typical boyish attitude. “Jeans don’t count because they’re so common it’s like they don’t have a color.”

Taehyung poked his head into the doorway in that moment. With a wicked grin, he suggested, “Check his underwear drawer. He’s got some interesting color choices in there.”

Cheeks burning, you could only watch as an equally red-faced Jungkook ran after him shouting threats.

A few days later, you bought the found, perfect present. The shirt wasn’t fancy or expensive like silk. It wasn’t cheap like one you get in pack of five from your local discount store. It was a relaxed button-up shirt with sleeves cuffed at the elbows. The material was relaxed with enough stretch Jungkook could dance in it without it restricting his movements.

A blue too deep to be royal but too light to be navy, the tag called the shade ‘Winsor Blue.’ Hopefully, you’d thought, it would be enough of a baby step to slowly introduce some more hues into Jungkook’s wardrobe.

The longer you look at the present, the more you get annoyed with yourself. You’re better than this. You pride yourself on your self-discipline. Once you decide to do something, it is as good as done. Facing Jungkook is something that needs to be done sooner rather than later. You need to know if your pains bore any fruit or if you’re right back where you were at the end of last semester.

Groaning, you push yourself up from the floor. “Just do it, you big chicken.” You grab the present and walk out the door before you can change your mind.

Your heart beats faster the closer you get to Jungkook’s room. Contrastingly, your footsteps slow, your body more in tune with your apprehension. You raise a hand to knock on the door, but it’s as if there’s a chain around your wrist, keeping your fist in the air. You lower your arm. Clutching the present to your chest, you just stare at the door.

Despite all your pep talks, you are unsure your conviction will hold up when you see Jungkook’s face. You don’t know if you’re strong enough to not fall down the rabbit hole again.

“Hi.”

Jumping away from the door, you try to compose yourself when you see it’s only Hoseok. “Hi. Had a good break?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t long enough, but you know.” Hoseok shrugs and laughs. “You?”

“Same.”

As he gets closer, his smile fades into a look of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Glancing at the door again, you realize you are nowhere near ready. “I’m sorry, but could you give this to Jungkook, please? I forgot… something.”

Before Hoseok can answer, you push the present into his arms and hurry away.

Once you round the corner, you sprint for the back emergency stairwell. You don’t want anyone to see your red eyes and trembling lips, friend or no. The door groans and slams behind you with a boom. By some miracle, you don’t trip as you run down the stairs, trying to outrace your own heart.

When you reach your floor, you dig into your pocket for your keycard. Belatedly, you remember you left it in your room. Great.

Now you’ll have to go out of the building and wait for some passing student to have mercy on you and let you back into the dorm. First though, you have to let the tears come so the student doesn’t run away before you can ask them the favor. You sink down onto the steps. The concrete is icy through your jeans. Blistering tears drip down your cheeks the second you collapse your defenses. You muffle your sobs in your sweater’s arms so they don’t echo. No need to broadcast your weakness any more than you already are.

A quiet voice uncertainly calls your name from the landing above. Unable to control yourself, you look up.

Unopened present in hand, Jungkook looks down at you. His chest heaves, pressing against the railing as if he’d raced down the steps. He very well could have. Being too wrapped in your own misery makes one deaf to all the thunder in the world.

Too late you remember your tear-stained face. You hurriedly duck your head to wipe at your eyes with your sleeves. By the time you feel and hear Jungkook come beside you, your breath is steadier and your face mostly dry.

He stops on the step above your seat, hesitating, unsure of what to do now that he’s found you. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You’re distantly proud when your voice has only the slightest tremble to it. You keep your eyes glued on a bit of gravel on the ground in front of you, arms wrapped defensively around yourself.

“Are you… okay? Hoseok said you looked upset about something. You didn’t even come in to give me this yourself.”

“I’m fine.” Go away.

He doesn’t. You feel him sit beside you, his legs stretching out into view. “I think you’re lying.”

You mumble a non-committal noise.

“You bring me a present, but you’re not even going to look at me. That’s supposed to make me believe there’s nothing wrong?”

Cursing mentally, you sigh. You close your eyes to brace yourself. When you’re sure you won’t lose it, you push your hair from your face and look at him. He’s as gorgeous as before and your heart still thumps harder. You were right. You aren’t ready.

“Fine, I’m not okay, but I will be.” You look away again. “It’s not your problem. Don’t worry about it.”

Jungkook nudges your shoulder gently with his. “I’m your friend. How can I not?”

You shake your head. Those words hurt more than you ever thought possible. It only makes your failure worse.

Jungkook hesitates before speaking. Slowly, he says, “You know how when you start working out, your muscles really hurt the next day? Like so much you can’t move and you have to grit your teeth to hobble around?”

A wet chuckle bubbles out of your lips. You toss up your hands. “What relevance does this have?”

“Hear me out,” Jungkook insists. “You know that feeling, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That lasts for days and weeks. Some days it’s worse than others. Then, so gradually you don’t notice, the pain goes away and you’re stronger. If you just stop and start, the pain is just as bad the first time and it’ll keep coming back. You have to push through it.”

You drop your head back against the stairwell wall. The sooner he stops talking, the sooner you can run away to lick your wounds in peace. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m getting to the point, I promise. The heart is a muscle too, right? If it’s hurting, you still need to use it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Someone broke your heart, didn’t they? That’s why you’re crying. That’s why you never texted or called me back during break.” He looks to you for confirmation.

Shaking your head, you start to reply, but he jolts upright suddenly.

“Wait, did that guy from your work do something again? Say something to you?” Jungkook presses. “I’ll go break his nose right now.”

“No,” you sniffle.

“Good. Is it someone I know? I’ll go talk to him, or hit him, if you want. Hell, I’ll do it if I don’t even know the guy.”

“Jungkook-”

“You deserve better than crying in some cold stairwell. You know that, right? I really mean it. You’re great. Better than great. Look, I know we men can suck, and I mean majorly, but he’s not worth crying over if he hurt you. He shouldn’t have.” He ruffles his hair in frustration, like he blames himself for not protecting you. The irony isn’t lost on you. “Even if you’re hurting, you still need to get out there to help yourself get over this asshole. Don’t let his stupidity-”

Unable to continue listening to his preaching, you burst out, “You’re the asshole!”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open in shock, but it quickly twists into anger. “Why do you always get so touchy when I talk about love stuff?” he huffs. Pulling his legs up and slamming his arms on top of them, he puts some space between you. But he doesn’t leave. He mutters, “I’m just trying to help.”

You let the silence hang in the air a few moments before you sigh. Softly, you confess, “What I mean is, you’re the asshole who broke my heart. Even though you never knew. Because, I love you.”

A sound makes you look up. You see you did hear correctly. The jerk is giggling. You just exposed your heart and he’s laughing at you.

Ashamed and humiliated, you jerk up. Eyes on the ground so you don’t burst into tears, you say in a wavering voice, “Goodbye, Jungkook.”

“Wait.” Jungkook’s hand closes around yours and tugs. His intention clearly to make you stay, he pulls a little too hard. Your feet slip from beneath you and you fall backwards.

When you land, you wish it was on the butt-busting concrete. Instead, it’s definitely not a place you want to be: Jungkook’s lap.

He looks as surprised as you at your sudden position, but he instantly tightens his arms around you when you shift to get up.

“Let go of me,” you mutter, still refusing to look at him. Your hands might as well be pushing against the wall.

“No.” Jungkook pulls his legs up, further trapping you. You keep your chin tucked, face turned away towards the door. He leaves a long silence as he searches for what he wants to say next, finally settling on, “I’m sorry I laughed. I didn’t mean to.”

You let him stew a bit before nodding. If all he wanted to do is apologize, he’s done it and now he’ll let you go. But he doesn’t.

Jungkook continues, “You just surprised me. It was a knee jerk reaction. I never thought you’d-… you know. That you felt like that.”

“Well, please forget it. I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“Why not?” he asks, trying to look at your face.

You shift uncomfortably in his hold. Guilt already nips at your chest. “I’m not a homewrecker. You’re with Isa.”

“No, I’m not.”

Your head jolts up, almost hitting his chin. He can’t be serious. “What? Since when?”

“Like a week after break started.” Jungkook shrugs. “It just didn’t work out. We found out we wanted different things.”

“Oh.” You study his face carefully for signs of regret or sadness in his face. Even though you don’t see any, you still sympathetically offer, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. She wanted me to give up Overwatch. She said it was distracting me from being a real dancer.”

“Heaven forbid.” The sarcastic comment slips out before you can stop it, but Jungkook just nods solemnly.

“Seriously.” He shyly glances at you. “Do you really like me?”

“Yes,” you hurry to add, “but I’m not expecting anything, Jungkook. You don’t have to say you feel the same or anything. I just kind of sprung it on you and you’re probably still getting over Isa-”

“I’m not. She was cool and everything, but not really for me. I just got caught up in an upperclassman being interested in me. Not being around her made me realize I liked the idea of her more than I actually liked her. Like I said, guys are stupid.” He chuckles in self-deprecation. Jungkook adjusts his hold so he can look you more fully in the face. “We can be pretty blind too.”

You fidget nervously, but you can’t look away. “Really, Jungkook. You don’t have to say that.”

“I know.” He stops and chuckles again. “I never would’ve thought I was the asshole honestly.”

“Why not? You’re basically perfect. It’s really unfair.”

Jungkook snorts. “You saw my test scores. You know that’s not true. You’re the perfect one.”

“Am not,” you immediately retort.

“You’re really smart and sweeter than you should be. And you remember that text Taehyung sent that first night we studied together? ‘Good luck with your pretty tutor’? He said that because he saw I had you saved as ‘pretty tutor’ in my contacts.”

You bury your face in his shoulder in embarrassment. “Jungkook.”

“And you’re right; it is new, but I don’t think it’d be very hard to…for us to start, you know… since we already know each other and are comfortable…so it’d be easy to start…”

“Start what?” you prod. Your heart is pounding in your chest, churning your stomach too much to let you verbalize the words you hope Jungkook is about to say.

He bites his lips ad looks at you through his bangs. “Start dating. If you want to, that is.”

Just as bashfully, you nod and say, “I want to.”

Jungkook smiles brightly. He squeezes you tighter to his chest until you bang on it when you can’t breathe. “Sorry,” he giggles.

You smile back, too happy to believe it’s true. “It’s okay.”

His smile quiets as he gazes at you. You never saw him look at Isa like this.

Jungkook bends his face closer to yours. “Can I, um, try something?”

Eyes glued to his too near lips, you breathe, “Yes.” You know what happens next.

“Can I kiss you?”

In reply, you close the space and kiss him first. Your mouths stay closed, but your heart still feels like it froze and exploded into a million pieces. His soft, warm lips stick to yours when you pull away, keeping the kiss short.

Against your chest, his heart beats at the same hammering pace as yours. Jungkook is slow to open his eyes, as if they’re weighed down by decades of sleeplessness. A tint of worry is in them when he huskily asks, “Was that okay for you?”

“More than okay,” you answer. If he wasn’t holding you, you’d be slumped in a puddle.

“Then, can I kiss you again?”

You don’t get to finish nodding before Jungkook’s mouth is on yours again. He doesn’t push, doesn’t rush. He kisses you deliberately, simply but devastatingly. It’s all you imagined and more.

“Finally!” Taehyung’s voice blasts through the stairwell, followed by a chorus of male hooting and cooing.

You and Jungkook jump apart and crane your necks upward.

Two flights above you stand Taehyung and Hoseok, flanked by Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin and Seokjin, two other of Jungkook’s friends you’ve met a few times. They’re all peering shamelessly down at you and yelling different versions of teasing congratulations.

“Our little Kookie is all grown up and become a man.” Seokjin pretends to sob into his sleeve, but his eyes are all mischief.

“Little Kookie’s about to kick your butts!” Jungkook shouts back. He starts to shift you out of his lap, but you cling to his neck.

“Ignore them,” you whisper. “They’re jealous.”

The indignation in Jungkook’s face transforms to smugness. “You’re right. They have every reason to be.”

Jungkook tilts you backwards to kiss you thoroughly, but not before you see him send his friends a one fingered salute, causing more shouts and calls. Your lips tremble in laughter, as do Jungkook’s.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook’s present lying abandoned by his side, totally forgotten. It doesn’t bother you. You’re positive he likes this one much better.

#jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #kpopwritingnet #jungkook #bts #jungkook college au #bts college au #bts jungkook

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ripleyvansant · 6 years ago

Photo

01 / BASICS

FULL NAME: Ripley Daniel Van Sant NICKNAME: Rip (Only Pip and their dad ever called them that) BIRTHDAY: April 1st GENDER: Agender SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual Panromantic ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Aries SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English BIRTHPLACE: Asheville, NC RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single Still pining over Cade

02/ PHYSICAL TRAITS

HAIR COLOR/STYLE: Cotton Candy (purple, blue, and pink); shaggy EYE COLOR: Brown FACE CLAIM: Joe Keery HEIGHT: 5′9″ TATTOOS: None PIERCINGS: Ripley has their ears pierced, but rarely wears earrings UNIQUE ATTRIBUTES: Scars

03 / PERSONALITY TRAITS/TYPES

POSITIVE TRAITS: Charismatic, Flexible, Independent, Peaceful, Relaxed, Sociable, Youthful NEGATIVE TRAITS: Aimless, Artificial, Casual, Cowardly, Escapist, Narcissistic, Scatterbrained, Selfish HOBBIES/INTERESTS: Looking up conspiracy theories, weird lore, video games, going to parties, pressing wildflowers INSECURITIES: Regression in their healing, people calling them out on their bullshit, being called “a sissy”/any derogatory names for being feminine, their father and Pip, non-consent culture QUIRKS/ECCENTRICITIES: Never stops talking about bullshit MBTI TYPE: ENFP (The Campaigner) ENNEAGRAM TYPE: Type 4 (The Enthusiast) MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine

04 / FAMILY & HOME

IMMEDIATE FAMILY: Marshall (Father), Elisabeth (Mother), Leslie (Mother), Pip (Older Brother), Etta (Older Sister), Hedwig (Younger Brother), Kora (Younger Sister) HOW DO THEY FEEL ABOUT THEIR FAMILY?: With the exception of their father, Ripley is close with all of their family members. They loves their mothers with a passion because they’ve always been there for them. All of their siblings were also supportive of them as well, which makes them love every single one of them. As for their father, if Ripley sees the man again, they’re probably going to have a few choice words for the man. Ripley hates their father. The man promised to come back and didn’t come back. Ripley doesn’t think they can forgive Marshall for that.

Betrayal. They never thought that Pip would do anything like that to hurt them. Ripley doesn’t know what possessed their brother to not even give Ripley’s opinions on the matter a thought. They feel betrayed by their moms too because they also were part of this too. Part of them feels bad that he has to throw Etta, Hedwig and Kora into the fray of all the drama, but they can’t bring themself to forgive any of them. Their father is a trigger for them and the man just makes their blood boil and make them feel almost insecure about themself. They haven’t figured out what it is about Marshall that causes the trigger yet.

Ripley’s family has always meant a lot to them. Knowing that their family would much rather spend time with them rather than let Marshall back into their lives means a lot. They’ve started leaning more on Etta. Their moms are being very supportive of them too, which means a lot. Ripley knows that they’d do anything for their children. Seeing the way that both of them have supported Ripley through their most recent crisis really put it into perspective just how much they love their children. Hearing from Etta that Kora and Hedwig spent most of Thanksgiving defending their family members helped Ripley remember that at least majority of their family does care. Their relationship with Pip might be changed for good, it might be damaged beyond repair now.

HOW DOES THEIR FAMILY FEEL ABOUT THEM?: Ripley’s mothers are both really worried about them. They know Ripley tends to be self destructive and try to curb that as much as they can, but they know they can only do so much when they live three hours from them. They’ve always been supportive of them and will do anything to help heal them more quickly. Ripley’s father doesn’t give a shit about any of his children, including Ripley. As for their siblings, Kora is annoyed that Ripley is the reason they had to move midway through high school to a new school, but she’d defend her older sibling with her life. Tthey all are concerned for Ripley and want them to be both happy and healthy. There’s just been some tension with their younger siblings because they don’t entirely know how to handle Ripley getting attention like they do. Etta on the other hand, wants to do everything she can for her little sibling. Pip’s always been selfish. When he was a kid, he always liked that Ripley looked up to them, rather than the more responsible Etta - and it was always a point of tension between Etta and Pip. Etta always thought that Pip needed to be more responsible with Ripley, and she blames Pip for Ripley’s addictions. Pip never saw it that way, but he’s so selfish that he’ll do anything for himself, not caring about what everyone else in the family wants, including Ripley. He does love his family, Pip just loves himself more. PETS: The Van Sant’s had a dog named Scoot when Ripley was younger, but they don’t remember that. They also feed a two stray cats which they’ve named Buttercup and Westley. WHERE DO THEY LIVE?: Blowing Rock, NC DESCRIPTION OF THEIR HOME: Ripley’s home is a SMALL CABIN in Blowing Rock. There are four bedrooms. Kora has her own room that she only shares with Etta when she’s in town, Hedwig has his own room. Ripley has their own room in the attic that they only share with Pip during the holidays. The cabin itself is very open, yet still cozy feeling. DESCRIPTION OF THEIR BEDROOM: Ripley’s room at home is covered in posters of their favorite bands and pictures of their family. They has an I Want To Believe poster above their bed that’s very faded and old, but it’s their favorite. Ripley has a bookshelf with a bunch of conspiracy theory books. They’ve got a few movies as well that are mostly popular movies and small collection of Land Before Time films because those are their favorite movies. Ripley has pressed flowers in frames on their walls. Ripley also collects rocks and shells, though they’ve never been to the beach before.

05 / THIS OR THAT

INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT? Extrovert. OPTIMIST OR PESSIMIST? Optimistic Pessimist. LEADER OR FOLLOWER? Follower. CONFIDENT OR SELF-CONSCIOUS? Self-Conscious, though people see them as confident. CAUTIOUS OR CARELESS? Careless. Cautious. PASSIONATE OR APATHETIC? Passionate. BOOK SMARTS OR STREET SMARTS? Book Smart. They skipped 4th Grade. COMPLIMENTS OR INSULTS? Compliments.

06 / FAVORITES

FAVORITE COLOR: Green. FAVORITE CLOTHING STYLE/OUTFIT: They wear whatever looks good on them. Usually that consists of Converse, paired with a plain colored shirt (usually blue, yellow, or green), jeans, and their bomber jacket. They like feeling comfortable, but they also like to look good. It also depends on who their with as to what they’re wearing because Ripley has outfits to fit all sorts of groups, including some very goth-like outfits. FAVORITE BANDS/SONGS/TYPE OF MUSIC: They’re not picky about their music. As long as it’s got a good beat and doesn’t have terrible lyrics they like it. Ripley loves supporting artists that specifically write songs about the LGBT+ community. They trie not to support problematic artists as much as possible. Africa by Toto on repeat to annoy Cade. FAVORITE MOVIES: The Princess Bride, Labyrinth, Land Before Time, Scooby Doo, National Lampoon movies, not a movie but Bill Nye videos. FAVORITE BOOKS: Everything You Know is Wrong, 100 of the Top Conspiracy Theories, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Alex Rider, Lord of the Rings, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. FAVORITE FOODS/DRINKS: They’ll try anything, they’re not picky about what they eat, but Ripley doesn’t eat meat and not a lot animal products. Water is their favorite drink. FAVORITE SPORTS/SPORTS TEAMS: Sports were never their thing. Carolina Hurricanes (they doesn’t like hockey, but will watch it if someone else likes it), Asheville Tourists, Appalachian State Mountaineers. FAVORITE TIME OF DAY: Evening. FAVORITE WEATHER/SEASON: Summer. FAVORITE ANIMAL: Dogs.

#tfctask #addiction tw #homophobia tw #about.#me: redoes this a third time cause changes

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othercat2 · 8 years ago

Text

fic: two for mirth 36/?

[terminusgladiates.bubblr-fatima.com/chrono]

anonymous asks terminusgladiates: All you are is a creepy brainwashed freak. There are people still recovering from horrific abuse at the hands of Trolls and here you are talking about how slavery isn’t that bad.

nope

pretty sure i never said that looking through all my posts so far and i am pretty sure i never said that

what i did say was that i was pretty lucky after a pretty bad time

more lucky than i think i deserve sometimes when someone else had it worse

(doctor lalonde is at my shoulder right now saying how it’s not a competition about how worse someone else had it)

and if you are saying im brainwashed dont that mean i too am recovering from horrific abuse

because brainwashing = horrific abuse

do you have an ideal template of how an abuse victim is supposed to act that i could follow

im serious here how can i behave in a way you want me too brosis so ill meet your standards

[translator: John Egbert]

calamitycats asks terminusgladiates: Bearing in mind you might not be able to answer. Does anyone decide what you’re going to say?

eh yes and no i pretty much started posting/uploading on my own

wanted to get the ball rolling early before the tabloids did about the capital r relationship

i may have gotten in a tiny amount of trouble with the ambassador

the emissary didnt care though and the actual team handling the press didnt have a problem with it

the emissary reads over my shoulder sometimes and critiques my writing

doctor lalonde occasionally suggests better language

and theres egbert who mostly translates

the only post so far that was nixed was a poll for the other half of the emissarys title

i am not allowed to crowdsource sobriquets

srsly though Loudyell would be the best name

[translator: John Egbert]

Edit to add:

[Note from Emissary: NO IT WOULDN’T STOP TRYING TO MAKE LOUDYELL HAPPEN]

golgothasterror asks: You’re spot on chum! No one person processes what happened to them in the same way. Your anonymous unfriend had no right to speak to you so!

understood gt

anonymous hate is pretty puzzling to me though

its not like id challenge them to a duel

it would make the emissary sad

(it would possibly also make him sad if i talked about how damn cowardly it is so i won’t talk about how damn cowardly it is)

also i think dueling is illegal

challenge them to a bar fight maybe

nothing to see hear officers just a random bar fight

nothing prearranged or anything

[translator: John Egbert]

golgothasterror replies: Ha! I wouldn’t mind a *friendly* bout with you! There was always a bit of rough and tumble with some bets on the side when I was a sprog on AGRI-Station 612413!

i would totally take you up on that bro ive mostly been sparring with master whose no slouch but its been a while since i fought someone taller than me or fought fistkind.

[translator: John Egbert]

terminusgladiates posted:

[Image: Author Karkat Vantas looking up at the camera and glaring blearily over his breakfast bowl. His hair is a rumpled mess and he’s wearing a fuzzy gray bath robe. ]

caption: before

[Image: Author Karkat Vantas, glaring at the camera while wearing a suit and tie. His hair has not noticeably changed from the previous picture.]

caption: after

heres master off to get his daily scheduled lecturing in as you can see no comb has ever defiled his hair

its a tragic situation here

im accepting donations for the buy my master a comb fund

Edit to add:

[Note from Emissary: STOP COMPLAINING ABOUT MY HAIR DAVE COMPLAINING ABOUT MY HAIR IS NEVER FUNNY.]

ill stop complaining when you actually comb your hair master

[translator: John Egbert]

anonymous asks terminusgladiates: What do you like about dancing? Do you think you might make it a career?

mostly its fun and good exercise i always liked tumbling which was something i got lessons in because being fast and flexible were kind of a requirement when it became pretty clear i wasn’t going to suddenly shoot up a half meter or anything

it became a more invested interest after i started talking with professional quadrant facilitators a few of whom became interested in me and started critiquing my first few dance vids if im doing something i like to be really, really good at it so i started practicing more and adding it to my usual exercise routine or just to get the extra energy out

(maybe a little because im an exhibitionist and masters martyred pining thing was funny)

i dont think it will be a career career i had too late of a start its just going to be one more thing i have up on my trolltube account

[translator: John Egbert]

anonymous asks terminusgladiates: how many trolls have you killed? Do you like killing trolls? Have you ever killed another human?

its not like i have notches on my belt or something citizen

maybe something like a fifty probably more than that

not all fights are to the death unless youre talking execution duels

whether or not you like killing trolls is not exactly something you talk about lest you attract the wrong kind of fan such is the gladiatorial wisdoms that were passed down to me by a veteran gladiator owned by master paysun terhun

yes and that’s pretty much all im gonna say about it except that he was a pirate and im more than happy to kill pirates troll human or denbakian

[translator: John Egbert]

tinymonstergirl asks terminusgladiates: I saw you on Josh Miller last night. You and the Emissary were really funny! (Somehow I didn’t expect that to be a thing?) I was just wondering you were both referring to being owned by the Emissary as a relationship. Do you really think of it that way?

relationship doesnt have to mean a romantic relationship i mean you can call the interactions between a parent and their kid a relationship and you can call interactions between you and your employer a relationship therefore you can call being a concubine to a guy who never wanted one a relationship

and he really really didnt want one in his own words he decided to treat me like a combination of a guest and someones lusus he was taking care of a real hands off approach while trying to be as accommodating and entertaining as possible

it did not go so well my friend it did not go so well at all

later on he realizes he wants to be friends with me and he couldnt let himself do that and later on after that he decides he wants to court my fine self

not an easy thing to do considering he didnt want me to be a concubine since i sure didnt want to be a concubine

(not of course that I have any disrespect for sex workers i am in awe of their mad skills holy shit the things i learned in training and while talking with courtesans at various parties temeri i salute you in all your concupiscences where ever you are i mean hot damn)

and neither of us knew master makara had multiple reasons for setting us up the way he did

so things were strained for a while

but i like talking to him and hes cute and he stays up with me when im having a bad time and hes i have no way to put this that isnt embarrassing as fuck

just bear with me because its embarrassing

nope still got to wait for it

okay fuck

hes kind

just genuinely stupidly concerned about making sure everything is okay and giving me as much space as i need and sweet in really unexpected ways

[translator: John Egbert]

==>

<==

#homestuck #davekat #fan fic #gladiatorstuck

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kittypalace95 · 7 years ago

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I’ve never really put my personal writing anywhere, and this is hella corny and unedited at times, but for some reason I just need someone else to read it I don’t really care who. I hope that even if you don’t know the full story, the feelings come through. I also only have like two followers so Jasmine I hope you enjoy!

I’m bleeding a lot from my vagina right now and it fucking hurts bro. it just hurts that’s all I have to say (in retrospect this is not true). At least it didn’t get on my underwear this time. I got new glasses and I think they look ok I’ll get more used to them with time. I don’t know what to do about Austin. I can’t un-know that he wants to be with other people. I’m so jumbled right now. Usually I can find a way to say exactly what I mean, but I can’t figure it out. Maybe that’s a part of being heartbroken. Am I heartbroken? The person I love wants to be with other people, he wants to kiss other people, hold other people, fuck other people, maybe even love other people. He told me so straight to my face - no bullshit (so, at least, he thinks, though I have to say I thought it stank). Did that make my heart break? This is the problem with these cliched words and phrases we use to explain what we consider to be universal experiences. There’s no such thing as a universal experience because, even as we identify with other people’s struggles or see our shared commonalities, each of us has our own inner workings - our brains don’t work or think the same, so heartbreak looks different on every single person who wears it, like we’re the sisterhood of the heartbroken hoes. But when I think about what has happened to me in the past week, heartbreak comes to mind - I have to consider it, but I really don’t know. Sometimes I feel fine, sometimes I feel like I wish I could wake up when he wants to be with me again. Sometimes I think I could handle him being with other people if I was too, sometimes it feels like an affront that he would even ask me to do this after everything we’ve been through, everything we are, everything I wanted us to be and thought that he wanted too. Yes, I can make myself happy I know that’s true. That’s what he wants for me he says. He says he doesn’t want my happiness to depend on him, but if someone you love is treating you like shit or, indeed, breaking your heart, of course their ability to crush you doesn’t change your ability to put yourself back together. He never really understood this. Of course he can hurt my feelings. Of course the way he treats me affects my mood. That doesn’t change how happy I make myself, except that I think I’m weak for letting him treat me this way. But what even is letting? I yell at him, I chide him, I call him out, dress him down, whatever it takes to let him know how I’m feeling and what he’s doing to me, but what else can I do? Is not breaking up with him letting him treat me this way? Is that the only alternative? Why doesn’t he care enough about me to stop? Why is he asking me to do this? Why didn’t he just break up with me point blank? If he’s going to be seeing other people I don’t want to be there for it. I don’t want to look at his bed wondering how many girls he’s fucked on it, how many he’s kissed there, how many he’s cuddled with, how many he’s slept with. Who else but me deserves that I have put so much work into our relationship and now he’s going to go dance with other girls, buy them drinks, and treat them special. I’ve done so much for him and this is what he’s doing to me, and I just shouldn’t take it, but I have to otherwise I’m going to lose him, maybe forever. He’s doing what he’s always done to me - put me in situations that make it impossible for me to do what’s best for myself, knowing that I will always choose him.

He took me so for granted and he’s still doing it. After the first nine months he never had to do anything real for me, didn’t treat me like I was special to him, rarely made me feel truly wanted, was jealous and possessive of me, while simultaneously wrestling with his own feelings of being trapped (i.e. making me promise to stay in the Bay for him and promise that I would go where he went to law school, and then breaking up with me the MOMENT college ended- FUCK YOU). And I wonder if the only way to prevent that in the future is to take myself away from him. I’m not strong enough to do it right now, but I should. I really really should. Would he learn that he needs me or that he doesn’t? I’m too scared to find out.

After this, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to be with him again, not really. If he came by in 5 years and said let’s start dating again I don’t know what I’d do and I’m not even sure it would be a good idea for me to say yes. I don’t want to waste my life waiting for someone who hasn’t been able to show me that they can treat me well for real. I’ve been holding on to the first few months of our relationships for a year and a half, always thinking that’s how good it can be that’s worth waiting for, worth taking all the shit for. But he’s never been able to do that for a long time. It hasn’t even been two years and he’s had enough. He had enough after 9 months for christ’s sake. Why should I pine for that? Why should I take this type of treatment for that? Like if he wants to marry me he needs to show me that I should let him. If he wants me to be his fucking ho or whatever the fuck he wants from me, he needs to prove to me that it’s worth it. And his inability to see that he has a responsibility to show me that he is worth it is a serious flaw in the way he views himself. I love him for him - he doesn’t need to prove to me that he is worth loving - he needs to prove to me that he is worth staying with. Because EVERYONE knows (even Andy who can actually go straight to hell to be honest) that I have put so much of my energy into our relationship with genuinely little to no gain. How the hell am I supposed to have faith that this binge of him wanting to be some kind of ladies man sadboi tech bro BULLSHIT is going to make him into a better man? I don’t think it’s going to make him a better man. I think that gaining some perspective, listening to the people who know him, and actually making an effort to do right by the woman you’re supposed love more than anything shows growth and maturity. But yeah I guess growth and maturity are not really what he’s after - just some hos. Wanting to playboy around is a terrible look for him in my eyes, and he doesn’t get to decide how I should feel about this. I understand wanting to find yourself, but it’s a sorry excuse for wanting to go on a fuck spree, and not wanting to do right by someone you say you want to marry. It’s shitty behavior it’s ridiculous to ask of me - seriously ridiculous. If you want to be with me, be with me. If you don’t want to lose me, you know what to do. If you’re willing to lose me to fuck some bitches, that makes you an asshole. If I ever told him the truth, he would leave immediately and say that I’m being hateful and petty. He really *should* be ashamed of how he’s treating me and how he’s handled this - it’s a pretty cowardly, disgusting move to downgrade your good girl worth a thousand bitches to one of your bitches. You wouldn’t sell a Tesla to buy a bunch of Nissan Cubes or fucking PT Cruisers or some shit. I’m sick of being treated like I’m not the best thing to happen to him - I haven’t felt that way since like day 30.

One of his biggest problems: He won’t ever let anyone tell him any nasty truth about him because he refuses to accept that the way he acts isn’t just about him. He needs to learn to care about how other people feel and understand that the things he’s doing may be justified in his head, but that doesn’t mean they’re justified anywhere else. No one wants to hear hard truths about themselves, but as Austin continues to justify all of his behavior, and never ever accept what other people tell him, he will not grow. Of course inner growth and inner discovery is important, but it won’t do much without the help of people around you showing you your best self and helping you to understand (with your cooperation of course) how your interactions with others matters. He’s so obsessed with himself that he doesn’t actually realize that a huge part of making yourself a better person is actually being selfLESS. You wanna be selfish for a while?? Are you fucking kidding me? You think you’re about to start acting selfish lmaaoaoooo. Bro if you wanna change how you’ve been acting you should probably start with putting your energy into other people actually because you’ve been selfish for the past year and a half. You wanna do what’s best for you right now??? LMFATFO (laugh my fucking ass the fuck off) you have been doing what’s best for you for the past year and a half! You should try being selfless and putting other people first for once and see how you blossom. Growth doesn’t just come from being a sadboi for a while. Being selfish is okay - sometimes we all need to put ourselves first, but being kind and selfless and empathetic will make you shine and glow. It makes you a better person, it makes you good for this world, good for others and good for you. I’m so tired of trying to convince him that he should care about other people. Maybe if I broke up with him and told him all of this, he would finally understand. Maybe if I said no you’re being too selfish and not thinking about me at all and that isn’t ok and I’m letting you know now that if you want to be with me in the future you will have to prove to me that you aren’t selfish anymore and that real growth has taken place. He should show me that he has spent the last however much time being a giving and selfless person, becoming better, more solid, more empathetic, learning more about other people and their experiences. One reason I’m not chill with this situation is because the version of becoming better that he’s given me is not fucking great. I don’t think he’s going to be a better person from being selfish and having a bunch of hos. Go have fun and be you, but asking me to disrespect myself and downgrade my own self for your “betterment” is kind of the lowest of the low. And goddamn do I love him so fucking much it hurts. It’s crazy I never even knew what it could be like to be so in love, so utterly devoted that even when you ask something impossible of me I try to find a way to make it possible.

Should I just let him treat me like this? Is my acceptance of this new situation the same as saying that I don’t think he’s being an asshole for it? Can I tell him he’s being an asshole and still maintain this relationship? Am I allowing him to become a selfish person? I don’t know, but at least I found my voice again.

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mardi-aesthetics · 7 years ago

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Ok, here it is. My problem with Love, Simon. First of all, my ex really loved it. Sike! No, that's not a reason why I dislike the movie, I'm not that salty hunty. No. I dislike this movie for a multitude of reasons, all of which come down to a few certain key points, which I'm about to share. I should say at the beginning however that I don't totally dislike this film; it was... okay. Just not the best, for me at least. I should also say that my opinions as a gay man do not reflect the opinions of any other gay men, my voice is mine alone, and WE AREN'T ALL THE SAME BRUH! Just kidding! Well, about the shouting. Not having the same opinions is real talk. It has been my experience as an avid book-reader that movies made from books can be awful (we're looking at you, The Lightnign Thief). But sometimes, they can be divine (Harry Potter series, Divergent series). This however... Is so very appropriately underwhelming.

Number 1}: Why now?! This movie has been praised for several reasons, foremost among them is it's breathtakingly lovely stroytelling (I think Titanic had a better story, though a more depressing one). People all across the globe adore this movie for its seeming originality, and I'm not entirely convinced. There have been a load (get it?) of other, much greater sotries involving LGBT characaters; the books written by Rick Riordan is one luscious example. Queer As Folk and The Perks of Being A Wallflower is another. I should point out that though the film for Perks was made in 2013, it took place in the early 90's. Queer As Folk was filmed in the late 90's, on to the mid 2000's. Love, Simon is a little late in the game, considering those other tales not only represent the life of gay men much more realistically, but they beat Love, Simon to the punch. It is the 2000-teens, truthfully this kind of movie could have been made years ago and made a much bigger splash. And not only that, but this being 2018, we don't need these stories anymore: representation in the media of LGBT life is getting better and better.

Number 2}: Reality checks One thing I know as a book-geek is that some things are just a little too much. Tana Mongeau for instance. A toothbrush! Some things are simply too dumb and highly unlikely to be swallowed. This movie is one such. A gay guy... whom nobody knows is gay... uses emails to talk to another gay guy... all the while being blackmailed... and then outed... and lying to EVERYONE... this is getting worse and worse.... you see where I'm going here. No! I don't buy it. I understand poetic license. I understand that certain liberties can be taken when writing books and other forms of media. But this is a lot to deal with. The plot is trite! It is neither beleivable nor likable. This kid isn't an antihero or some other thing, he's a pathological liar, and nobody calls him on it.

Number 3}: Reality check, part deux I am a gay man. I know gay culture. I have gay friends, I've had gay sex, I've (almost) gotten gay married. But nobody, and I do mean nobody, has a story like this. Case in point: I was talking with an ex-boyfriend after having just seen the movie, and on the drive back we were discussing it. My ex adored the movie, thinking it was so like his own life, so relatable. Yet, when I asked, he couldn't point out a single point in the movie where his life converged.

Number 4}: Gay? No In addition to all that... mess... This movie portrays gay men and teens unrealistically. I recently reread the reimagining of Twlight, called Life and Death, by Stephanie Meyer, and she recalled that her main character got a lot of flack for being a human female so in love with a male vampire. She was called a damsel-in-distress, a boy-chaser, and the shade is understandable. She kinda was. Love, Simon makes gay men look the same. Like we have nothing better to do than pine after a guy we've never met. My question the entire time watching this movie in the theater was "Can't this kid just stop? Stop thinking being in a relationship will make you happy. Stop lying to everyone. Stop being cowardly". Plenty of people exist happily as single and staying that way; plenty of people are anti-marriage and happy; plenty of people are content to remain virginal and chaste until marriage, or until death, and they're... well I won't say happy... but you get the idea. Being with someone will never complete you, not really. Relationships fall apart, move away, make you cry. They shouldn't be reduced to this. Instead, we deal with the protagonist typing on his laptop, imagining every guy he knows typing back to him. Excpet, ironically, the guys he thinks are straight. There's a reason he might still be in the closet hunty, he might have a girlfriend. Or, much more likely, he might be bisexual. Bisexual people exist too.

Number 5}: Relatability I persoanlly never lived, as many might put, 'in the closet'. I never really understood the whole gay-straight thing until puberty, and even then, I never had panic attacks over someone finding out. I never thought it was something to be ashamed of, to hide. Being different is difficult, but it takes courage to be yourself. And the protagonist doesn't have that. Loads of people worldwide enjoy this movie, but are any of them really gay? Or are they just ooh-ing and ahh-ing at how cutesy this film is? The point in the movie when the dork (I won't even try to remeber his name) outs the main characater, and he just kinda... sits there. For someone that didn't want the world to know he was gay, he sure didn't react much. Internal turmoil? Or just cowardice? Even when teased, calle drude words, he does nothing. Where I would bust heads, he sits there and lets a teacher handle it for him. I understand that violence may not be a good reaction, but letting someone do your own dirty work is just lazy. His cowardice, his lying, and ignorance (or should I say sadism), were his undoing.

Number 6}: Ferris wheel blues The last scene of the movie, wher he asks his apparent mystery crush to ride the Ferris wheel with him, after anouncing his identity and his sexuality, therefore outing his illicit friend, is just plain stupid. Why would you go through all the secrecy, all the lies, just to wind up outing someone else? Coming out is a very personal experience, everyone has a different story. Forcing someone to come out, just to be with you, is wrong. On top of that, just because you're both gay doesn't mean you'll have anything beyond that in common. I've met some gay men whom I just couldn't deal with they wre so rude. Plus, the fact that they hadn't seen each other before that... what would happen, do you think, if the illicit friend from the emails said "I'm only into other black guys". Or, "I don't find you attarctive at all". One in every ten men will identify as gay; roughly the population of New Jersey identifies as LGBT. Wait until college or when you have a job and can support yourself to come out, if you're really that scared of your parent's opinions, or of your life changing. Then bump uglies.

A Last Few Words While this film sucks butt, and not in the good way, it has two points that I'm very happy with: The loving speech given by Jennifer Garner, and the Glee actor, Clark Moore. Lets start with the mother. Her speech about her son holding his breath, was very sweet, and inspiring. Many gay guys still in the closet will watch this movie and see an anthem playing, especially with the heart-warming talk between mother and son. Not every coming-out sotry is violent and heart-rending; some of it is actually rather anticlimactic. It's not always so traumatizing, and I really enjoy the movie including gthis little bit. Next, with Clark Moore, whose character is the other gay guy, the openly gay guy. This is a bit more realistic, the fact that they include this one person, because not all gay men look, behave, dress the same way. Moore's character is out-and-proud, in a very realistic way.

#love simon #movie review #movie essay #hate mail

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